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thedaughersofferrix · 1 year

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A New Purpose (Chapter One: Beskar, Blood & Babies)

(work is not nsfw, but this blog is generally intended to be 18+)

synopsis: you’re an ex-rebel fighter struggling to adjust to no longer fighting against the empire and instead having to build from it’s ashes. to combat the overwhelming sense that you need to do something, you've dedicated yourself to wiping out the imperial remnants that still cling to the underside of the new republic. that changes when you meet a socially inept mandalorian and his adorable baby, who are running from imperial remnants.

tldr: an ex-rebel, a mandalorian and force-sensitive baby walk into a bar and nobody else walks out.

pairing: din djarin x fem! reader

content warnings: blood, injury, canon typical violence, slow burn, like really slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, potentially smut in the future, reader has personality/backstory, little to no use of y/n, not-so-thinly-veiled anti fascism

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i have plans for this being a series but we’ll see. takes place after s2 but has nothing from mandalorian s3 and changes stuff from the book of boba fett. essentially a rewrite of the story. also din still has the razor crest bc no way two human sized people are fitting into that starfighter comfortably

prev. next.

The day you first met the Mandalorian is a memory scorched into your brain.

It was the same day you awoke to the taste of iron thick in your mouth and a Klaxon blaring in your head.

You were disorientated, grappling to readjust your eyes to the light as your body communicates to your mind the pain you were experiencing. Blood, dark and dried, stained the side of your face. Memories flooded your thumping head; you saw images of how you got yourself here.

Ah, that’s right. You were trying to suffocate the last sparks of the fascist, tyrannical regime that previously had total control of the galaxy.

The Imperial remnants were a blight to the New Republic and it felt like you were one of the only people acknowledging this.

The world had come a long way from where you’d been a few years ago, but the longer you sat through the changed world, the more it felt like the same shit in a different pile. They just didn’t know how to progress from being the underdogs. When you’ve been fighting against something for so long, it’s hard to finally pick up the pieces and start building things again.

Bluntly, the New Republic was in disarray. The Rebellion cut the Empire into millions of tiny pieces. Some of them were crushed by the weight of the New Republic, and others were buried in the ground and grew in the shadow of the New Republic’s struggle. It didn’t take long for you to decide things needed to be dealt with, quickly. And it was, well, easy. Fighting against Imps always was. It felt right and every move they made just felt like justification for fighting even harder.

But you’d gotten too cocky. You realised that after waking up in an Imperial cell.

The cells of the Imperial remnants are no different to the cells of the Empire themself. You’d know, because now you’ve been in both of them. They are desolate, bleak and empty. You just barely have what you need to survive, cramped less than a foot from where you lay. Slowly, and with great protest from your aching body, you sat up.

Pain in your head and the trail of dry blood on your face reminded you of the force at which that security droid had struck you. Numbness in your lower left abdomen meant you’d likely received a blaster shot to this area. One that had been poorly tended to, so that you’d still be just about clinging to life the next day so that information could be… extracted from you.

For a few seconds, you let yourself rest. Your limbs received five glorious seconds of doing absolutely nothing. How long had been since you’d been able to have those five seconds? Maybe you never had them at all actually. The five seconds did nothing for the throbbing pain in your head, however. A klaxon loudly declaring there was a problem prevented that.

But your five seconds of rest ended and you staggered to your feet despite the discomfort. Alright. Time to escape.

Once you’d been told that you were naively hopeful, that you needed to learn when the odds weren’t in your favour. Fucking ridiculous. That’s what hope is; perseverance in the face of unlikely odds. And things were shaping up to be quite unlikely.

You patted yourself down and cursed under your breath. Of course, they would strip you of everything on your person, even the beaded bracelet worn on your left hand. No point in dwelling on what you don’t have. It’ll be in your hands again soon. Quickly, you stumbled to the bars of your cell, you craned your neck to get a perspective on your surroundings. Yep, typical Imp-style prison block. Child’s play, frankly. See, there’s a trick to Imperial locks. Most prison locks.

The mechanism is made to only be opened remotely, inputting a command into a terminal. As such, the lock itself is not made to be opened physically, by force or by a keycard. The creator for that reason added a thin gap to prevent the mechanism from overheating. All you need to do is slot something thin and metallic into the crevice and it pops open like a chest in the hands of a greedy spacer.

You removed your right boot and pulled off the sole, shaking it roughly until a data disk clattered onto the ground. After reassembling your boot and slipping it back on, you snatched the data disk and moved to the cell door. Before slipping it into the thin gap, you took a glance from one side of the hall to another.

No guards, not even other prisoners. Whatever had gotten them so riled up must have been a real doozy. Now was not the time to question good luck.

The clunk of the lock coming undone sounded and you slipped the data disk into the top of your boot. After taking another careful glance to make sure this wasn’t some cruel trick, you slipped out.

With quick, careful steps you made your way down the hallway, stopping to try to discern the sound of something other than that fucking klaxon. You slipped from hallway to hallway, around the corner after corner and there was no one. Your mind flicked through the potential threats that could dignify such an all-hands-on-deck response.

And suddenly you heard it— hard, heavy footsteps and the clanking of something metallic. It didn’t sound like a stormtrooper; they were all plastoid chaffing against their body gloves. Great, so it was probably someone of a high enough ranking to wear something more durable.

You were unarmed and at disadvantage from a practical standpoint. Though, a lack of weapons had rarely if ever stopped you in the past. Even in your afflicted state, you were confident you could take down this Imp in what you pressured would be all-black with a fluttering cape.

You pressed against the wall and slowed your breathing to become as unnoticeable as possible. Then, you tackled them.

Easier said than done you realised fast. They were well-built and broad and their armour was definitely not an Imperial issue. Still, with the surprise, you managed to knock them off their feet.

A low grunt escaped them as they hit the ground ass-first. Immediately, you grappled for their weapon. Unluckily, your hand made contact with the blaster at the same moment theirs did. You still had the advantage, though, the mental preparation for combat— so you just fucking yanked it. The blaster fell into your hand and you brandished at their head, aim trained and hands steady and— wait.

That armour, that steel. Beskar. A Mandalorian?

The Mandalorian takes advantage of your pause and kicks one of your legs out, sending you and the stolen blaster in your hand toppling to the floor.

You hit the ground and you hit it hard. You were winded on impact and no doubt aggravated your already painful injuries. The Mandalorian scrambled for his blaster and you found your voice again as he picks it up.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you croaked as he aimed his blaster at you. “I didn’t- I thought you were an Imp.”

“I’m not,” comes his enlightening response.

“Clearly,” you muttered, shifting to sit up. The blaster’s sight is trained between your eyes. “Where are the cells?” he demanded. At first, you don’t respond, your hand resting over your abdomen to support the weakened part of your body.

“I said—” he stepped closer, voice now dangerously low, “—Where are the cells?”

“Hey buddy, I’m not exactly in tip-top shape at the moment, if you want information out of me you need to give it a minute.” The beskar helmet covered his face completely, not even a cursory glance at the visor gave you an inkling of emotion. You had to assume he was annoyed with you. “I don’t have time for this—” he dismissed, fingers moving to pull the trigger.

“I’ll bring you to the damn cells!” you shouted. His finger froze.

“You know where they are?”

“Just escaped from one.”

He gestured for you to move. “Show me. Now.”

The walk, or rather hobble, back to the cell block you escaped from was less than pleasant.

You were in desperate need of a stim, bacta spray or even a sip of med nog, anything to quell the hurt plaguing your body. The Mandalorian didn’t seem to care as he was silent while watching you limp along the hallways, hand on the wall to steady yourself. He did not comment on your heavy breathing, visible injuries or shaking legs. Evidently, he didn’t give a shit.

“Here,” you breathed as you turned the final corner. “This is it.” He breezed past you and inspected the cells. His body language was tense as he came across empty cell after empty cell.

“These can’t be all the cells,” he insisted. “Where are the others?”

“Look, these are the cells they put their prisoners in. Unless you want to go to the maximum security—”

“Take me there.”

You blinked at him. “Are you a moron? Who knows how many troopers they have standing guard down there? Go yourself.”

“I don’t know where it is, you do. So take me there or die here.”

Honestly, you considered just letting him kill you then and there. But you were in an Imperial prison and you’d sooner live, suffer and potentially take one of them down with you than die quickly and never get to teach them a lesson. You sighed and it came out as a shaky exhale. “You really know how to charm a girl, huh?” you muttered, turning yourself around and beginning your trek. He watched you quietly.

“C’mon now, don’t ask me to bring you somewhere than sit with your foot up your ass when I try to lead you there.” He scoffed under the mask and it came out raspy and harsh thanks to the helmet. Your body was getting used to the ache invading your sense and walking became somewhat easier at that point. The silent trip to the elevators was a little bit more manageable that way.

When finally inside the small steel box leading you to what you could only assume would be your death, you pulled your shirt up to have a look at your wound. Your skin was scorched and irritated. The lack of feeling told you some nerves had been damaged and you weren’t excited to imagine how your muscles and bones beneath the charred skin were faring. The Mandalorian’s head turned in your direction, just enough to catch sight of the injury. He stared for a few seconds and then turned back to the door.

“Can you give me a blaster?” That had him turn his head back to you pretty quickly.

“No.”

“What? I’m bringing you down to the most protected level of an Imperial prison and I can’t even have a weapon to defend myself?”

He goes quiet, like might be considering it. Then he says simply, “No.”

“Alright then, you better fucking protect me or else good luck getting back out of this place.”

“I got in, I think I’ll get out just fine.”

You snort. “If you got in, they know how you got in. And they’re expecting you to go back out the same way. If you don’t want to die, you’re not going to let me die.”

Before he can rebuke you, the elevator doors open and a shot is fired directly between the two of you.

You throw yourself to the side, hiding behind what little cover the walls provide and the Mandalorian does the same. Of course, they knew. They were waiting for you. Well, for the Mandalorian more likely, but if he died, you’d follow soon after.

“You wanna give me a blaster now?” you yelled at him. He didn’t respond, simply pulling the blaster from its holster and readying himself. He swung out from the cover and fired precise shots directly at the heads and chests of the troopers. The blaster fire that did hit him simply rebounded off his beskar. It takes only a few seconds for him to clear the five or six troopers who were standing ready.

“No, I don’t want to give you a blaster now.” You scoffed. Cocky bastard.

“The maximum security cells aren’t far, but we’re going to be meeting some resistance.”

“I can handle it,” he asserted. You nearly laughed.

But he certainly handled it. The second a stormtrooper was within range, they were shot down. He barely flinched each time a shot collided with his beskar. And he did, admittedly, keep you safe. Well, he was sort of protecting you by killing them.

“These doors,” you told him. “They’re locked with MLC-50 Magnolocks.”

“Can you slice them?”

“If I wasn’t half-dead. I don’t have the energy for it,” you admitted, slumping against the wall. "Do it now,” he commanded. You gave him a sharp look. “You’re fucking lucky I got you this far, Buckethead. Don’t make me regret it any more than I already do.”

“I need you to open the lock,” he said, sounding more… desperate. “Please,” he added, for good measure. You shake your head and he made a noise of annoyance as he turned away.

“Hey wait!” you began as you finally got a good look at his weapons. “Is that- Is that a beskar spear?” The Mandalorian turns back around. “...Why?”

“If it’s beskar you could probably break the locks open with it.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted my help. Use the spear, open the lock, no slicing needed.” He pulled the spear out and considered the lock for a moment. He looked between the two.

“You try to open it with your mind? Fucking hell just stab it!”

In one swift motion, he rammed the spear into the magnalock and electricity crackled wildly, before the door slid open. “Told you,” you said, grinning. He didn’t even spare you a glance, just walked right into the cell. He looked around, turned swiftly on his heel, and moved to the next door. He repeated the action until the second last door, at which he stopped.

The sound of footsteps filled your ears. “Hey, tough guy,” you called. He didn’t reply. You shifted back onto your feet and began stumbling over to him. “Tough guy!”

“I think he’s in here,” is all he told you. “Well that’s great, get him out quick, we’re not going to be alone for long.” Still, the Mandalorian didn’t move.

“Maker above, move!” You looked behind you as the sound of footsteps became increasingly loud. Rushed and heavy, definitely stormtroopers. “Why are you hesitating?!”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, which floored you for a moment. And then you heard the sound of a muffled voice escaping through a mask filter. He might be hesitating, but you wouldn’t be. You snatched his blaster from his holster and he panicked, reaching to grab you until you fired a shot at the stormtrooper rounding the corner. “Open the door!” you ordered. This time, he listened.

The beskar spear punctured the lock and the door slid open. You nearly missed the tiny squeal of delight that came from the other side as you fired off at the stormtroopers approaching. Your arms struggled to keep the weight of the blaster as steady as you’d normally have it, but it was enough to fire killing blows. "Hurry up!” you barked at him.

The Mandalorian steps out, clutching… a baby. A small, green and admittedly quite adorable, baby. You’re not sure what you were expecting but… yeah. It wasn’t that. You realised your strength was failing you, you tossed him the blaster, which he somehow caught. The final few troopers went down smoothly.

“Fuck,” you hissed, laying back on the ground. “You’re gonna… You need to help me move.”

“You-”

“Please!” you cut in. “Just help me and I’ll get you and the baby thing out, I promise. Just… please.”

Maybe he took pity on you or he just knew he didn’t have any other option, but he resigned to offering you an arm. You essentially climbed up him until your weight was resting uncomfortably on his shoulder. “Tell me where to go.”

You instructed him as you battled for consciousness, all the while the baby looked at you with its massive eyes and tilted its head cutely in confusion.

“Here, here. That panel,” you told him. The was still a small gap where you’d pried it off with your multi-tool and— fuck. You don’t have your gear. There’s a moment wherein you consider making him go get your things for you. Just a moment, though, because your head is thumping, your side is numb and somehow your bones are aching and right now you need to pass out.

It’s a bit of a manoeuvre to slip out through the way you came in and most of it spent weakly crawling behind a thick wall of beskar and muscle, but you made it. The Mandalorian hauled you onto his ship. That was nice. You expected him to sit you down outside the base and let you die there. He prioritised the baby, setting him down in his floating cot before grabbing at your arms.

“Tell me a place,” he commanded.

“What?” you rasped. “A place, tell me the name of a place, and I’ll bring you there.”

“I don’t…” You had to blink hard to not submit to unconsciousness. “Just, listen for a second, okay?” He went quiet. He looked back at the Imperial base, then back at you. He nodded. “Him—” you carelessly gestured in the general direction of the baby, “—the Empire want him, yeah?”

“What are you—”

“Listen! They’re trying to get him, am I right?” The Mandalorian nodded again.

“I know them, I can avoid them, keep him safe— keep both of you safe. You just give me some gear, get me away from here and I’ll do it.”

You rendered him speechless with that.

“We’ll talk more about it tomorrow or something, but right now, you need to give me something so I don’t die.”

“Tomorrow?” he parroted.

“Yeah, I’m not available for negotiations right now,” you informed him, with half a smile. He didn't seem amused by your attempt at levity. “Okay,” you sighed. “I’m going to pass out now.”

“You're going to what?”

And then darkness clouded your vision and you slipped out of consciousness.

NEXT CHAPTER.

#din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #din djarin #grogu #star wars #star wars x reader

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ladyvictory22 · 6 months

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I will always be here

(I recommend listening to my beloved Lana del Rey in the background, specifically Say Yes To Heaven)

In Austin, Max celebrated his fiftieth victory of the season, an achievement that filled Christian with pride as always. The race had gone well, and he had a feeling that the celebration with his husband would be grand, especially after Lewis finished in P2, a marvelous performance.

However, that optimism faded with the disqualification.

Two drivers were disqualified, including Lewis, for technical reasons, and amidst the chaos on the Internet, thousands of comments with different opinions. While this might benefit his professional side by giving Checo an advantage, in his personal life with Toto, the news was anything but good.

Both of them had known for some time that Toto was seriously considering retirement, an idea that came up from time to time. Christian sometimes wished that Toto would focus more on improving the car instead of talking about retiring.

The races in Japan and Qatar had been disappointing for Mercedes, with Toto absent due to his knee injury recovery, and now this upon his return. It was likely that Toto would be angry or very quiet.

Toto had been silently suffering lately, not letting Christian notice, or so he thought, but Christian understood what that implied. He had experienced similar moments when Mercedes was in the lead. However, the difference was that social media amplified comments and criticism, which was sometimes hard to ignore. Christian had read criticism directed at both him and Toto, and he knew that Toto had also read them. The comments could be harsh at times, but there was a limit, crossing a line such as wishing ill or accusing directly was not okay, and yet, Toto self-flagellated with those comments.

Toto was more sensitive after the difficult 2021 season, which they had worked to overcome together, ensuring that it did not affect their marriage in any way. Despite having eight titles, he had been struggling with the pressure, experiencing mild depression and intrusive thoughts. Christian had been there to support him, becoming his refuge in the darkest moments, like this one where he knew Toto would be devastated and would want to release that energy in some way, either through fighting or crying, or both.

Christian arrived in the room, which was dark with an eerie silence, and found Toto on the balcony, still dressed in his Mercedes uniform, staring into the void. Christian felt a pang of pain and approached slowly until he was beside him.

"Hello," Christian greeted, caressing Toto's hair.

"Hello," Toto murmured weakly.

Toto looked up, and tears began to flow when he felt his husband's hand on his cheek. Christian sighed, embraced him, and stroked his hair as he listened to his sobs.

"I'm a failure; I let them down again... I can't do anything right," Toto whispered between sobs.

"Don't say that; we all make mistakes... we're human," consoled Christian.

"You know that in this sport, you can't make mistakes," Toto said indignantly, chastising himself.

"You can, you just have to learn from them and move forward."

"Learn for two years, with eight titles under your belt, does that seem normal to you?" Toto said indignantly, castigating himself at the same time.

Christian tried not to get angry, although he felt the anger growing inside him. It wasn't a night for arguments; they needed to talk and dispel Toto's thoughts.

"I did it for eight years, with three titles under my belt... it's not the same, but I know perfectly well how you feel. Don't try to make me believe that I don't understand, even if this benefits me," Christian said seriously, trying to express his empathy.

"Of course you understand... especially now that you're in your success... isn't that right?" Toto responded sarcastically.

Toto got up and went inside. Christian sighed and let the night breeze caress his face. It was clear they would have a long night.

Shortly after, Christian followed him and found Toto pouring himself a drink from the minibar.

"Even though it benefits me, even though it benefits one of my drivers... I understand, and I'm not telling you this as a team principal; I'm telling you this as your husband, as the person who chose to be with you for the rest of his life, through thick and thin. Do you remember when I used to lose and get angry and try to fight with you?" Christian continued.

Toto remained motionless, not responding.

"You didn't celebrate victories to console me, and I appreciate that because you stopped being the team boss for one night and consoled me. I'm doing the same," Christian continued.

Toto ran a hand across his face, filled with frustration, and when he turned around, he looked at his husband.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I... feel like I can't take it anymore, Christian. You don't know how hard it is to read comments... hear them... see the disappointed faces... and I always think, what will I tell the team? How will I lift their spirits when I feel bad?" Toto said, with tears still in his eyes.

Christian approached and gently took Toto's hand, intertwining it with his own.

"Darling... of course you can. Today is just a bad night. Tomorrow is a new day, and there are more races ahead; they can still show that they're there," Christian consoled.

The tears kept flowing, and Toto held them back, but his eyes reflected deep concern. "But what if it doesn't get better? You've always supported me, but what if I can't keep going like this? Sometimes I feel like the only way out is retirement, and that scares me."

Christian squeezed Toto's hand tenderly and brought his face closer to look directly into his eyes. "Toto, listen to me, retirement is not the solution. I know you've been considering it, but you're not defined by a rough patch. All teams go through tough times; I experienced it years ago with the team. But together, we can overcome this. We've done it before, and we'll do it again."

Toto nodded slowly, his eyes still filled with insecurities, but Christian's comforting presence helped him find some peace amid the emotional storm. "I know, Christian, but I feel like I'm losing my touch, that I can't measure up anymore. I wonder if it's time to make way for the new generations."

Christian caressed his cheek with his thumb and smiled sweetly. "Toto, that's what the mind tells us when we're overwhelmed by pressure. But I know how incredibly talented you are. You've taken this team to the

top and won eight titles. No one can take that away from you. And you still have so much to give, not just to Mercedes, but to this sport in general. Let's not let a difficult season define your legacy... Lewis's legacy, and your team's legacy," he paused and added, "Sometimes, challenges make victories even sweeter. Don't let fear make you give up on what you love."

The tears kept flowing, but Toto held them back.

"And what if they all turn into bad nights?" he whispered.

"I'll be here; I'll always be here. Together, we'll face whatever challenges come our way," Christian assured, giving him a hand kiss.

Toto looked into Christian's eyes, finding comfort in his words and the love they shared. With a sigh, he nodded and moved closer to embrace his husband tightly, knowing that somehow he wasn't alone in his struggle.

Christian gave him a tender forehead kiss and then guided him to the bed, opening his arms, inviting Toto to snuggle beside him. Toto complied, and this time, he allowed himself to surrender completely to his emotions. Tears flowed, releasing some of the pressure he had accumulated, while Christian caressed him from his back to his hair, feeling that he might cry with him, too, because seeing Toto in this state was heart-wrenching. He just wanted to protect him, keep him safe, but unfortunately, he couldn't shield them from what the outside world threw at them.

When Toto finally found calm, they remained in the same position. A soft sigh preceded his decision to look up at Christian, who, with the tenderness of shared consolation, caressed his cheek. A kiss sprang between them, slow and full of implicit meaning. As if they had reached an unspoken agreement, clothes began to yield, and Christian's fingers leisurely unbuttoned Toto's shirt, while Toto trailed a path of kisses on his neck.

That night, the storm that raged in their thoughts seemed to fade, replaced by a silent promise of comfort and love. Christian was determined to show how much he loved Toto, how much he valued every facet of his being, and how much he wanted to protect him.

The shirt, once stripped of its bindings, was removed by Christian in a slow and sensual ritual. Toto surrendered to his advance, tears still adorning his eyes. Sensing his vulnerability, Christian responded with another kiss, this time a soft and sweet one, as he began to remove his own shirt.

The clothing gradually vanished, leaving two intertwined bodies and shared passion. Hands entwined, bodies clung to each other, and kisses continued, prolonged and ardent. Toto's movements were slow but precise, as if time itself had decided to stop to allow them to give in to each other. Toto adored and clung to every inch of Christian's body in an act of silent love and devotion.

Amidst that shared intimacy, Christian gently slid onto Toto's lap, a movement that seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of their hearts. Toto's hands roamed Christian's back, caressing the smooth skin as they embraced each other with passion, their bodies wrapped in the ecstasy of their love. The kisses continued, deep and passionate, as if they were trying to express everything they felt without the need for words. It was a moment of pure connection, where emotions flowed freely and were lost in the warmth of their shared love.

Their gazes met at various moments, and in those instances, the glisten of tears in Toto's eyes was still present. Each time their eyes locked, they conveyed a profound understanding and mutual affection. They gazed at each other with tenderness and desire, indulging in small kisses with each shared look. Each kiss and caress, in that moment of union, strengthened their love and made them feel that, no matter what the world brought them, they would always have the comfort and passion of their relationship to sustain them.

Christian longed to give Toto all the love that resided within him. They weren't celebrating; there was no room for anger or frustration in this corner of sadness and solace. It was just a moment where they clung to each other, shedding the weight of the world for one night.

When they finally reached climax, words escaped in whispers from Christian's lips. "I love you... I love you so much... I'm here for you," he said with a tenderness that filled the room.

A brief silence lingered before Toto found his voice amid their ragged breaths. "I love you too," he said with a voice laden with weariness but full of gratitude.

That's how they remained, their bodies sticky, filled with sweat, exhausted but satisfied. Christian continued his caresses, following the ritual he always performed when his husband yearned for sleep. On this night, wrapped in love and shared intimacy, they found refuge in each other.

~~~~

Ok...so a short, really short... but I needed to get rid of that sadness

and of course we end up with mild obsenity

@silvereds

#christian/toto #christian horner #toto wolff #old man yaoi #they are husbands #my way to get over austin

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euphoricfilter · 2 years

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To Build A Home (Part Nine)

Part nine: Copious Kisses

Pairing: Ot7 x 9 tailed fox Hybrid! Reader

Fox Hybrid! Jin, Human! Namjoon, Human! Yoongi, Wolf Hybrid! Hoseok, Cat Hybrid! Jimin, Wolf Hybrid! Taehyung, Fox Hybrid! Jungkook

Genre: Hybrid AU || Fluff || Angst || Smut/ implied smut || Strangers to lovers AU || Best friends to lovers AU

Summary: All Jin can think to do is try and kiss it all better.

Word count: 7.6k

Tags/ warnings: blood is mentioned a lot, lots of crying, angst/ comfort (it's more comfort), fluffy-ish, violence (but its deserved), the pain if finally over, hybrid mistreatment, me thinks that is all

Notes: second to last chapter lets gooooo. i also planned for like super soft smut in the next chapter, like a cute way to end the series but oh my god the cringe, jail time, will never see the light of day. so idk if there will be which im pissed about and i'm too scared to ask someone for help :'( and i'm shy but i'm open to suggestions! i've also been stressed because i have to write a graduation speech and my brain has fully stopped working so this chapter is a lil late and i'm a tiny bit unhappy with it because i feel like something is missing but my brain is fried.

my masterlist

series masterlist

part 10

+++

At some point throughout the late morning, you’d staggered to the other side of the cell.

The squelching of the mattress was uncomfortable, and you hated how each time you’d move a reminder of how much blood had spewed from your wound had seeped into the old fabric. Even though your tail was gone, there were moments you could feel the ghost of where it used to lay, aching even though it was no longer there. A dull pain from a limb that was no longer connected to your body.

The old man had migrated from his own worn and torn bed, instead coming to sit beside you, lithe fingers slipping through the gaps in the bars to gently hold your own. A silent comfort, because the silence was enough. No words truly bringing either of you comfort, of the reassurance that you would be alive tomorrow or that you be able to laze in the sun or smell the sweet morning air on a spring day. Touch or hold those that meant the world to you, see them grow alongside yourself.

He understood how hard it must be for you, he himself had experienced the hell that the hybrid sector put people like himself through. He’d watched countless bodies being dragged through the door at the end of the hallway, occasionally the hybrid never making a return. And he never bothered to ask. Because sometimes it’s better to stay oblivious and not pry for an answer you know you won’t like, an answer you already know but refuse to acknowledge.

He doesn’t know how long they’d kept him here, but he supposes it didn’t really matter anymore. He guessed the rest of his days would be spent cooped up in a dingy cell in the basement of the hybrid sector. Each time they’d pulled his body from the safe confines of his cell he would wonder if that day would be his last. But it never had been.

And he thinks maybe the reason was this moment.

To watch the burning flames behind your eyes, a determination he hadn’t seen from the others that resided in the basement. You’d been treated inhumanely, stripped of something so precious and yet you still had that flicker of hope burning in your eyes.

He understood it was a little hard for you to stand, hands shaky and body in pain, weakened from the blood loss and lack of food. But he could see you trying to fight it. He watched as your chest rose and fell his heavy bursts, eyes trained on the grimy floor of his own cell. Locked up in your own small world.

He wonders what you think about, but never asks. The selfish part of him not wanting to know too much about you or your life. Not wanting to become too attached when both of your futures aren’t guaranteed. One day you could be dragged through the door, and he could never see you again. He’d lost one family he didn’t need to lose another.

“You should eat” he eventually speaks up, easily slipping his hand from your own as he hobbles over to the bowl beside his mattress. His breakfast left untouched.

You watch as he drops down in front of you again, skeletal hands slipping through the bars to nudge a spoonful of cold porridge to your lips. Your own bowl was left by the door to your cell, you hadn’t made the detour to pick it up when you’d moved earlier in the day and getting up seemed like an impossible task as you lay there. The very thought of standing too tiring.

Your lips part, the old man chuckling as you cringe at the stodgy mixture, texture a little too slimy for your liking.

“Mister” you tilt your head, eyes catching the old man’s who smiles down at you, a smile on his face.

He nods, letting you know he’s listening as he gathers up another hefty spoonful.

You clear your throat, “We’ll get out of here. I promise we’ll get out of here”

You watch his smile falter, and if you were a little more naïve then maybe you would have been fooled by the look in his eyes. One that wanted to appease you but knew secretly deep down that there was no escape. Kind eyes that didn’t want to discourage you, and strip you of the small sliver of hope you were clinging onto like a lifeline.

But you had hope.

Jungkook had said he would come for you, so you believe him.

Jin promised he would always be there for you, and you believed him. A small part of your mind knew that Jin would never leave you. He’d picked you up off the side of the road as a small child, grimy and starving. You wanted to believe he wouldn’t just leave you to rot alone inside a cage.

You’d done all you could, you’d made sure that their future was secured. And maybe in those fleeting moments during the prior nights when you’d first been thrown into the cell, or the day where they’d cut off your tail, your mind had been plagued with those same thoughts you’d had months ago, when thing weren’t as bright as they had been in recent weeks.

But you believed. You believed that the security your family now has will be enough of a push for them to come and save you.

The longer your thoughts were left to marinate, the more you’d come to realise that maybe this was karma. Karma from the day you’d threatened to cut Jimin’s tail off if he ever stabbed you in the back again.

You were joking obviously. A somewhat harmless threat to scare Jimin a bit. But clearly the universe had thought differently about your empty threat and now you were facing the consequences.

You wonder if Jimin remembers that day as vividly as you do. You remember being angry, but a little further down you felt a little bad you had gone as far as you had. You suppose Jimin wouldn’t still be with you if you had just let him roam free and take some of your things. Some nights you’d consider going to his room and asking if the life he had is one he really wanted, but the small selfish part of you never asked. Because you didn’t want to lose your best friend.

You’d have to convince yourself this is definitely what he wanted. You’d given him the offer to leave that night and he hadn’t taken it.

+++

You’d dozed off at some point, your body trying its best not to regurgitate your slimy brunch.

You weren’t sure if it was specifically the porridge that had upset your stomach or just eating in general, your body having to digest the food taking up too much energy.

Breathing had become harder, and from the faint feeling of a cold hand being pressed across your forehead you suspected you had a fever. The old man muttering under his breath as he tries to figure out a way to reduce it. Annoyance laced in his features because he had nothing more than the clothes on his back and a bed. They hadn’t bothered to fill the dog bowl with water that morning, so he had no way of helping you.

Your eyes open groggily when the clank of the door at the other end of the hall opens, and you silently pray they stay on the far end of the room away from your cell. You weren’t sure you’d be able to take another round of testing right now, let alone being dragged down endless hallways. Your body was slowly reaching its limit and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold on.

Although the thought was selfish, you hope that if they were coming to your end of the basement, it was because they were shoving another innocent soul into the cell adjacent from yours which had been empty since you’d arrived. Almost all the other cells filled with other hybrids.

You hear the old man shuffle beside you, and your hybrid ears twitch when a chorus of voices echo into the basement. Your fox ears press flat against your head to try and muffle the noise, eyes closing.

You want to laugh at how similar one of the voices sounds to Namjoon’s, your lips quirking as you try to imagine what he would say in a situation like this one.

You think he would panic a little, trying his best to keep it together for your sake because he wants to hold everyone together. But you’d see the way his brows quirk a little in worry. Or how his voice would drop an octave, a smooth lullaby that you’d come to love because Namjoon really did have a pretty voice. It was easy to listen to him read a book or just talk about his day of an evening, your muscles slowly turning to jelly as he gently scratches behind your hybrid ears, or his fingers card through your tails.

When the familiar sound of footsteps descend into the basement, you bite your lip as your hands move to cover your human ears. Breathing shallow as you curl in on yourself. Because the most logical thought in your brain was that; if you were smaller and quieter maybe they would walk right by you and leave you alone.

Your nose doesn’t pick up on the cologne you’d started to associate home with. Your sense of smell having been dulled down over the few days from the musty cell and the smell of bleach.

Namjoon doesn’t fully see your face, you’d tucked into yourself, but he knew it was you. He would always know it was you. He could lose multiple of his senses and he would still know it was you.

His eyes glaze over your body, curled up on the concrete floor. His eyes catch onto the pool of red, a smaller puddle under your tails where you’re laid. He swallows thickly at the state of the rest of the floor, mattress soaked in red, a small trail from the make-shift bed to where you were on the floor.

He fumbles with the keys, hands shaking as he curses. Because you were hurt and suddenly, he can’t remember which key unlock the door to your cell. Mind frazzled because you’re hurt.

You’re bleeding.

He uses the fact that he can see your chest raising and falling in jittery interval as enough proof that you were still alive, maybe just passed out, but still alive and somewhat okay. And if his hands and brain would co-operate then maybe he could get you out of this place sooner.

The sooner you were out of there, the sooner he can fix all the problems that have occurred over the last few days. He’d take you to a hybrid hospital, not caring if they were expensive, that was the last thought on his mind. What if he had shown up minutes later and you were at life’s end?

He drops the keys onto the floor accidently, and he pauses when you flinch back from the loud sound. He just watches you for a moment, a second feeling like a lifetime as he watches to make sure you’re okay. He hadn’t realised that he was holding his breath until he watched you let out a shaky exhale, his own lungs releasing a large puff of air.

Your eyes squeeze a little tighter, body curling in on itself a little more and Namjoon feels his eyes well up with tears. He didn’t mean to scare you.

He knew you were sensitive to sounds, how could he be so careless?

He makes eye contact with the old man who looks at him with what Namjoon can only describe as revulsion. But Namjoon can’t get mad. The evidence that all the hybrids being locked in the basement had been mistreated was proof that humans were probably one of the most selfish, bloodthirsty creatures on the food chain. Who only cared about themselves and their own pitiful lives.

He ignores the stares he gets from a few of the other hybrids, a lot of them having wandered over to the front of their cells at the sight of an unfamiliar human. A small sense of hope that maybe they would be free, that someone had finally heard their silent prayers.

Namjoon eventually calms his shaking hands down enough to unlock the cell door. He yanks it open, uncaring that his beige pants were getting grimy as he practically slides across the floor to your side.

“Small thing” he whispers, hands hovering over your body, unsure if he should hold you or not.

He didn’t know what had happened to you and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, both physically or mentally.

Namjoon takes a moment to really look over you, and he holds a hand over his mouth when he spots the focal point of your bleeding. His body hunches forward as a low sob wracks through his body, his eyes flitting over the rest of your body to check for any more damage. He shoves the palms of his hands into his eye-sockets. Your body looking like a swirl of red behind the veil of tears.

A pruned hand reaching for your ears catches his attention. Namjoon watches as the old man reaches through the bars, his lithe fingers smoothing your hybrid ears away from your head. And Namjoon would be worried that would hurt if he didn’t spot the old man’s own hybrid ears. He tries not to stare at the odd number of ears, the realisation that the ‘failed experiments’ were the ones being kept in the basement.

He felt sick to his stomach.

“Young miss, it seems a friend of yours has arrived” he whispers, cautious that you still may be startled.

Namjoon watches your eyes slowly open, squinting slightly at the florescent lights.

“Hey small thing” Namjoon whispers, watching as your hybrid ears twitch.

Your eyes meet his own, and he can’t help but cry in relief.

You lift a hand, beckoning Namjoon to come closer. Namjoon bends over your body, smiling as you wipe his cheeks, a relived smile on your face.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” he says, hands already moving to help you sit up.

However, his eyes widen when you push his hands away. The ghost of your touch stinging his hands from where you’d slapped him.

“Where’s Jin?” you ask, eyes frantically looking over the producer’s face.

“Outside, he’s waiting for us outside” he motions to the door at the end of the hallway. Voice steady but his eyes gave away the panic he was feeling.

Your nose twitches, trying to see if you could smell Jin.

Namjoon goes to help you up again but like before you just push his hands away. This time your push yourself to sit up, your tails laying limp on the floor beside you as you push your body away from Namjoon’s, head shaking frantically.

Namjoon opens his mouth, ready to argue you’re hurt, and he promises Jin was waiting upstairs for you, but you beat him to it.

“I won’t leave unless I know Jin is okay” you say, breaths becoming a little heavier from sitting up on your own. Your hands shakily moving to wipe your cheeks, skin soaking in your salty tears.

Namjoon worries you’re hyperventilating as you struggle to breath, pushing his hands away when he tries to reach out and help you.

His jaw clenches when you mutter out for Jin, begging Namjoon to see Jin. You needed to know if he was okay.

You know Namjoon wouldn’t lie.

But what if Jin wasn’t okay?

What if Jimin and Taehyung had been taken away too?

Namjoon swallows, taking a moment to look into your eyes, they flit down to your tails as well as the puddles of blood.

He nods, “Okay. I’ll bring Jin here” he slowly stands, eyes raking over your figure once more to check that you would be okay.

It’s when he sees your body shaking, barely holding yourself up that he turns, running down the hallway. Ignoring the angry shouts from the other hybrids that wanted their cages unlocked like yours.

+++

Jin almost stumbles down the stairs, muttering a quick thanks to Namjoon who grabs him by the back of the sweater before he can tumble down them.

He takes no notice of the other hybrids, his heightened sense of smell easily picking up your scent.

His eyes lock onto your figure through the bars of the old man’s cell, you legs tucked into your chest, head daintily resting on your knees.

He chokes on the thick smell of blood, freezing once he yanks open the door to the cell when he sees the state of the room.

You look up, bottom lip wobbling when you see him. Your eyes locking with his glassy ones.

Jin’s adams apple bobs when he swallows, hybrid ears picking up on your shallow breaths.

He stumbles forward, arms reaching out to hold your face as he drops to his knees in-front of you.

“Don’t cry” you whisper. Watching as his hands retreat from your cheeks to wipe his own.

When had he started crying?

Jin abandons wiping his cheeks when small pearly tears cascade down your face.

His eyes flit across your body, before taking a moment to just look into your eyes.

Namjoon watches from the other side of the cell as Jin hunches forward, his head falling to rest on your knees.

Your eyes widen when his body shakes, a loud sob wracking through his body. He reaches for your hands, resting by your sides.

Your hands squeeze his own, trying to pry his face from your legs. You’d never seen Jin so down.

Even the day your old owner had died, or the day he’d thought you’d ran away from home he’d shed a few tears in the silence of his room and them comfort you. You’d never seen Jin looking so… lost. Like he didn’t know what he was doing, unsure of his own feelings. So vulnerable that all he can do is hold onto you with all the strength he can muster. You don’t move as his hands squeeze yours, he squeezes them so tight that you worry the delicate bones in your hands would snap. Jin holding onto you like you would disappear if he let go.

You don’t register Namjoon shuffling from foot to the other on the other side of the cell, your focus trapped on Jin as he cries.

His shoulders shake, choking on his own sobs.

“I’m sorry” he cries, head lifting slightly to hold onto your upper arms, pulling you into his chest.

His head rests on top of your own, his shoulder still shaking as he runs a hand through your hair. Eyes screwed shut, trying his best to not let anymore tears fall.

He opens his eyes when he feels your own tears soak into his sweater and his breath hitches.

His eyes catch sight of your tail, and only then does he notice how your blood had started to soak into his trousers. He gently pushes you from his chest, looking down, his hand clamps over his mouth to mask his gasp at the crimson puddle.

His eyes trail back towards your tails, laying limply on the concrete.

You look up at the ceiling, hand coming to rest over your eyes as you take a long deep breath.

Jin’s fingers barely touch the bandage around the stump of your 9th tail, his mouth opening to let out his own shaky breath.

He ignores the sticky feeling of your blood on his hands as he rests his head on the concrete beside your chopped off tail. The rest of your tails-stained red laying flaccid around you.

Your eyes begin to hurt, you want to blame it on the lights on the ceiling as you stare up, but you know it’s because you’re scared. Eyes stinging as you swallow back a fresh wave of tears.

Jin doesn’t say anything, eyes squeezed shut as he sits up from the bowing position.

“Sunshine” he calls, voice wobbly, hands reaching to hold any part of you.

You look down, eyes empty as you stare at the red being smeared onto your arms. Jin’s hands frantically holding onto any part of skin he can find, a trail of red following each soft touch.

You look into his eyes as his hands finally find your cheeks. And you ignore the tacky feeling of blood being transferred onto your cheeks.

You don’t even get a proper look at his face before his lips brush against your own. And like second nature, your eyes shut, tension slowly slipping out of your body as his lips pillow your own.

Although not the most perfect kiss, a mix of salty tears, snotty noses and too much teeth neither of you pull away until you’re both gasping for air. Your eyes stay closed as he kisses over your red rimmed eyes, a soft kiss to your lips once more before he bends down.

Your eyes follow his movements, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel his plush lips press against the stump of your tail through the loose bandages. He sucks in a shaky breath before he leans down and presses a firmer kiss this time. Still wary that you were likely in pain, but firm enough that you would be able to feel his kiss.

All he can think to do is kiss it better. Just like he would do to all the small cuts and scrapes you’d have over the years.

But he knows, he knows that this is far worse. But what more can he do? He can’t bring your tail back. He wishes he could.

So, he doesn’t say anything.

Because honestly, he doesn’t know what to say. For the first time ever, he has no comforting words for you. All he can do is hope that you can feel his love for you as his lips brush over your wounded tail. He knows you were never fond of them; you’d spend nights complaining as he would dry them, nights were he would whisper to you in the dark about how perfect you were and that any flaw you saw in yourself made him love you more. That having 8 more tails just meant more of you to love. A feature that made you stand out from everyone else.

He’d never told you but the first day he’d met you, it wasn’t your abundance of tails that caught his attention. It was your eyes.

While at the restaurant he remembers wondering how similar you must have looked to the day he had first met you. And the you from today has the same fire in her eyes as the you of the past.

The you from back then had been so small, a frail child that had the determination the size of the moon. So much hope and want in such a small body that Jin had been surprised. He’d begged his owner to help you.

He thinks that now you’ve grown, and as you’ve grown so has you will to survive.

But over the years your tails had become another of his favourite things about you. He hadn’t really been taken aback the first time he noticed them, him of the past thought they were pretty, they weren’t as fluffy as they were now, but now they were one of his favourite things about you.

You watch as he sits up, back of his hand wiping the smeared blood from his lips.

You both just look at each other, no words needed to convey your feelings. You could both see the looks of relief dancing behind each other’s irises.

You felt your body finally relax, the tension of being scared, not knowing what would happen to you finally dissipating as reality sets in.

Your body felt light, knowing the freedom you’d been fight for, for years was in arms reach. Mere centimetres from your fingertips. You wouldn’t have to worry about being taken to a facility, nor would you be separated from Jin and sent to different homes. Where you’d never be able to touch each other ever again. You wouldn’t have to go to bed or wake up in the morning, wondering how much longer you really had together, or take anxiety educing trips outside with Jin’s fake ID, the fear of being caught following the two of you like a shadow. Or worrying every moment you were awake, scared that someone would show up at your door with a new set of laws that would ruin the rest of your life.

A smile quirks onto your lips, Jin’s own expression matching your own.

And you laugh, even as a sharp pain zips up your spine from the sudden movement; you laugh.

You laugh because you’re relieved. Years of build-up finally washing away, every waking moment filled with anxiety being blown away like dust in the wind.

Jin yelps when you slump forward, body finally resting. Any adrenaline that had been keeping you awake for possibly days at this point finally wearing thin. Your bones feel like lead, weighing you down; but you feel as light as a feather. The phantom pressure that had been holding you down for so long finally at peace.

You ignore Jin shouting at Namjoon, your mind unable to fully comprehend what they could be arguing about as your eyes close, a small smile of content on your lips as you finally slip into a peaceful sleep.

There was no doubt in your mind that you would have nightmares of these few days, the rough treatment and inhumane way you’d been treated not something you’d be able to forget.

Even as your body takes its time to fully shut down, you can feel the stinging of your wrists and ankles, rubbed raw from hand cuffs and chains, the phantom feeling of your tail pulsing dully even though it was gone, and the throb from the bruises that came from being grabbed so roughly, treated as nothing more than a cut of meat. Worth nothing more than what your body could give the few people that wanted to experiment on your kind, how the humans had fucked up their tests when making you and all the other poor hybrids that were locked in their cages.

But there’s no space for bad dreams as your mind focuses on Jin’s voice, Namjoon trying to calm the fox down as they both freak out, neither of them sure if you were okay or what they should do.

+++

Jungkook shoots up from the chair in the lobby area of the hybrid sector when the large metal door pushes open.

Taehyung follows soon after once they spot you in Jin’s arms, body lax and eyes closed.

Jungkook’s fingers gently push some hair out of your face, tears brimming his eyes as he looks at the state you were in.

Taehyung looks over at Namjoon who stands beside Jin, “She’s just passed out” he tells the wolf.

“Is she okay? She’s bleeding a lot” Jungkook asks, frantically looking at Jin to fix something.

“She’s not bleeding anymore Kookie” the old of the foxes reassures.

Jimin and Hoseok had slowly made their way over, Jimin biting his lip as he gets a glimpse at you. He buries his face in Taehyung’s back who reaches his hand behind his back to hold Jimin’s.

Hoseok, never one to like the sight of blood turns around. The wolf makes eye contact with Yoongi, the producer raising an eyebrow in question. Hoseok shakes his head, watching as Yoongi pushes himself from his chair.

Taehyung scoots himself and Jimin out of the way so the older of the two producers can get a good look at you. Yoongi blinks, his hand gently brushing over your cheeks. He feels a little relived when he can see the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

Namjoon places a heavy hand on Jimin’s shoulder when he notices the cat trying to quieten down his sobs. Taehyung’s hand only doing so much comfort.

Hoseok bites down on his fist, guilt trickling through his body. Ashamed he hadn’t done more to try and help you. He doesn’t know exactly what he expected to happen, but it wasn’t this. He should have stopped you the day he had said goodbye, maybe he should have been the one to stay by your side instead of Jungkook.

You’d done so much for each of them, he wishes he could turn back time and figure out a way to fix all that had gone wrong.

The wolf looks to his side when he feels a soft pat on his shoulder. Yoongi doesn’t look at him, which he appreciates, unsure if he could hold himself together if the older male were to peer into his soul. The thought of having to open his mouth to talk almost enough for a fresh ripple of pearly tears to travel down his face.

Yoongi looks out the large floor to ceiling windows, blue sky a little patronising for such a melancholy day. It felt a little too wrong for the sun to shine so brightly, the cliché trope of the sky turning grey, rain pelting like there is no tomorrow feeling more fitting for the situation.

“There’s not much we could have done. She’s stubborn and would have put you guys over herself no matter the outcome” he says, tone low.

They both bask in each other’s silence, watching as a bird flies by outside. Hoseok wonders if you’d feel as free as that bird does once you wake up. He wonders how long it’ll take for you to wake up, if you ever will wake up. He wonders if you were scared, if you missed him as much as he missed you, if he could take away your pain as easily as you had his.

“Everything will start to get better” Yoongi whispers, and Hoseok thinks that maybe Yoongi had similar thoughts to his own and this was his way of reassuring himself that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Taehyung’s head turns towards the other side of the lobby when another door is shoved open, four men dressed in police uniforms dragging Kim Dae-Hyun and Kim Seung by their arms through the lobby, both of them trying to pull their arms free.

Dae-Hyung was screaming something about a lawyer and Seung was trying to break free while reciting his human rights and how this was too much.

Before anyone can react, Jungkook is storming his way over towards to two of them.

Dae-Hyung snarls at him and Jungkook has to hold back a scoff at the irony of the situation. It was funny, how these two men who had little to no regard for hybrids, claiming they were feral animals, were actually the feral ones.

Jungkook ignore the snide comments the two men were making, the four policemen trying to hold them still.

Jungkook smiles, and Seung is taken aback by how sadistic the smile is.

Hoseok flinches back at the sound of Jungkook’s fist colliding with Seung’s right cheek. The government official’s eyes widening in utter shock. The two policemen get a better grasp on him as he freezes before he’s looking at the two of them in disbelief.

“You can’t tolerate this behaviour” Seung seethes, and Jungkook can see the heat slowly raising as the man’s face reddens in a mix of embarrassment and rage, his cheek an even darker red. Jungkook thinks he can see a bruise starting to form.

“Jeon Jungkook” Jin shrieks, passing your lax body over to Namjoon who cringes as his clothes get bloody.

Jungkook looks between you and Jin, anger still bubbling through his veins as he sees the state you were in, the culprits behind this standing right before him, but Jin sounded pretty mad…

He swallows, eyes meeting the older fox’s.

A smile quirks onto Jin’s face, “There’s two of them you know” the fox motions to Dae-Hyung.

Said man’s eyes widening when he grasps the implications of Jin’s words.

Jungkook cracks his neck, turning towards Dae-Hyun with a shit-eating grin.

Jin winces when Jungkook’s fist collides with Dae-Hyun’s nose, a loud snap echoing through the lobby.

Taehyung can see the front-desk woman’s jaw drop as she watches blood gush from Dae-Hyun’s nose. Jungkook smiling proudly at Jin who gives him two big thumbs up.

Jungkook briefly turns towards the police officers, “Thank you for your service” he bows respectfully.

One of them snorts, “No problem kid, I would have done the same if these two had done what they did to the young lady, to either of my hybrids”

Jungkook smiles at him brightly, happy to know that not all humans were assholes.

Taehyung turns, looking down at you sadly, “Now I don’t feel bad we keyed their car” he sighs.

Yoongi turns towards him with a look of pure disbelief on his face, “You did what?”

Taehyung smiles sheepishly, cheek rubbing against the top of Yoongi’s head as he holds onto your hand tightly.

+++

“Hyung are you sure she’s, okay?” Jimin asks Jin, the younger’s hand squeezing Jin’s tightly as they sit in the hospital room.

Jimin knew you were alive, the beeping of the machines hooked up to your body were telling him so. The steady beating of your heart should be enough to tell him that you were okay, but he was still on edge.

When was the last time he gotten to give you a proper hug? Where you hugged him back and it wasn’t him sobbing into your chest as you lay motionless on the hospital bed. How long had it been since he’s gotten to look into your eyes, and just wander, his own thoughts mere whispers as he takes a moment to appreciate you. How long had it been since he’d cooked you a meal and you’d given him a soft kiss on the cheek in thanks? Or heard your pretty voice, or seen your bright smile?

When you woke up you were in the room alone.

It had taken minutes before you had fully comprehended that you were in hospital. The beeping machine merging with the beating of your heart, you hadn’t realised where you were until you looked down and had seen somewhat familiar hospital attire.

However, these weren’t stained in blood or vomit. They smelt clean and weren’t as rough as the ones you’d been given in the basement.

You wondered if you’d dreamt Namjoon and Jin coming to save you and that really, you’d been experimented on again and had just passed out, left alone in an infirmary because they’d fucked up an experiment again.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the door clicks open and Jimin scuttles in with a tired Jin close behind.

You’d pushed yourself out of bed, ready to leave the room when your eyes meet Jimin’s.

He blinks. Once and then twice. Before he’s barrelling towards you, Jin grabbing him by the waist before he can bulldoze into your side.

You look at him with wide eyes, worried as he starts to cry.

“Why are you crying?” you ask, smiling softly when Jin lets go of him and he makes his way over to you in a slower manner.

“Because… because” he wails, arms gently wrapping around your waist, scared you were still hurting.

Honestly you think the hospital must have pumped you full of pain killers because your body was feeling more numb than sore.

“Please don’t cry Mimi, I’m okay” you pat his back, remembering he wasn’t all that fond of his ears being scratched.

Jimin snivels as Jin tries to pry his arms from your waist, only letting go once you promise to sleep together once you’re discharged from the hospital.

He reluctantly sits down after he presses a soft kiss to your lips. Humming as he loses himself in the feeling of your lips pressed firmly against his own, a silent promise to each other that neither of you were going anywhere. A kiss so sweet and soft and so wholly you that Jimin was left in a daze as he watches you, a giddy smile on his face.

Jin steps forwards, you notice his hesitance, how he fidgets with his fingers, eyes avoiding your own.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, anxiety clawing its way through your body.

“I’m sorry”

Your eyes widen, “Huh?”

“I’m sorry. None of this would have happened if I had just… I don’t know? Done more” he exhales, a sad smile on his face as he finally looks at you.

Your hands reach for Jin’s, using then as an anchor to pull him closer to your body.

You sit back on the bed, legs moments away from giving out on you, but you wrap your arms around Jin’s waist nonetheless, your face pushing itself into his stomach.

“None of this is your fault Jin” you peer up at him, smiling when you feel a drop of water land on your cheek, Jin’s face turned to the side to hide his tears, “This is the least I could do to ensure our future”

+++

You’re slowly making your way through a pot of jelly when the door slams open, you flinch back, startled by the sudden action.

You watch Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung stalk across the room. The wolf yanking the cup of jelly from your light grasp as he slams it down on the table.

Then both of them flop by your sides. You groan, Taehyung’s whole-body weight too much pressure on your legs as the two of them try and squeeze to fit onto the small, single bed. Neither of them saying anything, simply sighing when they figure out a comfortable position. Both cautious about your tails that rest on a pillow.

Hoseok’s head peeks around the door frame, and he sighs when he sees the pile of people on the poor old bed that looked minutes away from breaking under the weight of three people.

Yoongi follows in after the older wolf, shaking his head as he sees the situation they’d put you in.

“Hey, you two, don’t put too much pressure on her body” he swats at their behinds, Taehyung whining in defiance as Hoseok tries to pull him off of you.

Once they’d pried the two puppies from the bed, Hoseok set a paper bag on your lap.

“Thought you might be hungry, so we brought lunch” he smiles, and you thank him.

“You two go and get drinks, there’s a vending machine in the lobby” Yoongi shoos the youngest two out of the room before turning to you.

He takes a seat beside the bed, grabbing the paper bag and depositing its contents into your lap.

“Jin hyung said it’s probably best to start small but greasy food can make anyone feel better” he explains, unwrapping one of the smaller burgers from the paper and handing it to you.

“Thank you” you smile at him softly.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, handing Hoseok some food as well.

“Relived. Maybe a little scared” you admit, teeth sinking into the soft bun.

“Scared?”

You hum, taking a moment to chew before you answered, “Scared that maybe this isn’t the end and I’m being too optimistic”

“Even if it isn’t, we’ll stay by your side” Hoseok speaks up, hesitant as he holds your hand.

You smile at that, “Hoseokie” you coo, watching his hybrid ears stand alert, “gimme a kiss” you lean forwards.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi, surprise evident on his face but he obliges, nonetheless.

Hoseok expects a kiss on the cheek, face heating up when your lips land softly on his own. His eyes shut, basking in the soft feeling of your lips pressed to his own, his tongue darts out to run along your bottom lip, humming when he can taste the sauce from your burger.

“See, you can relax now. I’m okay” you smile when the two of you pull back, happy he seemed a little less tense.

You and Yoongi spare him of the embarrassment, both of you pretending his cheeks weren’t doused in rosy, red blush.

You lean towards Yoongi when his hands raise to card through your hair, and you tease him a little by leaning forward to kiss the corner of his lips. He smiles at that, hand holding your jaw gently.

“May I?” he asks, worried he was overstepping his boundaries.

You nod, eyes shutting when his lips brush your own in a feather light kiss.

Yoongi pulls back, thumb brushing your cheek, “we have more time to explore” he hums when he sees the serene look on your face.

“Hey!” you jump when Jungkook shouts from the doorway, “Did you seriously make us leave so you could kiss without us” he gawks, an exaggerated expression on his face, and you would worry he was offended if it weren’t for the way his tail was wagging behind him. And he said he wasn’t just an overgrown dog.

“Can you believe they’re sharing first kisses without us?” the fox nudges Taehyung’s shoulder.

You and Taehyung make eye contact, a sheepish smile gracing your features when Jungkook looks between the two of you.

+++

“Thank you” you smile at Hyerin, a little mad that words didn’t feel like enough to properly thank her.

She shakes her head, helping you put your shoes on, ready to be discharged from the hospital.

She’d explained everything that had happened while you were in the basement of the hybrid sector. How Sora had trouble at first because Jimin and Taehyung’s names were under Jin’s fake ID, to them camping out at the restaurant just like you had planned. She explained that Dae-Hyun and Seung had been arrested. And you felt a small part of you relax at that, the tiny piece of you that continued to worry finally at peace now that they were being punished for what they had done.

The part of you that wanted them to suffer was mad that all they got was a couple of years in prison before they would be banned from any government job, you’d have preferred if their punishment was harsher, but hybrids had no say anything like that, it was a miracle that they had been arrested in the first place.

She explained that Sora had been a member of multiple hybrid activist groups and once she’d set up a petition to place a new law; that taking a hybrid that was already registered under someone else’s name was kidnapping and would have immediate consequences, the activist community had tried their hardest to gather enough votes that the government would have to do something about it.

People had camped outside government buildings in protest, and so the new law was passed almost instantly. The hybrid sector worrying that word would get out and make them look bad.

Hyerin had explained she’d quit her job before they could officially fire her, deciding she wanted to work back at a hybrid centre instead; that way she could try and change people’s views on hybrids first-hand instead of taking on the huge task of changing the world from one of the core problems. And she hoped the two of you could keep in touch, she’d love to go out for lunch some time.

You asked what had happened to the other hybrids as well, worried they were sent back to facilities in the suburbs, but she’d smiled.

“A few of them decided to start work, a lot of business owners in the hybrid district were more than happy to take them in. Oh! That reminds me” she perks up, shoving a hand in the pocket of her jeans.

You carefully take the small business card, messy handwriting sprawled on the back.

“I’ll treat you to a nicer bowl of porridge next time we meet!”

You smile, turning the business card over, eyes widening when you notice the familiar logo of the restaurant Hoseok works at.

“An old guy asked me to give it to you, said he knew you but didn’t have any way to contact you” she informs, and you nod, smiling because you knew exactly who this was from.

You shove the small piece of card into the front of Jungkook’s hoodie when you hear the door click open.

“Ready to go home?” Jin asks you, smiling politely at Hyerin.

You spot the rest of your family crowding the narrow hospital hallway, each of them smiling at you brightly as they squeeze into the space of the door.

“Yeah” you nod, smiling equally as bright. Thanking Namjoon once he squeezes his way into the room, effortlessly picking you up from the bed.

You poke one of his dimples, heart skipping a beat when you feel his deep chuckle reverberate from his chest. He tilts his face down, easily pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, and you feel your face heat up.

You press your ear to his heart, the steady beating reassuring you that this wasn’t a dream.

You were finally going home.

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ceeroosa · 4 months

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i hate to be this guy

but i will, cuz i'm seeing it a lot a lot a lot lately:

i am begging people who have poor self-esteem and are extremely sensitive to external judgements (like, say, losing your absolute shit cuz someone made a mildly shitty comment in their public bookmark of your fic)

to work on that.

no, i'm not saying it was cool for them to say something mean about you in a public space where you could see it. i'm saying it's an extremely normal thing that you can't control, and you will be happier if you figure out how to focus on handling those things over trying to control other people

sure, make the PSA's reminding people that ficwriters have feelings too and demand that people stop making negative comments in public bookmarks because you're not wrong - it is a mean thing to do.

but it is also normal.

people talk about you. sometimes it's where you can see or hear it, and often it is "behind your back."

you cannot shame, demand, plead or tantrum your way out of the fact that people talk.

people talk about everything, and often in unfavourable terms. i have known people in my life who have torn themselves apart emotionally, have created such an obscene amount of stress in their lives, over the things people have or may be saying about them to other people.

"it's WRONG" they said

"let them be wrong" I said

because at some point you have to accept the way people can be. people can be cruel as much as they can be kind. they can be smart and thoughtful and insensitive and daft.

you, my little lovely darling, cannot control that and every attempt you make to try (and yes, I'm sorry, but the aforementioned PSA's absolutely count as an attempt to control)

the more stress and pain - disappointment, shame, righteousness, violation because i set a boundary why did they do the thing i asked them not to do why doesn't anyone ever respect me - you bring on yourself.

i don't want you to hurt yourself, i don't want you to suffer more than you have to. (unless you wanted to, i guess.) i don't want the things you enjoy and feel passion for to be tainted and ruined by other people.

i wasn't born thinking this way. i also went through stages (still do! often! recently!) of being frustrated that people can just go about life doing things wrong and being cruel and being stupid and i've experienced the way just thinking in that way increases my internal distress, it increases feelings of hopelessness and powerlessness, of feeling like things happen to me instead of being an active participant in life.

the following skills have helped me greatly in managing these feelings:

radical acceptance: practicing accepting the unacceptable, letting it happen without fighting or bargaining or resisting, relinquishing all illusions of control over this, that, or the other thing while recognizing that the only thing we do have control over in this life is how we respond - and carefully choosing how to respond after allowing the reaction to pass.

distress tolerance: radical acceptance can be under the umbrella of distress tolerance, but this is basically anything that helps ease the sensations of a distressing experience; things that are comforting and soothing, distraction, and, yes, even avoidance can be a useful tactic in the right situation.

self-assurance: this one's pretty tough. you don't have to love yourself necessarily, but you do have to respect yourself because there will be moments in your life where it feels like nobody respects you and if you can't even retreat into the sureness of your Self...well, it's gonna be hard. humans are social creatures and reliance on others is not weakness, it is nature. however, we've constructed a society that does not serve us and hyper-individualism leaves people alone. regardless of whether or not it is fair or OK, we have to accept that possibility - and figure out how to be our own champions so when those moments happen, we can survive it by saying:

"I know who I am. I know that I am (a good writer, a kind person, capable, sexy, whatever). I do not need anyone to validate my identity as (a good writer, sexy, kind, etc) because I know that my actions align with my values as (a good writer, a kind person, a capable person). Even if someone else's idea of what is (a good writer, a kind person, sexy) does not align with mine, and they invalidate my identity based on their values, I still know who I am because of my values and actions."

or something of that nature.

AND I AM NOT SAYING THAT YOU DO NOT NEED EXTERNAL VALIDATION OR THAT YOU SHOULDN'T SEEK IT OUT! OR THAT YOU CAN ONLY RELY ON OR TRUST YOURSELF or anything else annoying and lone-wolf-y like that.

you deserve engagement - comments, likes, reblogs, general squee-ing over your work, being told that you are lovely and sexy and powerful - we all do!

give and receive as much validation as you can. pay it forward. but in those inevitable moments of lowness, of radio silence, of questioning if you really are who you think you are:

it pays to have your own back, to be able to focus on the steadiness of your feet and who you are rather than what other people have done, are doing, or refuse to do.

#courtney thinks about things #i just think you all deserve to be happy #the only way to change the world is by doing the things you wish other people did for you

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radinclus-not-radqueer · 8 months

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Hello, I hope this isn't intrusive. I have been in multiple bad communities such as proshipping and radqueer spaces. If it's okay to ask how do you cope with the knowledge that you ended up in a cult? And that some of your alters hold onto those beliefs. I'm sorry if this is an inappropriate question, feel free to not answer if that is the case.

Thank you for spreading awareness.

I'll try to answer this the best I can from personal experience, but keep in mind that I'm not a medical professional. It's always best if you go to a professional (like a therapist) for things like this, because they're often much more experienced and knowledgeable than people on the internet.

In my experience, it's best to take a while to process things and read up on what cults are and read stories from survivors. It helps a lot if you take a break away from discourse and such, since that can retraumatize you or negatively impact your recovery if you're just starting to figure things out. Getting in touch with professionals or other survivors and sharing your experiences with them, and asking them about their own recovery, can also help you to come to terms with everything and heal.

Always keep in mind that ending up in a cult is not your fault. Cults are designed to prey on and trap vulnerable people who just want help or support, so it's not your fault that you fell for it. Being a victim of abuse is not the victim's fault.

It can be hard to accept that what happened was real or "bad enough". There's no such thing as "not being bad enough", whatever trauma you went through is always enough to deserve help and support. It's really easy to get so caught up in other survivors' stories and start thinking "wow, my experience wasn't really that bad", but keep in mind that people who have never been a part of a cult have never experienced any of that. As someone once said: "the normal amount of pain is zero".

With recovering from radqueers specifically, it's helpful to have a lot of "transitional" periods where you're slowly phasing out the terms and identities you used to support. It's best if you take it slowly and carefully instead of trying to tackle everything all at once, because if you try to do that it's easy to get overwhelmed and go back to being radqueer because of how much simpler and easier it feels.

If you're still in radqueer servers or still have radqueer friends, slowly start distancing yourself from them and interacting with communities that are completely detached from radqueer discourse. It's best if you don't immediately jump into anti-radqueer communities full force, because you need to unlearn all of the "if you exclude anything ever you're a bad person" stuff that radqueers taught before you feel okay with not supporting harmful identities.

Always keep in mind that the "anti-radqueer to radical exclusionist/transmed/radfem/etc pipeline" isn't real, and you are not going to become an exclusionist, transmed, radfem, etc. That doesn't happen because being anti-radqueer is about fighting against transphobia, ableism, racism, and bigotry, so obviously if you're fighting against that and are educated on how that's all harmful, you're not going to become any of that.

As for having alters who are still radqueer, I suggest trying to educate them. Send them informational posts on how radqueers are wrong, and explain to them how bad the community is. If any of them are pro-"consang", I have a long post on my blog explaining why it's harmful. Just keep in mind that you used to be in the same position, and trying to fight fire with fire is never going to work. You have to use the same compassion and care towards them that you use towards yourself, or else they'll just see you as another evil anti-radqueer trying to oppress them.

I hope all this helps! I'm glad I'm able to help spread awareness on all this. Learning how awful the radqueer community is is a difficult journey to do alone, and it takes a lot of time and energy, which is why I decided to help other former radqueers out as best as I can.

#from the inbox #anti radqueer #former radqueer #anti transid #anti transage #anti transx #anti transautistic #anti trace #ex radqueer #anti transabled #recovering radqueer

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selamat-linting · 3 months

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living after experiencing sa is so weird like, the same piece of writing about assault could do nothing or it could send me into a week long spiral and its just a matter of dumb luck or pure chance that determines my brains' reaction to it. i've had moments where im legitimately triggered in the middle of re-reading something i actually enjoy as porn. over the years i figured it was because i had small triggers that are abstract or wasnt easily noticeable or doesnt feel like anything until its in the spesific context of sa. like being trapped in an enclosed space with strangers, begging to be sent home, being deceived, having your preferences and interests weaponized against you, the really lonely and painful walk home afterwards where no one comes to save you but maybe its better off this way since you dont want to be seen, those are things im particularly sensitive with. for example, a few years ago i got really messed up about this anecdote of a kid who got kidnapped by a neighbor for a few hours. he offered to see his cat and then lock them up in a room while theyre playing with said kittens. nothing actually happens but that made me legit depressed for a few days. while im fine talking with my friend about an incident where she got followed by a creepy guy who groped her while she's walking home. both situations are horrifying and bad ofc, but i cant exactly communicate or find an easy way to filter out the bad. like, i can handle hearing the graphic details, the bare bones account of what happens, but if it touches on how the victim was tricked or deceived or gets taken advantage of, even when its basically the least upsetting part, i just couldnt do it.

idk, maybe its because my experience was more in the mental stuff. yeah sure, it was only some groping, an almost kiss, and some sex talk. but the context was that i asked for help, someone friendly comes along, they say theyre just helping me but turns out they actually have ulterior motives. i was stuck in a car for hours to god knows where, fully knowing i was gonna get raped when the car eventually stops, trying to plead or at least delay it with someone i thought was a friend without being too harsh because i know they could do even worse things if i drop this thin veneer of friendliness we got going on. and all the while this asshole kept touching me in spots i didnt even realize was a sensitive place for me and i had to keep a straight face the whole time because if they see a hint that i liked it, its over. did i like though? yeah. do i want it? fuck no. never in a million years. and i felt betrayed because im supposed to have that moment of discovery with a boyfriend or a girlfriend and it was supposed to be nice and comforting but its not. and i might associate gentle touches with this forever. and there's also a part of me that said, hey somebody wants me. dont you want to be wanted? i might as well enjoy it because no one's gonna offer me hot car sex like this. i should try to get myself wet! this is a new experience that i should just see the bright side of. im supposed to be a kinky slut right? i just turned 20. and after all, i promised myself, after the first time i had my sa as a kid, the next time it happens im gonna fight. and what am i doing right now? i'm just running my mouth. im laughing at my soon to be rapists' joke and i tell him we should meet up later instead of doing everything right now since i had work later in the day. this isnt fighting, its bargaining. and all the while im wondering if i look pretty while im doing this. i hope i look pretty. im just wearing sweatshirt and pajama pants. this is sick, why do i want to look good while im sexually assaulted?

i never told this to anyone except a friend. but even she didnt get the whole account. she just know it happens. its the part that actually upsets me that i didnt tell her. the whole violated trust thing. and how dumb i am for instantly accepting help from an acquaintance i dont even know that well. and what happens after the car stops. all she knows is that when it stops, i pushed him off of me and i left the car and run.

to her it just seems like im valiantly fighting off an asshole. she didnt know that after i ran, a bunch of men saw me running. they asked me if i need help. they were kind. but i thought of the hassle of reporting to the police, being grilled with questions, have my entire behavior scrutinized, and my parents vacillating between unhelpful anger or chastising me for being so trusting and eventually isolating me because i cant be trusted to exist in a public space without being harassed and god i dont want to miss work today and theyre gonna ask why if i had to miss a day and theyre gonna know too. so obviously i shut up. i couldnt say anything. the fuck who assaulted me came, and get this, i went back to his car. i didnt sit next to him, i was sitting at the backseat, and he was angry and yelled at me the entire time while driving me back to the closest bus station. i didnt say anything, and i actually paid him money before leaving. i was a coward.

in hindsight, what happens after the next few month after that was just me trying to compensate for the shame and utter incompetence i felt. i thought i was good at being confrontational and assertive, but when it actually matters, i cant speak. it was awful. i mean, it was a moment of self improvement, i did evolve from being an awkward self-important debate kid to an adult who relies on being good with persuading people for a living. im proud of that. but the feeling of helplessness still remains. im still afraid that when it happens again, i'd just clam up like usual. even though i already successfully fend off several people trying to fuck with me before anything that bad ever happens because im a hot saleswoman now. it felt weird calling myself a victim or a survivor because, it just happens. i didnt survive shit nor do i want to be a victim. i dont want to be pitied. and i dont want to be called brave or anything because im anything but.

except that everytime something reminds me of my sa incident, i kept having this urge to tell somebody, and i'd wrote a long paragraph detailing everything that happened including all of the uncomfortable details that didnt make me look good as a victim. and then i'd delete it before sending because its not good to tell your personal triggers online right? but i have no one i want to talk about this irl. and i cant imagine any well-meaning response that doesnt make me angry. i kept thinking about it. if anyone acknowledged this happens to me, i have no socially acceptable response. im not sure if anyone could understand or be sympathetic. i mean, imagine someone told you a grave secret about them and then they get angry and throw a tantrum when you say youre keeping their secret to the grave. youre in the right to be angry and confused at them. and its one thing to write a retrospective like this, and its another thing talk about it directly. i wouldnt be self aware to control myself. i'd just ruin another friendship because i got pissed off for no discernable reason.

i dont really know where im going with this. i think i just wanted to get this out of my system. its been what? three years? im sick of keeping that shit in. i think i just need to talk about it, sort of like a confessional before moving on for good. anyway, your usual shitposting will resume shortly. bye bitch!

#sa cw #this is about my personal experience with it #and something about abstract triggers

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littlemissmanga · 4 months

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OLLO

i saw you were doing asks so here i am 🥰

For your not so nice asks

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

For Yen! And Corskscrew if you'd like too ofc

😘💜💜💜

Hello my love!

Thank you for sending these in! Sorry it took a few days to get to them, but here are the answers! They really made me think and helped get these guys a little more developed!

Secret - Yen

Yen doesn't really believe in love, and she hides that fact like a kid with a bad report card.

Let me explain: She doesn't believe in "love" as an all-encompassing emotion that makes your life better by default or as something that "just happens" outside a person's control. She believes that love is a repetitive choice based on attraction and the perception of compatibility. It's a choice to feed into that underlying emotion. That's why she believes in her work at RTL - she helps orchestrate the most optimal situation of willing participates who will actively choose to love their partner in their words and actions and matching them with their most compatible option.

But her perspective isn't as marketable and she loathes when people try to convince her she's wrong and that "love at first sight" or "soulmates" are real. And she especially loathes when people assume she doesn't think they are just because she's single.

Secret - Corkscrew

Corkscrew's big secret isn't that unusual, but he has never uttered it to another person: He hates being at war, hates what he was made for, and hates that there is so much in life he's likely not going to experience because of it.

He's let slip plans he has "for when the war is over," as many brothers have. And even those, he only reveals to people he trusts completely. But even deeper than that is the overwhelming anger he feels when he considers that his existence is to be cannon fodder.

(He developed this mindset shortly after the rescue of the survivors of The Malevolence).

To cope, he's shifted his thinking. He wasn't made just to fight and die in a war he didn't create. Instead, he was made to protect his brothers. But that also is why he feels so guilty longing for more after the war.

Wound - Yen

Yen has a fairly high pain tolerance for a regular civilian. Anything that doesn't need hospitalization, she'll spray some bacta on and slap a clean bandage on herself.

She'll keep an even head if she gets a more serious injury and is still conscious., too It'll take a while for shock to set in and even then, she'll be set on keeping control of her own thoughts. It's a little scary honestly and impressive. I could see a Dr. giving her something to force her to relax.

In terms of emotional wounds, Yen feels them acutely. It's why she really works hard to let rational thought lead the way - it saves her from feeling hurt if she doesn't have to.

But that's for big hurts - for events or words that cut sharp and deep in one move.

For other emotional wounds, ones that are more like a thousand paper cuts, she tends to not notice them until they build. She hates this most of all because if she doesn't catch it - and that's hard for her to do - it boils over in a way that derails her day. She can't control the initial outburst or the sadness that seeps in after and that means others can see. She hates that most of all. There is an incredibly short list of people who have seen her in that state.

Her biggest emotional wound is her mother. A daughter of Dathomir, Yen's mother returned to the Nightsisters shortly after Yen started to walk. No note, no explanation, but the abandonment cut deep. It's why Yen doesn't acknowledge or connect with her more mystical heritage. And why she is holds so tight to logic. She knows rationally that her mother leaving when she was a toddler had nothing to do with her, even if the emotional pain says otherwise. So she holds the logic as tightly as she can to keep the pain away. And it's why she's so distant at first and discerning about who she lets into her life. She vets them to make sure she's not opening herself up to someone fickle.

Wound - Corkscrew

Cor is no stranger to physical wounds. He's got a nasty scar that bisects his right thigh from a gash that, just a little higher, would have killed him. He got that when he collided with some debris in battle that shattered his transparisteel viewport, sending shards into the cockpit. He only just managed to crash into the docking bay of the near by Venator before passing out.

But his bigger wound is always going to be his guilt. He'll always feel like he's not doing enough for his brothers on the field. And off the field for that matter. One more hour reviewing flight patterns and battle plans could be the difference between saving another life or condemning the squad.

So, while he does engage in non-regulation fun on leave, especially if he's corralled by his brothers, there is always that little nagging voice telling him the fallout will be his fault. This manifests as more and more outrageous and reckless behavior in battle the next go around.

#oc: yen ori'ken #oc: CT-2460 'Corkscrew'#my ocs #thank you for the asks!

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thejackofalltrades42069 · 2 years

Text

1. Stuff I learned from reading Vagabond.

Estimated reading time: 16 minutes.

Vagabond is a manga (Japanese comic) written and drawn by Takehiko Inoue about the life of the most famous swordsman from Japanese history, inspired in true events and characters from that time (around 1600's).

I'll write some quotes and then my interpretation, my input, and stuff I thought about.

I divided the post in parts so it can be read a bit at a time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quote:

Takuan: “There is no light for those who do not know darkness. Live on and endure the shadows Takezou! And brightness shall come your way”

Interpretation:

Not everything in life is happiness, and happiness as a goal is a bad idea because during many moments in life there will be unavoidable tragedy (earthquakes, the death of a loved one, an illness, breaking up with your partner), and we have to do stuff like working 8 hours a day which is not usually enjoyable.

If we accept that a part of life is “suffering” and/or doing things we don’t like, we will have a better time in life because we won’t fight and try to avoid something unavoidable. Trying to avoid things you have to do only leads to stress, and to becoming a good for nothing. For example when you have to do a bunch of work, but instead of doing it, you start checking social media or procrastrinating somehow else, eventually you just feel more tired and stressed than you should be and haven't got any work done.

Experiencing tragedy is a natural thing, if we endure and overcome tragedy, and learn from it, we will be able to have amazing moments in life, and appreciate them more.

Quote:

Takuan: “Don’t be preoccupied with a single spot. See everything in its entirety, effortlessly. That is what it means to truly see.”

Interpretation:

If you focus too much on a single thing, it can be at work, at a hobby, doing whatever, you might miss the bigger picture.

Sometimes when working on solving a problem, for example, healing lower back pain (it’s a good example), we think our lower back is the problem, and we think we need to apply heat, rest, and then strengthen our lower back. In many cases, we need to strengthen the parts around the lower back that support it, the legs and glutes, work on having a better posture by strengthening our chest, the upper back, and the abdomen.

Sometimes thinking that a very specific thing is the problem won’t let us see the stuff around it that could be what’s actually causing the problem.

This quote could also mean: after you practice something a lot, and learn a lot of information about it, part by part first, practicing those parts separately, then all parts together at the same time, eventually you’ll be able to “truly see”, to be really good at something, and to get the bigger picture easily, applying all those individual skills without thinking about them consciously.

This can also be applied to life in general, the more information we learn (like science facts and useful practical information), and the more we practice things, all becomes easier in general.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dialogue:

Musashi: "These wicked thoughts… they're distracting me from the way of the sword."

Takuan: "Wicked thoughts?" "Are you suggesting that Otsu (a female character) is wicked?"

Musashi: "No, I didn't say that! It's just that… My thoughts about her are."

Takuan: "Your thoughts aren't wicked. They're perfectly natural feelings. You think these feelings go against the way of the warrior. But they only get twisted and bent out of shape when you repress them and try to keep them contained."

Interpretation:

Absolutely any thought that goes through your mind is natural, and it’s not a good idea to think they’re wrong, or that something’s wrong with you because of having those thoughts. Everyone will have many useless thoughts yes, and thoughts that you shouldn’t pursue. If you keep thinking about something too much, it's likely you'll eventually do something about it. For example, when you do something about a thought that will cause trouble (like messaging with your ex, or like taking steps that can lead you towards cheating on your partner with someone from work, or like stealing something).

Whenever there’s a thought that is a bad idea, or “useless”, the best thing is to just keep doing something else and see that thought from a distance, it will go away eventually. To achieve this, it’s useful to have things to do (like hobbies, or work), and engaging in those activities with minimal distractions. Meditation is also a useful practice to improve concentration and stop thinking about so many things at once.

Even if thoughts are outside of our control, we can bias ourselves into having better and more useful thoughts (or, worse ones). When we engage in a certain activity for a long time, it will be natural to have ideas related to that activity, and less ideas about something we're spending less time doing. We actually have a huge amount of control when it comes to influencing ourselves in a positive or negative way.

To give an example, spending a lot of time on social media will worsen every aspect of daily life because it will increase our negative thoughts, such as thinking the world is awful, thinking people are stupid (because people mostly post impulsive things), thinking we want something that others have (possessions and experiences). It will increase our anxiety (because we will want to keep looking at our phones) and it will make us feel unsatisfied because of all these thoughts, and because it messes up with our dopamine (reward) system, we will feel more tired and uninterested in life in general.

Quote:

Takuan: “Once your heart is preoccupied, your sword will not be true. Then you will die.”

Interpretation:

Engage in what you’re doing, try not to get distracted, and try to enter into the state of flow* at least once a day.

When we’re doing a task, such as work, reading, or playing videogames, if we keep looking at our cellphone for whatever reason, usually our productivity decreases more than 60%, we take a lot longer to finish what we’re doing, we don’t learn as well what we’re doing, and we get a lot more tired.

If you don’t believe me, watch yourself carefully next time this happens, and then try to put your phone in a drawer in silence, at least for 1-hour periods (also avoid checking any social media early before doing other things, leave that for the afternoon, or just don't), if you do this often, you’ll see what I mean.

When we’re too distracted and don’t practice doing things with no interruptions, we won’t get good at doing anything, such as work, a sport, a board game, anything.

This skill is like a muscle, the more we practice doing activities with no distractions, we will be a lot better at it, we will make less mistakes. Being in the zone* like many sport athletes while doing anything feels great and is great to work this skill.

*Being in the zone, or flow state, is a state of mind in which a person becomes fully immersed in an activity. It usually takes about 20 minutes before you can access this state. I’ve felt it many times while doing sports, working on character animations, and playing certain video games, games like Tetris or "Bullet Hell" games are really good for practicing this skill. This can be achieved at work if you're not being interrupted every 10 minutes.

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Quote:

Sekishusai Yagyu: “There is no limit to technique. There is always room for improvement.”

Interpretation:

Whatever you do, you can always get better at it if you keep working on it in a smart way.

Sometimes simply practicing the way one's used to won’t help improve much though. Different approaches, learning different information, and learning skills about different subjects will increase one's general knowledge, and you’ll become better at everything in general.

Even people who are "not talented" at something can work hard and get good at it.

As a side note here. Specialization is good, but overspecialization is a bad idea, someone overspecialized will have a very narrow understanding of the world. An example can be a medic who's great at doing surgeries, but doesn't know much about anything else.

Quote:

Inei Hozoin: “Swimming in the middle of an ocean, one can never realize how vast it truly is.”

Interpretation:

Paying too much attention to one detail, and we’ll miss the bigger picture.

We usually try to achieve things by doing whatever our body and mind dictate at that moment. We can try taking a short break, investigating, thinking it through and then acting. It's most likely this will bring better results.

Quote:

Sekishusai Yagyu: “Invincible. It’s merely a word. To be “invincible”. The more you think about it. The more you squint your eyes in desperation to see, the more obscured the answer becomes.”

Interpretation:

Sometimes we get way too fixated to some ideas or goals.

It’s usually hard to distance ourselves from some ideas because of our culture, our environment, and our biology. I’ve found it very useful to learn basic psychology, philosophy, and biology to better understand myself, other people, and the world. Learning facts from science is also hugely important if we want to better understand everything in general.

Words are a huge simplification of objects and concepts that we probably don’t understand fully. For example, the word “tree”, we use it to refer to a zillion amounts of trees, small trees, big trees, cherry blossoms, oak trees, etc. We can be very biased due to these big simplifications our language does, and because of how each one of us uses language differently.

Taking a distance from our own ideas, our dreams or goals, our usual activities, and learning about random facts, reading a good novel, all these will give us a lot of new insights and will help to avoid being so fixated with the same stuff that can cloud our judgment a lot. What we do daily or often causes us to think or behave in a certain way or to have a specific ideology or tendency, doing something different can have a huge positive impact and help us better understand many things.

Quote:

Musashi: “The “me” in your mind. The story in your mind. That story reflects your own self, your true self. It reflects you as you are now.”

Interpretation:

Be careful, do not think dishonestly, understand what truly is and isn’t.

Sometimes we believe that other people are just like us, and that their situation is like ours, this is not always the case. Talking with people, being honest with them, really listening to what they say, having deep conversations can provide a lot of insights about other people's lives, feelings, and beliefs. Some stories (novels, series, etc.) do the same, but you must pay close attention and ponder on it to really get it. For example, watching some youtubers analyzing characters and events from different series turns out to be a great place to learn.

By understanding that every person is in a different environment from us and have different biology from ours, we can truly get that some people are going through something completely different from us.

Another example; being stressed, angry, or tired won’t leave you with any resources to have empathy for others. I’ve found out I’m really tired and unfriendly right after work. Also, if I use my cellphone (or social networks) a lot during the day, I end up being more moody and tired than I should (it consumes a huge amount of energy and time if you analyze and experience it objectively).

We all have different biases, there’s no such thing as an “unbiased” person or thought, but we can try to better understand everything and have a less biased judgement.

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Dialogue:

Inei Hozoin: “Young one, you hold such aggression in you. I thought you were going to kill me.”

Musashi: “You’ll have to excuse me, but, you have it all wrong. I felt like you were going to strike me with that hoe. Or was I just imagining things?”

Ine Hozoin: “Bah, you’re still wet behind the ears… It’s that clumsy bloodthirst of yours… Me as well as others—we are only mirrors reflecting your own bloodthirst… Your own bloodthirst turns everyone you encounter against you.”

Interpretation:

The way we behave (usually an unconscious thing) can cause others to be uncomfortable, or even aggressive to us. I try to be more aware of the way I look at other people, what I say, and sometimes even about my body language. I can remember times when other people, women and men have seemed to be troubled by me being there with them (ha). It’s usually a 50/50 thing, it’s not only about you, other people can have upsetting behaviors. But being more aware of the way we behave around other people can help everyone have a better time, simply by staring at someone for a couple of seconds at the wrong time and place, we can make them feel very uncomfortable (at the gym or at work for example).

We can all have a better time by trying to be a bit more easy going. This isn’t easy, it will take a lot of practice. Learning more about people and having more empathy takes time.

*There's a book named The Definitive Book of Body Language by Allan and Barbara Pease that helped me understand a bunch of stuff after reading it and then putting what I had learned into practice a little at a time. I noticed I did a bunch of stuff that was very obvious and that could upset other people. It's a lot of fun seeing what other people do, and how some are very obvious with their body language, some aren't, and some are really hard to figure out.

Quote:

Takuan: “Musashi, you’ve become kinder. You’re getting stronger I see. All truly strong people are kind.”

Interpretation:

Self-confidence is a result from learning information and technique through time, and also a result from being honest with yourself, with others, and from doing things right. There's no need to worry about things like your reputation or about results when you're doing your best and are not lying to other people.

Being kind to others and being generally more calm should come out of those good practices as a result.

Some people confuse being kind with naivety, which is not the case at all, someone self-confident will know how to deal with people that try to take advantage of them by setting limits and stopping them immediately. Besides, being nice to others usually results into them being nicer too, there will always be exceptions.

To further clarify my idea. The “self-confidence” classes or coaches that teach to for example, seduce someone by being dishonest is not real self-confidence, it’s just a pretending game that will only cause a bunch of problems in the long term. On the other hand, assertiveness training is a different thing not to be confused with crappy pretending training, it's something that's useful to many people in many contexts.

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Quote:

“There are always crossroads inside the mind. The middle path is the best.”

Interpretation:

When we tend too much towards something, we become extremely biased and don’t consider options that could be best. Social networks (and internet in general) are a good example, they have an incredibly advanced algorithm that throw at you all information that you want to see that’s related to things you like and things you can like, even if it’s fake information. The algorithm is trying to point you in a very specific direction and pushing you more to be in an extreme end of certain ideas, values, or ideologies (making conservatives more conservative, and making liberals more liberals). Besides, they are mind boggling, exhausting, and don’t leave us with anything useful (maybe with a couple of funny memes).

Before eliminating some choices we can make, it’s great to have input from other sources (even listening to ideas from people we don't like and trying to make sense of them), and try not to always listen so much to our own biases like we usually do.

We should try to find a balance between order and chaos, and try to flow, not limiting ourselves too much so we can keep learning, growing, changing (for the best).

I tend to have too much order in my life, when this happens, I get bored, tired, angry, and think about doing crazy things to find some chaos (which is not a good idea). Some other people's lives are 99% chaos, they sleep under 6 hours daily, never get a bunch of important things done, and have eating disorders since their lives don't have any kind of logical structure or order. They could use more structure in their daily lives so they don't end up just wasting a bunch of time daily and feeling tired, or end up doing a lot of random things that lead to nothing.

It’s great to find your weekly activities where you have order, even writing down a daily schedule if necessary, and finding other activities on some weekdays and weekends that will get you “chaos”, this doesn’t mean you have to go out, get drunk, puke, sleep at 6 am, and feel like your brain is going to blow up the next day. It can be small things like going out with friends for a couple hours, doing something different from the usual with your partner, taking a hike, trying to learn something new, taking a class, traveling somewhere, etc. (things you don't usually do and don't know what to expect of them).

Quote:

Musashi: “What is the meaning of “strength”? It’s to have a mind that doesn’t sway, while continuing to move and change.”

Interpretation:

In order to achieve anything, we need to continuously work on it, progressively (this is probably the most important thing many people don’t get, everything must be worked on starting with baby steps), and not giving up if it’s something important, and something realistically achievable.

This is a hard process, learning new information, practicing, making mistakes, learning from them, making more mistakes, moving on. Becoming our better selves by embracing new information instead of rejecting anything new on the spot and just keeping our old ideas, learning to distinguish from useful and not useful information, lies from truth.

All this needs to be done to have “strength”, this is what you’d need to do to learn a language at an advanced level, to get good at coding, to continuously work on and improve the relationship you have with your partner, to get good at your job, etc.

I have another post where I talk a lot more about this last quote and related ideas:

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I’ll finish by paraphrasing Musashi from The Book of Five Rings:

-Training morning and evening will give you what will seem to be miraculous skill.

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