sorry sometimes i think about mako and my heart hurts so much. this kid raised himself and his brother on the streets in homelessness and utter poverty from eight through fifteen, promptly after seeing the violent death of his mother and father. he turned to the triple threats because they couldn't survive as a pair of wretched kids without any adult support, and the environment forced him to turn into the exact character that killed his parents in a terrible twist of irony. and after sheer-fucking-luck hits and they aren't homeless anymore, their livelihood wavers on the outcome of what's a literally game to everyone but them; and after things are finally starting to look up and their team is going places and things just might be okay, his gradually stabilizing world unceremoniously expands and everything goes to shit.
and the city that chewed him up and spat him back out, ruined him as a child and took away his ability to stay afloat in a true sense of normalcy as an adult — when it's on the verge of destruction and falling to pieces before his eyes, he gives himself to save it with the full expectation to die. he went from the kid who didn't and couldn't care about anything outside of himself and his brother, to finding redemption for his younger self in his police work despite its injustice against him, to willingly sacrificing himself to a world that had never loved him.
he's a desperate people pleaser, socially and emotionally stunted for the adult he had to be as a kid, unable to navigate interpersonal relationships easily yet still trying his damned hardest. he's intensely and entirely devoted to the things that matter to him and for so long it was only him, bolin, and ensuring their survival — yet by the end, that devotion has expanded to protecting the rest of the world. he starts out entirely self-reliant and ends in trusting the people he cares about to know their own needs, to be able to take care of themselves, to be okay without him despite having spent so much of his life defined by his role in others' well-being.
just. what the fuck i'm such a big fan of this fictional guy and i'm unashamed about it at this point. also let him cry please (if you won't i'll do it i'll let him cry)
168 notes
·
View notes
Hypersomnolence
Haha funny story, I was diagnosed with a sleep disorder in November after struggling with it unknowingly for give or take 18 months. Turns out I’m not crazy and falling asleep against your will multiple times a day is actually not a good or normal thing.
So permit me to write the puppet like a sap as I need this right now lol. Yes these are in fact all things I experienced but I am medicated for them now hooray!
One task, that was all you’d managed to get through today. You felt sick and heavy, opting to sit on the cold ground before your body made you, it was a battle to stay awake as sleep attacked you again.
It was only early afternoon and you’d struggled through your one task of sweeping, you were certain everyone at the hotel thought you to be lazy, even if they’d all told you otherwise.
You’d been sick like this for a long time, long before the petrification disease or the puppet frenzy, both events having a negative effect on the way you’d usually manage your symptoms.
And while you appreciated the sanctity you’d been spared at Hotel Krat, the nagging feeling of needing to repay Lady Antonia for her kindness was not helping your case.
You sat with your head in your hands, slipping in and out of consciousness, losing the battle again. Usually, Polendina would find you, send you to your room to rest and that would be it for the day, once you were in bed you found it hard to do much of anything else. Which you supposed was good for your body but it made your emotional well-being an absolute wreck.
Lady Antonia had asked you time and time again to be kinder to yourself, to feel accomplished of the things you could do and that you were welcome here no matter how sick you were, and she would know a thing or two about being sick.
But, you had a bad habit of being nasty to yourself, and with your sleep-related illness only seeming to get worse you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken kindly to yourself.
You felt like shit.
A hand at your shoulder, delicate and tender shook you but it didn’t do much to rouse you. Your vision swam uncomfortably through the gaps in your fingers, your head being too heavy to lift up. Hands grasped your wrists, pulling gently to reveal your face that was then taken into those same hands, one soft and warm, the other firm and cold.
With the weight of your head now being supported by P’s hands you could somewhat force yourself to look at him. His expression was unreadable, as always, but his presence was a balm to your spiralling thoughts.
The friendship of Geppetto’s Puppet had been good for you, P didn’t care how tired you were he was just happy to see you, he didn’t expect anything but your presence and that was something you could give freely, tired or not.
He tilted his head in question to what you assumed to be your position on the floor, slumped over rather uncomfortably.
“It just came on, I had to sit down,” you mumbled, he seemed to frown, getting down on one knee and shifting you against him to pick you up.
With you cradled to his chest, he ascended the stairs. You burrowed down against his chest, relishing in how nice it was to be looked after.
It was almost like the trip up to your room didn’t happen, one moment you were snug to P’s chest, the next you were under your sheets and propped up against the headboard. P took it upon himself to remove his shoes and coat and sit on the opposite side of the bed to keep you company.
“Sleepy?” P asked innocently, you nodded trying desperately to suppress another yawn.
“I-“ he started, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “-want to help. How do I help?”
He gently took your hand in his own, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. The astounding amount of care he treated you with was sure to tear you apart in the best ways, making your exhausted mind spin.
“Just stay here with me for a bit,” You laid your head on his shoulder, “I think that’ll help.”
“Okay.”
He mimicked you, resting his head on top of yours, pulling the sheets further up your lap. Doing what he could to keep you comfortable, a concept he was still trying to grasp.
“Thank you P,” you mumbled, snuggling closer, “love you.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to your head, nose buried in your hair, “I love you too.”
85 notes
·
View notes