#I guess you could consider these posts to be my little insights into my healing journey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tenspontaneite · 3 years ago

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Peace Is A Journey (Chapter 23/?)

In which a Healer visits her patient, three unfortunate children have a very cold day of travel, and Corvus learns something unexpected during his convalescence.

(Chapter length: 14k. Ao3 link)

Warnings: non-graphic descriptions of respiratory illness, an amputated limb, and non-consensual administration of medical treatment. Discussions of suicide and mercy-killing. Depictions of early stages of adapting to a new physical disability. Mentions of cold-related injury in background characters.

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A runner came for them early. Early enough that Sarli and her apprentice had barely risen. Seeing as Sarli was not yet presentable, Cairon answered the door; she listened to what little she could glean of the conversation through the walls.

She heard “Yes,” and “yes,” again, and then “I understand. I will tell my master.”

Sarli finished dressing and went out to receive the news. “Well?” she questioned, once her apprentice was within her line of sight, and he straightened.

“The castle requests our attendance to the prisoner at our earliest opportunity,” he reported. “And there is someone to show our way to the new cell waiting outside.”

She considered this, and the urgency it implied. It was fortunate that they had no appointments booked until the afternoon, apparently. “Have they any news of his condition?”

“Sick, and weakening.” Cairon was succinct.

“Unsurprising.” Sarli went to her medicine cabinet and opened it, considering the arrayed items with a careful eye. The infection was surely still persisting, so, something for the reduction of fever. The lilium, of course, for pain. It would be well to bring an anti-inflammatory, too. Perhaps several. And, if the elf persisted with his reticence, then…the needle, too.

She plucked a few vials and bottles from her shelves, then went for the other assorted basics of bandages and disinfectants, and handed some of it off to Cairon to pack while she wrapped the rest. And then there was nothing but for the two of them to leave their House of Healing and follow after their waiting escort.

The elf’s new prison was apparently in a wing of the castle proper; or so she surmised when they did not divert for the dungeons once through the castle gates. She supposed the stipulation of moonlight cut off many of the more secure below-ground options; she had been very clear in specifying that some amount of moonlight must be upon the cell for as close to the entire night as possible. She wondered how they’d managed it.

Once they were through the inner doors, one of the Crownguard took up her escort. “Healer Sarli,” she greeted, with a nod of respect. “If you’ll follow me? Your patient is waiting.”

“Of course,” she said, and so they followed a little further. The castle was well-guarded today, she noted. Very well-guarded. And increasingly so, as they progressed into a wing that did not seem designed for prisoners at all. “Is this not a residential wing?” she asked at last, a little nonplussed by the finery of the halls she crossed. Cairon, too, seemed a little narrow-eyed about the affair, though he did not speak. His eyes marked each and every Crownguard as they walked.

“Diplomatic wing,” corrected their escort; despite her professionalism, there seemed a hint of unease to her countenance. “I’m afraid your stipulations for all-night moonlight access were difficult to manage, Healer. The diplomatic quarters are empty for the moment, and they have always had high security anyway, so it was decided that one of the rooms should be converted for use as a cell. The windows are…larger, here.”

Sarli raised an eyebrow. She supposed there had been no call for the crown-castle to host Moonshadow prisoners before, but even so… “Surely that must have been rather a lot of work.”

“Less than you’d think. It was mostly a matter of replacing the door and putting a cage on the window. And stripping the room, of course.” The Crownguard hesitated for a moment. “It did take the night, though. The prisoner was only moved here two hours ago.”

She paused. “So, then, he has had no moonlight this past night.” Although her tone was neutral, she thought it plain that she was not pleased. Beside her, Cairon looked grim.

“Regretfully, no.”

Sarli pursed her lips, and said nothing more until they reached the cell.

It was apparent when they reached it. The door was thick and iron-banded, adorned with bolts and keyholes and chains. It was a sharp contrast to the finery of the rest of this area of the castle. There were two Crownguard directly outside the door, and several more posted the length of the hallway. Evidently, they were taking no chances with the elf that had slain the King. The effort they’d gone to was testament indeed to how valuable they considered this prisoner.

There was also a man who was certainly not a guard of any sort, waiting for them. He looked up as they neared, eyes sparking with recognition. Clearly, he knew her by the robes. “Healer Sarli,” he greeted, and offered a short bow. “You have been anticipated.”

Sarli stopped across from him and eyed him appraisingly. No sign of military conditioning, but a certain self-assurance to his manner regardless. He seemed sharp-eyed and shrewd, and was dressed smartly in predominantly dark colours. She recognised his like. “There has been no tribunal yet,” she observed, a little startled to see an observer from the Crow Lord’s office here.

He nodded agreeably. “There hasn’t. I believe they aren’t in any particular hurry to hold one either, since it will be a moot point if the elf doesn’t survive the new moon.” The man’s eyes slid from her to Cairon, then back again. “I am Teyron. I will be present for any and all meetings between the prisoner and his guards and visitors of any kind.”

She inspected him. “Seeing if there is anything to glean from non-exceptional measures?” Her voice was dry.

Teyron smiled. “That, too.”

Sarli shook her head. It was like that, was it? Very well, then. She supposed it mattered little to her. Cairon seemed a little confused, though, so she turned to him and said “This is a member of the Crow Lord’s office. He is here to gather information on the prisoner via the passive methods of observation and insight. He is also here to ensure no one attempts covert communication with the prisoner during visits.”

She was watching him closely to be sure he understood, and was satisfied to watch him fall briefly still. “I see,” Cairon said, in the end, eyeing the Crow Lord’s man with some mixture of caution and curiosity. “Is that standard for prisoners of war?”

“It’s standard for prisoners with a covert operations background,” Teyron said affably, and inclined his head to the door. “Shall we?”

“Yes.” Sarli approached the door as one of the Crownguard reached over to slot a thick key into the mechanism. When it was opened, she allowed Teyron and the guards to precede her, then followed without further ado.

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, taking stock of the room. If this had been ambassadors’ housing, she could only imagine it had been for lesser members of a delegation. The place was well-lit, but it was not large. Even stripped of its finery and furniture, it was emphatically not large. A servant’s posting, perhaps? Even such a lowly use was beyond it now. It was utterly bare but for the trappings of a prison. No bed, not even a pallet; but there was a chamber-pot, she was glad to see. That was certainly more than the Lord Protector had provided.

As the Crownguard had said, there had been bars affixed around the broad window of the impromptu cell; the mortar barely looked dry where they penetrated the walls. She thought humourlessly on how much work it would be to rehabilitate this room when it had expunged its use as a prison.

And then there was the prisoner himself. Her patient. The guard had not thought to mention the chains affixed to the wall, but he was well-secured by them. There were cuffs at his neck, both shins, and the surviving arm, all held fast by long chains that coiled around him like darksteel snakes. They seemed to allow him a surprising range of motion, and Sarli guessed that he would easily be able to reposition himself in front of the window, should he desire. And yet, he had made no attempt to do so. Instead he was slumped backwards against the wall, peering narrowly at them; he seemed too weak to hold himself fully upright.

Sarli inspected him in a fast, evaluative moment, then stepped forwards. “You will remember me, I trust,” she said, and approached without ceremony to lay her pack down. Cairon trailed at her heels, silent and watchful. “I am here to continue your treatment.”

The elf did not reply. His eyes slid from her to Cairon, and then to Teyron. There they lingered for a while, dark and suspicious. She supposed he must be aware of what that man represented. At all times, Teyron would be watching for any opening or weakness implied in his reactions. The elf had already been silent and taciturn, and she doubted this would help matters.

So she sighed, and beckoned Cairon over. The Crownguard followed as well, which she noted with some asperity. The territoriality was reflexive; a Healer should not be managed in her treatment of a patient, nor crowded in such an unseemly manner. “Are you a Healer’s assistant as well as Crownguard?” She questioned the woman, annoyance lending sharpness to the words.

“Begging your pardon, Healer,” said the Crownguard. “I am protection. He has sufficient leeway in his chains to attack you.”

“And perhaps that would be a legitimate concern nearer the full moon,” Sarli said. “But for the moment, my patient is so weak he trembles at supporting himself upright, even leaning on a wall. If I cannot stop him, my apprentice will. Step back, if you please.”

Two faces went disgruntled at once: the Crownguard’s, and the elf’s. The latter, she supposed, was unhappy with her entirely accurate characterisation of his weakness.

“As you say, Healer,” The Crownguard conceded, finally, and did step back. Satisfied, Sarli went to her work.

Her first order of business was to give her patient a thorough looking-over. In plain daylight, his inhuman skin-tone was more evident, but the sickly pallor held to it nonetheless. His face was a little too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were dark. She felt for his pulse, and found it shallow and laboured. His temperature was somewhat higher than preferable, though not yet dangerously so. She inspected the stump of his arm next, removing the bandages and gauze, and noted that it had healed very little at all. It was not bleeding, but the edges of the wound had made no visible effort at sealing, even as careful as her stitching had been. Sarli saw that it was at least not visibly infected, even if the inflammation was severe. Finally she gestured for the stethoscope and listened to his lungs again. Their condition was more advanced now, though she could have surmised that merely by listening to him breathe.

For his part, the elf bore the examination stoically, flinching only the first time she touched him and then not at all thereafter. At last she sat back and observed him. “Will you take your medicines of your own accord?” she asked, and he blinked slowly at her. There was no hostility in his eyes, only a weary resolution. Outside of the dark, they lacked their uncanny phosphorescence, and seemed a great deal more human.

“I will not,” he rasped, as he had once before. The Crow Lord’s spy watched avidly from the corner.

She inclined her head. “I respect your pride, and your force of will,” she said. “But it is my duty to heal you.”

The elf’s eyes slid briefly to Teyron again. She expected him to remain silent after reminding himself that they were observed, but he surprised her. In that terrible rattling voice, he said “Your duty, to heal one who is already dead.” It was not quite a question, but had the taste of one regardless.

Sarli considered the words, feeling in them some edge of a culture unknown to her. There was significance here that she was not privy to. “I know nothing of the ways of your kind,” she said at last. “If you think you are already dead, then perhaps you are. I cannot heal a corpse. But I am human. If you are not beyond my aid, then the alleviation of your suffering does remain my duty. I will see it done.”

He exhaled, and the sigh would have been silent if not for the crackle of his lungs. He descended into a brief, painful series of wet coughs, then he met her eyes. They were oddly steady. Again, that rasping voice: “I have heard of how human healers alleviate suffering.”

In the corner of her eye, Sarli saw Teyron shift, less with interest than with wariness. She could read the thoughts, there. The elf’s words were not quite an overt invitation of a more permanent mercy, but they skittered close enough that an information specialist might fear what she would do.

And well he should. It would be easy, after all. No one could stop her from mixing the lilium a little too potently. It would spare him his pain. Spare him the suffering of the next few days. Spare him the inevitable torture that would come, should he survive.

Sarli regarded the elf, expressionless. Beside her, Cairon was very still. “You speak of the mercy-killing that a Healer may practice as if you would invite it,” she said, at last, and he made no objection to the words. Just watched her. “You refuse to eat or drink on your own, and accept no medical aid that is not forced upon you. In this regard, you behave as one seeking to die.” Sarli watched him, and nodded to herself. “…But I think that there are limits upon that intention, for you. If you truly wished to end yourself, none could stop you. Yet you have not.” Slow and deliberate, she set the stethoscope fully aside, and reached for her medicines. “If you will not do it yourself, do not ask it of me. I will not be the instrument of your destruction.”

The elf looked away, deliberately taciturn. There was a flicker of frustration in his expression, but nothing else. She wondered if he had been wishing that someone would take the decision from him and enact his death themselves. She wondered if his strange culture, such that it was, forbade direct suicide. Either way, he had not died, and he was not yet upon the nadir of suffering and despair that would see her change that.

Not yet. But she had given the quiet death before, and might well give it again, should there be a need.

Silent, she gestured to Cairon, and received the needle and the lilium from his hands.

“Know this, my patient,” Sarli said finally, and watched the elf’s eyes turn guardedly her way. “Once Mercy becomes a knife, there can be no more Mercy thereafter. But where life persists, there is Hope of change.” The words sat holy upon her tongue, and she lingered for a moment beneath the weight of them. She exhaled, silent, and finished “This is a lesson that the centuries have taught us very well, and that you would do well to learn.” Then she kept at her work, eyes steady on her tools. She did not look for her patient’s reaction.

When she lifted her eyes to regard him, he was very carefully expressionless. If her words had provoked any response in him, he was allowing none of it to his face. Stoicism stared back at her. There was a light tremor in his living arm; she eyed it, finished her assembly of the needle and reservoir, and reached out to prick the skin. He barely twitched as the lilium joined to his blood, soon to bring him the relief from pain that she had promised; but only that. No more. Her Mercy was not yet a knife.

The elf endured the treatments in silence. She had come prepared for the notion that he might not accept medical aid, but even so, the medicines that could be administered to the blood were not many. The lilium, yes. The anti-inflammatory as well. But she had no recourse to treat his fever if he would not drink. She sighed, and set it aside, well within his reach. “If you change your mind about accepting medical treatment, this here is for your fever,” she said, and he glanced at it. “It will aid your body in fighting the infection. Consider it.”

He blinked, slowly, then looked deliberately away. Apparently he was done with speaking for the day.

She accepted it, and then finally rose. Her old bones ached from kneeling for so long, but she refused to show the duress; she handed the bags to Cairon and then turned to leave. “I will return tomorrow, in the morning,” she stated, to the Crownguard and the observer both. “If there is any change in his condition before then, send for me.”

They murmured their assent and bowed lightly as she left; she waved off her escort and left with Cairon without ceremony. He was very quiet, saying nothing, and watching the guards they passed on their way through the castle. Though his expression was well-schooled, she knew him well enough to see his unease.

Once they were upon the streets, surrounded by the hubbub and bustle of the castle-city, he finally ventured to speak. “Did you mean what you said back there, master?”

She glanced at him, and found him looking troubled. “I rarely say anything I do not mean, Cairon,” she answered, just a little wry. “But perhaps you should be more specific.”

He looked away, not meeting her eyes. “’Where life persists, there is hope of change’,” he quoted.

Sarli considered it. “Yes. I spoke it truly.”

“You believe that.” He was not one to doubt her word, but he seemed searching now. Uneasy in his skin, as though the answer mattered to him. “Even for…him.”

‘Even for the assassin that slew the king’, went unspoken. Or perhaps, ‘even for an elf’.

For a moment her heart burned with familiar anger, familiar grief. But those were the trappings of Sarli-the-person; thus Sarli-the-Healer breathed out and cast them aside. “Even for him, Cairon, yes.” she said. “Hope is a beacon to every soul.”

The comment occasioned some glances from the people around her; and well it should. It was not lightly that anyone devout spoke ‘hope’ aloud, and a Healer was always devout. “I wouldn’t think someone like him has much in the way of that,” Cairon said, after a moment, and though it wouldn’t be clear to a stranger whether he’d meant hope or soul…

She stilled a little, and cast him a warning glance. She looked deliberately around at those around them. He took the admonishment and fell silent until they were alone again, walking to the mouth of the Valley, and near to home. Then she spoke, before he could, as if no time had passed at all since his badly-placed comment. “His prospects are ill, yes,” said Sarli, “but not hopeless. Never hopeless. You should know better than that. Certainly you should know better than to express such a sentiment in public.” It was a rebuke and a warning both. He should know better. Few indeed were the people who would not.

He flinched as though struck, and did not try to defend his words. Good; if the wrong ears had marked her apprentice saying such a thing, it could cast a shame on her, to have taught him so poorly. And that was the best of the potential negative consequences.

“Perhaps you need a reminder,” Sarli allowed, opening their door and easing herself through. Cairon glanced warily at her, setting out the bags, and she went directly to the bookcase. She pulled out a leather-bound tome, bloody red, a lotus engraved on the cover in metallic silver. It was the work of moments to find the correct passage, and she presented the book to her apprentice without preamble. He took it in his hands and stared at it as though it were a live snake, for all that he had certainly heard and read its scriptures before. She commanded, “Read.”

“…The tools need cleaning, master,” he offered, hesitating. “The medicines need putting away.”

“I will do it,” Sarli said at once, and then again: “Read.”

Again, he hesitated. And then his eyes fell upon the page, and its old sacred tale. He winced at it, very slightly, then finally exhaled. Sarli knew then that he would do as she had commanded, and turned away to begin attending to the tools of her trade; behind her, out of sight, words as familiar to her as her own breath filtered into the air upon her apprentice’s voice.

“’When the Last Light came to Her, She was lingering silent among the death-shrouds, and Her hands were wet with the blood of mercy’…”

Learn, she bade him, in the privacy of her own mind, and finally felt her heart settle from the clamour his public heresy had set it to. It could have been worse. He hadn’t spoken loudly, and his phrasing had been ambiguous; the onlookers might well think he was calling the person-of-discussion soulless, rather than hopeless. Still unsettling for someone not aware of the situation, but not dangerous.

And dangerous it would be, should anyone find him – a Healer’s apprentice – to have verbally denied that the Last Light existed for everyone. Even the lords, even the royalty, secular as they were, would never say such a thing where someone might hear.

Her apprentice thought himself very subtle, and often he was. But not always. And certainly not around her.

Be more careful, Cairon, she thought to him, though she did not speak. I will not always be here to protect you.

“’…this is a dark time, and its shadows may stretch for many years. / But I have something to show you, and I wish for that you will take heed. / So come with me, and I will show you Hope / In the dark of a thousand shadows…’”

---

She was warm; she was comfortable; she didn’t hurt. Rayla slept, and slept very well.

The lilium kept her under for the first span of the night, blotting out the shifts and sounds that would ordinarily wake her. It ebbed after a while though, and a thin edge of pain made her blink groggily awake. The tent was not dark; Bait glowed in his sleep, and the egg glowed too. That was normal. Everything was fine. She went back to sleep.

A while later she stirred again, feeling the warmth of the tent ebbing as the night’s cold encroached. But it wasn’t so bad. She went back to sleep.

Later, again, she woke with the disorienting sensation of sudden and unexpected contact. She made a surprised noise and cracked her eyes open to look. Callum had burrowed himself into her side, all curled-up, like he was cold. The lilium must have still been in effect, because all she did was sleepily think oh, that’s nice, take a drowsy moment to appreciate his warmth, and go back to sleep again.

The final time she woke that night was to a dragging awareness, somewhere in the back of her sleeping mind, that something was amiss with someone’s breathing. Not right. Not normal, for the middle of the night. She dragged herself to consciousness, eyes opening. She checked Callum first, who was still plastered against her side, deeply asleep. This time she had enough presence of mind to feel flustered about it. There was nothing wrong with him, though, so she turned her head to inspect the rest of the tent’s occupants…

…and found Ezran sat upright, plainly awake, running a hand calmly and absent-mindedly over the shell of the dragon egg. He didn’t look like he’d only recently awoken, either. He had the look of someone who’d been sitting up for a good while, quiet and weary in the night’s stillness.

After a moment, he seemed to notice that she was watching, and his eyes slid her way. He looked so tired. “…Hi, Rayla,” he said, voice hushed and quiet, as if to avoid waking anyone else up.

She blinked, then squinted, half sitting up. “What’re’y’doing awake?” she questioned, words a little slurred and incoherent from sleep. “It’s only…” she groped at her Moon-sense, which was growing rather weaker as it waned. “…three. Three’n the morning.”

“Huh. Is it.” He seemed vaguely interested, as if he’d had no idea what time it was before she told him. And…she supposed he hadn’t. What must it be like, being human, not knowing at all times what the time was? She made an impatient noise at him, and then he seemed to realise she’d asked a question. “Oh! Um.” He glanced down at the egg in his lap, hesitant. “Zym’s awake.”

Rayla frowned. She’d been worried, in a half-asleep sort of way, that he’d maybe been kept up by nightmares, or grief, or both. But… “And that woke you up?” she surmised, and he nodded tiredly.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Can’t get back to sleep, either. It’s…hard to be asleep, when someone’s in your head being all…awake.”

She considered that, thoughts slow and groggy. “You tried putting him down?” she asked, eventually.

“Yeah,” he said again, morosely this time. “It helped a little, but not much. He’s just…awake.” He patted wearily at the eggshell. “He used to be mostly-asleep all the time, before the storm. Now it’s more like he’s…I don’t know, a regular baby or something. Asleep a lot. But not all the time.”

She’d heard elf parents complaining about their babies keeping them up all night; she thought of that with a vague sleepy humour, finding the circumstance of the baby Dragon King keeping the child King of Katolis awake to be weirdly amusing. Unfortunate, though. “That sucks,” she said, eventually, still struggling to manage anything more coherent. She did not feel properly awake.

“Mm.” He shrugged tiredly. “Not much I can do about it, though.” His eyes slid back her way, and lingered. “Did I wake you up? I was trying to be quiet…”

“Kinda,” she supplied after a moment. “I could tell someone wasn’t asleep. Wanted to check everything was alright.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Ez watched her, eyes just a little too luminescent in the dark for it to be normal. It could have just been reflection from the egg…but it wasn’t. “You should try to go back to sleep, then,” he said eventually. “Just because I can’t get back to sleep doesn’t mean you need to be awake.”

Rayla accepted the sense of that reluctantly, aware that she was tired and really did want to sleep, and that there probably wasn’t anything she could do to help Ezran by being awake. But, even so, it felt a little wrong. “I can sit up with you, if it’d help,” she offered.

He shook his head. “Nah. Thanks, but…it wouldn’t really help anything. And you need your sleep.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have a baby dragon in your head being unhappy about how squashed he feels,” Ezran pointed out.

She sighed. “Fair enough.”

Callum chose that moment to make a tiny murmuring sound and curl a little further into her side, all balled-up, one hand settling with its fingers curled over her waist. She stiffened, abruptly reminded that he was there, being cuddly, visibly so, and Ezran was awake to see it-

Even tired as he was, Ezran very plainly did see; his eyes flickered to his brother, and a trace of a smile lifted his lips. “At least one of us is getting a good night’s sleep,” he commented, with a lightness to the words, like the sight had pleased him somehow. “He looks pretty comfy there, huh.”

Her shoulders hunched defensively. She half wanted to turn away, to shield Callum from view, but it was a little late for that. Instead she held herself stiffly motionless, cheeks prickling with heat, and said “He’s just – cold. He’s cold and I’m the biggest warm thing around. That’s all it is.”

Ezran barely twitched before shaking his head. “Nah. Callum’s just like that, when he sleeps. He’s either moving about and kicking the covers off or he’s hugging. He doesn’t really have any in-between. You should see him at home – he usually just ends up hugging a big pillow or something…” He tilted his head, looking at them. “But, yeah, maybe he’s cold too. He does look kind of…balled up.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he was cold, but then she noticed he’d picked his cloak off the floor and slung it around himself. He didn’t look too chilly. “Right.” She muttered, self-conscious, and tensed a little further when Ezran cast his brother a thoughtful look and reached over.

He touched his fingers to Callum’s neck and smiled. “He’s so sleepy,” he said, affectionately, and lingered there for a few moments longer. “And, yeah, he’s a little cold.”

“I said so,” Rayla said, vaguely soothed by this apparent corroboration, but-

“And he’s warm and comfy where he is, and it’s nice.” Ez finished, drawing his hand back, settling with the egg again. “Or that’s about what I can get from him when he’s asleep, anyway.”

She didn’t say anything, but could feel the flush rising in her ears. She was entirely, acutely aware of the weight of Callum against her side…and the way that he, too, felt pleasantly warm. In the end she made a sort of vague, disgruntled noise, too embarrassed to offer something more coherent.

Ezran looked at her, then. He seemed almost curious. “Do you not mind, though?” he asked, inquisitive. “I remember you were annoyed about him moving around in his sleep, around when we first started travelling. And now he’s cuddling you.”

Rayla looked away, face hot. “…If you try to push him off, he just comes back,” she muttered in the end, half-exasperated and half-flustered. “He doesn’t even wake up. Just…” She nodded towards him without actually looking, because she wasn’t sure she could particularly cope with the sight of Callum’s sleepy face and messy hair right now. “Easier to get a full night’s sleep if I just leave him.”

She didn’t realise her misstep until a few moments later, when she became aware of Ezran’s silence. She looked up at him, and found his watchful gaze on her. “So it hasn’t just been tonight, huh?” he asked, plainly picking up on what she’d given away. She grumbled again, but didn’t answer, averting her eyes. More thoughtfully, as if to himself, Ez said “And you don’t mind.”

“Who says?” she retorted, disagreeably. She’d certainly minded plenty near the start, after all.

But, again, Ezran was thoughtfully quiet, for long enough that she eventually glanced back at him. In the shadows, the faint luminescence of his eyes was striking; something she’d expect more of her own kind than his. With those eyes on her, he said again “You don’t mind.” It wasn’t at all a question, and strangely, her breath caught. She found she couldn’t answer.

Ezran looked at her with such a solemn weight of knowing that she felt stripped bare, felt exposed, as if she faced a priest of the Moon's Shadow instead of a ten year old boy. A priest of the Shadow, with the eyes to see the secrets hidden beneath her skin. She stilled, oddly shaken, until the moment passed and Ezran nodded, eyes falling on Callum again.

“Good,” he said, softly. “That’s…good. Callum needs more people who’ll care about him.” Before she could flush at that, he smiled. “And he always has been pretty huggy.”

Uncomfortable, Rayla glanced down at Callum’s sleeping face. Only half of it was visible at the moment, with how he’d smooshed it into her side. “I noticed,” she said, a touch dryly. Then she hesitated. “Ezran…” He looked at her inquisitively, and suddenly it was hard to force the words out. “You…are you going to tell…” she trailed off, not even entirely certain what she was asking.

He fixed her with that oddly penetrating look again, as if he knew what she was trying to say better than she did. As if he understood, even without having touched her at all. “Am I going to tell him he gets cuddly with you when he’s asleep?” he offered, now with a little spark of mirth in his eyes. She stared narrowly at him, suddenly absolutely certain that he was enjoying this. “Or that you’re okay with it?”

There was something about the way he said that last part. Teasing, like he meant something else. Something more horrifically embarrassing, like ‘that you’ve got a huge crush on him’, or possibly another equally terrible equivalent. Was she imagining it? Did he actually guess that she – or was she just overthinking…?

She looked at him again. At the tiny smile, the knowing look, the glimmer of mischief.

Yeah, he knew. Or at the very least, he knew more than she wanted him to.

Her face burned, and her shoulders hunched as she looked away. She’d hoped to keep this hidden from him, even despite his empathic abilities and uncomfortably astute people-reading skills. She’d been an idiot. It would never have worked for long.

“Any of that,” she agreed, in the end, not meeting his eyes. She was so hyper-aware of Callum’s presence now that it almost itched, that she wanted to push him away. But she didn’t want to risk him waking into this conversation, of all things. As it was, she was thanking the stars for how much of a sound sleeper he was.

Ezran smiled, tilted his head consideringly at his brother, and hummed. “I guess I won’t tell,” he decided, in the end. “Callum can be kind of slow about this kind of thing, so it’ll probably work out better if I don’t say anything. At least for a while.”

What was that supposed to mean? Slow about what? What would work out better?

Still. She could at least appreciate the decision he’d apparently made. Rayla glanced at him warily, but though he was clearly having a good time with the topic, she didn’t see any duplicity in him. Her shoulders eased a little, and she sighed. “Thanks,” she said, begrudgingly.

“Plus, it’ll be way funnier to watch you guys if I don’t tell,” Ezran added helpfully. Rayla glared at him. “What? It’s true. Last night was already great, with how you laid all over him like that, his face was hilarious-“ at her tiny strangled noise, he cut off, looking at her inquisitively. “What? Do you not remember?”

She hadn’t, until he’d mentioned it. But now…the memories were hazy, and dreamlike in that characteristic lilium-drugged way, but they were there. “I do now,” she muttered, tense with mortification, suddenly awash with the recollection of how nice it had been. Drugged-Rayla had found such an entirely uncomplicated contentment in the whole thing that it warmed her even now. “Ugh.” Then, since he already knew, and she might as well: “This is exactly why I was worried about taking the lilium.”

Ezran stared at her. “It is? I thought it was because you didn’t want to act weir-“ He stopped. “Ohh. I get it. You don’t want to act all crushy around Callum.”

Her shoulders went up, and she reflexively looked down at the human prince pressed into her side to make sure he was still soundly asleep. Thankfully, nothing had changed on that front. Still- “Shh!” She hissed at him, prickling with self-consciousness.

Undaunted, he said “You were fine, you know. Just kind of cuddly. Cuddly’s fine.” He indicated his brother’s sleeping form, as if to present it as evidence. Rayla followed his gaze and pinked. “He’s, you know, a cuddly person. So he was surprised, but…” Ezran shrugged.

She intensely wanted to escape this conversation. But it wasn’t like she could just…leave. Opening the tent would waste all the heat and leave them all properly cold for the rest of the night. So she did the only thing she could: “Enough talking,” she said, firmly, ignoring the flush in her cheeks. “You should try to go back to sleep now.” Seeing him open his mouth to object, she added sharply “Try. Even if you can’t. Laying down with your eyes closed is still better rest than being up and awake all night.”

“Aw, fine,” Ez accepted, and eyed her. “You’d better try to go to sleep too, though.”

She sighed. “I will, Ezran.”

He extended a hand over his brother’s side, littlest finger befuddlingly extended. She stared at it warily, uncertain what he meant by it, and after a moment he prompted “Pinky promise?”

“What in Xadia’s name is a pinky promise?”

“A promise you make by linking your pinky fingers and shaking them,” he explained. “Means you can’t break it. So?” He waggled the finger.

She’d always thought they were called ‘pinkos’. “I don’t have pinky fingers, Ez.”

Undeterred, he said “That’s okay. You can just use your last finger. It’ll count.” So, sighing, she relented and extended her left hand to link fingers with him. He shook it twice, very solemnly, and then the promise was – supposedly – sealed. He looked very satisfied with himself. “There,” he said, and leaned back. Then, true to his word, he gathered up the egg again, repositioned the grumpily half-asleep Bait, and planted himself down on the ground, eyes determinedly closed.

It looked kind of comical, actually. His face was a little screwed up, like he was trying to stubborn himself into unconsciousness.

Glad for the reprieve from the uncomfortable conversation, and mindful of the weird human finger-vowing custom, Rayla settled back down herself. Callum hadn’t shifted much when she sat up before, and didn’t shift much now. He just pressed his face into her shoulder instead of her arm. She glanced at him one last time, for a very long moment, and then closed her eyes. Sleep followed soon after.

---

Rayla woke again a few hours later. It was a while past dawn, and though the Moon would still linger above the horizon for a few hours yet, its recession pulled at her. Habit brought her awake with unerring ease at that sensation, so she blinked her eyes open and rose. Callum mumbled incoherently as she displaced him; she glanced at him quickly, but was relieved to see he was still asleep.

She sighed, quashing the increasingly-familiar flutter in her chest, and carefully extracted herself, reaching out to pull his fingers out of the wool of her jumper. That complete, she shuffled over to the tent doors, noting that Ezran had evidently managed to get back to sleep at some point…though, he was stirring now. That was unusual. Usually he slept as deeply as his brother, and didn’t budge even when she moved about. He sat up and yawned as she started undoing the door toggles, blinking sleepily at her. “Morning, Rayla,” he greeted, after a moment, voice rough.

One look at him and she recalled the middle-of-the-night conversation they’d had, and the mortifying details therein. She offered him a wary half-smile, folding the tent-door back. Instantly, it was colder; the air between the two tent layers made goosebumps lift on her skin, even with most of it swaddled in wool. She shivered, but reached outwards for the next door anyway. “Morning,” she echoed, after a moment, fingers working carefully at the toggles. Her left hand prickled with a strange numbness as it moved, clumsy as if cold, even though it was just as warm as the other one.

The outer door opened, and the air from outside was so frigid it felt like a slap in the face. She grimaced, inhaling sharply, and that inhale half-burned her lungs with the biting chill. “Ugh,” she said, and a few seconds later, Ezran made a similar noise as the air hit him.

“Oh, wow,” he said, sounding a little impressed. “I guess the tent really does make a difference.”

“That’s kind of the point, yeah,” she agreed, then forced herself outside.

It was a very bright morning, even now. The sun had just about poked past one of the mountains, and the sky was a pale, clear colour almost devoid of clouds. What little cloud-wisps there were moved noticeably; it was still relatively windy. She squinted against the brightness, then ventured out. Frost crunched beneath the boots she’d apparently slept in.

There hadn’t been any more snow in the night, so the area she’d cleared hadn’t particularly filled in, but it was white anyway. She frowned at her footprints, stamping a few times experimentally, and confirmed that it really was just frost. Frost, at least a couple centimetres thick. She turned around and found it had settled on the exterior of the tent as well, turning the whole thing pale and icy-looking. “Ugh,” she said again, disgruntled, knowing that they’d need to clear that off before they could pack it.

She’d headed over to the burned-out campfire by the time Ez followed her out, having pulled his boots and his cloak on, shivering. “What’re you doing?” he asked her, as she piled in their remaining firewood and went for the flint. He had Bait in his arms, the toad looking half-asleep and as grumpy as ever.

“It’s a cold morning,” she said. “Better have a hot drink or something before we go. It’ll do us good. Plus, I think our meat is all frozen, so we’ll need to heat up breakfast, too.”

“Oh, right.” He paused for a moment to think. “Can I help?”

“You can take the scarves and gloves and stuff off the snow-people,” she offered, dryly, and nodded to the line of icy sentinels at the edge of camp. “Since you and Callum apparently forgot to do that last night. They’ll need warming, too.”

Ez winced. “We did forget.” He sighed, put Bait down by the fire, then trotted off to obey. He returned a short while later with some particularly frosty winterwear, which she put close-ish to the burgeoning fire. Hopefully not close enough to catch alight. “Are we going to wake up Callum soon?”

She glanced consideringly back at the tent, which she’d left entirely open. “Cold will probably wake him up on its own soon enough,” she estimated. “But sure, why not.” So she stood and went, Ezran apparently deciding to follow. She found Callum curled up and shivering on top of her cloak, chasing the last vestiges of warmth, shifting like he was on the verge of awakening. She rolled her eyes, then reached through the tent-layers to poke him in the thick wool socks over his feet.

He giggled, apparently ticklish, and squirmed when she poked him again, and then finally cracked his eyes open. He peered at Rayla, then at Ez, as if not awake enough to comprehend what he was looking at. “Cold?” he offered, in a sort of incoherent questioning complaint, and then squinted at the brightness of the light from behind them. “Mm…too bright. Shut the curtains?”

Ezran snickered. Rayla lifted an eyebrow. “No,” she answered, helpfully, and watched him blink a few times more. He frowned.

“Tent,” he realised, seconds later. “Camping. Mountains. Right.” Finally he pushed himself up, then frowned. “Why am I on your cloak?”

Beside her, Ezran’s face was suddenly beset by an enormous grin. Rayla pointed her finger at him sternly and said “No.” Turning back to Callum, she added “…Probably it was warm, or something. Give it here, though, I’m getting chilly.” She ignored Ezran’s expression and prodded Callum until he was up and pulling his boots on, then reclaimed her cloak. He seemed to wake up a little when she started struggling to get it around her shoulders alone; for all that her hand didn’t hurt at all anymore, the motions for pulling clothing on still tugged unpleasantly at the wounds on her arm and shoulder, and she was all-too-aware that the lilium had worn off.

Rayla sighed, and lingered in place while Callum sat up to help her with the cloak. She was getting used to that, but it still rankled a little. She carefully didn’t look at his face, too aware of Ezran watching them.

“Thanks,” she said, when he was done, then receded from the tent doorway. “Now get up. We’ve got a long way to go today.”

“Don’t we have a long way to go every day?” he asked, pulling his boots on, and she snorted.

“Generally, yes. But considering how many days we’ve been sat around lately, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

He seemed a little surprised to see the fire re-lit when she led him out, but settled under the explanations of breakfast and a warm drink easily enough. “It’s a good idea,” he agreed, a little ruefully, settling to hold one of his icy gloves over the fire, just far enough not to burn. “I feel all numb and cold and stiff, kinda. Would be nice to warm up a bit before having to move.”

“We’ll all feel fine when we’re walking.” Rayla shrugged, and checked on the water. “But, yeah.”

A while later, when they’d all had some pine tea and they’d boiled some meat into a bland but serviceable semblance of breakfast, he glanced at the stiff way she was holding her arm and inquired about her pain levels.

She blinked at him owlishly. “Hurts, but not any worse than usual?” she offered, shrugging. Almost on reflex, she flexed her bad hand, as though to chase some of the familiar stiff ache from it, but there was just…nothing. No pain at all in the hand itself. In the wrist, sure, but the hand?

It didn’t feel normal. But it didn’t hurt, either. She wasn’t sure what to think about that.

He noticed the motion, of course. “Is your hand bothering you?”

She sighed, and looked away. “No.” Her voice was a little short. It didn’t hurt. It was bothering her, though, just…in a way she wasn’t sure she was ready to think about yet, let alone talk about.

He accepted that easily enough, even though he plainly wanted to press further; he was so annoyingly considerate. “Alright. Well, I was just wondering…” he glanced at her arm, hesitated, then went on. “…if it’s been long enough that it’s safe for you to take willow bark again. So you can take something for the pain while we’re travelling.”

Rayla blinked, nonplussed.

“You didn’t think of that, huh?” Ezran spoke, observing her reaction, and she frowned.

“I didn’t,” she said, after a moment, and considered her injuries, invisible past the bandages and several layers of clothes. “It’s…hm.” Eyes narrowing a little, she thought about it. It wasn’t like there wasn’t still stuff going on under the surface. Willow bark probably would slow or disrupt that. But, at this point, the seal on the wounds was solid enough that it wouldn’t necessarily be dangerous.

“Rayla?” Callum prompted, when she’d been quiet a long time.

“I think it’ll make me heal slower,” she concluded, after a while. “…But, now I think about it, I’ll barely be healing at the moment anyway, so…I might as well?” She shrugged, and felt a little lighter; it was undeniably cheering to think of maybe having some painkillers to tide her through what would be a pretty physically-demanding day.

She’d already got caught up in the relief of that idea, so was a little taken-aback when Ezran squinted at her and said “Why not?” She frowned at him, confused, and he elaborated. “Why aren’t you healing at the moment?”

“Oh.” Somehow, even after spending so long with them, confirming every day that they were human…she’d forgotten they wouldn’t know. So, with a false nonchalance, she nodded towards the sky, where the pale crescent of the sinking Moon still remained, washed out in the bright blue of daylight. “It’s New Moon soon,” she explained, averting her eyes from theirs. “It’s just…like that. For Moonshadow elves.” She scowled a little. “Especially without moondust.”

“Oh, right.” Callum nodded, as if remembering. “You said you’d be weaker at new moon. I didn’t know it affected stuff like your healing too, though.” He hesitated, looking at her. “How far away is it?”

Rayla grimaced. “Three days, ish. Including today.” She hadn’t in her entire life seen an unmedicated elf at New Moon. The ones who were crazy enough to go without moondust hid themselves away for the duration. She didn’t know what it would be like, but…

“And it’s already making you heal really slow?” Ez seemed morbidly interested. “Even days away?”

She was quiet for a while, uncertain if she wanted to admit it. “My healing, and my senses, and my strength.” Her voice was curt. “I’m weaker already. It’s not so bad yet, but in a day or so…” She shrugged. “No avoiding it, I suppose, but I’m not looking forward to it.” It was nagging at her, even, in a strange insistent way that she wasn’t used to. There was an animal awareness in the back of her mind, intent on the waning Moon, itching and whispering at her as if to say that she wasn’t safe, she wasn’t secure, she needed to find somewhere to hide before it was too late…

Callum and Ezran shared a glance. “Can you tell us what to expect?” Callum asked, trying for pragmatism, though she could tell he was worried.

She snorted. “No, not really. People tell a lot of stories about natural New Moon, so it’s hard to know what’s true.” She squinted at the sky. “I’ll have a better idea the day before, though. By then I should be able to tell how hard it’ll hit me.”

He hesitated. “Is it…” he seemed to struggle for the words, and she looked at him until he managed it. “Will it be dangerous? For you?”

Her first instinct was to snort dismissively at the notion, but then she paused. “…No, probably not,” she estimated, after a little more thought. “If I was sick, maybe, it could be a problem. Or if I was more badly injured.” She glanced at her arm consideringly. “We get sick easily, at New Moon. If that’s worse off of moondust…” A pause for thought. “I suppose the worst case scenario is my arm getting infected.”

Callum looked dismayed. “Rayla, that is dangerous. Infections are bad.”

She glanced at him. “Yeah, they can be,” she acknowledged. “But worst comes to worst, we’d just have to hold out for…Half Moon, I suppose, or anything past it. That’s one bonus of not being on moondust.” She grimaced at the thought. “Moonshadow elves off moondust are pretty impossible to kill with infection, near Full Moon. So, there’s that.”

She didn’t mention, because she doubted it’d help anything, that people tended to tell tall stories about the extremity of weakness that the New Moon brought. Stories that indicated that an unhealthy elf could sicken and die so quickly that they were gone before the Moon could turn back. But she wasn’t that unhealthy. She had injuries, maybe, but she didn’t have anything that could suddenly get worse and really mess her up. She should be fine.

Her hand, though. She recalled the weird experience she’d had the first time the binding had loosened, and twitched. If the human healer was to be believed about the dangers, that could have been the sort of thing that’d go wrong at New Moon. But, thankfully, she was plenty past that now.

The words had apparently reassured Callum, at least. “Well, thank Mercy for that,” he sighed, then looked at her curiously. “So, if you have a sick Moonshadow elf, do you take them off moondust to help them recover, or…?”

Rayla rolled her eyes at him. Trust Callum to get curious about the details of it. “Not if it’s close to New Moon,” she said. “Then they’ll just get worse. Or – actually, they get better for a day or two, then they get worse fast.” It was something she’d been taught about, with regards to first aid in the field. If someone was sick or severely injured near Full Moon, you stopped their moondust, and the influx of magic would sort them out once the drug left their system. But if the Moon was waning, it wasn’t worth the risk.

“But the full moon makes you recover,” he said, thoughtfully. “Do you heal faster, too?”

She glanced at her arm, momentarily pensive. She wondered what it would look like, when the Full Moon had passed. “Yeah.” Shaking her head as though to dispel the thought, she shoved a jar of icy cooked meat into Callum’s hands, and said “Heat that up, would you? I’ve got some packing to do.” She took that opening to escape the conversation, too-aware of the throb of her wounds and the strangeness of her hand.

She left the boys by the fire as she went around the snow-banks, pulling the wrapped slabs of frozen meat she’d shoved in there for cold-storage yesterday. The venture had been successful enough that divorcing the supplies from the surrounding ice was a little challenging; the snow had turned icy, and clung to the packages in sharp-edged clusters. Finally she brought it all back to the cleared space and got to work.

It was an annoyingly long time until they were ready to leave. Heating up breakfast took time, getting frost and ice off of their stuff took time, getting the contents of their waterskins to melt into something drinkable took time, and getting their gloves into a fit state to be worn took time as well. Rayla was fully impatient when at last they could put the pot away, and even then…

Reflexively, she tried to pick it up one-handed. Left-handed. It felt heavy; her hand shook, and her wrist ached, and the pot slipped from her fingers. A pot, and it was too heavy to hold. Her jaw clenched, and she reached with the other hand instead. She lifted. That, at least, was properly effortless.

Is it always going to be like this? she wondered, dismayed, keenly aware of the unhealthy fatigue in her wrist. Then, ruthlessly, she shoved the thought away. She tucked the hand carefully against her side, and went back to the increasingly-familiar awkwardness of trying to conduct camp chores with only her right hand available.

The dull ache of her damaged wrist harried her until, eventually, she took some willow bark between her teeth and chewed for long enough that all her pains went a little further away. It wasn’t as effective as the lilium, but her mind was clear, and it was a relief not to have to travel with her wounds searing at her so terribly.

“Right,” she said, when everything was finally in order. “Let’s get moving.” She pulled on her gloves at last; the fabric itched and tingled strangely on the skin of her left hand.

The boys checked their snowshoes, hefted the straps of their bags, then tromped over to her where she waited at the edge of their former camp. She settled her own straps over her uninjured shoulder, glanced around to make certain they’d not forgotten anything, then started walking.

“Goodbye, snow-people,” Callum said to their icy constructs, both boys waving the things farewell as they left. Despite herself, Rayla shook her head at them, and smiled.

---

The snow was icier today, and a little easier to walk on with the snowshoes. That was a mercy, considering literally everything else was harder.

Just a few days ago, the initial burst of mountain-hiking had set Callum’s legs to aching more fiercely than he’d ever experienced in his life. He’d acquired soreness from combat training plenty of times over the last few years, but that didn’t hold a candle to the stiffness of legs unused to walking uphill for days on end. Then the thundersnow had happened, and he’d had a chance to recover. There’d been some walking yesterday, but not enough to reduce him to the same state as before.

He suspected that would change today.

The going was almost entirely upwards, and it was steep. Even with the snowshoes, it was hard to find his footing, and in places he pretty much had to climb, bracing his hands against rock directly in front of him to pull himself up. Ez, being considerably shorter, needed to be helped up those parts, Bait riding in his sweater to free up his hands.

It made him miss the first few days of their journey, a little; back when the ground had been level enough he’d been able to draw as he walked. Now he didn’t dare look at anywhere except where he was putting his feet.

…Most of the time, anyway.

He couldn’t really help staring around with wide-eyed wonder, sometimes. Every time they crested a slope or finished climbing the steeper sections, he could look ahead or behind and see the mountain range sprawling out around them. The angle wasn’t quite right for him to see all of the way they’d come, but some of the lowlands were visible anyway. They looked impossibly green and verdant from where he was, up on the mountain with its snow and ice.

It was weird to think that, mere days ago, he’d been somewhere warm enough to not feel the chill biting at his fingers. There wasn’t even much sunlight to help warm him; the clear skies of the early morning had given way to a patchy, sullen layer of clouds. It made for some pretty scenery, what with the rays of light casting between them over the landscape, but it didn’t soften the chill at all.

The cold wasn’t all bad, though. It created some really beautiful things. Callum found himself admiring the branching twigs of a leafless shrub, eyes following the strange frigid crust they’d accumulated. Ice clung to the undersides, an inch long, in an odd rippling pattern that made his hands itch for charcoal. Ice was on everything today, but this looked different. Where most every other grass and shrub around them was white and lumpy with thick frost, this looked clear and almost glassy. He tilted his head to see the watery light glimmer through, thinking of how he’d shade it.

It was then that Rayla nudged him, breaking him from his reverie. “Something interesting?” she asked, eyebrow raised. He offered an embarrassed laugh.

“Er,” he said, and indicated the shrub. “Just…that. The ice on it. It’s pretty.” He shrugged.

She looked blankly where he’d pointed. “…It’s twigs.”

“Pretty twigs,” he insisted, lips twitching. “The ice is really interesting! Sort of…wave-y? Ripple-y?”

“Kind of like icicles, maybe?” Ezran suggested, sounding a little winded as he leaned in to look. He evidently wasn’t having any easier a time with the walking than Callum.

Callum eyed the shrub appraisingly. “Yeah, something like that. Like sort of…lengthways icicles.”

Rayla shook her head at him. “It’s ice on twigs,” she said, exasperated. She was smiling a little, though. “Nothing special.”

“Well, I think it’s nice,” Callum announced, in staunch defence of the icy twigs in question. “And I want to draw it.”

She rolled her eyes, then reached out to tug at his cloak, beckoning him onwards. “Uhuh. Sure. But later. Now’s for walking.”

He mock-saluted, hand to his chest, and walked.

It was tough going. A mere hour later, his head was fogged with exertion and his legs were burning, and he seemed constantly out of breath. It wasn’t as though he was unaccustomed to the feeling of tightness in his chest, of labouring for steady breaths for what felt like hours on end – but it was distinctly different to experience it free of the usual panic or distress. He got out of breath during training, sure, but – not like this. Not in this strange, persistent way, where even the short breaks they took didn’t seem to help.

Given the exertion, it took him a while to realise that the breathlessness was a little weird. A lot of the walking was more like climbing, and it made sense to be panting during that. But they came to a plateau around midday, and walked on nearly-flat ground for a good fifteen minutes, and he still couldn’t quite catch his breath. “…Is it just me,” he managed, between gasps for air, “or is it weirdly hard to breathe today?”

Ezran’s breath was huffing and puffing too. “Not just you.”

Rayla glanced at them, and then at the mountain range ahead of them. “It’s the altitude,” she said, plainly, and both of them turned to blink at her, still plodding numbly onwards.

Callum frowned. “What?”

“Why we’re finding it harder to catch our breath,” she clarified, waving at the mountain. “It’s altitude. When you’re up high enough, the air’s thinner. Harder to breathe.” She shrugged. “And we’ve climbed a lot today.”

“…Oh,” he realised, nonplussed. Ezran, for his part, seemed too busy staring exhaustedly at the sky to have many thoughts on the matter. “Isn’t that mountain-sickness?”

“Same thing, different names.” Rayla agreed, pausing to stretch out her legs and shake them a little, as if to dispel some stiffness. Whether it was the oncoming new moon, or just the harshness of the ascent, she seemed to actually be feeling the exercise for once. “We must be past three thousand metres now. That’s when most people usually start getting mountain-sickness.”

He considered asking what that was in feet, but didn’t quite get around to it before his brother spoke. “That’s a lot of metres.” Ez mumbled, tiredly.

Callum glanced at him, then back at Rayla. “Should we be…worried, about this? I don’t know much about mountain-sickness, but can’t it get pretty bad?”

“We’d need to go a lot higher for the breathing to be an actual problem,” Rayla said, shaking her head. “But let me know if you get weird headaches, or feel sick, or dizzy. That’s the stuff to watch out for. For now, though…” She hummed pensively, and narrowed her eyes at the scenery. “…I’m thinking we won’t have to go much higher than this. It’s not like we’re trying to summit anything. We’re just trying to get onto the next mountain.” She tilted her head to scrutinise the route. She pointed out a vaguely-sloping plateau a fair distance away, somewhat lower on the mountainside than their current position. “I reckon we can start going down again that way, and then find somewhere to camp past there. That’s got to be a couple hundred metres lower. Should be easier to breathe.”

“Sounds good,” he sighed, and lifted his face to a cold breeze. He hadn’t expected to be grateful for the freezing weather, but with how hard he was working…if it had been warmer, he might have passed out by now. He pulled in a few more unsatisfying breaths, then pushed onwards.

After about half an hour, they stopped ascending quite so viciously and instead began a meandering up-and-down path along the mountainside, heading steadily downwards. This was when Callum discovered that going down mountains was just as hard as going up them, albeit in different ways. It was so icy that they had to take it painstakingly slow, and even then he felt constantly on the edge of a nasty fall. His toes crushed together at the fronts of his boots, beginning to grow sore.

The third time Callum slipped on ice and had to be steadied from falling face-first down-slope, Rayla went away and snapped a branch off of a large pine, shearing off its needles with her blade and scraping off most of the bark. She judged it against his height for a few moments before unceremoniously chopping several inches off the end. “Here. Walking cane.” She said, presenting him with it, and went off to go find another branch, which she prepared for Ezran.

They mumbled thanks at her, exhausted, and continued their descent with somewhat greater poise than before. The descent pulled at different muscles to the ascent, so his legs weren’t complaining quite as much, but the fronts of his toes were starting to hurt in that sharp way that suggested there’d be blisters soon. He’d never had blisters on the front of his feet before, and wasn’t especially looking forward to the experience.

The pine-canes weren’t sturdy, and Callum snapped his after less than an hour. By that point though he didn’t need it as much, so he just went without until – finally – Rayla glanced at the sky and announced their lunch break. “Oh, thank Mercy,” he muttered, dropping his backpack with abject relief and collapsing to the ground.

Ezran lowered his with rather more care, but made an incoherent noise of gratitude when he finally sat down. “Shouldn’t that be Fortitude?” he mumbled, tiredly. “Since we made it this far without falling over?”

“Speak for yourself,” Callum huffed, wiping a hand over his face. Even through the gloves, he thought he could feel the livid heat of his skin, warmed by exertion. He imagined he was probably super red-looking right now. “I’ve fallen over tons of times. Or…nearly fallen, anyway.”

Rayla lowered her bag and the tent pack carefully, as though being mindful of her other shoulder, then collapsed with obvious relief beside them. “You have a god of not-falling-over?” she asked, sceptically, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“Not a god,” he said back, just a little amused, eyes closing as he panted for breath. “Paragon.”

“You have a paragon of not-falling-over?” she corrected, and when he opened his eyes to glance sideways at her, her lips were twitching.

He snorted, then closed his eyes again. He half wanted to turn over and plant his face directly into a snow bank. It’d help him cool down, at the very least. “Pretty much,” he sighed, and after a moment of consideration, did reach to his side and pick up a handful of icy snow. He smooshed it onto his face, the ice crystals a little sharp-edged on his skin. “Endurance, and willpower, and keeping going even when stuff’s hard.”

“Fortitude’s a good Paragon for us right now, I think,” Ezran said, sounding exhausted, and Callum offered a wordless hum of agreement.

“If this had been an official mission, people would’ve sent us off with him, you know,” he said, almost wistful. “They’d have said ‘Fortitude follow you’. And ‘Prudence guide your feet’. That’s traditional for big or important or tough journeys.”

Rayla offered a dubious hum. “Well, this journey’s definitely all three of those.”

For a while, they just laid there, getting their breath back, trying to cool down. Callum’s under-layers began to feel cold and clammy with the sweat, indicating they’d probably smell terrible later on. He was too tired to bring himself to care.

Eventually, Rayla pulled herself up, even though she plainly didn’t want to. “Right,” she said, determinedly, in as bull-headed a manifestation of Fortitude that anyone could have asked for. “Food. We can’t take too long with this break, so…food.”

Callum made a face. “I’m really not hungry.” In the wake of the sheer exertion of the morning, eating seemed unthinkable. The mere notion turned his stomach.

“Yes you are. You’ve just not cooled down enough to feel it,” Rayla refuted, pragmatic, and went for the reserves of cooked meat she’d put in her bag. “It’s hard to eat after exercise, but when you’re on a stupid long journey, you do it anyway.” She opened the jar and waved it aggressively at them. Both of them complained pitifully at her, but she wasn’t having any of it. In short order they’d both reluctantly withdrawn a portion and sat up to start nibbling on it.

“You’re like aunt Amaya is about breakfast,” Ezran muttered, mouth part-full, chewing around the bite he’d taken. “She’s really bossy about that too.”

Rayla looked nonplussed. Plainly, she wasn’t sure what to think about the comparison.

“Imagine if we told her that,” Callum put in, uncertain whether to be amused or alarmed at the thought. “Wonder how she’d react to being compared to an elf.”

“She’d definitely make a pretty weird face,” Ezran offered thoughtfully. “She’d probably be glad Rayla’s making sure we’re eating, though.”

She grimaced at that, looking like she’d swallowed something sour. “Don’t know about that. She’d just stab me for running off with you two in the first place.”

Callum opened his mouth to protest, remembered the depth of his aunt’s sentiments for elves, then shut it. “…Well, I mean…”

“Don’t worry, Rayla,” Ez said, reaching out to pat her on the knee. “If you ever meet aunt Amaya, we’ll make sure we’re there, and then we can convince her to be nice to you. No stabbing.”

Rayla glanced at him, expression slightly pained. “…If you say so.” It was very obvious, from her face, that she had absolutely no intention of going near their aunt if she could help it. Not for the first time, Callum wondered what kind of reputation Amaya had in Xadia.

“We can keep teaching you sign language, too!” His brother went on, determinedly cheerful. “I bet she’d be too surprised at an elf trying to talk to her properly to, um,” he searched for a word.

“Stab me, clobber me with her shield, or throw me in a dungeon?” Rayla suggested, and both of them made faces at her. Callum, for his part, had recently seen Rayla contend with what would surely have been a fatal stabbing if he hadn’t tossed her assailant off a cliff, and wasn’t particularly keen on imagining any Aunt Amaya variations on the affair.

It was uncomfortably easy to picture, though. He’d seen one of his aunt’s famous Battalion sparring sessions, and she was…very, very good at fighting. Struck suddenly wordless, he said nothing.

Ezran shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Rayla sighed, and for a moment, looked down at her left hand. She flexed its fingers carefully, slow and methodical, and Callum remembered how she’d been looking at it earlier. For all that she hadn’t wanted to talk about it, she’d seemed…unsettled. “Well,” she said, quietly, after a moment. “I guess sign language is…probably pretty good exercise, for this hand.”

“Keeping it moving, helping circulation?” Callum supplied, after calling back to mind the Healer’s advice. “Yeah, I guess it would be. We could do a quick bit of it now, while we’re resting?”

She eyed him, then rolled her eyes. “Suppose. Might as well make it something useful, though.”

“Like what?” Ez asked, intrigued.

“Like watch signals. Check-ins, and stuff. The kind of thing my lot would use ictus for.”

“Huh,” Callum blinked, and thought about it. It wasn’t like he’d not seen military sign language terms being used before, given who his aunt was, so… “Yeah, sure. What first?”

Rayla, apparently, had been drilled thoroughly enough in proper silent report-giving enough that she had a list of important terms ready to go. She determinedly worked her hands through learning the signs to demand a status report, report all-clear, report a problem, and report possible enemies in the area. It was all pretty basic, but she clearly wasn’t used to learning this sort of thing, and…well. And her hand was obviously giving her problems.

He didn’t comment, because he could see she didn’t want him to. But it was slow to move. The fingers trembled strangely in certain positions, and didn’t quite seem to respond right. Several times, between his demonstrations of new signs, he saw her flex the fingers and shake the hand, as if trying to dispel some stiffness that wouldn’t quite deign to leave...

“That’s probably enough for today,” he decided, once she’d navigated her hands through a quick practice exchange of an all-clear status report. “Or, at least, for now. Probably won’t sink in, if we try for more.”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, probably,” she agreed, and glanced briefly at the way ahead. “We should be moving again, anyway.”

“Next time, we’ll teach you something more fun,” Ezran promised.

She glanced his way, smiling a little as she hefted her bags over her one good shoulder. “Like what?”

“Like talking about your favourite foods, maybe?” he suggested, picking up the bag with the egg carefully, and kneeling to let Bait jump onto its top, riding there like a monarch in his carriage.

“That sounds like a good way to get ourselves stupid hungry with nothing good around to eat.” Despite the words, she sounded amused.

Callum thought longingly of the castle meals, and regretted not eating more at lunch. Rayla had been right; he really had been hungrier than he’d felt at first. “Still nice to think about,” he said wistfully. “Give us something to look forward to when this is all done.”

“Suppose.” When he looked at her, she looked a little wistful herself, as though she were caught in similar thoughts of home.

As they started to walk, he glanced at her sidelong, and eventually asked “So…what are your favourite foods, back home?” If, as she’d claimed, everything in Xadia was magical…did that include the food? What did magic food taste like?

She hesitated for a moment, like she wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to say, or even if she wanted to. But then she smiled, still wistful, and started describing her favourite Xadian fruits and berries to them, and which ones she’d learned to find and pick herself in the forest she apparently lived in.

He listened to it all, interjecting with questions here and there, and…though she was pretty sparing with the details, started to get a better idea of the place she’d grown up in. A forest full of magic, and wild fruit vines growing on trees tall enough they’d probably overshadow the cliff his home castle was built on. Trees tall enough and immense enough to carve houses out of. It was so fantastical to imagine. Thinking of the wonders of Xadia, waiting so far ahead, made it a little easier to keep walking.

The hour passed like that, with easy curious conversation to take their minds off of the travel, and in the end Callum felt lighter than he had in days.

Even if Rayla wouldn’t tell him what was in a moonberry surprise.

---

In the wake of the storm, the Healer’s house grew busy, and from his sickbed Corvus bore witness to it all.

The first day, there was a stream of miners displaced from the mountain by an avalanche. Broken bones on two, sprains on a few more. A day later one of the same group, only recently recovered from the mountainside, was brought in hypothermic and near-dead, losing two toes and a finger to frostbite before she was stabilised. No one had died, apparently, but it had been a near thing.

Now, the whole town was effectively on standby, waiting for the weather to improve. The tail-end of the thundersnow was still lashing at Verdorn’s periphery, for all that the mine-folk apparently thought it had moved past Farel – and, accordingly, the mines – by now.

“It’ll be another day before it’s safe to go back there,” said the Healer’s wife, a woman named Serris, who oversaw the mines and was apparently rarely home. “So in the meantime, we’ll just have to do our best impressions of directionless layabouts. At least you lot have the excuse of injury, eh?” This last comment she directed at her battered fellows in their beds, a good-natured jibe, and they jeered back at her.

“I’ll be glad to see a little more of your face in the meantime, at least,” said the Healer Marla, her voice dry. “And if you’re so offended by being a layabout, you can come help me mix these salves.”

“A harsh taskmistress, my wife,” commented Serris to the house’s residence, amused, before she went as commanded to help with the work.

Corvus quite enjoyed the company, in honesty. He’d grown accustomed to travelling and serving with the Battalion, and though he was frequently detached for his tracking endeavours, he missed the camaraderie of his fellows. It was good to have people to talk to, even if most of them were as bedridden as he was. And, with little else to do, they all spent a lot of time talking. He was recipient to a lot of questions about his current mission, which he couldn’t answer, and a lot of questions about the Battalion, some of which he could. He admitted when asked that he’d been told to stand by and heal, so wouldn’t be heading anywhere soon.

“I’m to get transportation to Greatport if I can do it without risking myself,” he said, a little wistful. He liked Greatport. If he had to convalesce anywhere, it would have been a good choice. But… “Apparently, I’ll have to hold off on that for a while, though.”

“You certainly will, master Corvus,” Marla said severely, without even looking up from her mixing. “Horseback would be terrible for you as you are now. It’s waiting for a cart to take you or nothing, and we’ve a while until the next of those is due to leave.”

So that was how his days passed, in the thick of the storm. He tried not to spend too much time worrying about the General, or the princes. For better or for worse, he was off the mission now. He just…wished he could have done better. If he had, maybe the princes would be safe now. Instead, he’d undoubtedly driven them straight into that deadly storm, with their captor potentially too badly injured to see to their safety.

He tried not to fret. But it was hard to avoid, when he had frostbitten testaments to the dangers of the mountains convalescing around him. The elf wasn’t the only danger to those boys, was she? And his failure had sent them straight into that gauntlet. He’d wanted to save them, but instead…

Still, Corvus did what he could to avert his thoughts. He’d sent what information he could to Amaya. There was nothing else he could do, at this point.

Except:

“The tavern had some interesting visitors today,” said Serris, after returning from checking in with her workers at the tavern in question. She shot a piercing look at Corvus as she spoke. “A couple of kids, one of ‘em in Crownguard armour. They said they’re tracking that elf.”

Corvus straightened on his headboard. So did everyone else in the house of healing. “Kids?” he repeated, then processed the Crownguard part. There was only one Crownguard he knew of who was young enough to easily be called a kid. He was suddenly at full attention. “Siblings?” he questioned, intent. “A girl with dyed hair? Her brother the Crownguard?”

Everyone was looking his way, now. “You know them?” Serris guessed, after a moment.

Lord Viren’s children, here? “I’ve met the Crownguard,” he said, slowly, mind working furiously. They were tracking the elf? That made no sense. That wasn’t a job for Crownguard, it was a job for the Battalion, the military – for him. And the dark mage…

He thought ‘elf’. He thought ‘dark mage’. Then he thought, ah.

For a moment, it all seemed to make sense. He considered Lord Viren with unease, and everything he’d heard of the man, working so closely with the General. Perhaps he wasn’t content with what could be harvested from the five felled Xadian assassins. Maybe he wanted the sixth, too, and had sent his daughter and son out to that effect…

…except, that didn’t quite fit.

“…Is that what they said?” Corvus asked, after a long silence, aware of the sudden quietness of the room of convalescents. “That they were after the elf?”

Serris eyed him, cautious. She folded her arms. “They tried to hide it at first, but, yeah. They didn’t know you were here, either. Seemed interested in that. They might come visiting soon.”

Corvus made a noncommittal noise, and tried to pore over his thoughts, tried to identify what tasted wrong about this situation. He’d been on a low dose of lilium for days now, and it slowed his mind more than he cared to admit. He needed his wits about him now, because there was something off here. Something important.

Slowly, through the fog, he drew the discrepancies from his gut into his mind.

Viren was Lord Protector now. If he wanted a pursuit of the elf, why not make it larger-scale? Why send only his children? Why not work with General Amaya, who was expressly pursuing the elf already, and surely had the best knowledge of the resources available? Soren certainly wasn’t a trained tracker. He doubted the girl, the dark mage, had that sort of training either, at her age-

He stopped. Examined the thought.

Dark mage. Tracking. Were there spells for that sort of thing?

For the first time, he felt an inkling of anger. If they had a way to find the princes and they’d been withholding it…!

Except that wasn’t right either. They said they were tracking the elf, not the princes. And, at this point, the news that the princes were actually alive probably hadn’t spread very far. So…Lord Viren had sent his children, a talented but inexperienced Crownguard and…a dark mage…in pursuit of an assassin thought to have slain royalty. Why? Were the ingredients worth so much to him? Was there some other motive?

…He’d sent his children covertly. Hadn’t given word to General Amaya, or Corvus would certainly have been notified by now. He wanted that elf found, and either he didn’t trust the General, or…

Or, there was some other motivation at play here. Something secret. Something, perhaps, that the Lord Protector would only trust to his own family.

Corvus recalled, all at once, that the elf had her wrist bound by magic. It was what had given him the advantage in the fight with her, knowing about it ahead of time, knowing what to target, what to exploit…and the Healer had said it was dark magic, hadn’t she? Dark magic, when there were only two dark mages who the elf might have encountered. One of those mages was now here.

Something isn’t right here, he thought to himself grimly, and felt his fingers itch for a quill. Amaya needed to know about this. But…

He sighed. Kora hadn’t returned in a while, so he could only assume she’d been put to work on the other end, relaying vital information to those places and people she was bound to. If he wanted to report, he’d have to do it by the town’s rookery, and send it to the Crow Office for redistribution. That would take time, and he still didn’t have the full story. If the Lord Protector’s children were here – if he could talk to them-

He needed to report. But it would be better to wait until there was more to say.

“If they ask…” Corvus said, slowly, to a dozen keen pairs of ears. “Tell them where to find me. I think we need to talk.”

End chapter.

Chapter Notes: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1OGBo7nKVDIfWjhxGe90fwaS3lP0IfQJ3?usp=sharing

Link to PIAJ chapter notes folder (Google Drive folder including worldbuilding, commentary, medical notes, research notes, and misc notes for all applicable chapters within this section)

This chapter's notes cover: travel details, the Crow Lord’s office, Hope, Mercy scripture, Moonshadow religion, rare Moonshadow elf abilities.

Timeline: https://docs.google.com/document/d/107eD8zmLAAFBWSOgsLyl8g4pAdQF4EgMh4rpN_m91U4/edit?usp=sharing Link to PIAJ Timeline Google doc ( to be updated as story progresses)

PIAJ Masterpage: https://tenspontaneite.tumblr.com/piaj Link to PIAJ Masterpage on tumblr (containing links to chapters, meta, art, Q&As, and resources) (Link may not work properly on mobile/app)

Author Notes:

So. It’s been a while. You can pretty much completely blame that on a single scene, which blocked me so hard that it actually kicked me directly out of the fandom. I’ve never had that happen before. I had to slowly claw my way back via my other tdp fics. The scene in question is written now, thankfully. I deferred it to the start of next chapter out of desperation, and then managed to write it all in a mad burst of inspiration the other day.

Various things have happened in my life that you can, like, vaguely catch hints of if you read back on my tumblr, if you’re into that sort of thing. Otherwise:

Credits: more Hogarth inspiration for one Sarli line in this chapter, specifically 'Where there is life, there is hope of change'. It's not word for word in the text, but there was definite inspiration there. I can't quite remember which book it was – In Extremis, maybe? Middle of its series, in any case.

Next chapter is done, and I’m very excited about it. It has some fun content, but most of all: it has my favourite Runaan plotline scene. I wrote it a long time ago, relatively early on in piaj development, and have been in love with it ever since. I’m so excited we’re finally to the point of me being able to publish it. I’m going to write a fucking huge author’s commentary section for that chapter’s extended notes, I have so much to say about it.

For now, though…I like this chapter a lot, actually. I’ve reread it so many times while trying to block-break over the last few months, and normally that would make me sick of it, but I still love it. Really enjoying starting to get to The Good Stuff. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! Or some sort of stat enrichment! It’s incredible fuel for the writing engine.

#tdp fic #rayllum #tdp callum #tdp rayla #piaj chapters

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whattheheehaw · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I’m sorry you’re getting shitty anons about this and you’re probably sick of it so I apologise for asking this but I’m genuinely curious what made you start actively disliking zutara? Like, considering how much excellent and insightful content/meta you yourself used to make/write? I get that interests change over time and you’re totally valid!! the anons sending you hate over it are really dumb, but if you’d be ok with sharing, I’d be really interested in hearing why you’ve done almost a complete 180 on the ship? Was is just burnout/end of a hyper-obsession? Or was it some of us in the rest of the fandom that turned you off? Or was it even something about the ship/characters themselves that you changed your mind about? xx

In short, it was a combination of burnout, dissatisfaction with fandom, and disappointment in myself that caused my disinterest for Zvtara.

I got asks similar to this one a couple of times before, but I never gave a comprehensive answer, mainly because I didn't know how to articulate my reasons why I don't like it anymore. But now that I've been out of ZK fandom for a month and have had some time to reflect, I think I can give a much more thorough response. Beware, this is long and I heavily critique the Zvtara fandom, so if you're a ZK shipper, keep reading at your own risk.

My first minor annoyance with Zvtara is that the fandom has a tendency to idolize certain fics and creators. And while there’s certainly nothing inherently wrong about that, I feel like the Zvtara fandom does it to such an extent that it influences the type of content that content creators make in order to get recognition. And to illustrate my point, I’m going to talk about one of the most famous Zvtara fics of all time: Once Around The Sun by eleventy7.

Don’t get me wrong, I love OATS. I think it’s a great fanfic and I think the author devoted a lot of time and effort to make it such an excellent fic. The plot, the development of the characters and their relationships to one other, and the messages about family and love were all brilliantly written. I mean, there is a reason why it’s regarded as the “Zvtara Bible”. This one fanfic had such a profound impact upon the ZK fandom, and I think the biggest impact that came from it is the dramatic influx of post-war Zvtara AU fanfiction.

Because so many people kept reading OATS and recommending it to others, I think there was an overall interest in ZK fics that take place in a post-war setting. And I think that all of the high praise towards OATS made more fic writers start to write post-war fanfics because of this demand for post-war AU.* I normally wouldn't complain about it because more content is more content, but in my opinion, 99% of ZK post-war fics are the same fic but in different fonts.

Like, there's at least 3 of these elements in every ZK post-war fanfic:

Ambassador Katara

An assassination attempt (usually on Zuko's life)

A healing scene between Zuko and Katara (usually Katara heals Zuko)

Aang and/or Mai is pushed to the side or vilified to some extent in order to make ZK happen

A private journey between Zuko and Katara to facilitate #6

S L O W B U R N (that's not really slowburn and more like "I love you and I very much want to be vocal about my feelings but #7 is in this fic" but the love story takes up like 30 chapters so I guess it's a slowburn?)

Zuko's advisers don't want him to get married to Katara because ✨racism✨

Ursa is found

Azula is in the fic because a) she's going to get a healing arc ft. Zuko and Katara and thereby helps them get together or b) she's the villain and thereby helps them get together

ZK wedding happens in the FN

After reading multiple post-war fics back to back, I could tell that the format was pretty much the same across the board, which isn't very interesting for me to read. My only other fic options in the Zvtara tag on AO3 are canon divergence fics which almost always take place during The Crossroads of Destiny or after The Southern Raiders. And to some extent, those stories are pretty much the same too. There's nothing really new or creative going on in the ZK fandom fic-wise, and because of that, my interest in ZK fandom started to dwindle.

My second issue with Zvtara is that it's a very old ship from a very old show. Because there's been 10+ years since the end of A:TLA, every nuanced point about shipping and the show itself have been talked to death.** There's just nothing new to say. It's the same arguments being rehashed over and over again in the tag because there's no other interpretation one can come up with.

For example, there's so many people who talk about why Zvtara as depicted in The Southern Raiders is not toxic and that's great and all, but I (and most likely many others) have read those same points about five times already. And for some reason, each time this happens, people act like someone just discovered the lost city of Atlantis when they bring up their new-but-not-new argument in defense of Zvtara. Honestly, I'm ashamed to say that I'm not exempt from being part of the group of people that reiterate old arguments. I've done it with one of my posts about The Southern Raiders and I've done it again with my Zutara/Omashu parallels post.

There's no new content to really dissect and analyze (especially considering Zuko and Katara are rarely in the same panel in any of the post-war comics), and because of this, people are just restating points that someone else made several years ago.*** And even if someone did have a different interpretation of an episode, their ideas would most likely be shut down because for the past several years, the same interpretation has been recycled through the fandom repeatedly and people are resistant to new perspectives.

This brings me to the third thing that I dislike about Zvtara: the insistence that there can only be one way to interpret The Southern Raiders. For the longest time, I've read take after take that said if Katara decided to kill Yon Rha, it would be ok because that's her grief to deal with and if she thinks that's the best way to mete out justice, then good for her. And again, I'm ashamed to say that I perpetuated that idea in a few of my own posts. I have always thought that "Katara killing Yon Rha is ok" is just a bad take in general, but I didn't want to vocalize that opinion when so many people—so many of the nice mutuals that I made—all shared that same opinion. Taking down a popular opinion of your own ship is completely different from taking down a popular opinion of a ship that you dislike. The Zvtara fandom is the first fandom that I was actually active in and I wanted to fit in so badly with everyone else that I just parroted whatever other people said, even if I didn't agree with those sentiments.

This leads me to my final reason why I don't want to be a part of ZK fandom anymore. I think I established myself as a "meta" person pretty early on and because of that, I constantly felt pressured to come up with new takes on the ship. And when people started flooding my ask box with stuff like "Can you write a meta about your thoughts on the idea that 'Zuko only took Katara on that field trip in TSR because he wanted her to forgive him'?" and "What are your thoughts about antis saying Zuko and Katara are toxic because of TSR?", I realized that I don't need to come up with new takes. People just want me to paraphrase something that 10 other people said about the same exact topic, because if I said what I actually thought about the subject (i.e. there is some truth in what antis say about TSR and it's not as much of a "Zvtara episode" that most people make it out to be), I'd probably get ZK shippers in the replies telling me that I'm wrong because x, y, and z or "you shouldn't tag this as Zvtara".

And that was pretty much how my love for ZK turned into disinterest. I was and still am disappointed that I didn't stick to my personal opinions. For as much as I talk about herd mentality on Twitter, I certainly don't practice what I preach. In all honesty, the only reason why I held on so long to ZK fandom was because I had so many nice mutuals there and we all shared this collective distaste for antis. I think I started to become more anti-Zvkka and anti-Kataang than pro-Zvtara, which isn't what I wanted to do when I made this Tumblr blog.

The thing that made me joke about becoming anti-Zvtara was the fact that some ZK shippers just like to send shitty anons to people whom they've reblogged countless different metas from. Sending shitty anons to people in the first place is wrong, but sending them to people who tagged their posts correctly and did nothing wrong is just disgusting.

*I'm not a fic writer and can't speak for fic writers, but it definitely feels like a lot of ZK fic authors are pushing themselves to write the next OATS, and by doing so, they are proliferating the tag with post-war fics that have very similar aspects to OATS.

**I think that as more people point out the same nuanced points about Zvtara, it diminishes the actual significance of those points. Like, it's hard to explain but the more people talk about the subtleties of the ship, the more those parts become glaringly obvious and I become numb to their actual impact on the characters and the show.

***At this point, if someone wanted to make a new argument about Zvtara, I think they would have to look very closely at every little detail in every single one of their scenes together to find a crumb of new meta material. And speaking from experience, it's not very fun trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. Whenever I post a "meta" like that, I feel like I'm reaching to make a point that doesn't exist.

#anti zutara #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive

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k-llama-llama · 4 years ago

Text

Insight

SuperM/WayV AU: 8th member

YinYin x SuperM/WayV/NCT

SuperM learns a little bit more about YinYin.

A/N:ALSO FYI check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

Requests are Open…and your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“Nicely done, guys. Let’s run it again in a few minutes.” The choreographer walked off, letting the members of SuperM take a minute to rest.

YinYin limped over to the bench, practically collapsing into her seat. Her back was aching, but it wasn’t unbearable yet. She could force herself through a few more hours of practice before it would be too much. This entire experience was very new to her. She was normally the one leading practices, pushing on when everyone else had long since collapsed. But now, she was the one who was being checked on, who might, at any moment, go down and not get back up.

The company wasn’t forcing her to participate in this comeback. She’d felt awful sitting out promotions with WayV, and hadn’t even considered sitting out on SuperM. She knew the boys were keeping a closer eye on her than normal, but they trusted her to know when to stop.

She reached for her water bottle, shrugging out of her sweater. Sumi had given it to her, along with the matching sweatpants, stating that she’d accidentally ordered them in too small a size. But YinYin wasn’t exactly sure how you accidentally order a seven-hundred-dollar track suit without double checking the size. Either way, she did really like them, as they weren’t something that she would ever have bought for herself. The green trackpants were so light that they were almost non-existent, but were perfect for long dance practices.

“Feeling okay, Yin?” Taeyong asked her, taking the seat to her right.

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean….a bit hot and sweaty, but my back feel fine.”

“You sure you shouldn’t be sitting out for another week or so?” Mark asked. “I mean….your back was really messed up.”

“Thanks, Mark.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s healing really well. I’ve rested a lot so it is much better.”

“You’ve been taking it easy?” Taemin asked.

“You’ve been living with Sumi, right?” Kai asked. “She mentioned that. Obviously she’s taken you shopping.”

YinYin glanced down at her outfit with a blush. “Oh, she just gave me this. I’m not really one for shopping.”

“Come to think of it, you didn’t really do any shopping when we were in the States last time.” Baekyun realized.

“I…have everything I need.”

“And that might be the first time I’ve seen you wear a brand.” Taemin pointed out. Other than shoots and stuff.”

“YinYin’s low-key.” Ten offered helpfully.

“She just wears whatever.” Lucas added.

“Yeah,” YinYin nodded. “I don’t spend money on stuff in general, really.”

“Why not,” Kai asked. “I mean, you make a decent amount, right?”

YinYin shrugged. “I guess….when I started, I was sending it all home to my parents. And now, old habits I guess. I never bought a new item of clothing before I moved to Korea, so it feels kind of weird to be spending money on things like that. You know….things that I don’t need.”

Taemin tilted his head. “Do you parents work?”

“Very hard.” YinYin confirmed. “But…I mean….” She considered it for a second. Only Lucas and Ten knew just how bad her financial situation had been, but it wasn’t something that she should be ashamed about. She didn’t see the harm in telling her other group mates.

“I lived in a one room apartment with my parents until I moved to Korea. My gymnastics was all sponsored through a national program and through my school. I danced on the side to raise some money, but I never really had any extra to buy things that weren’t necessities.”

“So what, you auditioned and decided to move?” Taemin leaned forward, clearly shocked by her story.

YinYin shook her head. “I was scouted. Someone had posted a video of my dance to Weibo and a scout saw it. They offered to pay my trainee fees, because we would have never been able to afford it, and we figured it was too good of an opportunity to miss.”

“And that was the last time you saw your parents, right?” Taeyong asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, I keep in touch but…you know, things are kind of crazy.”

“That’s insane, Yinnie.” Baekyun gasped. “You didn’t even….the company could have flown them out when you were hurt. Why didn’t they?”

“They offered.” YinYin smiled. “But they had work and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of things.”

“More like you wanted to move in with your new super rich Korean mom.” Lucas snorted.

“Yah,” YinYin reached out to slap his arm. “Sumi can’t replace my mom. She’s just like my really cool older sister.”

“She’s super hot too.” Lucas sighed.

“Wong Yukhei!” YinYin exclaimed. “Ten isn’t that gross about everything.”

“I mean….she is hot.”

“You guys are grossing me out.” Kai shook his head.

“And by the way.” YinYin crossed her arms. “Why do you never say that I’m hot?”

“Because you’re YinYin.” Lucas said matter-of-factly.

“So? I still want to be hot. Or is it the money that makes Sumi your type?”

Lucas looked like he wanted to nod, but Taeyong shook his head. “You’re totally hot. Ignore him.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely the best looking girl in NCT.” Mark winked.

“And in SuperM.” Taemin laughed.

YinYin rolled her eyes. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate the confidence boost.”

“That’s what we’re here for.” Ten smiled at her. “Now, are you good to continue practice?”

“I’m good.” She stood. “I can do this all day.”

“But you won’t, because you’re injured and you’re going to be responsible.” Taeyong cautioned.

YinYin snorted. “Sure. Believe that if you want.”

#superm #superm au #superm imagines #superm 8th member #female kpop #female member kpop #female!kpop #requests open #au #kpop #imagines #imagine #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop imagine

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heinzpilsnergonewild · 3 years ago

Text

Vegeta’s Character Analysis Looooooooooong Read

Oh my, what can I say? I just really love to write long essays in a language that isn’t even native to me, lol.

Well, nobody’s perfect, I guess. ... Were you expecting a Cell joke here? I may not be perfect, but that doesn't mean I have to be that predictable.

Ahem, anyway.

This isn't exactly a psychological analysis of the character - more like, hmm, a storytelling analysis. Or something in between, really.

You may not find anything fundamentally new in this text, but I definitely had fun writing it, haha.

It's mostly amateur. I have a useless psychology degree, but not a literature one.

My classic rant about vegebul fics is included, of course.

Summary: proper psychological analysis requires a single continuous personality, which Vegeta simply doesn’t have.

The more I think about Vegeta, the more I come to the conclusion that he is only pretending to be a consistently evolving character.

In fact, he's a bit like 10 different characters in one, which abruptly replace each other (and that's without considering the difference caused by the voice actors’ approach and the changes in his looks). Essentially, Vegeta's a collection of disparate images, arbitrarily lined up by Toriyama and hastily glued together. And the beginning of this line is so far from the end of it that these two extreme images cannot be perceived as belonging to the same person. Well, because human psychology just doesn't work that way.

(Not that Vegeta is unique in this respect – it’s a common feature of characters in long stories that authors compose as they write. Still, his case is quite extreme and interesting as example.)

I mean, take Vegeta in the Saiyan or the Namek arc. He's a complete psychopath. He clearly doesn’t suffer at heart from the unnecessary violence (as, for example, Guts from Berserk). His behavior looks like something natural for him, not an unhealthy defensive reaction. He enjoys it, he smiles happily, killing and torturing weak innocent people. And such a degree of psychopathy is not something that can be healed by a couple of deep personality crises or years of peaceful family life. Vegeta's redemption arc works through strong emotional impact and forgetfulness of the audience, but makes very little sense when viewed in retrospect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps the biggest, hmm, splitting of the personality occurred with Vegeta right after the Namek arc. Toriyama had already made a small retcon of the character’s motives before (to include Vegeta in the context of the Freeza army after the Saiyan arc), but it didn't feel that drastic.

You see, until Vegeta was invited to Bulma’s house…..

(Gosh, Toriyama, you could’ve done it more subtly, really. Vegeta killed Yamcha, threatened to kill Bulma, gutted Zarbon in front of her eyes, slaughtered an entire Namekian village... Oh well.)

…Ahem, anyway, right up to Bulma's invitation, Vegeta looked to me like a character who, hmm, has a life of his own? I mean, you have always felt that his motives and behavior were generated by the bizarre social system, not related to the little world of Goku and his friends. Simply put, Vegeta was a natural product of the big space civilization, an organic part of it. His whole personality was formed by it, all his plans, motivation and ambitions were associated with it. And although in the Saiyan arc, he gave the impression of an independent entrepreneurial chief at the head of a small hierarchy, in the Namek arc it was revealed that Vegeta is actually far from independent. He lost his throne and his people, he was in slavery to the tyrant all his life, and wants to take power for himself. So, his social background and the motives caused by it post factum get much more complex. But in short, Vegeta wanted a highest possible position in the hierarchy he knew. In this way, he was… social? His belonging to the Saiyan race was only a small (although important) part of the overall picture. Because the Saiyans were dead, but the Freeza Empire was alive.

But when Toriyama realized Vegeta's popularity and decided to keep him in the story after Namek, it came as a blow to the character's personality. Apparently, the author simply couldn't come up with an elegant way that could keep the character in all its complexity around, and therefore did a very clumsy thing. He roughly cut Vegeta out of his social context and almost forcibly glued him to the main character group like a poorly done appliqué. But although you see rough edges and glue drips, the story moves on rapidly, distracting you with Freeza and Future Trunks, and you don't stop to think about what happened. This is how, almost imperceptibly, Toriyama changed Vegeta's motives (and, consequently, the basis of his personality). Yes, Vegeta's saiyan pride was also significant part of his character previously, but when it became his sole and central motivation after Namek, you feel like a very big and important piece of him has been arbitrarily cut off. This wouldn't have happened if Toriyama had followed the logic of previously established social motives, rather than his desire to make Vegeta a convenient figure. Now, bound hand and foot by the author, the character is forced to behave as the plot requires.

Still, all this can be justified by the fact that Vegeta experienced a deep emotional shock as a result of death, which forced him to rethink his life priorities and wait for Goku (especially in the manga, where he just lived with Bulma for a whole year after Namek, without even trying to use dragonballs) ... And then he waited for the androids (despite the final death of Freeza and his father, which was an excellent chance to try to take over the decapitated empire). Anyway, this rationalization doesn't negate the fact that the character, as a result, has lost a significant part of the fire that he demonstrated in the Namek arc. His new energy, the energy of obsession with surpassing Goku, turns him into a new character – bitter, marginalized and focused on training.

(Ironically, the very splitting that made him a less attractive character in my eyes allowed vegebul to take place. After all, imagining the romantic relationship of the nice Bulma and Vegeta at the height of his villainous ambition is really difficult. That just would be a psychologically implausible story.)

In the Android and Cell arcs, after brief glimpses of the SSJ superiority, Toriyama turned Vegeta into a plot tool, whose personality flaws he could use to spoil the situation favorable for the heroes. As a result, Vegeta continued to be an angry and unhappy character who has lost most of his charisma, but on top of that, he also started to be really annoying. ... Still, also kinda amusing thanks to his truly impressive inability to draw obvious conclusions from the ego bruises he gets.

(If you ask me, the character's biggest contribution to the Cell arc was to ignore the existence of condoms, lol. Although strictly speaking even it was an achievement of Future Vegeta (RIP). But seriously, Vegeta's relationship with Trunks turned out to be one of the few things that I was really interested in about this part of the story.)

And then there was Goku’s death and the 7-year-gap. ... At the end of which Vegeta still didn't look like a happy man who has found his place in the world. Even though he had seven whole years (and a spaceship) to change something. I mean, this is the case when it'd be logical to expect changes in the character, but for some reason they didn't really happen (or they did, but veeery quietly and unstable). I mean, Vegeta trains with Trunks, yes. And he's married to Bulma now, apparently (which we learn only at the end of the arc though). And he hasn’t killed himself yet, which means that he sees some meaning in his existence. Hurray, I guess?.. The problem is that when we first see Vegeta after the timeskip, he keeps walking around with such a sullen expression, as if Goku had died just yesterday. (Remember Vegeta in the Saiyan arc? He smiled quite often. For the wrong reasons, but hey.) Basically, Toriyama tried to sit on two chairs at the same time here - 1) keep Vegeta as recognizable as possible (because he hasn't decided what to do with him yet) and 2) keep him around (which doesn't make sense for the character if he hasn't undergone significant changes during the timeskip). And the result of this hesitant approach is an undesirable effect - it feels as if Vegeta hasn't built a new life for himself all these years, but only waited for Goku to return.

As if the man is unable to evolve without Goku's influence. Until Kakarot does or says something, or is just around, everyone else in Vegeta's life and his own reflection has little or no meaning. Old social ambitions? His wife and child? New insights gained from life on Earth? Pffft. Goku is able to destroy the seven years’ worth progress (no matter how small it may seem) in one day, and at the same time, one fight with him is enough for Vegeta's character development to jump forward explosively. It sounds like a solid ground for shipping, but In fact it’s just a direct consequence of the author's poorly chosen narrative structure.

The thing is, Toriyama tend to avoid romance and slices of life, and shows Vegeta's personality mainly through fights and their consequences. And at the time Goku just turned out to be the only significant character for Vegeta, the fight against whom could be used as an excuse to develop the character in front of the audience. Well, Toriyama couldn't get Vegeta to fight Bulma or himself, you know.

I believe that the plot structure chosen by the author (rapidly changing action events immediately after a long timeskip) is not a very good basis for a redemption arc. For a good redemption, a character had to have screen time during which small changes accumulate gradually, between the big points. And Vegeta simply didn't have it. Besides, the scheme by which Vegeta develops is really messy. Because at first, Toriyama kinda froze his development at the neutral point (thereby partially devaluing the influence of Vegeta's family on him). Then in one moment, the author abruptly reversed even this the-end-of-the-Cell-arc development with Majin Vegeta (this time completely devaluing the family factor, because the betrayal was Vegeta’s conscious decision). God, how I hated the Majin Vegeta idea. And in the next scene, the author made a quick retcon, which gave the family’s influence the status of a ground for Vegeta’s personal growth again for no apparent reason. It's as if a huge bundle of family values was post factum squeezed into the character in defiance of everything that we just saw with our own eyes. This is a complete narrative mess.

But... oddly enough, Vegeta's redemption still manages to work, and work spectacularly. My guess is that it's because by that time the audience is already SO sick of Vegeta, frozen in his bitter anti-heroism, that it desperately wants the author to finally do something new with the miserable guy. Well, at least get him out of his misery. So people are willing to accept it in any possible form.

... And the author chose the form of a powerful emotional catharsis. The explosion was legendary, haha.

I don't even know if this is a good reason to call Toriyama a genius (after all, he found a very clever way out of a difficult situation, in which he found himself thanks to his own bad decisions.)

The only thing I'm sure of is that despite everything I was very sad because of Vegeta's death. I didn't even realize that I had become emotionally attached to this asshole until he made such a spectacular exit, lol. As if something had broken inside of me, and all the analyticity of my mind couldn’t prevent it. I was surprised when I found myself crying really hard - usually my emotions don't reach this level due to fictional stories. (Well, maybe it was due to the fact that my own father was dying of cancer at that time, and the moment just triggered my emotions. ... Oops, it seems a little too personal, doesn't it? Well, at the end of the day, this fact is an integral part of my unique dbz experience. Come to think of it, in dbz, fathers die regularly).

But while this scene greatly affects emotions and forces a new viewer (or reader) to truly reconsider their attitude towards the character for the first time, the absence of a neat gradual movement towards this moment weakens its influence somewhat.

At this point, Vegeta’s character splits once again (perhaps the last time within DBZ). You simply cease to understand who this man really is and who he was before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, when I look at all the images of Vegeta in general, I come to the conclusion that I like this character the most in the first two arcs and in the end of the last arc. Two directly opposite moral poles.

(Funny enough, because my initial reaction to Vegeta and Nappa was annoyance: "Well hello, the next stereotypical villains who like to chat and laugh maliciously instead of simply killing their victims." (Still, against the background of Freeza, Vegeta turned out to be a much lesser evil in every sense, haha). You see, usually I'm not a person who likes villains. Basically, I only distinguish such characters from others as a result of romance or redemption. It’s only after that I begin to see aesthetics in their villainous charisma as well.)

And now, in retrospective, I believe that at the beginning of the story Vegeta is at the maximum of his vitality and charisma. Especially compared to his ever-crisis moody version (who supposedly lives happily with a loving family). In the Saiyan arc, he's objectively the most powerful character (Freeza didn’t even exist in Toriyama's head at the time). Vegeta is domineering, playful and unpredictable, but most importantly - his self-confidence is fully justified. Oh well, it was good while it lasted. He's really in control. These are, if I may say so, quite exciting qualities in a man, haha. Even if he looks like an evil dwarf in stupid armor and bullies some weaklings. I'd even say his demeanor in the Saiyan arc (especially with the voice of early Horikawa) is suspiciously easy to translate into a sexual context (well, until he loses control and gets hysterical, lol).

The Namek arc, placing Vegeta in a broader context, somewhat spoiled his original image (after all the big words, it turned out that he was running errands for Freeza all this time), but gave him a more interesting background and a strong drive. He had ambitions and a socially significant goal, and he actively and passionately fought for them against a clearly superior enemy. In addition, his inability to defeat Freeza by brute force forced him to use his brains from time to time, and not just pull another power up out of his ass, as is now traditionally done in DragonBall. (Needless to say, I consider high intelligence to be one of the most attractive traits). All this made his position in the plot as interesting as possible. He literally sparkled with energy.

Well, we know what happened next. Brain Death, an eternal chase after Goku, and an off-screen family life on a backwater planet that Vegeta is supposedly happy with. Until he suddenly became a really beautiful character without a proper justification for this (well, at least the explosion was spectacular). Really, I like the general concept of redemption, and yet... the way Toriyama portrays it in the story just doesn't work convincingly enough for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another point I’d like to cover in this already too long essay ahhh I'm a monster is Vegeta’s personality in fanfiction.

Reproducing (?) Vegeta is a bit like playing with a lego set - his personality and behavior is always the result of a conscious reconstruction, which is based around a specific point on the long contradictory line. Depending on which end of the spectrum the chosen point is, the author is forced to shade facts related to the opposite end, or to give new context to Vegeta's past (or future) actions. It's always noticeable when the author extends the later, sympathetic Vegeta's image to an earlier segment of the story. Apparently, it's possible to kill the person who raised you (with an evil smile on your face) just because the situation was too stressful lol. Likewise, when the authors allow Vegeta to remain a charismatic psychopath, the story wouldn't work without ignoring some parts of the later canon.

(And, of course, there is always a "medium" type of Vegeta - Vegeta from the 3-year-gap, whose personality is almost entirely based on anime fillers. Yay, here comes the promised vegebul rant

Honestly, I'm pretty tired of this "gravity room exploded again woman grrr" type of Vegeta.

Because if you take the manga, we have no idea how Vegeta actually behaved with Bulma and her parents, what his training regimen was, and what he did in his free time besides unprotected sex. People elevate his rudeness and irrational self-torturing to the absolute because of all these filler patterns, but this is just one of the possible versions of the events and the character's behavior during this time (albeit partly canonical). But... there are also alternatives. There are smart Vegeta, curious Vegeta, civilized Vegeta. Honestly - I don't think Bulma would've married him later if there was nothing in his personality that’d make communication with him enjoyable. I mean, she's a rich modern woman, she doesn't need a husband just for convenience and Vegeta is a marginal freeloader anyway. And if we subtract good looks (which people often attribute to Vegeta) from the equation, then the idea that he has no interest in anything other than training and cannot maintain an interesting conversation becomes completely unconvincing. Toriyama clearly didn't attach much importance to the fact of their marriage, and generally avoided romantic scenes as if they were on fire (and, perhaps, did the right thing), but these two just had to be capable of adequate and mutually pleasant personal interaction in order to take this step.

In general, Toriyama's lack of attention to most aspects of the characters' lives other than fighting and training, on the one hand, can be considered a drawback of DBZ, but on the other, it creates a lot of room for fans' imagination. But not everyone uses it. Most authors generally repeat the same tropes over and over again and don't try to look at the three-year-gap from a new angle, although the canon provides all the possibilities for this. Because of this, fics in this genre often seem boring. But in fact, it's not the setting itself that is boring, but only dusty formulas in the heads of the authors.)

Ahem, so where were we?.. Oh yes.

Actually, Vegeta's inconsistency is a very handy character trait for the authors, as it minimizes the chance of accidental OOC. Indeed, it's quite difficult to make someone to behave out of character if he has many different canon versions of himself, lol. On the other hand, this leads to the fact that the character seems to... kinda disintegrate. You never see his whole face, because he simply doesn't have it. As a result, Vegeta turns into a mosaic that must be reassembled each time. And I keep staring at this crazy kaleidoscope like an idiot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that's... quite a lot of contradictions in my relationship to Vegeta, haha. Still, life without contradictions would be somewhat boring, I guess.

Thanks for your attention I suppose?..... lol, as if someone really got to this point

The End.

P.S. 1: The antisocial version of Vegeta who doesn't understand stupid human rituals and hates crowds, but puts up with it for the sake of his family is my spirit animal, haha. This is just so damn relatable to my autistic personality. Maybe I'm an alien myself.

P.S. 2: Actually, my favorite dbz character is Piccolo. Yep.

#vegeta #it's really long #3260 words kind of long

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cruciatusforeplay · 4 years ago

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Do you know of a comprehensive list of Hawkeye appearances in the comics, with summaries?

So when I first saw this ask I thought "a comprehensive list of Hawkeye? With summaries? That is absolutely madness, who would have done that?"

I had a quick glance at Marvel Unlimited and found there was over 500 issues listed under Hawkeye (and that's not considering his time spent under other names, or alternative universes, or Kate Bishop doing her thing) and confirmed to myself that a comprehensive list would indeed be completely unmanageable. So obviously I decided to give it a go.

I absolutely cannot give you an entire rundown, because ya boy's been busy, but I can try to give you a little bit of an overview. (Head's up, I said "little" but that was a lie. This is a BIG post and I'm hoping it might give you some key points for Clint's comic career and his background which will hopefully be useful for figuring out which comics to read or anyone writing canon-based fanfic)

A not-so-brief history of Hawkeye in Comics (spoilers below the cut)

First appearance: Tales of Suspense #57 (1964)

We run into Clint working at Carson's Carnival, where he is being underappreciated by the audience and very unhappy about it. He's a proactive lad, so he makes himself a new costume and arrows to be utterly unforgettable. He accidentally gets himself implicated in a crime and meets the Black Widow. They become allies and he uses trick arrows and nearly manages to take out Iron Man, but must abandon his plans to save Black Widow from a blast of his own arrow. He kicks off as an enemy to Stark basically. There is also a bunch of Iron Man shenanigans happening here and it's a fun read.

He sticks around as a villain for two more issues in Tales of Suspense #60 and #64 (1964 and 1965).

First appearance as an Avenger: Avengers #16 (1965)

Clint shows up about halfway through and has determined that he'd like to be an Avenger instead now, thanks. He tells them a little about his doomed love with Nat and how she paid the price and they decide they're on board. He is introduced to the press. There's a bunch of other Avenger member swapping around in this issue (and if you want the most of it, you should start with issue 15 because it's a direct follow up story wise)

He's a key member of the Avengers from hereon in and features in most issues. He spends his time shooting arrows and having problems with authority (particularly Cap)

Key background: Avengers #19 (1965)

This issue gives us a bunch of background on Clint. The Swordsman shows up wanting to be an Avenger (because he wants an Avengers ID - yes really). Clint objects and we find out Clint's an orphan and that the Swordsman took him in and trained him at Carson's Carnival. Clint then caught him stealing from the circus and they fight where he leaves Clint for dead. It's a big old betrayal. The Swordsman then spends the rest of comic kidnapping and trying to kill Cap, so all round that's a no on the Avengers ID.

Hawkeye quits the Avengers: Avengers #109 (1973)

Hawkeye doesn't like that Scarlet Witch and Vision are in a relationship, and essentially he plays the jealous jilted lover who throws a tantrum (door slamming included). He quits the Avengers, immediately realises he didn't actually love Wanda after all. He spends his fresh downtime teaching The Champion archery, who then promptly betrays him. The Avengers come to the rescue.

His involvement in the Avengers is spotty over the next decade.

Hawkeye gets Hitched: Hawkeye #1-4 (1983)

This is Clint's first solo run. It's important for two reasons. He meets Mockingbird who he marries by the end of the run, in what can be described as an enemies to lovers speed-run. This is also the series where Clint is originally deafened; he has to make a sacrifice play with one of his own sonic arrows which is how he ends up deafened. There are some other classic Clint moments: he starts the run by getting dumped, he rides on the skycycle/sky-sled and he ends up with his outfit getting mostly ripped off more than once. We also get some background about him and his brother Barney running from the orphanage to join circus, how Barney got him to hospital after the incident with the Swordsman, and we find out that Clint didn't speak to his brother for years and that he's dead now. Honestly this run is great fun and I have a big soft spot for it.

The West Coast Avengers: West Coast Avengers #1-4 (1984)

Clint helps found and then leads the West Coast Avengers with his wife Mockingbird. This is another mini series, but it led to a much longer run starting the following year that ended in 1994. Real talk: I've only skimmed this iteration of WCA but what I've seen is campy fun, the skycycle is back, Clint really settles into being a leader and the sun is always shining. Special shout out to Tigra who is a bad-ass in this mini series. During the longer run, Clint and Bobbi's marriage is put through the ringer amongst other things, and they eventually separate. Truthfully there is a lot of other stuff going on regarding their relationship in that run and onwards. If their marriage is something you want to know more about I recommend checking out the full summary listed at the back of Hawkeye and Mockingbird #1 (2010) - it starts on page 22 of that issue - be aware it contains major spoilers for later stories.

Key background: Solo Avengers #1-5 (1987)

We get to meet Clint's other circus mentor here: Trickshot aka Buck Chisholm. You'll be shocked to hear that Clint gets betrayed. We kick things off with some circus shenanigans where his charity performance/showing off opportunity is interrupted by mercs sent to kill him, by Trickshot wanting to settle a debt. The second issue presents us with a lengthy flashback where we find out Hawkeye's dirty secret: it wasn't actually the Swordsman who taught him archery, but instead an actual archer called Trickshot. We see Clint get trained up only to be immediately pushed into a life of crime where he ends up shooting his own brother. Buck then shoots Clint when Clint wants to take his brother Barney to hospital. Trickshot is shown to have an unsavoury taste for killing for pleasure and promises to kill Clint when he's got something to lose. In addition we also get some flashbacks to Clint's abusive home situation and his time in care before joining the circus. The next two issues cover a side story that honestly doesn't lead anywhere or get resolved by the end of the run. Issue #5 (which is the first of this run available on Marvel Unlimited if that's how you're reading) then brings you into the real action. For reasons that aren't entirely clear, Clint spends this entire issue in only his undershorts. There's some fun archer Vs archer antics, before an emotional reveal where Trickshot begs Hawkeye to end his life because he has cancer and doesn't want a slow death. Trick has a cry, Clint refuses to kill him and instead they have a comforting cuddle on a beach under a sunset. It's an unusual run, but Trickshot will show up again later in Clint's arc, and it's got a lot of fun quips and action sequences.

Quick note on the 90s

In my opinion, the 90s weren't real good to Clint. He had a couple of solo runs, but imo nothing with major substance, or character development so I'm skipping them. If you want to know what you're missing check out Hawkeye #1-4 (1994) aka Clint broods in Canada and there are wolves, and Hawkeye: World's Mightiest Marksman #1 (1998) aka Clint is stubborn and goes head to head with Taskmaster.

Key background: Hawkeye #1-6 (2003)

This series, which has Clint travelling on a motorcycle in order to find the best chilli and sporting some 90s boyband hair, also gives us some really great insight into his and Barney's relationship. We get snapshots in amongst the rest of the story of Barney being the moral compass for Clint. We see Barney getting his GED while Clint works on archery, and later we see Buck encouraging Clint into crime and Barney telling him it's wrong. We get another retelling of the Swordsman story, this time with both Buck and Barney coming to rescue Clint. While Clint's broken leg is healing, Barney tells him he's joining the army and Clint should come with. Clint says no, then changes his mind, but ends up missing the bus. We again see Clint on a job with Buck where he shoots a guard only to realise it's Barney, and is subsequently shot by Trickshot for wanting to help Barney. They both make it to hospital. Clint asks what happened and Barney tells him "guess you are what you are." Years later we see Clint at Barney's grave and are informed that he was involved with the mob. Clint is upset, only to then be informed Barney was actually working undercover for the FBI. These snapshots are my favourite part of the entire series. The rest of the series focuses on Clint doing some detective style work and shooting arrows. If this is the first run you've checked out since the WCA or Solo Avengers runs, you'll note this is very different in both art and story style. There was a definite shift in the 90s that brought us closer to the style we have today.

Clint doesn't have any solo runs for a while, but he is involved in a bunch of bigger stories which we'll take look at in part two of this post.

The MCU push and key background

In the lead up to the movie premiere of Avengers Assemble (2012), Marvel produced a lot of content for the Big Six as promo to their preexisting market. Hawkeye and Mockingbird #1-6 (2010), Widow maker #1-4 (2010) and Hawkeye Blindspot #1-4 (2011) follow on directly from one another, though you could read any of them independently and the first two are less about Clint. Avengers Solo #1-5 (2011) also featured during this time. All but Blindspot are simple action comics without any lasting impact for Hawkeye. Blindspot has a pretty comprehensive rundown on Clint's history including his abusive dad, the circus, the Swordsman, Trickshot, his relationship with Cap and the Avengers, him becoming Goliath and some very important information regarding his brother and their relationship, all woven into a well paced plot. Additionally, he's going blind. There is a lot of story in these four issues. It also provides the foundation on which Fraction set his run, so it's a good story for anyone who had any unanswered questions regarding the start point for Hawkeye (2012).

The Fraction/Aja Run: Hawkeye #1-21 (2012)

This is the big one. Either you're here because you've read it and now you love this idiot, or you want to start reading Hawkeye. This is where you start. I'm not gonna summarise this one because everyone deserves to read it without spoilers. But I'll say this: this is Clint when he's not being an Avenger. He's messy and relatable and he loves dogs. This is a character defining run and it is one of my all time favourite comics. There is so much good stuff in here and I could talk for hours about it. Go forth and feast your eyes.

If I've missed anything major, or listed something incorrectly or you just have some Clint related opinions that I need to know about, do hit me up.

I've run out of images, so this post will continue in part 2 which you can read here.

#clint barton #deaf clint barton #hawkeye comics #marvel comics #let's talk about comics #comics #hawkeye #hawkguy #hawkguy and other costumes

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

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Memories 2019 was jikook fest. I think memories 2020(if we even get one due to covid) will be very tk focused, because they’ve been spending a lot of time together since September, growing close again after their friendship started to grow distance. Idk, I just feel like Jungkook is focusing a lot on Tae recently compared to Jimin, this isn’t me over reacting, there’s so much tk content than usual. Run 116 for example, anyone with eyes can see jikook was off. LGO comeback vlive. Grammys reaction

Uhmmm....

I get these kinds of questions a lot, and often when I do, I find I usually do not know how to go about answering it...

These concerns you raise are shipper problems lol and honestly I'm not that kind of shipper? Lmho. I'm more into alt shipping which means I place more value on the quality of Jikook's interactions, as little as those moments may be, than who BigHit decides on as their star ship for a season.

And often when I get into another ship, it's mostly because I am interested in how that ship affects the dynamics of Jikook.

I am curious to know what BigHit does with memories 2020 as well. Mostly because I believe they dumped all their Jikook 'intimate' moments on us in memories 2019 to try and neutralize the alleged brewing scandal revolving around Jikook since Rosebowl and the me too movement that hit the Kpop industry which set of this whole chain reaction with the impromptu vacation and the subsequent Jikook -involved with girls scandal' -allegedly. Bighit don't sue me please. Lol.

But ever since those moments happened, I had a feeling BigHit was moving to normalize Jikook's intimacy to throw sniffers off Jikook's metaphorical queer butts while simultaneously putting a leash around their necks in order to control and prevent any future such occurrence where Jikook's secret could be outed resulting in a potential scandal.

It is why I said I felt BigHit had been moving to mangae Jikook, presenting them as more of a brand than a ship within BTS.

I don't think they would want to go out of their way to specifically highlight Tae kook in memories 2020 simply because they are not trying to cover up any Tae Kook secrets or to normalize Tae kook's intimacy- because Tae kook isn't real. If we see more of Taekook or any other ship in memories it would be because they gave BigHit moments- memorable moments, which is what Memories is about no?

The objective of memories is to showcase moments that BigHit feels is iconic, memorable, beautiful and a reflection of the bond between BTS. That's what memories is.

And the fact they kept highlighting Jikook in Rosebowl should tell you the kinds of moments they consider iconic- JK nibbling Jimin"s ear believe it or not is super Iconic.

I keep saying BigHit bangs on the intimacy of the boys. Which means very often they are where the intimacy is. If Jikook is giving them beautiful iconic moments they can cash they will serve us Jikook. If Taekook, VMin, Sope, or Namjin does that too they will serve us them- it's business nothing personal really.

So it's not a question of whether they are showcasing Taekook over Jikook or Jikook over any other ship.

BigHit values the quality of the interactions between these boys which is why they invest so much in it and go through so much trouble to produce content like Soop or Rookie king which focuses on healing and repairing the boys' bond from time to time.

I mean have you seen Tiny Tan or BT21? Have you seen the level of animated love and connection they generate between these fictional versions of the boys? That's the level of love and closeness they want from the boys in real time for their own marketing agenda.

Jikook is often their go to because their intimacy and bond is not contrived or convoluted or riddled with high tensions and Jikook themselves are more than happy to perform and display their bond and give us iconic moments for the cameras. But where Jikook for whatever reason cannot give them those moments they would look to other pairs for it. I think I have talked extensively about BigHit and BTS ships already. Kindly check that out for a better understanding of my point of view on this topic.

And you are right about Tae and Kook spending a lot of time together this year- but how does that affect the quality of Jikook's relationship? I think I would be more interested in discussing that than worrying about a DVD slated for a near future where I might not even be alive to witness lol- chilee this Corona Virus has me moving scared lately. Pray for me, my moma and my cat. Lol

Listen, Jikook is real in spite of all of these things you mention honestly. Jungkook and Jimin are having bomb sex and doing the gay whether BigHit highlights another ship over them or not, whether come December JK wishes Jin or Tae a happy birthday, whether JK kisses another member's calf or sits on Tae's laps and bounce up and down, and whether Jimin throws himself at RM or not.

I really do not have a problem with the way they both choose to interact with the other members within the group. I just observe those interactions and allow it to inform me on their individual personalities, their state of mind, their emotional maturity levels, whether or not they are growing as individuals, whether or not they are both expressing themselves the way they want to within their dynamic etc. It's their love journey not my fantasy. I support them, I don't ship them.

And I gotta ask, what is it to you if BigHit highlights Taekook in the next DVD? Would that hurt you? Taekook are a part of BTS too and talents within the agency that BigHit have a moral and legal obligation to promote and market just as they promote and market Jikook you know?

It's their shippers isn't it? Fucking psychopaths! Lol. I feel you. I'm not a fan of shippers in general. I think you have to try and move past their annoying, braggadocious, anti Jimin, anti JK, anti Tae, toxic shopping tendencies shopping men for their biases, stealing other ships dynamics and superimposing the faces of their bias onto Jimin or JK' moments- Tae and JK deserve better supporters. Hashtag free Taekook. Lol.

I think you should try to understand Tae kook's dynamics for what it is because believe me Tae Kook give better insight into Jikook in the Vminkook's dynamics.

As for the Run episode, I think I have already put up an analysis of it in a recent post? Chilee. I am waiting for the behind the scenes of episode 117 because I think I spotted a bit of Jeonlous there when Suga and JM were wilin there for a second.

These two episodes were shot sometime during the On era when Jikook were not together together as I've been saying since the onset of my blogs. These episodes are not proof that something is wrong with Jikook now. They just show that something was wrong with Jikook then...

Whatever happened with them in the On era, they moved past it and got back together- like they always do. They always do. They are whipped on God I swear! Lmho. I want to talk about them in this era- yea yea I know I already put up a blog on that but it focused on their MV and roles in the music video and I want to talk about their relationship dynamics 😥

Somebody ask me about that!😭

And it's funny you say with episode 116, 'everyone with eyes could see there was something off between them...' my question is why didn't y'all see that in February when it happened??

You don't need loud moments like these to finally notice when the ship you support is having issues honestly. Chileee. You is 10 months late I think. They moved on, we moved on. This is a new Jikook era baby and Jikook are back with their shenanigans. Lol

This dismissiveness, bigotry, skepticism, treating a ship as a fantasy and not as individuals and the human that they are is how Taekookers and every ship in BTS think their ship is real lol. They will ignore and dismiss all the questionable moments that happen between Tae and Kook and run with the few seconds of skinship they see Taekook do- it doesn't work like that you know? But I guess these are shipper problems and I can't relate.

Oh and when you say there is so much Taekook content than usual..... I want to talk more about this too👀

I want to talk about VMinkook's dynamics next- in a separate blog perhaps? But y'all keep asking me about Minimoni and Yoonmin😒

Should I?

Signed,

GOLDY

#jikook #kookmin #jikook analysis #kookmin analysis #jikook scenarios #jikooktheories #kookmintheories #goldy #goldy blogs #goldy analysis #goldy theory #ask response #ask goldy #goldy response #nightswithkookmin #alt shipping #alternative shipping

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thewildwaffle · 5 years ago

Text

Unknown Powers

Entry Log Post Crash: Day 1

In all honesty, I am surprised by the number of our unit that survived the crash. Thank the stars, though. It could have been worse, it could have been so much worse. When the ship’s engines took damage yesterday and we started falling from the planet’s orbit, I thought we were all goners.

I suppose our survival is largely thanks to Human Fatima who risked her life and grabbed everyone and yanked as many as she could reach into the nearest closet. Between her and Human James and Biet Kuhir bracing the walls, we made it out with relatively minor injuries. I mean, we were all hurting, our medic is busy as frewan, but we're all alive.

The humans showed us how to construct some "lean-tos" out of parts of the ship to sleep in tonight. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Apparently survival training in the wilderness is part of human upbringing? Or part of their required disciplines? I’m not sure. Before, I would have said that such requirements would have been a bit excessive, but now? I and every other survivor are very thankful for their preparedness.

Hopefully tomorrow we can figure out the rest of what we need: clean water, safe food sources, etc. I'm just glad we have scanners. They could very well be lifesavers for those tasks.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 3

I said earlier that no one in our unit had sustained too serious of injuries. That's not to say anyone's in great condition, but we're hobbling around as best we can. The humans seem to be recovering remarkably fast. I know, I know, that may sound like their typical MO, but even medic Kippari Sefra seemed a bit taken back by their recovery and improved mobility. All's for the best, I suppose, the rest of the unit seems to barely be in commission. The humans have managed to forage and gather food and have been carrying water from a spring they found not too far from our site. They even gathered wood and started two fires in our camp yesterday. They left Kuhir and I and a few others to tend to them on shifts as they continue to gather supplies or construct better shelters. I don't know where they've found this newfound energy of theirs, but may the stars bless them.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 8

Humans are weird, but I don’t think even they are supposed to be this weird.

Our camp has transformed into a nearly proper little village with all the work the humans have put into it. And it’s just the two of them! They are tireless, I swear! But not in the way they usually are, no. Everyone knows humans have ridiculous levels of endurance. This goes way beyond that. They move as if their blood’s been replaced with trimethylxanthine, or as they fondly call it, caffeine. Our scanners have not found any trace of the poison in the air or in any of the plants we’ve been consuming, so it’s not caffeine. Even if it was, their levels of energy still go beyond that. I’ve seen a human on caffeine plenty of times, they took out a third of an enemy boarding party on their own with nothing but a bent pipe. They’re crazy energetic, but then they always crash and need extra sleep.

Humans Fatima and James just keep going though, at even higher and higher levels of energy. Medic Kippari has been monitoring them, but they seem fine. They keep telling us to stop worrying and that they’ve never felt better.

But that’s not even the weirdest part.

Since the camp has been coming along so well, and since I’ve been able to get some rest and healing, I volunteered to go out with Human Fatima to help gather food. There are a lot of trees nearby and many have fruits that our scanners have confirmed are safe for everyone to eat. We were gathering up as many foods as we could in the baskets we had woven from some sturdy grasses when Fatima spied some fruits. They were ones we had found early on to be safe and they were so good we had eaten as many as we could until they started becoming scarce in our immediate area. These were the first ones we had found in a few days. The problem was, they were at the top of a very tall tree. Humans, turriets, and even a few of the larger skeeps are pretty decent at climbing trees, but this tree had no good holds or branches low enough to reach.

Did that stop Human Fatima? IT SHOULD HAVE?!?!?!

She put down her basket, braced herself and jumped. And I mean jumped. Like, five times her own height!

Now, I can’t say that I’m a human expert by any means, but even I know that’s not normal! What in the shining light is going on around here?!!?!

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 9

Okay, still pretty freaked out from yesterday. No one knows how Fatima can jump like that, the gravity on this planet is normal. I suppose that’s a bit lighter than gravity on their home planet, but not by much. Certainly not enough for a 50 crute jump straight up! After we got back to the camp and informed everyone, especially Medic Kippari, who is getting more and more overwhelmed with trying to figure out all the strange behaviors and changes of our humans. As soon as Human James found out what Fatima did, he tried doing the same. The humans have gotten stuck in the tops of trees three times today alone.

The most confounding thing is that no one else in our unit seems to be experiencing the same changes.

No one’s sure how to feel about this. Whatever’s going on with the humans, they still seem to be in a stable condition. Granted, it’s a weird and unprecedented condition as far as anyone here’s concerned, but it’s stable. Even if it wasn’t, it’s not like we can really do anything about it in our situation.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 13

We were attacked today. Wild creatures native to this planet were passing through and must not have liked that we were in their territory. They showed no signs of advanced intelligence or sentience, just feral hunger and viciousness. We could hear them braying long before we saw them. I’ll be honest, I was very tempted to hide myself in the rough shelters with the wounded - the beasts were terrifying! - but I knew I could never live with myself after such cowardice. I grabbed what weapons I could and waited. When the pack of them came into our little clearing, I started praying my last rites. I was sure this would be it.

The creatures were huge, hairy, and had wicked tusks and sharp claws on the end of each of their six legs. What really got me were the pale eyes though. Looking into them, I thought my soul would liquify into my toes. We stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just hoping beyond a hope that they would leave us be. They didn’t though, the breeze shifted towards them and they started approaching and snarling with what I’m sure must have been hunger.

Before they could get too far, Fatima and James jumped at them, yelling and screaming. This startled everyone, but the monsters seemed to recover quicker and weren’t happy. I know a lot of crews like having humans around because of their reckless bravery and fierce protective instincts for those they bond with, but in that moment, I cursed them. I thought for sure they would be ripped to shreds in front of our eyes.

Instead, as the beasts leapt, the humans would grab them right out of the air and toss them across the clearing like they were a pack of gooji fruits. Their numbers swarmed the humans, but beyond any scrap of logic or understanding, the humans kept fighting, punching, scratching, throwing, etc.

I’m not sure how long it all went on, I was too numb from shock to correctly account for time, but eventually the pack of creatures retreated, squealing in fear of the strange monsters that kept them from what should have been an easy meal.

We checked them over and couldn’t believe what we saw. They weren’t hurt at all. Those beasts had been all over them, cutting, slashing and biting, but the humans’ skin looked like they’d hardly been touched.

I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on. I… something is wrong, or… hhhhhhrrrrr… this is weird. This is weird and I feel sick with worry. What is going on with our humans?!?!

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 16

Okay. I’m going to be honest with you, entry log and whoever finds this. Things just keep getting weirder and weirder, and I fear I’m just starting to get to a point where I can no longer be shocked. That may just be a defense mechanism, after all, if I continued to freak out over everything that’s been going on with Humans Fatima and James, I think I would mentally break down.

I just… I guess this is just happening. … Anyway.

Developments with the humans since we crashed on the planet’s surface include: rapid healing, increased strength and endurance, nearly impenetrable skin (as far as we dare test), extremely high jumping, night vision, increased speed and agility, super-keen hearing, and apparently the radiation of the sun doesn’t bother their skin in the slightest (this is apparently a problem on their home planet), in fact being in the sun all day, hard at work I might add) they seem to end up all the more radiant and full of energy. *sigh* Well, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started flying or whatever next.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 20

The humans can now fly. Well, not properly fly, fly. More like when they reach the zenith of their jumps, they can hover a bit and control their descent. Do you want to know what my reaction was when I saw that for the first time? I just said, “Sure. This might as well happen.” Because that’s basically where I’m at now. No one knows what the frewan is going on. Hopefully the Glip Unit will have some insight.

Oh yea, I forgot to mention, we got a transmitter to work from the ship’s wreckage. Um, yeah, that probably should have been, like, the first thing I said, but honestly humans are flying now so…

Anyway, we made contact with the Glip Unit, apparently they were able to survive as well. They suffered a few casualties and had more injured than our unit, but considering their unit is larger, the probability of that being the case was high. The section of the ship they were in must have broke off from ours when we fell. They’ve got some humans in their unit, so maybe they have some insight for us. They’re bringing their tech too, so hopefully we can build a transmitter strong enough to send an SOS off-world.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 25

The Glip Unit arrived today. They have four humans in their group. That’s how they were able to pack over what must have basically been half the wreckage from their part of the ship. As well as their injured, supplies, and important resources from near their crash site. Everyone carried as much as they could, but they, or I mean the humans, carried the vast bulk. They crashed over 40 PS units away from us. So obviously their humans are experiencing the same changes ours are.

The ship’s chief science officer was with them though, and they did have a few interesting theories as to what caused these impossible changes. The most widely believed ones have to do with radiation. We’re not sure from what though, or why it’s not affecting anyone else. Human James brought it up that it was from the sun’s radiation. This planet is orbiting a blue giant. I think he was jesting because he also went on to explain about some “super man” who was from a planet with a red giant of a star who came to Earth and the yellow star’s radiation gave him incredible (and I mean that literally that they surely cannot be credible) super powers like super strength, x-ray and heat vision, super speed, and flight. Okay, that last one really made me stop and consider for a second. Well, those last two points actually.

But… no. That story is preposterous and obviously fictional. I’m pretty sure I even heard something about a “comic book.” From what I understand of human culture, I believe that means it’s just a fictional story made for entertainment or propaganda. Even the other humans, although more willing to entertain the idea, surely have taken it as a joke the way they are laughing and going on about it.

There must be some other reason. A logical explanation.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 38

I realize it’s been a while since my last entry. I had to share my “bunk” as it were with some of the newcomers from the other unit and somehow misplaced my comm device in the shuffle. I’ve spent the better part of two days looking for this flargin’ thing. Turns out I had left it by the meal preparation fire spot. How did I find it? I didn’t. Human Rafael of the Glip Unit did. How? Apparently, when he found out I had lost it, he tracked it down through scent.

I’ve read the human handbook. I know that humans don’t have the greatest sense of smell, especially not in comparison to my own. And yet, I couldn’t track down my own comm device, but a human could. I’ve added this to the very long and still-growing list of new and improved abilities the humans have exhibited since arriving.

Well, um, also there’s been a bit of activity in the past twelve days while my comm was missing. Like I said, the Glip Unit moved in. Everything has been very smooth with combining forces and resources. We managed to set up a transmitter that’s been sending out a signal and how to find us this last week. We haven’t had any feedback from it yet, but it’s only been a few days.

We had a few more native creatures visit our camp. None as scary as the first beasts that attacked us, though there was a flock of small flying reptiles that took to dive bombing and biting at us. Once they were scared off, we later found that Humans James, Mae, and Boris had caught a few and were attempting to keep them as pets. We had them release their “tiny dragons” as they called them.

They weren’t happy, but listened and followed. Honestly at this point, I’m just glad the humans are still respecting the established line of authority. This is a wild planet, after all. We’re surrounded by nature’s laws of the strongest doing as they please, and honestly, the humans are without a doubt the strongest here. I don’t think they’ll do anything, stars forbid if they decided to mutiny. I do believe in our bonds though. I have faith in their loyalty and our friendships. Humans, even before all the weirdness this planet has added to them, have always been renowned for their legendary familial ties and pack bonding. I don’t think these new powers can strip them of that.

And honestly, I hope that my faith is accurately placed, because if not, we are in trouble.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 44

I hope that our signal will be found, but no one knows how long that will take for it to heard and then send a response and for them to arrive to save us. It could be tomorrow, it could be… well it could be a long time from tomorrow.

The humans are concerned about food supplies. At first, many of us were confused at why. There’s plenty of fruit in the trees, roots in the ground, and non-poisonous wildlife to hunt. It was pointed out by some in my unit that such supplies could change. Their home planets, as well as the human’s planet experience what are known as seasons. It could be warm and plentiful for a space of time now, but it could rotate through times of cold barrenness that we are not currently prepared for.

We don’t know enough about the orbital path and tilt of this planet to know if such seasons could affect us.

Even though we’re not sure, the humans have been arguing that we should prepare for “winter.” They want to do this by reinforcing our huts for possible cold weather, gathering extra wood and storing it for fires, gathering soft plant fibers or tanning hides from some of the beasts that the humans and biets have killed for food, saying that they could make extra clothes with them to keep warm. For the most part, these actions seem pretty harmless, they are using the resources or byproducts of resources we’re already using. On some, the preparations are a bit time-consuming, but honestly, if it’s keeping the humans busy and occupied in their “spare time,” all the better.

The only real qualms some have with their preparations are the human’s requests to start planting seeds from the fruits and plants we’ve gathered for food. That would make sense in the long-run, but I had to voice my concerns with everyone - I know enough about human cultures to know that if they begin cultivating crops, the rest of humanity might view this planet as a human colony. It wouldn’t matter if the humans had only planted the crops for survival. Or if those humans were crew members of a Galactic Confederation crew. Similar things have happened with planets in the past, and the political disputes are still going on. I just… I don’t want to go there. The humans have argued that if they don’t do something to stock up for winter, we won’t even be around for such future disputes. I argued that we don’t even know if this planet will have a winter.

Acting Lieutenant Greetch decided that we would not allow crops to be planted. The humans weren’t happy, and honestly, I’m a little nervous. Not just because the humans are upset with the decision, but also because, what if they’re right? What if winter comes and we starve?

By the stars, I hope we’re found soon.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 50

We received a response to our SOS signal! It’s from a Galactic Confederation ship. They’re coming for us! We’re getting out of here!

Everyone’s thrilled. We’re preparing a party of sorts - lots of food and games. Might as well use up the resources we’ve gathered, we’ve got plenty and will be gone soon anyway. We’ll even have left-overs to bring aboard the ship when it arrives, barring no one aboard has any allergies to our local fruits.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 61

We saw the ship hovering in the sky this morning, high up in the atmosphere. By midday, several shuttles had been launched down to ferry us and our supplies aboard.

The Captain of the ship, Captain Benga, and a few officers and medics came down to survey our condition. They were impressed by our camp and even more so with the means of how it was put together. They’re just as baffled with the humans’ current condition as we are, though their medic did agree that some form of radiation did seem a possible cause. Captain Benga has asked that I turn in my entry logs once we get settled on the ESS Chickar.

I thought the humans would be happy to leave. However, I noticed they were the last ones to board the shuttles. They wandered forlornly through the huts that we were leaving behind, claiming that they were going to give the place “one last check to make sure nothing important is left behind.” Human Fatima had to be ordered to her seat after the second “all aboard” call was given.

I have a sneaking suspicion, or rather, maybe more of a foreboding feeling, that humanity is not done with the planet that they now insist on naming Krypton.

***

End Entry Log. Recording uploaded Galactic Stardate 208.147.4.2601 Data stored and copied aboard ESS Chickar.

Additional Notes:

Chief Medical Officer Squifra Gharti under Captain Liutan Benga. Concerning the humans found and rescued from the planet Tarsi 6 (Krypton) among Units Glip and Sen of the former ESS Luxena.

The six humans in question were found possessing awe-inspiring capabilities. From the included Entry Log, as well as from our own testing, we have listed their abilities to include prolonged stamina, vastly increased strength, agility, hearing, vision, smell, and speed. Healing speeds have been recorded up to 62 times more rapid than usual with certain injuries, though more serious wounds are unknown and will remain untested for obvious ethical reasons. Muscular structure appears to have remained largely unchanged from control group (humans assigned to ESS Chickar, as well as human anatomical information sources) and yet and capable of feats such as jumps over 67 standard miets, and are able to hover at the peak of their jump for up to a recorded two moortiks. Since the rescue, the limits of their new-found capabilities seem to be waning, albeit slowly. Time and additional study will be needed to know if the effects from the still-unknown source any of these changes on the planet will be permanent, or cause any additional side-effects in the future. Recommendation will include additional study as soon as we arrive at an appropriate facility. In the meantime, we are keeping the humans quarantined from our own crew’s humans in case any residual radiation affects them.

Many of the Luxena humans have shared insights that their changes were pleasant and wish to return to the planet. I would recommend keeping the information of all this within the Galactic Confederation confidentials for now. We do not need rogue humans or Earth agencies traveling to Krypton and then wreaking havoc on the rest of the galaxy.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #space #aliens #super powers #we just get weirder #can you imagine #krypton for earthlings #planets

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becomewings · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! What do you think is the significance of the umbrella/Jimin? It's being mentioned again. We recently saw it again in bbc live for Boy With Luv. We saw it before when he received an umbrella in exchange at the magic shop, and when Hoseok took the girl to hospital.

CW: contains mentions of trauma, blood, & drowning

Hello dear anon and thank you for your question! I will do my best to explain my interpretation and also provide a little more context for those who may be less familiar with the references you made.

I’m guessing that when you say it’s being “mentioned again,” you’re referring to the new third story of the Smeraldo Blog posted on July 15th, in which the florist Testesso witnesses a young man with an umbrella standing outside his unfinished shop during a typhoon. (If that wasn’t what you meant, please let me know!) The identity of the young man is unconfirmed, but plausible options include JiMin, due to the umbrella connection, and SeokJin, who is the only character so far who has definitely interacted with the florist in previous timelines. (Side note: if anyone would like to learn more about the contents of the Smeraldo Blog and the different versions of the stories, this post is a wonderful resource and is currently being updated for the 2020 revisions.) Second, I admit that due to the time difference I was unable to watch BangBangCon Live, so I had to search for some footage of the Boy With Luv performance. It looks like they all dance with umbrellas, though it’s perhaps a little striking that TaeHyung tosses his umbrella to JiMin at the beginning of the song. Regardless of the young man’s identity in the Smeraldo post and whether the BWL umbrella prop is a coincidence or a loose reference to BU (it certainly wouldn’t be the first time they incorporated such elements in their live shows and VCRs!), yes, JiMin’s connection to the umbrella is significant.

As you mentioned, in the Fake Love Teaser 1 we see JiMin exchange a photo of the arboretum for an umbrella in the video’s imagining of the Magic Shop. According to the teaser, “‘Magic Shop is a psychodramatic technique that exchanges fear for a positive attitude.” Psychodrama is a form of psychotherapy that engages clients’ self-reflections and insights with dramatizations and role-playing. Some Googling reveals that the real Magic Shop technique is broader than what is defined in the teaser, but it suffices for our purposes right now in considering BU.

JiMin’s fear is rooted in the truth of what happened in Grass Flower Arboretum on the day of his school picnic in Year 11. There are two forces that led him to witness/experience this traumatic event in the arboretum warehouse: first, the absence of his parents because they “were too busy to make it.” The mothers of JiMin’s friends praise him for being “mature and gentle.” JiMin seems determined to live up to this impression of maturity, rather than revealing how “down” he felt as the only unaccompanied student. So rather than waiting for his teacher, he sets off for home alone, confident that he can find the way on his own. The second force that leads him to the warehouse is the weather’s turn to rain. It is this element in particular, rather than the neglect of his parents, that stays with him for years to come.

“I began to run, holding my backpack over my head with both hands. The rain kept falling harder and harder. My pants got soaked in the rain after only a few steps. No shop, house, or bus stop came into sight. In the far distance, I could see a gate. I ran towards it without thinking. My hands felt numb from gripping the backpack. I was soaking wet, and my teeth were chattering. On top of the gate was a sign that read Grass Flower Arboretum. It was the back gate. There was a small warehouse just inside the gate.”

— JiMin, 6 April Year 11. The Notes 1.

Young JiMin does not have an umbrella and is forced to seek shelter at the first opportunity, which happens to be the warehouse. Later, he is found unconscious at the arboretum and taken to the hospital. When JiMin reflects on this in the May 11 Year 22 entry of Notes 1, he adds that his parents “didn’t ask any questions” about that or when he eventually developed seizures. There are many “what ifs” surrounding the event of April 6 Year 11. What if JiMin’s parents had accompanied him to the picnic? What if they had paid more attention and provided him an umbrella? What if they had been more present in his life, so that he did not feel the need to mask the disappointment of their absence from his peers and attempt the journey home alone?

But they didn’t, and they weren’t—and young JiMin sets off without an umbrella that day and lives with the consequences. We essentially experience the absence of the umbrella in some of the water imagery connected with JiMin in the MVs. The rest is connected with drowning and cleansing, both literally and metaphorically. As I note in my post Harboring Waters, “throughout the MVs and the Notes, we see that water, the element he uses to cleanse himself, is also the visual metaphor for his trauma. JiMin attempts to wash away his past rather than acknowledging his pain, only to drown again when his memories resurface.” In the years following the incident, he also conflates blood and mud: blood from what he witnessed/experienced in the warehouse and mud from the rain and his lack of umbrella.

“I closed my eyes and wished that this was all a dream and that, when I awoke again, I wouldn’t be able to recall anything.

That wish was just a wish. Instead, a cycle of seizures, injections, and injection-induced sleep that felt like falling off a cliff continued. After I awoke from that sleep, my whole body felt like it was covered with mud. Mud that looked like blood. No matter how hard I tried to wash it off, that warehouse smell lingered. I scrubbed until I bled, but it still felt dirty.”

— JiMin, 11 May Year 22. The Notes 1.

Even though JiMin presumably follows through with his plan on May 19 Year 22 of returning to the arboretum to face his fear (accompanied by YoonGi), he is still vulnerable to the triggers that recall the trauma of his past. On July 4 Year 22, JiMin collides with his dancing partner (HoSeok’s friend) and both are injured. The sight of his own blood nearly shuts him down as he desperately tries to wash it off. This leads to the scene you referenced, which is depicted in the Highlight Reel: JiMin chases after HoSeok and the unconscious girl with an umbrella but soon stops and turns around, realizing he won’t be of any help.

“Every time I took a step, rain splattered onto my sneakers. The headlights of cars swished by me. It’d rained on that picnic day a long time ago, just like today. On that day, I’d run away from the Grass Flower Arboretum. My body was covered with mud that looked like blood. I hadn’t grown up one bit from that little eight-year-old kid.”

— JiMin, 4 July Year 22. The Notes 1.

Now, back to the Magic Shop. JiMin exchanges a photograph representing the source of his fear for an object of protection that might bring him a more “positive attitude.” I think it is worth noting that all of the objects the characters receive from the masked seller are far from representations of lasting joy, and I believe that this was carefully calculated. They are temporary fixes or reassurances in much the same way that SeokJin’s manipulations of the timelines are largely reactive and short-sighted in his efforts to save his friends. An umbrella is only a temporary shelter until the stormy weather has passed; it does not banish the storm itself.

As I have mentioned in my recent JiMin-focused posts, his journey of healing is portrayed, realistically, as a complex one. It is not as simple as facing one’s fears and carrying an umbrella. There are progressions and setbacks, twists and turns on a road that might never truly end. Sometimes the umbrella may shield him from the storm, and sometimes it won’t. When that umbrella takes the shape of friends who accept and love him for who he is, then perhaps they will help guide him one step closer to accepting and loving himself.

I’ll end with one of SeokJin’s narrated quotes in the Highlight Reel, as it feels appropriate and is quite lovely:

“Though many seasons pass, there are places that cannot be reached. Yet another storm to be faced and to be weathered head-on. Loving without fear, hesitating and parting, merely living as the person I am.”

— SeokJin, Love Yourself Highlight Reel '起承轉結'

I hope that gave you some food for thought and wasn’t too long-winded! To anyone with their own ideas and interpretations, I would love to hear them! Please feel free to send them my way along with any other questions or feedback. ♡

#asks #bts universe #bangtan universe #hyyh #bts theories #bts analysis #jimin #bts lie #bts highlight reel #bts fake love #magic shop #bts the notes #smeraldo #umbrella #spent several hours on this so i hope someone finds it enjoyable xD

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whocalledhimannux · 5 years ago

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TBATD Chapter 21 Note

~spoilers abound~

So here’s the thing about this ending:

I’ve had it planned from, essentially, the moment I came up with this AU.

I’ve been second-guessing it since that moment.

My personal struggle with this chapter (and, to some extent, the previous three) is because the focus of the plot shifts somewhat--for most of the fic we’ve been firmly with Katara, on how she adjusts to her life in the Fire Nation and her relationship with Zuko. And now the culmination of the plot is essentially on Zuko becoming Fire Lord and Aang becoming the Avatar--which, to be fair, is what happens in canon, too. In my version, Katara also doesn’t technically win her fight with Azula. And up until literally five hours ago, she didn’t fight Azula, because I assumed that Aang would go into the Avatar state in a rage the moment Katara was threatened with lightning, and I was concerned that reducing Katara to a healing role was kinda sexist. Then my dumb ass remembered that I established earlier in the fic that Aang actually does have legit control over the Avatar state in my fic because he’s been working on it for ~two years and it’s totally fine for Katara and Azula to have more back-and-forth until Aang decides to step in.

SO. My worries about internalized sexism have been somewhat assuaged, but I had already written out a shit-ton of meta about this ending so I’m just going to keep at it. Basically I dithered over this for months, but the fundamental ending never actually changed. Every time I tried to think of alternate endings, I came back to the real catalyst for this fic, which is Iroh’s insight from The Old Masters:

Even if I did defeat Ozai--and I don’t know that I could--it would be the wrong way to end the war. History would see it as just more senseless violence, a brother killing a brother to grab power. The only way for this war to end peacefully is for the Avatar to defeat the Fire Lord…Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor.

I mentioned this way back in my first chapter note; when I sat down to write this fic, I decided I wanted to change the established world as little as possible. I wanted Katara and Zuko to have all of the issues with each other they had in canon. I wanted the essential position of the Fire Nation and the South Pole to be the same. I wanted their friendships and familial relationships to be the same. I even tried to keep Zuko’s field trips! And I wanted Iroh to still be right about the politics of this slightly altered world.

Throughout the fic, I’ve touched on the ramifications of Iroh’s decision to kill his brother, in his relationship with Zuko, in Azula’s response (albeit hidden until like… now), in the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes’ perception of the Fire Nation, and a little bit in the Fire Nation’s perception of him as a ruler. Basically, he’s not trusted, nationally or internationally. And while Katara is, in my canon, very very well-liked, there are still some political limitations for her as a princess. So she can’t fix it until she’s Fire Lady--and she can’t be Fire Lady until her husband is the Fire Lord. Hence, Zuko becoming the Fire Lord takes a little bit of the focus in these later chapters.

Annnnnd then we get to the other part of Iroh’s statement, which is that the Avatar needs to be the one to end the war. Yeah. I think, if anything, that’s even more true in my fic than in canon. Think about it from the POV of, say, an Earth Kingdom general: “So, you’re telling me that they’ve had five Fire Lords in the last ~10 years, the first one died under mysterious circumstances after conveniently elevating his second son to the throne, the second one was killed extrajudicially by his brother, the third one was also accused of killing his nephew and abdicated to the fourth, who was then accused of being behind aforementioned assassination and was then usurped by the fifth one in a brawl that’s apparently totally legal by their standards… and I’m supposed to trust these people to be my friends?”

Somehow, I can’t see that working out. But the Avatar stabilizes things. The Avatar brings balance to the world, and is a neutral third party who can truly broker the peace… if and only if the people recognize his authority. Aang, in the world of this fic, disappeared for a hundred years, came back, died, came back again, and has been dicking around for two years while the adults solved all the problems. In canon, the world needed Zuko to be a good Fire Lord and Aang to be a fully realized and respected Avatar in order to achieve a true peace, and I felt that this fic needed those two things too.

I know that, since Aang didn’t appear for a big chunk of this fic, it might seem like a bit of a cop-out, but… I always felt energybending was a bit of a cop-out in canon, too. Sure, it makes sense when you know the broader context, but there was verrrrry little foreshadowing in the show itself prior to the series finale–and least for this fic you had the foreshadowing of canon!

Yes, that does mean that Katara doesn’t WIN-win the agni kai in this fic, but tbh I don’t know if she has to? Something I appreciate about Katara’s growth in the show is that, in Book One, her waterbending abilities and her access to combat instruction are really her main hangups… and then they’re not. From Book Two on, she is recognized as an unquestionable waterbending master and one of the most competent benders in the world, and she feels comfortable in that role--her conflict in the remainder of the show is more about her personal relationships and her “dark side,” so to speak.

The agni kai is a fitting end for her storyline in canon because it happens during the comet, when she should be at a massive disadvantage. Take that away, and like… yeah, Katara beat somebody. What else is new? I don’t think she has to prove her worth in this universe. She’s been living in the Fire Nation, which is comfortable with female fighters and doesn’t assume she’s weak… and she’s been earning a reputation as a total BAMF for the last couple of months.

Katara’s conflicts in this fic have been on those other insecurities: whether bloodbending is wrong, if her anger or resentment are justified, how she fits into this new home, how she connects with her old one, her relationship with Zuko. So the fact that she has showed up, that she’s publicly defended the nation, that she risked her life to save Zuko, those are all things she gets “credit” towards and things that wrap up her main character growth. Katara ending this fic as an incredibly popular Fire Lady with a strong, stable marriage is a win from my perspective.

BONUS: this was my favorite ending for Azula.. I am working on a follow-up fic that will follow Azula. I’ll be upfront with y’all in saying that it is not finished and will not be up for a few months, at LEAST. (The reason I was able to update this fic every two/three days is because I spent four months writing it w/o posting a word.) I always kind of wished we’d seen Azula’s breakdown drawn out a little more in canon, and I was reeeeaaaaally pissed when I saw how Azula was treated in the beginning of The Search. When I considered Azula’s end in this fic (and how she might progress in a follow-up fic), I thought long and hard about what rock bottom would really look like for her, specifically what kind of issues she might be dealing with instead of the generic “craziness” that is treated pretty terribly in the comics, and what recovery would look like.

I think being without her firebending is unquestionably Azula’s rock bottom. Her identity as a prodigy means everything to her. From her perspective, she’s never really been loved by her mother or her uncle or Zuko–it’s all been Ozai, and his love has been predicated on her success. In canon, she got a glimpse of how easily Ozai would turn his back on her, and that’s her real breaking point; in this fic, she never got that, so while she has been dealing with grief in a pretty terrible, unhealthy way, her real breaking point is the loss of The Thing that ties her to her father.

But I think that also offers her the best chance for true recovery and redemption, because it strips her of the delusion that she is perfect and untouchable and doesn’t actually need love. Azula defines herself by her success, and what is she without success? She would say nothing; Katara, Zuko, et al, would say you’re still a person, actually, still a human being deserving of respect and love and forgiveness. My version of energybending and recovery is going to be a bit different than how it plays out in LoK, because Selective Death of the Author, and I think her recovery of her bending in my way will parallel her recovery in general quite nicely.

So. that’s a lot of meta for an ending I changed halfway through. I have spent so much time thinking about this fic and it’s truly been a joy, even when it’s been a pain in the ass. Thank you all so much for sticking with me.

#tbatd

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pack-the-pack · 5 years ago

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Any thoughts on the aftermath of mating bites? I have a headcanon that taking care of the other's bite until its healed is a huge part of strengthening a pair's mating bond. Do you think Alphas would take pride in changing the Omegas bandages every day? Or feel guilty for for causing them pain? Would Omegas fret over using the best salves and anti-inflammatory medicine?

Honestly I adore this idea. But as in most of the asks I answer my response is not just “yes, pretty much” or “No” lol Yeeea, sorry about that guys… I do think that overall the biting and the care for it is an intimacy majority of couples take pride on, but I also think the process and importance itself might change depending on personal preference of the couple, culture, time period and social and economic status. Yes We are going there again, fasten your seat belts kids, cause it’s time for a History lesson, Pack style!!!

Warning: Mentions of death, abortions, mental illness, sexual stuff and all sorts of ancient hi jinks in an incredibly lengthy post (cut possibly unavailable on mobile cause tumblr is garbage).

Disclaimer: A lot of what I’m basing these fictional concepts in is very eurocentric because that’s what I know best, I am not a historian, I am not an archaeologist or a biologist, I have no degree on no nothing let alone an specialisation on anything relevant enough to be used as educated sources for what I’m about to write. This is just for fun okay, guys? So no need to rub your years of hard work and experience on my face or be like “well actually-!”, cause it will be like just, cool to know? But very unlikely taken into account past that, so just, relax m’kay? Thanks…… Also a lot of my knowledge on these things just comes from the “History of the entire world I guess” video so yeaaa.

So first and foremost, the types of things one would use to treat mating bites. Again, I think there are variants regarding time period and culture, but I think every culture would end up coming up with rather similar things, or overlapping methods of treating such scarring, and I made a little drawing for it :3 Nothing, great, nothing awesome, but because this ask inspired me to draw something.

(Kind of messy, my pottery is kind of crooked and I totally intended for the background to be grey and didn’t just fuck up cleaning up on the wrong layers and had to pretend that was the original plan, you’re imagining, but it’s from the heart c’mon).

Before people had this fancy thing called modern medicine, they had to rely solely on instinct, anecdotes and superstition to make their medication, and of course, bite treatment wasn’t any different.

Whenever an Alpha would bite an Omega or a Beta or vice verse, the glands around the bite area would get irritated, itchy and achy. The most ancient method of soothing these aches was mud, just plain out wet dirt, applied to the area and left there to dry and reapplied only when the entirety of the first batch cracked and fell off naturally during daily activities. It was the hottest trend amongst packs 50.000 b.c. - Though there is also evidence of animal fat being used for the same purpose as well as snow.

With the end of the Paleolithic period and the invention of agriculture things started to get more advanced, now people have bowls, and lots of seeds… and grains! Grains and seeds that they can squeeze really hard and it makes residue come out of them. This is when various types of oils started to pop all around along with various simple mixtures of flour and water. Many clay statues and other rudimentary paintings from these periods show a variety of deities and rituals that existed around the manufacturing of these products and there are indications that the importance of treating bite wounds only then started to become somewhat of a significant part of mated couples’ lives. It was believed that these smaller human settlements created by the first sedentary packs, aka warrens, didn’t make distinction between the Eleusinian¹ and Asterian² dynamics when it came to mating bites and the treatments of such. Omegas would bite and care for the marks they inflicted on Alphas just as much as Alphas and Betas to one another or other Omegas. It was only when these warrens started to grow into full blown villages and subsequently distinctive cities that these differences started to develop.

Once these villages and cities started to gain shape and power, social hierarchy took on a new dimension beyond sole survival. Alphas no longer concerned themselves solely with the survival of their own small pack and hunting food to provide for their mates and children, Betas no longer concerned themselves with just assisting Alphas and Omegas in their daily activities as well as primarily caring for crops and animals, and Omegas no longer only cared to make sure their children and pack were in good health and cared for. Farming and the domestication of animals allowed everyone to have more time for architecture, writing, laws, politics, dancing, music, religion and most important of all: Figuring out how to divide people in a way that totally doesn’t benefit everyone equally, as one do. So now you got social classes and cultural diversity, and these come with different ways of treating mating bites. So around the period of the Bronze age to when the Greeks were like really important (specially cause a lot of the terminology and ideas about the dynamics carried nowadays comes from them and the Romans in western society) methods and materials started to shift a bit, but not drastically. Herbs like mint and parsley, flowers like lavender and aconite, roots like ginger and marsh mallow, and oils like that from olives, frankincense or sesame seeds as well as animal derived products such as wax from bees or blood and fat from animals and sometimes even metals like iron started to pop up all around from east to west as cures for all sorts of ailments and diseases. Brought through the sea or through land by merchants (rhizotomiki) who crossed nations and continents, carrying with them they brought all sorts of new superstitions and beliefs about mating bites. Flowers said to be born from rivers or lakes of eternal youth, roots and spices made of fire itself, honey directly from the mouth of deities or roots that’d kill any spiritual disease started gaining popularity quickly with pretty much everyone seen as a lot of these were said to provide for good fortune and happy and prosperous marriages if incorporated on biting rituals. Oracles and religious leaders would advise their followers and rulers to consume certain things before mating and to care for their bites and their partners with extra amounts of care because all of a sudden they started to become super important. Deaths, famine, bad luck, abortions and mental illnesses started to be blamed on the lack of care or the improper care of mating bites, said to either cause the body to perish in account of some malignant aspect of a specific plant or to have angered the gods in some manner.

The high mortality that could come with infected mating bites became more and more apparent the more society advanced, but they didn’t know it was because of the infection itself yet, so surviving these was not only a sign of strength or luck, but a sign of status, power, money and higher spirituality. Emperors, Empresses, feudal lords in the orient, etc. All took pride in having enough money to buy rare ingredients from merchants from far away lands as well as hundreds of slaves and servants to care for their gardens, plantations and animals which provided them with an immense diversity of always available plants, herbs and roots that gained favour in aiding with biting marks. To be the chosen mate of one of these people would grant one with a similar status and privileges, such as not dying and having better flavoured bread or something.

This also meant that they didn’t really want other people but them using these miracle medicines, because they thought that for the common people to use “divinely provided” forms of care would inevitably result in corruption of said methods and subsequently the fall of society. So now you had:

The rulers of nations and cities/nobles: Using and manufacturing refined powders from roots, grains and metals from far away nations in order to bind and cure mating bites. Rare Oils from plant eradicated anywhere but the palaces and gardens belonging to the highest circles, bandages made from the finest silks and sown and painted with all sorts of religious meanings. Concoctions that took hours, months or even years to be finished for a single claiming treatment, with recipes and processes kept secret and many times lost forever with trusted doctors/shamans that’d tend to royalty only.

Generals, Priestesses, Shamans, Politicians: Using plants and roots that were common, but difficult to come by, expensive, difficult to use or “required” a specific ritual that’d grant them some sort of untapped potential from these plants otherwise, providing them “enlightenment”, “strength”, “wisdom” and “spiritual clearance” in order to win all things from wars, to new knowledge and insight on the gods’ wants and needs to political feuds. Alcohol and other fermented blends such and wine and grape must with marsh mallow, made to clean and close wounds as well as soothing burns were prioritized here. The immediate pain was considered cleansing and efficiency. Mandrakes were rather popular as well, but for treating “deep spiritual diseases”, such as when ones mate falls ills some hours or a day after the bite is consummated, or to ensure healthy and strong offspring coming from the union since it was considered to aid on sexual prowess. However given its “immense” power and magical properties it was rarely ever given or prescribed to the masses without the supervision or blessing of a highly spiritual attuned authority.

Lords and wealthy merchants: Using, manufacturing and selling all sorts of blends, mostly creams and perfumes said to help with pain and itching. These would change depending on the city and the deities they worshiped and superstitions they carried as well as the plants naturally available in the lands (the ones that haven’t been eradicated or hogged by other classes of people). These were the ones usually gifted by acquaintances, and friends of the newly mated couple as offerings of good fortune, prosperity and fertility. These varied hugely in ingredients and price as well. Though there were other ingredients and recipes guarded with an amount of secrecy by these as well, gifted and used just by the family to other members of the same, these tended to be tended to and made with a higher degree of care, utilizing plants one would have at their disposal in their own home.

Common soldiers, artisans and lesser merchants, sailors and farmers: The people that didn’t really have much money, time or social status to dedicate to bite wounds would resort to simpler and cheaper methods of soothing their pains. Simply dousing the wounds with olive or fish oil was a common practice, as well as using salt water to wash the area. Clay of various kinds as well as coal and ground up seashells were popular on various cities as ingredients for lotions and creams and many times were offered to the gods as well as a form of prayer for good health and happy mateship. Lamb and goat fat was also very popular with the poor for its healing and relaxing properties, people would collect an array of herbs and flowers that’d fancy their partner or the both of them to incorporate into it, in order to symbolise their union as one as well as to mask the strong foul smell from the fat.

Slaves: Slaves were usually prohibited to mate by their masters, but the ones that happened to mate someone or being mated would be punished with not being able to treat their wounds. It was seen as a disgrace and distasteful to not treat ones bite wounds, and people thought only fitting that slaves who step out of line would have their favour taken from them entirely on the eyes of their gods or polite society. As a result slaves had to resort to only using water and cool mud, many succumbing to the infections and fevers that were attributed by most as a corruption of the spirit and not worthy of pity.

So as you can see, there was a divide in how they treated their wounds based on many things, and while some of these methods and rituals sometimes overlapped between classes the distinction was stark enough that you could clearly tell what type belonged to whom. It was around that time as well that the Eleusinian and Asterian dynamics started to get divided more and more as time passed. Omegas were treated as borderline property and in many places like Athens were not granted the right to mark their mate back, with exceptions occurring just in certain occasions (such as the soon departure to a losing war on the mate’s part, or to save the mate’s life though a spiritual treatment), Beta females and poor Omega females being forbidden to use certain plants and to take part in certain rituals by law claimed to be belonging solely to Omega females of higher social status, Omega males being prohibited of using any sort of soothing agents if not prohibited of being bitten altogether. Alphas having or not marks as a form of weakness or a show of strength varied ridiculously from city to city and from nation to nation (So much so that to this day there is not full agreement on that in society). And a whole lot of other rules and random crap just around mating bites alone.

With the invention of modern medicine, these things started to change obviously, people had a better grasp of what helped and what just made things worse, creams, pills, oils,,and ointments started being patented and people would gradually only look to more naturalistic methods of treating claim bites as an element of a different all-natural life style or a belief (misguided or not) that natural = better. With all that said one thing has remained true: Yes, caring for ones wounds is something that is and was believed to strengthen and solidify ones bond with their mate. People always tended to care a great deal for it, doing everything in their power to provide for their mates in the best way they knew how, if it were through giving them private care by more servants then they can count, with the best ingredients in the world at the moment, or simply by choosing smells and things that they’d like in order to show how much they care, they took and still take great pride in caring for that very fragile wound in their necks. As whether or not this is more an Alpha thing or a Omega thing, or if Alphas hate or take pride in causing pain to their partners, that varies in belief, culture and time period. I particularly think that overall it’d be a mixture of both. They don’t want to cause excessive pain to their partner but they also want their bonds to be solidified forever. The Eleusinian dynamics were always the ones more intimately connected with the production and rituals surrounding bite soothers so to me it makes sense they prioritize its quality more than Asterian dynamics, but that also is a highly individual thing.

Overall I hope this wasn’t a complete departure from what you asked >.> But I really wanted to explore this a bit more and your ask gave me the opportunity to. Remembering this is all just my interpretation and applies to my verse (PTPverse) which is completely open for creative use in fanfictions, RP sessions and others, so if you don’t agree with what I said here that’s 100% fine, to each their own, I just hope this somehow was able to help anyone ;) any lingering questions try checking out my other history posts such as the Ancient Greece Headcanons one or make another ask on my inbox for clarity. Peace.

¹ - Eleusinian dynamics: Referring to Omegas (of either gender) and Beta females.

² - Asterian dynamics: Referring to Alphas (of either gender) and Beta males.

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tjkiahgb · 5 years ago

Text

Episode Recap: 3.17, “Arts and Inhumanities”

The episode starts with some glamour shots of Andi’s art piece. It shows off a lot of the cool little details of it.

Then it shows this...

...which isn’t as impressive.

Or this one...

I feel like the crushed can of La Croix wasn’t Andi’s addition. I think someone was leaving lunch and saw a pile of trash and thought, “Oh, I guess we’re just doing this now,” and they threw it on the pile.

Bex takes pictures of the piece like a proud mother.

Is this in a different part of the school? Did they move this cumbersome thing across the school? How many people did that take? There must be paper shreddings everywhere.

Bex continues to take pictures and ask questions and make attempts to impress passersby.

Bex asks Andi where she learned to do art and Andi tries to play it down, saying it’s not art like Picasso or... you know... other artists whose names don’t come to mind.

Andi says she knows crafts, not art, and, after all, it’s arts and crafts, not arts are crafts. Bex still wants to know where she learned to make this and Andi isn’t sure.

“The rage just took over my body. I blacked out and when I woke up, I was standing in the middle of school and there it was.”

Another kid comes over and asks if Andi is the artist and Bex gets excited as Andi tries to put an end to the whole discussion.

But, listen Andi, you know how you become an artist? You call yourself an artist. That’s it. And you just keep doing that until people are too scared to look stupid by saying they don’t get your art. That’s what the guy who painted the drips did and now his paintings sell for the GDP of a small island nation.

That’s right, Jackson Pollock, I’m calling you out. Meet me in the parking lot of the Waffle House and we’ll throw hands, unless you’re a coward.

Buffy and Cyrus hang out at the bowling alley.

Cyrus does some light calisthenics to prepare.

Buffy tries to figure out what he’s doing. He says according to his research a bowling ball should be about 10% of the bowler’s weight, which, fine, but how is this measuring 10% of his body weight? The balls say how much they weigh on them. Why does he need to do this strange dance like he’s trying to sacrifice his bowling ball to the sun god?

Also, I don’t think they make bowling balls that are seven pounds soaking wet.

Buffy heads off to put their names in the name machine.

Cyrus, you’ve had your Bar Mitzvah. You’re a Bumper Man now.

Buffy gimps badly through the alley.

She spots Marty. He immediately asks her what’s up with her limp. She deflects. He asks her seriously if she’s okay and, panicking because she might have to admit to weakness, she’s turns and goes, oh!

New person!

Marty introduces Rachel as his girlfriend and Buffy cracks a few jokes about not thinking she was real, that maybe she was one of those imaginary girlfriends who “lives in Canada.”

Rachel’s like, EXCUSE ME?! CANADA?? How dare you even suggest I’d ever go to such a place?!

Buffy and Marty try desperately to explain it was just a joke.

Buffy, realizing she’s just created an air of awkwardness so thick you could shape it into a ball and use it to bowl, excuses herself.

Marty mentions her foot again. Buffy tries to play it off once more as just sore. In fact, she says, it’s getting better. You know, how injuries work. They start out a little painful, then get worse and worse and worse until you can barely walk, and then one day, they’re fully healed and you’re good to go. The human body is so mysterious. No one truly understands it.

Marty texts Buffy info on a foot doctor, even as she insists she doesn’t need one. “I’m fine! Honestly, I hope it just falls off. I don’t even want it anymore. Two working feet? Who can even be bothered?”

Rachel’s like, are we just going to stand around here all day talking about feet or are we gonna bowl?

Buffy limps back to Cyrus. She tells him how unpleasant it was meeting Marty’s girlfriend, even though she’s happy he’s got one. Cyrus is like, give that a minute, because Rachel is over there doing some weird thing where she whisper-screams at Marty.

You can really see why Marty fell for Rachel. Sure, on one hand, she has no sense of humor, but she’s also quickly prone to jealousy and anger. That’s what they call the total package.

Also, what does she mean “How did she know?” How did Buffy know what? Wait. Is Rachel actually Canadian? Is this like some horrible secret she didn’t want anybody to know? “If anyone finds out, it’s nothing but poutine jokes and people saying ‘Eh?’ to me from here on out! I can’t live like that!”

I mean, it’s either that or that she’s actually imaginary.

Cyrus is like, you think she’s talking about you? Buffy’s like, no, she’s probably gesticulating angrily at someone else in this direction.

Rachel storms off and Marty chases after her.

Buffy and Cyrus go back to their bowling. Cyrus finally picks a ball and gives it the gentlest of pushes down the lane.

It rolls as slow as it can get before being considered technically immobile and knocks over a single pin.

At least there’s room for improvement.

At Red Rooster, Jonah plays guitar and hides from Amber in the place she’d most expect to find him.

This is just a rookie mistake on Jonah’s part. He kept his back to the door! Any crime lord will tell you, you always keep your eyes on the door so they can’t sneak up on you and ask you if you’re writing them a song.

Amber’s like, I’m just kidding about you writing me a song, though if you wanted to, here are some words.

I like gerrymander. If this comes together right, could be the next great political protest/love song.

Jonah wants to know what Amber wants. Amber wants to hang out. She says she tried texting him and wants to know if something’s wrong with his phone. He’s like, yeah, it keeps giving you ways to try and get in touch with me.

He says it was on silent. Amber wants to ask him a question.

Well, see, the thing is Amber, okay means different things to different people. For some people it means that the relationship is going well. For others... well, you’re both still alive and breathing so...

Jonah insists things are fine, but then Amber asks to hang out and watch him practice guitar and Jonah’s like, CAN’T! CHESS!

He says he’s going to meet Cyrus for lessons. Amber’s like, you don’t seem like a chess guy, you know, because of the whole inability to think about stuff thing.

Jonah’s like, yeah, well, that’s why I’m practicing. He heads for the door. Amber asks about tomorrow. Jonah says to text him. She jokes to make sure his phone isn’t on silent and Jonah’s like, *finger guns*

And Amber’s like, okay, *finger guns* we’re doomed...

And I’m like, Amber, look at the sign, girl!

I mean, literally, look at that sign behind you.

The prop guys know what’s up.

Over at Andi’s, Andi works in her room when Bex comes in asking if Andi got her email. Andi reasserts that no one uses email. Bex tells her to just check her email, so Andi opens her computer, where she has a folder for pictures and another, separate folder for “Pictures o’ Stuff”

Aren’t all pictures pictures of stuff? How does this filing system help at all?

She opens up her email.

Oh, nobody opens email anymore? Then explain to me why you checked two emails from Social Post yesterday! What’s the truth?!

Oh, and by the way, Olivia sent you help with the files and you didn’t even have the common courtesy to at least reply with a “Thanks”? Rude.

Anyway, Bex sent Andi a link to the website for the Shadyside Academy of Visual Arts, or SAVA.

SAVA is a high school for the arts that Bex thinks Andi should apply to. She says the application is due by the end of the month, so think about it, but think quickly.

Andi checks out the application. First it asks her to upload her portfolio, which is preposterous because how can you upload a trash sculpture into a computer? I mean, come on.

Andi skips that and looks at the next screen, which tells her to list any rewards she’s received.

That’s not nothing. She skips that question, too.

The last thing asks for three recommendations from her art instructors. She has no art instructors.

Andi shuts down her computer and goes back to her school work.

Hear me out, though. What better way to showcase your creativity than craft an entire résumé out of whole cloth? Say that you won the blue ribbon at the “Cloud Ten Art Show”. Bex will lie for you. Invent three art instructors and their recommendations and if someone asks you for their contact info, say that they all decided to retire and live off the grid. Tell Metcalf you're doing a social experiment on high school admissions officers and he’ll back you up.

Back at the bowling alley, Buffy tries to order food while a couple has an uncomfortably loud fight in public behind her.

Marty swears to Rachel that Buffy is just a friend, but Rachel thinks Buffy’s interested in him. Rachel is positive that there’s something going on and that Marty wishes he was with Buffy instead of her. Marty tries to insist otherwise.

Buffy, trying to sneak away from the scene in a hurry, steps too hard on her foot and screams out in pain.

In a totally healthy way, though. It was a scream of pain in acknowledgment that her foot was almost all better.

Marty runs towards her and Rachel’s like, I knew it.

You ran to help someone in pain? Final straw, mister!

That night, at Bex’s, the family gathers for dinner. Bex asks Andi if she filled out the application to SAVA, but Andi says she didn’t. She doesn’t have a portfolio, or awards, or any letters of recommendation. Bowie asks if Andi really needs art school when she has Andi Shack. Bex says he hasn’t seen the place, but Andi points out that neither has she.

Oh really? If that’s true, then explain this!

You can’t! There’s no explanation for it existing in the year of our Lord 2019.

Bowie points out that neither of them has actually been to the school, and maybe before they decide anything, that would be a useful thing to do.

For having this insight, he is viciously attacked.

At the movies the next day, Jonah points out to Cyrus how films about people who have magic powers but don’t use them effectively are dumb as hell.

Cyrus spots Amber and calls her over. This upsets Jonah because that was the last thing he wanted to happen.

Amber’s like, no lesson today? Jonah’s like, we’re about to lesson! She asks Cyrus how Jonah’s doing.

Jonah says it’s going slow. Honestly, he could see himself wrapped up in trying to learn chess for the next three to four years. Amber wishes them luck and walks away.

Cyrus asks Jonah what that was all about. Jonah explains that Amber was getting too clingy so he lied to her about learning chess from Cyrus to get away. That presents a slight problem.

Jonah’s like, that’s fine, I’m not really taking lessons.

This, obviously, opens him up to easily getting caught in a lie. He should’ve gone with something he knew for sure that Cyrus could’ve taught him, like Hebrew or how to run in an awkward fashion.

Later, at Cyrus’s house, Amber sits down with Cyrus for a therapy session. He says let’s dive in, and Amber says, yes, let’s. And then she reaches down under the table...

and she pulls out an entire chess set from out of nowhere!

And not just a chess set. A fully-prepared chess set. Where the hell did this come from?!

Hold on, I gotta to try and figure this out.

She pulled it out from under the table like it was already there, like it was Cyrus’s parents’ set, but then you’d think Cyrus wouldn’t be so caught off-guard. He’d probably think, oh, Amber is coming over and there’s that whole thing about me pretending to teach Jonah chess, I should probably hide the fully-prepared chess set my parents keep under the table at all times, just to be safe. Just so I don’t get caught in a situation where my lack of chess knowledge is exposed.

Plus, Amber’s plan here requires a chess set, so she couldn’t leave this to chance. Even if she saw it there before, it could’ve been moved or it might not be fully-prepared.

No, she brought this chess set from home. But how could she bring a fully-prepared chess set from home and sneak it in when Cyrus would be the one letting her in the house? He’d surely notice her holding something like that.

No. No, no no no. No. She came ahead of time. She came ahead of time and either got one of Cyrus’s parents to let her in while he wasn’t home, or, and this is my guess, she broke into the house with a chess set, snuck upstairs with it, and prepared it under the table. Then she snuck out and scheduled an appointment with Cyrus to talk so she could spring this on him! The dedication to this scheme is unbelievable!

Cyrus tries to get Amber to stay on topic, but Amber says this is the topic. She starts pressing Cyrus on his chess knowledge and his story immediately starts to fall apart.

Then Amber mentions she knows a thing or two about chess.

You know, she says that, but I don’t know if I believe it. Seeing how the rest of this plan went, I’m guessing she pulled an all-nighter last night and learned the ins-and-outs of chess out of spite.

Cyrus makes two moves and Amber checkmates him. This is the very rare -- though appropriately named -- scenario known as the “Fool’s mate.”

See, it’s called that because you’d have to commit a very serious blunder for it to happen, like agreeing to play chess when you know hardly anything about chess instead of insisting that you stick to the topic or ending the volunteer therapy session.

Amber’s upset that Jonah lied to her and that Cyrus stood there and let him lie. That’s fair, but also, the two of them are only standing in this room at this moment because of a series of her lies and deceptions, so, are any of us truly free from sin?

Amber’s like, why would you do that? Cyrus says Jonah’s his friend. Amber wants to know what about her? Cyrus says she’s his friend, too.

I mean, yeah? Let’s be honest, we’ve all ranked our friends. If you don’t know which of your friends you’d lie to to help your other friends, you’re not properly prepared.

Amber walks out. And without her chess set? She bought it just for this ambush, didn’t she?

Cyrus feels bad about the whole thing.

Maybe psychology isn’t for him anyway. Maybe he might do better in something like... law?

At school, Buffy takes off her shoe to check on her totally-fine, better than ever foot.

Marty shows up and tells her to get it checked on. She’s like, don’t tell me how to live my life, I don’t tell you how to live yours.

Like getting sad and disappearing for a year and a half.

Marty says he broke up with Rachel, or rather, Rachel broke up with him. Either way, it’s over and he’s fine with it. I find that hard to believe. He says that now, but in a couple of weeks, he’s really going to miss how she always never laughed at his jokes.

Buffy says she hopes the breakup wasn’t over her, but Marty says no matter how many times he told Rachel he and Buffy were just friends, she insisted it was more.

He’s like, don’t worry, I’m not into you. And Buffy’s like, oh good. Wait.

Marty says they really work as friends. The bell rings and Buffy sends Marty off with a promise she’ll talk to a doctor.

Bex and Andi tour SAVA, where they’re doing all kinds of cool art stuff.

Like these pipes. Or those lines on the wall. Really demystifies art, huh?

Back at school, Jonah heads out and Cyrus runs to catch up. Jonah gives him props for doing something physical without wheezing.

Cyrus warns Jonah that Amber figured out the chess was a ruse. Jonah panics. He realizes he needs to find a new reason to hide from her. He’s like this close to faking his own death and coming back with a fake mustache as Jonah’s long lost twin, Jonas.

Amber shows up. She’s like, I know how you can avoid spending time with me: break up with me.

Cyrus apologizes but Amber’s like, eh, forget it, I’ve already lost interest.

Cyrus excuses himself.

Amber and Jonah talk. He apologizes, says he didn’t want to hurt her, and says he hopes they can still be friends.

Amber says, for future reference, don’t drag out a break up and make the person you’re breaking up with feel like an idiot. Amber walks off, leaving Jonah saddened.

I feel like maybe they’ve both learned a valuable lesson.

Jonah should just be forward with a break up if that’s what he really wants, and maybe Amber shouldn’t date 8th graders when she’s a sophomore in high school and expect a loving, mature relationship.

At SAVA, Andi returns to Bex to see what she thinks of the place.

Bex thinks it’s impressive. Andi asks her how hard she thinks it is to get in. Bex is like, I don’t know, we should probably look that up. Probably. Could be really good knowledge to have in this situation.

Especially because Andi’s really buying in to this school.

I mean, yeah. If you were designing a school from scratch to match Andi’s personality, it would look just like this. This would be like if Buffy went to check out a high school and when the bell rung after class, all the kids raced through an American Gladiators-style obstacle course in the halls to their next class.

Andi asks Bex if she still thinks she can get in and Bex says of course, but then Andi walks off and Bex is like...

Ehhh, I hope so.

#Andi Mack #Buffy Driscoll #Cyrus Goodman #Jonah Beck #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Marty #Rachel #Amber #Andi #episode recaps

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