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hezurkubo · 3 years

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When D’jinn meets Gene or “Dramatic Pot Twist!”

Hey there! Just wanted to start off by saying that in order to give this story the desired outcome I was looking for I added in some extra events that I thought could have canonically taken place during certain key moments in “The Last Adventure!” While we as the audience don’t know what happened to everyone else while the main characters were off driving the main plot along I still tried to come up with a side story that seemed plausible at least in terms of timing.

If I overlooked anything and it comes off as complete nonsense that throws off the original plot than please consider this an AU where the side characters play a more proactive role in kicking the butts of F.O.W.L.’s lackeys while our main cast took care of Bradford. This is mostly to satisfy my craving for a meeting that never happened in canon and I still hope that whoever decides to read enjoys this dumb story of mine. With that said.........

“SHABOOEY!”

That was all Gene managed to exclaim before he felt himself vanish in a dramatic flash. He found himself being dragged through the pocket void between realities, a place he’d frequented many times since his existence had been tied to the trinket he’d been forced to call home. While he had yet to feel the familiar power of the ‘Seal of Solion’ connecting him to his lamp, he knew it was only a matter of time.

“Huh, wish I coulda at least thanked her for saving me. Guess now it’s back to the good ol...”

His thoughts were interrupted by a rather abrupt tug to the side through a sudden blinding light, giving Gene just enough time to let out a yelp before tumbling beak first onto a cold hard surface. Groaning as he got to his feet, the duck had to double-take as he got a first look at his surroundings.

And it was, unfortunately, a very familiar site.

He’d become well acquainted with the row upon row of containment units in which the people F.O.W.L. saw as threats to their ‘final goal’ were imprisoned.

“Oh-keeeeey, so.... another dramatic plot twist, shoulda expected that in a ninety minute finale, though not so much for a short cameo appearance.”

Although he was pretty sure what would happen, and despite knowing the repercussions, Gene focused his power and winced in painful anticipation as he tried to will himself out of the current space he occupied.

“Okey three, two, one...SHABOOEY!”

He felt a small spark of magic begin to bubble up within him, allowing him to hope that maybe he could....

ZAP!

The genie doubled over as a short but powerful electric shock coursed through his body. He had been unfortunate enough to witness others struggle for freedom and receive the same treatment, and while he doubted it’d be different for him he felt that he at least had to try. After all, he was magic and it couldn’t possibly hurt that bad....right?

He had been partially correct, but it was still VERY unpleasant.

Thankfully the shock wore off quickly, but rather than test his chances again he moved to the center of the cubicle and sat in the dark, drawing his legs into himself as he rested his arms atop of them and let out a sigh.

“Guess old Blotty really made sure I couldn’t get out of dodge.”

“Not like I’d have a choice anyway...” Gene couldn’t help but think bitterly while resting the the bottom of his beak on his arm. He’d already exchanged one prison for another, so what difference did it make?

Gene let the moments tick on by as he attempted to drown out everything else, which had so far been surprisingly easy despite being surrounded by people....

...And then, despite his best efforts, a familiar thought reared it’s ugly head.

Many of these people were trapped here because of him.

Because the Blot had used his power.

Because he had given him the information needed to capture them.

And he had watched helplessly, his screams for them to run drowned out by their own as they were zapped of their magic, easy for the Eggheads to swoop them up and bring them to this hopeless place while they waited to be done away with for good.

And now Gene was here. He supposed it was fitting, as unwilling as an accomplice he had been in all of this, he still felt deep despair for having been used as a tool for the inevitable destruction of so many innocent lives.

And he would join them. Gene buried his head further into his lap, holding back sniffles as he felt his eyes stinging.

“...At least it’s roomier in here...”

“KA-BOOM!”

“Gyaaa!!! Bees!!! AAAHHH!”

The genie’s head quickly shot up, eyes widening as he took in the commotion echoing off the library’s lofty walls. Scrambling to his feet, he dashed to the front of his cell, pressing his ear against the glass.

Someone was fighting out there, and from the sounds of it they were facing off against Steelbeak.

The kid that had freed him, her friends were still fighting F.O.W.L.

Gene couldn’t fight the small smile that began to spread across his beak despite his teary eyes.

He would never be free, not even if he got out of here. But everyone else still had a chance. There was still hope that this could be made right.

“And the plot thickens!”

__________

Faris Djinn watched helplessly from his prison as Scrooge’s allies valiantly fought against the rooster F.O.W.L. Agent. Clenching his fists to his sides, the desire to unsheathe his sword and join them against these honorless enemies boiled within him, but he knew it was of no use so long as he was trapped like this. Still, that gave him all the more reason to wish to help the group of birds somehow. This was finally everyone’s chance to escape!

The canine warrior had been brought to this strange place after being ambushed and knocked unconscious by his cowardly foe, whom he had barely caught a glimpse of. When he woke up, he was surrounded by blocks of blacked out cubes in what looked like a giant storage facility. After about a day or two, he learned that his first assumptions had been somewhat true.

From what he’d gathered through listening to hushed conversations exchanged while the security guards were busy, and from a few familiar faces detained with him, including his good friend Amunet, he came to realize they had been brought there because they had been labeled as dangerous by simply knowing or associating with Scrooge McDuck and his family.

From close family members and friends to bitter enemies, or from good and bad to neutral, nobody seemed to be spared. It made D’jinn seethe at the injustice of it all, while villains such as the Beagle Boys and the infamous Magica de Spell may have deserved such treatment, this F.O.W.L. organization was indiscriminately locking away so many innocent people. He had even seen them lock up a couple of elderly ducks that could have easily passed as Scrooge’s own parents

(Impossible, he thought, for a man of McDuck’s age)

but not before the old woman had let loose a string of unintelligible words that D’jinn was pretty sure were some colorful expletives.

It appeared that the enemy had overlooked nothing, and any means of escape had been locked away along with them. The canine began to lose track of time as freedom seemed more and more impossible.

But D’jinn remained resolute that if anyone could pull off the impossible, it’d be Scrooge McDuck.

Then, a strangely dressed duck decked in a dark flowing cape and hat swooped in, followed by his heavily armored companion, and while they were acting antagonistic towards each other the dog had a feeling they had come to help. His hopes soared even higher when Scrooge’s pilot crashed in after them. At last help had come.

Then that nefarious Steelbeak had chosen to fight underhandedly, controlling the Beagle Boys and the dread sorceress herself as the heroes fought valiantly back before being imprisoned as well, and any hope of freedom appeared to rest on the shoulders of Launchpad McQuack, Scrooge’s pilot.

D’jinn winced as the poor duck was thrown about and beaten to the ground, unfairly outmatched in strength and numbers.

“Get back up!”

“You got this!”

As big and strong as he seemed in appearance, the warrior canine doubted the pilot could last at this rate, watching from the dark with urgency as he struggled to lift his head.

“Ugh... I’m sorry, I’m no hero...”

D’jinn shook with righteous indignation.

‘No! You cannot give up...!’

He couldn’t just stand by, there had to be something he could do to help, anything....

“That’s ridiculous! You helped inspire me to be a hero!”

He watched in anticipation as Launchpad gathered enough strength to look their way, unsure gaze focused on his friends as they encouraged him to keep fighting.

“And me pal.”

A new source of light brought their attention to the square that held the young red headed duck and the strangely proportioned robot child, both looking back at Launchpad with hope and confidence.

“Same here.”

The prison above them lit up, revealing a familiar Moonlander.

“I as well, Earth Launchpad.”

The room quickly grew brighter as, one after another, everyone stepped forward to show the duck that they believed in him.

And so did D’jinn.

His cubicle lit up as his hope returned.

“Blabbidy-Baloonersize!”

....Later....

Gene watched elated as scores of people poured out from their now-opened confines and began to wreak havoc on anyone unlucky enough to be a F.O.W.L. lackey. It was an unspoken call to arms, inspired by Scrooge’s pilot and, while the genie hadn’t seen what had actually happened, Steelbeak running away while screaming in terror was a pretty clear indication that the good guys were gaining the upper hand.

Gene was so relieved that everyone had been freed, he almost missed Launchpad and company dashing towards the main entrance before slipping out of sight.

He took another look around him, and couldn’t help but quirk the edges of his beak up in a mischievous grin.

“Well.... dunno how long I’ll be sticking around for, might as well be part of the fun...”

“SHABOOEY!!!”

_______

There was low buzz followed by a click, and suddenly the front of his enclosure swung open. Eyes narrowing in careful focus, D’jinn stepped out from his prison and into what was quickly becoming a losing battle for F.O.W.L.’s remaining underlings.

Scrooge’s family had been triumphant, and he was now free to assist in thwarting what remained of their foes once and for all. The canine reached for his hip, unsheathing his sword and slicing it through the air before resting it with his arm against his side. The McDucks may be fighting greater forces, but that didn’t mean there weren’t loose ends to tie up.

“SHABOOEY!”

Ears perking under his keffiyeh, D’jinn turned to the side and lifted his head just in time to see something rather peculiar rounding the corner. It appeared to be a small duck, but he was gliding through the air as if there was nothing to it, a trail of smoke billowing from his lower body.

For a single moment, D’jinn lost his carefully guarded composure as his eyes widened in shock and his jaw dropped.

It was as if all those fantastic stories he’d heard growing up had come to life in front of him.

He recalled the hushed conversations among a few of his fellow prisoners, all regarding the terrifying power the Phantom Blot wielded when he came after them.

However, what now came to the forefront of D’jinn’s mind were their descriptions of the strange and obviously magical little guy smooshed to an impossible degree within the Blot’s gauntlet. He didn’t quite understand what they could be referring to, but now, despite his usually serious demeanor, D’jinn couldn’t stop the small bit of wonderment from rising up in him, momentarily forgetting where he was.

“Could it really be...?”

A loud crash from above followed by a chorus of screaming Eggheads brought him back to reality. The warrior shook his head, scowling to himself for losing focus.

“No, I must not waver! The task at hand requires a warrior’s spirit!”

Sword at the ready, D’jinn quickly made his way towards the sounds of fighting, the lingering thoughts of his ancestors replaced with the challenge to come. He still chanced to glance back one more time at the spot he had last seen that duck, hoping that he’d be able to see him again once all of this was over.

....Later....

With F.O.W.L. defeated and it’s remaining agents scattered, everyone wasted no time in congratulating the heroes of the hour, rushing at McDuck and family as they made their way down the library tower. It was a whirlwind of joyful cries and relieved sighs as the exhausted but happy family meandered amongst the crowd, breaking up into teams to prepare for their departure.

With everything finally settling down, Gene casually sat in midair as everyone else began to disperse and make preparations of their own, all the while chatting amongst each other. He figured it must have been a sense of camaraderie that came with surviving such an ordeal, and while he wished he could fully indulge in the same feelings of comfort, he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

The powers that bound him to the lamp hadn’t reclaimed him yet.

He knew that couldn’t last much longer, whatever forces the Phantom Blot had used to disrupt the seal’s power and separate him from his prison

....no, home....

wouldn’t be able to hold on their own, now that the Blot was gone and Gene was free from any magic-proof confinement.

Earlier, before the extra trepidation had sunk in, he did try to enjoy his temporary freedom for as long as it lasted.

And oh, how he wished it lasted.

The genie chatted briefly with the young sorceress that had freed him, but not until after she and a younger hummingbird finally stopped hugging the pink clad girl, who he recognized as the little spitfire who tied him up and interrogated him during the entertaining fiasco that was Donald’s wish for a ‘perfect family’.

Despite the now growing feeling that this would all end soon, Gene had enjoyed himself. It was nice to just interact with others again and not be at someone’s beck and call. While he did like using his powers to have fun with mortals, there were more than enough terrible things he’d been forced to do, and the ability to simply be among people he knew couldn’t demand something of him was a rare reprieve. One he probably wouldn’t be getting again.

Now, with the excitement beginning to wind down, Gene decided to take in the busy atmosphere, not expecting anyone to notice him up there with how preoccupied they all were.

“Pardon me...”

The duck quickly spun around in midair, looking down and catching the sharp gaze of a rather serious looking canine all dressed in dark, save for a few splashes of red. He was staring up at him so intensely that Gene jokingly thought if he looked at him any harder lasers would shoot from his eyes.

“Hmmm... an interesting side character, guess a little more mingling wouldn’t hurt.”

Without missing a beat, Gene floated down from his place above the crowd to hover at eye level with the stranger.

“Well He-llo there! Always nice to meet a new face!” he said eagerly, flashing a grin that he hoped came off as charismatic and giving a wink.

The dog’s eyes widened for a few seconds before returning to his serious expression. Trying to act nonplussed by the lack of enthusiasm, the duck waved his arm to conjure a neon sign above him, his name spelled in blinking lights. Smile unwavering, he held out his hand.

“Name’s Gene! Nice to meet ya!”

The dog stared at the outstretched appendage, his hesitance causing Gene’s excitement to falter. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he was reaching out and gripping his hand in a firm but friendly shake.

“Faris D’jinn. It is an honor.” He said, head bowing slightly.

“Woah, an honor? Kinda formal, but I think I like it.”

Gene suddenly perked in realization. ‘Faris’, if he recalled, meant knight or horseman, and he couldn’t help but think how it suited the noble looking gentleman in front of him. And with a surname like ‘D’jinn’, well, why would the genie not find that interesting? He became so uncharacteristically lost in these thoughts that he almost failed to realize that his companion was staring at him a bit oddly, and he was suddenly aware that he was still holding his hand.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Gene hovered back slightly while relinquishing his grip, trying to hide how awkward he felt by widening his smile.

He was sure he looked half crazy.

“Well Mr. D’jinn, I must say it’s a pleasure to meet such polite and proper ol’ gent and- Ooooh!”

Gene was at his side so fast that the warrior nearly jumped away in surprise as the genie’s eyes sparkled with curiosity at the sight of his sword’s hilt peeking from his robes.

“Oh-hoho, that’s quite a blade you got there. It almost looks like... I wanna say late Mamluk dynasty, Burji maybe...? But that can’t be right, unless it’s a really good replica.”

If D’jinn was shocked by his educated guess he hid it well, although Gene did notice the dog’s brow raise slightly from were it was hidden under the hem of his headdress.

“You are quite wise, although I would not expect anything less from a great and mystical genie.”

Gene’s eyes shot up from the finely crafted blade to the canine’s face. The gaze that met him was serious but not in a way that came off as cruel or accusatory. Still, that look, accompanied by such a bold statement, made the duck want to buckle his knees and shrink into himself.

Just who was this guy?

“Are you not a genie?”

The duck suppressed the urge to gulp at the quiet forcefulness behind the simple inquiry. It was after all a sensible question, he did more or less fit the description of his kind, though he liked to think he set himself apart with his showman’s flare because, servant or not, he still liked seeing others smile.

Now, his inner showman was currently at a loss for words, opting for wanting to hide his face in his turban.

“Get it together Genester! You heard him, how ‘great and mystical’ do you think you look right now?”

Trying to shake of the awkwardness, he disappeared from D’jinns side to reappear in front of him in a puff of smoke.

“Yessir! One-hundred percent bonafide and certified wish-granting genie, that’s me!” Gene exclaimed, conjuring up a laminated license that read ‘Certified Genie: Gene C. Baba’ complete with a photo of himself smiling awkwardly while donning a thick pair eyeglasses and suspenders.

D’jinn stayed unwaveringly quiet as the duck nearly shoved the card to his face.

“He he... yeah, funny thing though, the whole ‘wish-granting’ part of my deal is a bit... compromised at the moment. Y’see, only the holder of a genie’s lamp can control said genie, i.e., me” Gene pulled an arrow out of thin air and pointed towards himself “and big bad and Blotty left my lamp behind along with the rest of the lost treasure of Collie Baba when he sucked me into that fancy oven-mitt of his, you’d think with all his magical know-how he wouldn’t forget that important tidbit, right?”

Why did he sound so nervous?

“And I tell you what, I’m glad I’m not strapped to that thing anymore...!”

D’jinns eyes widened as a grim realization dawned on him.

“So, it is true. The device the Phantom Blot carried with him, the one he used to steal the magic from those he hunted...”

“I swear it was totally against my will!”

The canine shook his head. “No, I heard of its use from other captives, some who were brought here months before F.O.W.L. found me. Gene, how long have they kept you prisoner?”

The genie awkwardly rubbed one of his arms, looking away from D’jinn as the mood shifted drastically. While he may had been a little uncomfortable before, now he wanted to focus on anything but the dog in front of him. He might end up saying something that would break his facade, and he couldn’t....

“Technically, was already a prisoner. Y’know, the whole ‘genie in the lamp’ deal.”

“What are you doing?! Stop talking before...!”

“It’s like, I dunno... I’m almost glad this happened...”

“Idiot...”

“I mean not that I helped capture all those people or anything, because I still feel real bad about all that! It’s just that, whatever he did, even after I escaped, I’m still here. This right now is the closest I’ve ever felt to being...”

A sudden feeling of a hand gently enveloping his own prevented him from saying anything else. Momentarily shocked out of his train of thought, Gene dared to look back at the stranger he had begun to admit his sadness to.

He expected to see pity, but the eyes that looked back at him held something different. They were narrowed and serious, but not like before. There was fire in that glance, and as D’jinn’s grip on his hand tightened it only seemed to burn brighter.

“You shall be free, that I promise you.”

If Gene’s eyes got any wider he thought they’d escape out of his head. Heck, there was a better chance of that happening than what the man in front of him had just said.

“Heh, Being trapped in that pickle jar must’ve done a number on my ears. Y’know everything’s muffled in there, might not have heard ya right....”

He tried to laugh, to call the his bluff.

The dog said nothing, nor did he change his determined expression. He simply gave Gene’s hand a quick but firm squeeze, as if to reaffirm what he said.

“But why....”

Just then, he felt it.

It wasn’t how he expected it to happen, but he knew.

A panicked glance down confirmed his suspicions as he saw a bright light spread from the tip of his shoes, gradually making its way up his body, a familiar emptiness growing with it.

His time was up.

“No, please, it can’t be over yet...”

He felt D’jinn grab his other hand.

Even as he felt himself fading away, as he began to feel despair weigh him down further and any lingering hope drained from him, Gene again dared to look up at his companion.

He was greeted by the kindest smile he had ever seen.

“Because, it is the right thing to do.”

A single flash, and the genie was gone.

___________

D’jinn was left standing at the now-empty space in front of him, hands outstretched to cusp something that was no longer there as his smile disappeared, allowing the heaviness of the moment sink in.

That silly little duck hadn’t been at all what he expected. The stories his grandmother told him painted a picture of genies as powerful and filled with fiery intimidation, as well as being wiser than any mortal born of flesh and bone...

“Technically, I was already a prisoner.”

D’jinn’s frown deepened. Those words, they certainly weren’t spoken by some mighty cosmic being, but by a man, who could feel sadness and fear just like anyone else.

D’jinn thought back to the story of his ancestor and a kind servant trapped for eternity, until she saw it in her heart to exchange that eternity for a lifetime of love and happiness. This was certainly a different situation, but wasn’t it still the right thing to do?

And those eyes.

The look of desperation in those beautiful gold-colored eyes as he vanished were now burned into his memory. It was a cry for help, and the warrior ached to answer it.

He had made a promise, and while it may had been spoken in a passionate spur of the moment, he would honor it.

Resolute, he scanned the enormous crowd, his well-trained senses focused and on high alert for any sounds or scents that would lead him to his quarry. The minutes ticked by as his stoic expression masked his growing apprehension.

“There!”

It was faint among the throngs of people surrounding him, nearly undetectable, but his keen canine nose picked up on a familiar smell of dusty tomes mixed with the metallic scent of coins. With extreme calculation, he allowed his tracking instincts take the helm as he stealthily maneuvered through the crowd, ears perked beneath his keffiyeh for any signs of...

“Della, Launchpad! How’re the plane repairs comin’ along?”

Quiet relief washed over D’jinn when he noticed a familiarly distinct top hat poking out from the crowd near the library’s entrance. Making his way towards the fellow adventurer, he couldn’t help but notice just how tired the old man looked, uncharacteristically showing his age.

“Scrooge, my friend.”

Caught off guard, the duck tensed so hard that he nearly lost his balance before turning to the canine in surprise.

“D’jinn? Bless me bagpipes that villainous vulture nabbed you too?”

Scrooge shook his head as he adjusted his spectacles, expression shifting back to exhaustion, his browsed creased upwards in guilt.

“I’m sorry lad, you lot were all dragged into this mess because of me. I cannae imagine what you must ‘ave endured at the hands of those fiends.”

D’jinn’s eyes narrowed as he placed his hand on his chest, expression serious but sincere.

“Noble Scrooge, the only true guilty ones are the villains you speak of, those who would seek to harm the innocent indiscriminately and use them for their own nefarious means.”

Scrooge’s sighed heavily at the canine’s statement.

“Aye, like me poor darlin’ Webby.”

Like Gene.

“I have dedicated my life to righting such wrongs. I hold nothing against you my friend, I could not let such transgressions against an ally stand. That is why we are here. You have many on whom you can rely, and friends are part of the journey as well, are they not?”

Scrooge stared at D’jinn for a moment, absorbing the man’s insightful words before breaking into a gentle smile, eyes shining with gratitude.

“Thank you, I... needed to here that. I know I can rely on my family when I need ‘em, but it takes times like these to remind this stubborn old fool that ‘family’ can be many things.”

Scrooge silently laughed at himself.

“Sorry, been feeling a little more sentimental than usual.”

Nodding in understanding and knowing that he’d soon depart, Djinn decided to waste no time and reached into his robes as he lowered himself onto one knee, startling Scrooge with this sudden change in demeanor as he withdrew a blank scroll along with a quill.

“Not all has been made right, and my journey must continue.”

The look of determination that met the old duck’s gaze startled him with its ferocity.

“Scrooge McDuck, I simply need a moment to ask you some questions, and the rest will fall to me.”

Scrooge stared back for a moment, perplexed. His family would be leaving soon, and he needed to help them prepare. However, the weight of the severity in the canine’s request, along with the deep sincerity with which he’d said it, told him all he needed to know. Nodding in affirmation, Scrooge watched as D’jinn unraveled the scroll in front of them, quill raised and ready.

“I wish to know about the lost treasure of Collie Baba, and the lamp that is hidden there.”

I’m so sorry, that took MUCH longer to complete than I wanted it to, l have more projects planned and hopefully once courses are over they won’t be as bad. Also sorry for the poor writing quality, I’m kind of rusty. Still I hope that whoever took the time to read this found something entertaining about it. Thank you for your interest, until next time!

#ducktales #dt17 #faris djinn #gene the genie #gene c. baba #faris d'jinn #fargene #djinn x gene #self-indulgent nonsense #sorry it took so long #launchpad mcquack #the last adventure fanficion #ducktales fanfiction #bad fanfiction #d'jinn x gene #scrooge mcduck

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saejinws · 3 years

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let’s get it! it’s chey ( she/her ), bringing you wishbone’s act #2, paksae. he’s an indie artist with heavy influence from the bedroom pop & chillwave micro-genres, as you can gather from his three official singles at the moment: cassette, karma & late night movie. if discord is more convenient for you, you can add me there ( stream do or not#1490 ), but otherwise, i’m usually reachable in ims! here are saejin’s links : career / stats / plots / pinterest, and hopefully all the other information you need will be found below.

the story.

saejin was lucky enough to be born into a relatively happy family, albeit a small one. both parents are only children, so he didn’t have aunts, uncles or cousins, and only his maternal grandparents were heavily involved with the family, but it was alright! lower middle class, mom who made him watch bird documentaries, dad who had a face made out of stone, but there was still a lot of love. it was nice.

the first big change happened when his little sister ( saebyeol ) was born. her existence put a tragic end to his legacy as the park family’s number one baby, considering she’s a whole eight years younger than him.

in the next year, his mom was diagnosed with a chronic illness; one that would see her rapidly going in and out of hospitals for years to come, so the days of naïve happiness were over for saejin. from that point on, it was about “cherishing every moment” and “living life to the fullest” and “not wasting breath on things that can’t be changed”.

aka his mom’s circumstances meant that he was constantly getting scolded by doctors, rns, family friends, his dad, whoever for displaying negative emotions. was shut down a lot, told that he was being a hassle and that he needed to make things easier for his mom. learned to suppress his emotions unless they were positive.

but while most adults in his life were trying to teach him how to be realistic and approach life with an understanding that nothing is easy, his mom worked hard to do the exact opposite. constantly pushed him to chase his dreams because life is so short, and when he decided that he was going to pursue music, she was the first person to tell him to go for it and give it his all.

got his first guitar at age 14, which is when he started writing his own songs and messing around with editing software, but it wasn’t until 2015 that he started playing his music for people. started in coffee shops ( at this point, his songs were entirely acoustic ), then started playing in clubs in hongdae, which is when he started experimenting with his sound. struggled to gain attention. can’t think of what it’s called rn, but there’s a set amount of tickets that opening acts have to sell to earn their spot in a lineup; saejin’s parents and close friends usually bought a tonnn to help him out because strangers wouldn’t give him the time of day. a nobody. hung out after his sets to meet people, but nobody wanted to meet him. pain.

popularity steadily grew over time, and by late 2019, he was in talks with wishbone records. by the new year, he was a signed artist.

assumed that having a record deal guaranteed International Stardom, so you can imagine his surprise when his first music video hardly gained 5k views in the entire debut week... it was an eye-opening experience for him. realized that the grind was, in fact, not over yet.

his popularity is on a steady incline, but he still isn’t anywhere close to being a household name. very lowkey. he pretends that he doesn’t care, but it eats away at him. spends most of his time in his studio nowadays, trying to create a song that will pull him into the charts. becoming more distant from his parents because he’s so caught up in work, so that’ll probably come back around to bite him in the ass eventually but yk... oh well.

saebyeol is the only family member whom he couldn’t distance himself from if she tried because she’s a parasite. always at his apartment or blowing up his phone, which drives him absolutely crazy because her favorite pastime is ruthlessly bullying him. she’s a little demon.

the character.

park saejin, aka PAKSAE. ‘97. seoulite. soloist.

social introvert. he prefers to spend time alone and usually doesn’t seek company, but if he’s approached first, he’s a relatively open book. forms bonds quickly.

gets unreasonably attached to his friends in short periods of time, so he tries to keep his circle small. he can only deal with wondering why three people aren’t texting him back in a single day: any more than that and he spirals.

pretty optimistic view of life, i think. could’ve become jaded due to his mom’s situation, but she’s made huge efforts to keep his worries minimal and be the best role model she can be in her circumstances. has tried to instill a “life is short, so embrace every moment with open arms” mentality in both of her kids, which saejin picked up on a whole lot more than his little sister has. you probably wouldn’t assume this by listening to his Pity Party Songs ( as saebyeol puts it ), but he’s a happy guy!

on the topic of his pity party songs, all three of his singles so far are a bit sad/melancholic, detailing looking back on the ending of something. he rarely expresses sadness or regret in his day-to-day life, but he considers music to be an outlet. the one place he can be as real as he wants without being criticized. ( that’s what he thought before, anyway. nowadays, he’s constantly getting comments about how nobody wants to listen to him cry about his breakups. fair enough. )

his appearance contradicts his personality. on the outside, he seems like a very loud, expressive person: vibrant colors, unusual materials ( silk chiffon, organza, velvet, etc ), lots of accessories such as gaudy rings, y2k-style beaded necklaces & polymer clay earrings that he probably buys from etsy. but he’s really, really chill & soft-spoken, tries to blend in even though it’s... impossible when he looks the way that he does.

gets most of his social interaction through the sporadic gigs that he plays. on stage, he’s highly expressive and interactive with his fans. when i think of his stage presence, i think of artists like lauv & troye sivan: he utilizes all of his stage space, even when performing more mellow songs. doesn’t want to just stand around and bore his audience. but nowadays, he rarely waits around to meet people because he’s become even more introverted than he was before. in his day-to-day life, there are only about three people whom he contacts frequently and always shows up for. otherwise, his connections are situational: associates the people in his life with certain places, things or activities and rarely meets up with them outside those situations. prefers to communicate through texts or social media messages if he can, but even then, if you aren’t one of his three closest friends, it’s difficult to reach him unless he needs or wants something.

but even tho he’s SUCH a loner... he’s what i like to call a serial romantic. not on a dating ban and also not that popular anyway, so he goes on a lot of dates. blind dates, tinder dates, whatever. texting his friends like “i think i’m in love” twice a month but he’s never talking about the same person. wears a heart-shaped rose quartz pendant to try to manifest meeting his soulmate but he doesn’t want to be clowned for believing in the power of crystals/stones ( or for being so obsessed with love even though it’s OBVIOUS if you listen to his music ) so he says he just wears it ‘cause it’s nice to look at.

his stage name, 박새, is a type of bird. it’s usually stylized as paksae, so most people don’t question it much, but eventually his intl fanbase got curious about what it means and popped the hangul into a translator: lo and behold, he’s now “affectionately” referred to by fans in english-speaking regions as tit. it isn’t saebyeol’s fault but he’s definitely found a way to blame her for it.

if you go to any of his music videos, you will find numerous comments from paksaeanti05. that’s saebyeol. usually she’s hating on him, but if anyone ELSE tries to hate on him, she turns into a keyboard warrior. she’s his biggest critic and his most loyal supporter.

#ws:intro

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softjeon · 4 years

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Here there be beasts | Final

• Pairing: Jimin x Wolf!Namjoon • Genre: Angst, Fluff | Rating: Mature | RedRidingHood!AU / Fairytale!AU → Gifset Trailer • Words: 10k | AO3 • Disclaimer: nsfw-content, smut, mentioning of blood, abuse, violence, weapons, dark themes, anxiety

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Fear was a strange feeling. People feared the unknown, the dark and witchcraft. The shadows that were lurking through the forest at night. The same fear that made the folks in the village keep their distance from the forest at night; that locked their doors on nights when there was a full moon, or no moon at all.

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The sun was low in the sky and it was noticeably cooler than it had been earlier in the day as he came to a halt. He let his gaze wander over the houses that were made out of grey stone, with slate roofs and dull now in the evening sun but glistened whenever it was wet from the rain. It was plain. The church had a spire and was stone built like the village houses. Small square windows, hanging baskets filled with wilted flowers that probably no one had cared for in their fear of staying outside for too long. It was eerily quiet, the fear noticeably in every corner.

They only came out when it was day, some were so terrified that they were afraid to speak. They told stories about how the old man had been ripped into pieces that not even his body could be found anymore. Just a few droplets of blood on the grass. The beast had swallowed him whole. The wolf. He could hear their whispers about him and how it would eat up anybody who was walking around the village at night.

Jimin chuckled and yet, it was a fearful one. He had seen the dark eyes, the change that was clear as the night as when he had looked into the wolf’s eyes on a full moon. He had been scared of him for a moment. Jimin could feel a headache settling in, the confusion making him question everything and it felt like his own mother and grandmother knew more that they wanted to lead on. And they never told him, played games and gave him riddles but Jimin couldn’t find the answers. He walked up to alley and stared into the distance, trying to ease his mind. On summer days, Jimin loved to go up to the top of the small hill and sat against the middle tree overlooking the village. It was usually in the morning, when it was still quiet, hardly any sound was audible. He loved that place – but he wouldn’t miss it. In the village you live close to your neighbors and everybody knew everybody’s business and their families and predilections. And he wanted to leave it all behind.

Jimin unlocked the door to his house and walked in. With a sigh, he plopped down regretting the quick movement right away when he got reminded what he had been doing all night with Namjoon. He hissed, though with a smile and couldn’t help but laugh at himself. There was one answer he knew he had: he would be safe with Namjoon. There was no wolves. No beasts. With him he would be protected. And he was sure he could get away from the nightmare. Being so lost in his mind, Jimin didn’t notice when the door opened behind him.

“What happened?” The sudden strong grip around his waist, made Jimin flinch and jump around, meeting Honsung’s questioning gaze. “I…I slipped on some wet stone this morning,” He rubbed his bottom to underline his statement, “It’s going to be a bit bruised up.” Jimin was proud of his quick lie, giving Honsung a smile to show that he was fine. He patted his chest a little awkwardly, trying to get a little space between them.

“You were out again, weren’t you? During the night, while the beast fed on that man. Was that it? Did you want to watch? What is it that makes you get yourself in danger like that? Are you bored? Do you need a little more excitement in your life? Cause if it’s that I can give you that!” He pulled Jimin roughly towards him. “There will be no more going out, do you understand me? Not at night, not during the day, none at all! The attacks get more frequent, but you don’t even know half of them because instead of participating in the village life and talking to other people you always hang out in the woods. Don’t you want to have friends, Jimin? Talk to people other than yourself? People are talking you know. You’ve always been a little weird, but it’s gotten out of hand lately. And you can’t only think about yourself. This reflects back on me as well. I’m trying to get far, to make it to someone higher up the food chain - and you’ll benefit from that too. But the way things are going right now no one will lay their trust into someone who’s affiliated with a suicidal psycho.”

Jimin gawked, blinking his eyes as he tried to follow what Honsung was telling him. “N-none? But…Honsung, I can’t…I have to help my grandma, you know that.” He shook his head, not wanting to believe that there had been more attacks while he had been gone. How could he have overseen them? Did he really not see them?

“What are you talking about?” Jimin furrowed his brows, confused and startled as his heart picked up its pace. He was getting nervous the more Honsung was talking, but he couldn’t escape his grip. “Ps-psycho? I’m not…” Jimin pushed against his chest, feeling the anger sitting firing hot under his chest, “If you don’t want to be associated with me then go! You can pick anyone. I’m not holding you back! The neighbors daughter wants you anyways. Take her then! Because you know I can’t keep inside if my grandma is out there and needs my help. You know she is almost blind; she can’t see clearly anymore. And the people in the village should know, too that I am taking care of her. Like a good grandson should do.” He was almost hissing the words, angry that the people thought of him as the weird kid again.

“She will do fine a few days without you! I can bring her some food and whatever else she needs in advance and you stay here. And stop - stop pushing me!” He pushed Jimin back so that the younger fell backwards onto the bed. “Do you really think I could just ignore our engagement? I promised to take care of you because you had no one else but you’re making it really hard right now. This isn’t solely about what I want and who I want to be with, a marriage is as much about duty as it is about pleasure and I can’t just change my mind about my oath just because you decide to be difficult. It just means that I need to be a better husband and help shape you until you’re a character that fits into the community of city.”

Jimin stared in absolute disbelief at the man in front of him, that he thought once knew but showed more and more sides of him that only scared him. There were tears burning behind his eyes, threatening to come forward but Jimin took a deep breath. He had been pushed harshly against the rough edge of his bed, where he barely caught himself and now as he gazed up at Honsung he felt completely loss for words.

“Shape me?” He almost scoffed but tried to push it down to not anger him too much. Jimin didn’t want to know what else he would be capable of. “Let me go to her one last time, please. Just once,” He whispered, avoiding Honsung’s gaze to show him his defeat. “If you love me, then please…”

“Jimin, I have asked you so many times already to not go into the woods. I begged you to take care, I ordered you to not leave the village at night, I tried to talk sense into you over and over again. I don’t trust you anymore. If I let you go who knows if you come back home or maybe you spend a few more nights out there just because you want to. No, you’ll stay here where people can watch you and make sure that you won’t end up dead. I’ll take care of it, like I said I will, because I stick to my word.”

Jimin was shaking as he nodded his head slowly, biting his lip in deep thought as he stared into nothingness. His heart was beating so loudly and so fast that he was scared he was going into a cardiac arrest. Jimin looked up to see where the sun was at the horizon, knowing that in the evening he had promised for Namjoon to come back, to meet him at his grandma’s and to run away, to never come back to the village again. Right now, it seemed almost like an impossible task. Jimin was so far gone in his mind, that he startled heavily when a hand cupped his cheek making him turn towards Honsung. “Why do you love me?” The words slipped from his lips easily but shaky. But he wanted to know so much more: why do you hate me so much? Why do you chose me? Why me? Why does it have to be me?

“Because you’re special, Jimin. Despite all the defiance and the disobedience, I know that deep down you can be good. You want to be good, don’t you? You could make it so much easier for all of us if you just started to trust me like you should.” He leaned in to kiss Jimin’s forehead. “I’ll take care of you, Jimin. You don’t have to fight against anything and everyone any longer. I know what’s best for you. And your grandma will be so happy when she sees that your safe and surrounded by friends and cared for, wouldn’t she? Don’t you want that for yourself too?”

“Yeah,” His voice sounded tired and Jimin felt exhausted, “I just need to see her. Just a few days, promise me. I need to be with her. I don’t know for how much longer she can be around.” Jimin bit his lip, when he saw the deep furrowed his brows and the hesitance in Honsung’s body language. “I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered, meaning so much more than those simple words. I’m sorry that I will make this harder on you, I’m sorry that I’m going to make you angry and I’m sorry that I’m not what you want me to be. And I am sorry that I will run away.

…

Namjoon had no idea that Jimin couldn’t keep his promise. He had started to roam through his pantry, made sure that there would be enough food and necessities for two people to live comfortably for a while. He would also soon make a trip to the next village even though it would be a wolf run away to get Jimin his own things; another plate, a glass - maybe one of those colorful ones that he had seen last time he had visited the market there it had been so pretty and would hopefully make Jimin happy. He wasn’t trying to sugarcoat things, he knew it wouldn’t been easy, Jimin would have to learn what it meant to live without the comfort he’s had in the village and even though there would be no more people judging him there would be other things to make his life harder. Not to speak of Namjoon who would have to be very, very careful so that Jimin would never find out who exactly he was. He would tell Jimin that he was sleepwalking and that he should in no way be disturbed so that Jimin wouldn’t look for him in case he woke up and found his side of the bed empty. Or maybe he could talk Jimin into letting him give him a mild herbal tea to help him sleep during full moon nights so that he wouldn’t wake up at all.

Whatever way he chose he knew it would be great living with Jimin, he felt it - and he had never felt so scared but so happy at the same time.

…

Jimin was glancing over to the window every five minutes, nervously. He could see a few of Honsung’s friends lingering around his home and he was sure that he had told him to see if Jimin would go out and if he did, to follow him closely. What they didn’t know was, that Jimin knew his way around by now. So, he simply slipped through his back window, leaving everything behind in a heartbeat.

This morning he had thought about packing a few things, but right now it didn’t matter. The sun was about to set, and he was sure Namjoon had been already waiting. Jimin hadn’t even put on his coat. He didn’t need it anymore.

The moment Jimin pulled himself over the wall and jumped down on the other side where he knew it was safe, he felt like he could breathe again – like weight that got lifted off his shoulders. This way he was sure that he was on his right way, because his heart told him so. With a smile on his lips, Jimin’s steps quickened until he was fully running. He could hear the church bells ringing in the background, telling the people to go inside before it would be dark, but he was running even faster.

When his grandma’s house came in view at the end of the path, Jimin was panting, slowing down until he was just walking. The forest was eerily quiet around him, but Jimin didn’t pay it any attention. He was so filled with happiness, with feeling absolutely free in this moment that he didn’t notice it.

Nothing.

Not a sound.

“Grandma?” Jimin’s voice echoed through the woods as he came to a halt in front of her door, fist lifted in an attempt to knock when he noticed the door being ajar. It wasn’t unusual for her to do so, so Jimin simply pushed it open and called for her again. “Are you in the back, Grandma?” Jimin called out again but there was no answer. Instead something else suddenly swallowed him whole, making him halt and froze in his movements completely. His throat constricted at the onslaught of smell that crashed over him. Something was awfully wrong. Something didn’t fit in the picture. Jimin turned around with wide eyes, slowly opening the door to his grandmother’s bedroom, but there was no one. Her blanket was thrown carelessly over as if she had been asleep, but the smell wasn’t as strong here. Jimin looked over his shoulder and gulped as he reached out for the kitchen door with shaking hands. “Please, grandma. This is not funny,” He mumbled more to himself to calm his rapid beating heart as he pushed the door open.

The door stopped after only a few inches because something was blocking it. Or someone. In horror Jimin pushed against it until it finally gave way and he was able to open the door enough to squeeze inside. He wished he hadn’t done that. Halfway behind the door and on the kitchen floor was his grandmother. There was something red all over here and in his shock he first thought it must be tomato juice, that she had slipped with a plate in hand and had spilled the juice all over her.

He kneeled down with shaking fingers, trying to help her up because she had just fallen, and it would be fine if he helped her up. But even his mind in denial couldn’t ignore the deep gashes in her chest and at her throat. Jimin whimpered, “G…grandma? Grandma please, please wake up!” He took her arm to shake her, to wake her up again but the moment he touched her he knew that she was gone. Her arm felt cold and stiff and he flinched back immediately. She was dead.

His grandmother was dead.

Jimin felt like his whole world was spinning. He had seen her alive only days ago, his warm smile and her beautiful eyes and… Jimin coughed, trying to get away from the bloody corpse as he heaved but nothing came out. He was just sobbing, pulling his knees in as he shook from the fear and the shock alike.

She was dead. She was dead. She was dead.

The beast.

Jimin’s eyes widened as he lifted his shaking hands, seeing the blood that was all over. He snapped up when his eyes flickered around the room, trying to find any clues. Something that could tell him what had happened. This hadn’t been an accident. This just couldn’t be. Jimin let out a painful cry, when Honsungs voice pierced through the fog in his mind as he was literally trying to shake the shock out of him, a harsh grip on both of his arms. “Jimin! What happened! Are you okay? Did the wolf hurt you?” He turned his face to see if he was unharmed but Jimin was still a little too dazed to react properly, staring at him as if he couldn’t believe that he was here. “Jimin, talk to me. What happened?” He tried to hug the other but Jimin was lifeless and like a rag doll in his arms. He blinked up his eyes, trying to bring himself back but… his grandma was dead. She was dead. There was blood. So much blood. Jimin could feel himself getting pulled up and he whined helplessly. “Grandma, no, no, she needs me…,” Jimin pushed Honsung away from him, crawling over to where the lifeless body was lying as he reached out. She couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t.

This was a nightmare.

Blood smeared all over his hands as his eyes flickered over the wounds. A caught of scream came from him, but it didn’t feel like his own when Honsung pulled him away again. “N..no…no,” Jimin barely was able to keep himself up on his feet, teary-eyes making his view blurry. His mind didn’t caught up, everything was moving too fast.

“We need to go Jimin.” If he could choose he preferred the lifeless version of Jimin right now because this version of him, the one that was screaming and trying to push him away to get back to his dead grandmother was hard to handle. “We don’t know how close the wolf is, we need to go before we find out. You don’t want to end like your grandmother, do you? We can send someone to bury her later right now I need you to come with me. We need to get back to the village, behind the walls. We will be safe there. As I tried to tell you so many times already the woods aren’t safe. And now you have proof of what I always told you. Not even the house could help your grandmother against the wolf. He killed her anyway.”

It was like a switch that turned on, when Honsung suddenly started talking about the wolf being the one attacking his grandma when his eyes finally locked with his. “No,” It was only a whisper at first. “It’s not…the wolf,” Jimin cried out as loud as he could as he pushed against Honsung who had pulled him out of the kitchen, “It’s not him! I know it’s not him. Look at the wounds! It’s not an animal…it’s…it’s something else.” Jimin was shaking, mind racing with all the possibilities. Only one thing he knew was true: it wasn’t the wolf. His heart told him so. His gut feeling. Everything in him told him that it wasn’t the animal but something else. Something much crueler that didn’t care about wrong or right and it was making Jimin shiver in fear. His eyes were searching through the room, as he tried to get away from Honsung, holding onto the doorframe like a child that didn’t want to leave it’s room. Blood smeared all over the wallpaper, but Jimin didn’t care as he elbowed Honsung hard to make him let go. “Believe me, please. I’m not crazy! I know it’s not the wolf, trust me! It’s not making any sense”

“You’re talking nonsense, Jimin. Of course, it was the wolf. It couldn’t be anything else.” Honsung’s voice had become sharper and cold as ice but Jimin was too caught up in his pain to notice or else he might have reacted differently. “Stop holding onto the doorframe! She’s dead! You can’t help her! She won’t come alive again just because you’re cowering next to her! Let go goddammit!” He tried to pry Jimin’s hands off the frame, but the younger was making it difficult - until he took Jimin’s wrist and pulled so hard hat the younger cried out in pain and finally let go.

The pain in his wrist was burning so achingly and Jimin had no choice but to stumble along. “No, let go, please. I don’t care then… go without me. I don’t…,” Jimin gulped heavily, sobbing painfully as his knees gave in and he simply let himself fall, “…care anymore!”

Honsung still had a hard grip on Jimin, holding onto him and the sweater that he wore. So, when Jimin slid to the floor his he effectively pulled himself from Honsung’s grip - except for his sweater, that ripped from being stretched between Honsung and Jimin’s body. At first the other did nothing, just stared at him how he was sitting on the floor, a miserable heap. His eyes wandered upwards to where the sweater had ripped and to the formerly flawless skin beneath it. This time however there was nothing flawless about it. There were marks and spots peppered along his collarbone, disappearing under the rest of the sweater that hung on Jimin. Honsung’s eyes hardened as he kneeled down in front of Jimin, ripping his sweater in half to see more of his skin. His hands were starting to shake from anger as he realized that they were exactly what he thought they were: Lovebites. Marks that had been kissed into Jimin’s skin. It hit him completely unprepared but there was no other explanation for it: Jimin had a secret lover.

Jimin sat frozen on the spot, eyes wide as he stared at him. His lips were trembling, but his eyes were dry as he saw Honsung’s gaze darken. The once blue eyes suddenly seemed like darkness had swallowed them whole, staring him down with so much hatred and disgust that Jimin didn’t even want to look down. Jimin opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

He didn’t even ask Jimin or waited for him to explain he just hit him, square in the face, the way he should have done it before. He had waited for Jimin to open up to him, to see what he was doing , that he was someone Jimin should be proud to be with, strong and powerful and able to provide for them, for others, for the whole city if he needed to! He was ambitious, passionate, everything someone like Jimin should wish for! And yet Jimin disobeyed him. Over and over and over again. And he had let it slide because he thought sooner or later the other would come around and see what he was missing. Instead he had gone and found himself a lover, letting himself get marked like the filthy little whore he was. When Jimin looked up at him again his lip was split but it didn’t give him any satisfaction. Jimin had made a fool of himself and of Honsung and now his stubborn, defiant, dirty fiancé would have to suffer the consequences. He didn’t let Jimin get up, instead he pushed him down, pressing his shoulders onto the wooden floor.

The slap was still ringing in his ear, stars dancing in front of his eyes as he tried to get a grip of himself fast. Jimin’s conscious was screaming at him to get out of here fast, that something was awfully, awfully wrong when the pain hit him once again. “Let me go! No, you’re hurting me!” Jimin cried out as loud as he could, trying to use his last bit of strength with the adrenaline fueling him to get Honsung off him but the other was just ten times stronger than him. So, Jimin screamed as loud as he could, hoping that it would reach somewhere. That maybe Namjoon was near. Maybe the wolf, that was strolling around, hearing the pain in his voice. Tears were rushing down his cheeks as he struggled against the painful weight.

“Scream as much as you want. No one will hear you. No one is stupid enough to go outside the walls. No one but you.” He pushed down harder until Jimin was breathless from it and he didn’t have to yell against Jimin’s screams to make the other hear him. “I’m glad it hurts. Because you hurt me too, Jimin. You thought I’d never find out, hm? What would you have said to me in our wedding night? Would you have lied, telling me you’re still a virgin? Who is it, Jimin? A woman? A man? Both? Is that how you pass your time when you sneak away from me?” He leaned down and kissed him, hard and brutal, not quite a kiss but rather a sign of dominance. “Why, Jimin? I would have given you everything you needed. You could have lived so comfortably by my side. You could have had a real life! Status and wealth and power. And you gave all that up for sex? I could have given you that too. But you always told me I needed to wait, that you weren’t ready before being married. Another lie, hm? How long did you share my bed, pretending I couldn’t have you because you weren’t ready while someone else had you on your back for them? Tell me!”

Jimin was coughing painfully as he gasped for air each time Honsung pushed onto him, forcing his lips onto him and taking away his breath in a painful way. Making Honsung even more angry probably wasn’t the best choice, but Jimin didn’t want to give in. Never wanted to give in to him. “Y-yes, I did,” Jimin breathed out as he met Honsung’s gaze, “And he loves me, like I love him. You only give me pain and you don’t know what love even is. You’re pathetic! I don’t need status, I don’t need anything, not from you!” Jimin spit Honsung right in the face, using the seconds he was caught off guard to turn and to get back onto his feet as fast as he could.

Jimin’s freedom lasted only a few seconds before Honsung pulled him back down without caring how much he would hurt the other. “You filthy little thing!” He chuckled but there was no joy in it just disdain. “I think you should stay here for a little while. And as you seem to like being on your back for someone I’m sure you don’t mind this.” He leaned over him, gripping his throat so that Jimin couldn’t spit at him again. It didn’t matter that one of Jimin’s hands was free like this because he was holding him down mercilessly and if Jimin wanted to keep breathing then he would have to lay still and obedient. “Such a pity. It will break your lovers heart to hear what has happened in the woods. You visited your grandmother despite my warning and in complete ignorance of the dangerous times we live in. Sadly, for you I was right as I always am and the wolf came and killed your grandmother. Maybe she tried to defend you. Wouldn’t that be a heartbreaking addition to the story? That she tried to protect you from the wolf only to get ripped to pieces in front of your eyes. And then you couldn't handle the guilt, or the wolf got you as well. That little detail is up to you.”

There was a throbbing in his head and something wet was dripping down his forehead as he realized he must have hit his head when Honsung had pulled him down again. He was dizzy, the air getting cut off from him as he tried to get Honsung to let go off him, when he suddenly stopped, and his words got through to him. It was like his heart had stopped beating.

There were no sounds anymore.

Just his breathing was audible, as he looked up into Honsung’s eyes and saw nothing but hatred.

It was as if Honsung knew and a dirty smirk appeared on his lips, one that made Jimin retch as he realized the truth. “Y-you?” Tears welled up in his eyes as he felt like he was free falling. Nothing made sense anymore. Was he lying next to a beast the whole time?

“Yes, my love. Me. Does it hurt to know that your grandma would still be alive if you had just listened to me? I didn't know what a filthy whore you were back then I thought you were really visiting your grandma. I should have known that you weren’t that selfless. You were busy spreading your legs for someone while pretending to be the perfect grandson. Be thankful she didn’t have to find out what you were doing. She would have been so disappointed. I spared her that. I thought I was just eliminating the reason for you to always run in the woods despite my orders. But now I see that it was your rightful punishment to see her dead. And it makes more sense like this when they find your body. You didn’t think you could betray me like that and then just walk away, did you? That’s not how it works, love. Not for you.”

Jimin’s world was falling apart right in front of him. Memories of his mother crying, begging Honsung’s father to not kill the wolf were flashing before his eyes. The same darkness in his father’s that he now found in him. They made the people fear to make them kneel and beg for them to release them from the dangers that were the wolf, while the beast was in the village all along. “No, no…” Jimin screamed out, sobbing as he saw his mother being torn away from him. She had known. “You’re a monster!” He croaked out, kicking at Honsung as hard as he could, but the more he moved the less he could breathe.

“Didn’t you know that people always need a monster? If you don’t give them one they make their own. But you have no idea how to lead, all you know is making trouble. That’ll be over now. It could have been so nice for you, Jimin but you didn’t want it easy. So, this is your fault.” He placed a mocking little kiss on Jimin’s forehead like he had done when he had said good night to Jimin before turning off the lights at home.

Then he tightened his grip to choke Jimin until the end.

Jimin’s eyes were wide and fearful as he stared up in shock, when Honsung went absolutely feral. There was no emotions. Just darkness that Jimin could find as he shook him as if Jimin wasn’t dying fast enough. He was fighting for the last bits of air, trying to reach out and pull his arms away from him. He couldn’t let the darkness win, so Jimin tried to stay calm, tried to do anything to win more time but he had to realize that he had lost this fight, when the shadows were pulling him under.

...

Namjoon had waited a little longer - and then a little longer after that. When he had finally admitted to himself that Jimin wouldn’t come he didn’t know how to feel. Shouldn’t he be relieved that he wouldn’t have to figure out how to hide his nature from someone who lived with him? Should he feel like he should have known Jimin would let him down because that’s what the village people did? It didn’t feel right, nothing did. There was just an emptiness inside of him, a vast space that Jimin had filled and that he had no idea how to fill again now that the other was gone. He felt restless and torn and half did he play with the thought of going into the city himself to ask Jimin, look after him, make sure that he was okay, and that no sickness or accident had kept him from coming. But he had sworn his mother that he would never set a foot into that village and so he stayed true to his vow and kept away from the walls. He couldn’t just go home though. He needed to get rid of this restless energy, needed to clear his head of all the thoughts and pictures that tried to overwhelm him, of him and Jimin and all the things that could have been. He needed a run. And maybe, while he was at it he could also visit Jimin’s grandma? Maybe he was there to tell her that he wouldn’t live in the village any longer and they had started to argue and forgot the time - or maybe she had an idea where he was.

It felt like a relief to change forms, despite the pain and the sickening sound of bones cracking while he turned. Things were easier as a wolf. Emotions were different. And yet his heart still felt empty at the knowledge that Jimin might not come. He gave up all pretense and headed straight to grandma’s home, hoping that he could lend some clothes there or else the chat would be a little awkward but with her eyesight it didn’t really matter that much. He saw the open door the same moment the smell of blood hit him. He growled before he even realized what might have happened but the terror that gripped his heart told him that something was wrong. The blood that had been spilled smelled human. Like the old woman - and like Jimin. He jumped through the door without care or finesse, just recklessly storming in as a dangerous ball of fur and claws and teeth. It only took him a heartbeat to lay his eyes on the man who was sitting on Jimin’s lifeless body, his hands still wrapped around his throat as if Jimin’s didn’t look dead enough for him. He threw his whole body against him, knocking him clean off before sinking his teeth into the man’s flesh. The other screamed but Namjoon didn’t care, he just bit deeper and growled harder until the man was no longer a threat.

Jimin didn’t scream as he got thrown over and air went through his lungs again, but something else hit him as he carelessly got pushed against something hard. He felt like a doll; lifeless and unable to move. But he didn’t even care about the pain anymore. There was air and Jimin was gasping for it like a fish that was out of the water. Blood was dripping down his forehead and cut lip as he tried to blink his eyes and see the scene in front of him. It was a blurry image, but the growling sound was familiar and although it was the most horrifying sound he ever heard coming from the wolf, Jimin felt nothing but calm. A small smile pulled at his lips, while Jimin tried to whisper a ‘thank you’ as the darkness made his eyelids heavier and the imagery vanished but Jimin opened his eyes again when a growl made him startle, only to be drowning again. Maybe it was for the better that he couldn’t see anymore, the sounds too vividly as he shook with it until he fell completely unconscious and the sound of skin ripping, and the smell of blood didn’t faze him no more.

Never in his life did Namjoon change forms so quickly. He was dizzy from it, falling onto his knees but he knew if he wanted to help Jimin he needed hands and a human mouth. He was cold and trembling when he thought about reviving Jimin, wondering if he had been dead for too long - and then he saw that the other was still breathing. And he cried. He couldn't help it but seeing Jimin lying so lifelessly on the floor with the smell of blood all around him and his eyes firmly closed he had realized that he couldn’t just go on if Jimin was gone. He couldn’t.

“Jimin? Minnie?” He took the lifeless body in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth while he hugged him close until Jimin felt warmer and his heartbeat wasn’t so weak anymore. The smell of blood was still there, sickeningly sweet and overwhelming and so he gently placed the boy down to look for the source, to see if he could help. But it was too late for Grandma and so the only thing left to do for him was to gently close her eyes and say his goodbyes with a heavy heart.

Jimin was too weak to open his eyes, but he felt something lift him off the ground and for an awful moment he thought he was descending. Maybe to heaven? Or someone else that he didn’t know, but subconsciously his hand reached for something to steady himself, too scared to fall but too weak to really hold on as he felt a familiar heartbeat under his palm. Breathing in sharply, Jimin was curling in, trying to get away from the pain that was still aching all over his body. There was so much pain, so much hurting and Jimin couldn’t bare it. Namjoon didn’t know that Jimin’s consciousness was swimming in and out of focus. He just picked him up, as careful as he could and walked back with him to his home, all the while cradling him against his chest like a fragile, priceless possession. He had no idea what had happened and if Jimin knew that his grandmother was dead. The thought of burying her in the wild little garden behind the house had tears filling his eyes anew and he almost stumbled from his sight being so blurry. There was no time for grief now, not until Jimin was safe in his bed and would open his eyes again.

…

Jimin hissed in pain when something soothed over his skin. A barely there touch but it hurt, and he turned away from it, whining and regretting it the moment the pain was piercing his throat with every sound. Every ache, every bruise that made him stiffen up, only brought the nightmare back and Jimin was shaking from the fear of where he'd find himself. It was only then his fingers were gripping sheets under him and a different smell, but blood reached him. His heart was beating into overdrive as he carefully opened his eyes in fear.

Namjoon took the dampened cloth away from Jimin’s face when the younger started to stir and gave him space to come to. Jimin’s eyelids fluttered and he moved restlessly before he finally dared to open his eyes. “Hi.” Namjoon greeted him with a smile, his voice giving away how relieved he was to finally see Jimin awake. The walk had been a long one and Jimin hadn’t moved one bit, not even when Namjoon had gotten him into bed and started to clean the wound at his hairline that had colored strands of his hair red with blood. Only when he brought the cloth to Jimin’s lip to dab at the cut and wipe away the blood had the younger started to stir. There was freshly brewed herbal tea waiting for him that Namjoon wanted him to sip as soon as possible so that his throat wouldn’t be so sore. But first of all, it would be necessary to calm Jimin. He would ask what had happened later even though it burned on his tongue. Instead he tried to keep their conversation light and soothing. “How are you feeling? Are you warm enough? Do you want another blanket?”

Jimin’s heart recognized him way before his mind did, beating fast and uncontrollably, yearning for his lover’s closeness. He had no idea how he made it here or what had happened after he blacked out but Jimin didn’t want to remember. With a croaky whine, Jimin reached for Namjoon and pulled at his shirt to make him come closer. He needed him by his side. But he couldn’t say more; his throat constricting with every time he tried to say something. When Namjoon sat in bed with him, Jimin let himself get pulled closer against his chest, searching for the warmth and heat that his body always provided. His teeth were clattering, limbs shaking as he tried to shake off the cold and the shock. “Sh-she’s gone,” He sobbed, hiding his face in his chest, desperately searching for something to hold on to or else he might fall apart. “I wanted to ...tell her about you...u-us, b-but Honsung...he,” Jimin coughed, trying to get rid of the aching in his throat. Namjoon had reached for the tea on instant, tilting Jimin’s chin up to make the younger drink from it who was too shaken. He gulped down the warm drink, feeling it’s soothing effects right away when he spoke again. “It was h-him, the beast...he did...he m-murdered,” His arm reached around Namjoon on instinct as if the other could leave him right now.

It definitely answered the question if Jimin knew about his grandmother's death to see him like this. Namjoon tried his best to calm Jimin down, to soothe him enough that he wasn’t shaking so hard or gasping so helplessly for breath. He wouldn’t have mind letting the other cry at his shoulder if he felt it might help but Jimin shook so much and sobbed so desperately that he was worried for him. So, he gave him the tea, sip by sip trying to ground him and calm him (there was lavender in the tea, hop and chamomile). He couldn't really make out what Jimin was saying, he talked about Honsung and the beast, but he wasn’t sure what was really about what had happened and what Jimin had seen and what were his fears and the shock. He was in no state to be questioned so Namjoon just continued to hold him, caressing his back, brushing his fingers through his hair while whispering promises into his skin. “You’re safe now. No one can hurt you. Honsung will never lay a finger on you again. You’re okay. You made it through. You will heal, Jimin, I promise.” He could understand the other’s pain so well which made it a little harder to tell him he would be okay again because he knew that right now Jimin must feel like someone had torn out his heart and that this pain would never end. Grief only healed over time and sadly he couldn’t make the time pass faster so all he could do was be there for him while Jimin worked out his pain.

The younger had fallen asleep and against Namjoon’s side in exhaustion, hands buried deep in his shirt so he couldn’t move away. He needed Namjoon’s presence to ground him, even in his sleep. It felt like hours until he could open his eyes again, his body wrapped in a blanket that Namjoon had draped over them. Namjoon’s fingers were soothing through his hair and down his cheek, when he blinked up at him.

“What happened? How did you find me?” Jimin’s voice sounded tired, but a lot better than before. He had a terrible headache and Jimin felt for the cause of it, hissing when he came in contact with a bruise.

"Careful, baby." He gently took Jimin's hand away from the wound. He didn't have any bandages left so he had only been able to clean the wound and touching it could contaminate it again. As horrible as it was he would need to take Grandma's first aid kit when they buried her because although he didn't like the thought of stealing from the dead he didn't know where else to get Jimin the things he needed right now. He was glad that the younger had managed to get some sleep and that he seemed calmer now even though his eyes were still red rimmed, and his voice sounded rough and off from having been choked and all the tears that were still stuck in his throat.

"I...I just thought you might be there. You didn't come to meet me as you said so I thought you might have visited your grandma to… to say goodbye." His voice was heavy with empathy as he had finished.

“I wanted to tell her...about...about you,” Jimin’s eyes filled with tears, “That I would run from the village but then...Honsung. He was there out of a sudden and I didn’t understand it.” His eyes were searching the room, while he tried to collect his thoughts, “He saw the love bites and he went crazy. I’ve never seen him that mad before and then…” Jimin gulped, “He is the beast, Namjoon. He killed them all and blamed the wolf. It was never the wolf.” He choked on a dry sob, when his eyes suddenly widened and Jimin pushed himself up, throwing the blanket over. “Oh god, he’s dead. The wolf...he came. Did you see him?” Jimin shaking when he spoke, trying to get up from the bed, “I need to find him. They will try and kill him and it’s all my fault. He protected me. Help me please, Namjoon. Help me find him!”

Those were news to him, ones that he had a hard time wrapping his head around. Of course, he had figured out that it hadn’t been him who killed those people as he was extra careful around a full moon and people were hurt no matter what phase the moon was in. but that it had been the villagers themselves, one of their own who played monster? And Jimin’s fiancé of all people? The only good thing that came of all this mess was that there no one would be hurt because of the ‘wolf’ ever again. Because the real beast had died.

“Calm down, Minnie, please, sit back down, he’s fine, the wolf is fine, please don’t just run out there, I saw him, he’s... he’s perfectly okay!”

He had no idea how Jimin still managed to find so much energy inside of him when all he himself could feel was grief and worry and exhaustion. But apparently the wolf’s wellbeing weighted so heavy on the younger’s mind that he couldn’t let go of it that easily.

Jimin swayed a little when he got onto his feet, panting as he tried to hold onto the next best thing. “I need to tell him to hide, they will find them and…,” Jimin could barely bare the aching in his heart when he thought of his grandmother again and he wiped over his cheek, regretting it right away as he forgot about the bruise. “Please, Namjoon. They will see the biting marks and will think it’s the wolf for real now. He can’t know what they will do, but I know. They are monsters! They will kill him, thinking he had murdered twice.” He reached for Namjoon, pulling at his shirt, “I need to see him, please. Show me where he is!” It was the only right thing to do right now, his heart beating into overdrive, but his gut feeling told him to see the wolf. “We need to protect him!”

Jimin was trembling, his eyes wide and fearful and Namjoon started to worry that he might faint again if he couldn’t get the other to calm down again. His body had gone through enough today he didn’t need to tire himself out with his panic now especially because the wolf was fine, he was fine, but he couldn’t tell him, he had to watch Jimin try to get out of his grip and get to the door, ready to defend a creature he didn’t even know, jeopardizing his own health on the way.

“Jimin, please it’s fine, he’s okay, you don’t have to...” But the younger didn’t listen to him, didn’t let himself be lead back to the bed so it just slipped out “Jimin, he’s fine, the wolf is...he’s here!”

“Here?” Jimin looked at Namjoon in utter confusion before he turned around to rush out of the door. Could Namjoon hear him? Sense him being near? Did he know something that he didn’t know? Had he brought him to safety already? There was a million and one questions on his mind and Jimin could feel it hammering against his head, making it so much harder to think and only worsening his headache.

“Where? Where is he?” Jimin looked around, sounding more desperate the more he couldn’t see him. “Please, Namjoon.” He walked up to his lover, reaching out to cup his cheek as he soothed over his skin, “He protected me and it’s the least I owe him now. I love you, Namjoon, please trust me.”

How could Namjoon look at Jimin’s face, see the hope and desperation in it and then lie to him? He simply couldn’t. But he also couldn’t tell him, who know how he would react. Jimin had no home, no family, no fiancé, it had all come crashing down on him in one day. And if he got scared of Namjoon, of the only thing left to keep him sane what would he do? Namjoon was scared for him, so scared that he couldn’t speak, the words just didn’t come and so he stood there, helpless and lost, unable to tell Jimin his secret in fear of hurting him.

Jimin noticed the pain in Namjoon’s eyes right away, cupping his cheeks as his expression changed and his heart sunk. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt? Don’t tell me, ….please.” Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he thought of the wolf being hurt or worse - and more pain flooded him. He flung his arms around Namjoon and desperately sobbed, “Tell me he is okay, you said he is fine. You said he is alright.” He clung onto Namjoon as if he’d be the next person to be taken away from him. “He can’t be gone. He is my wolf!” Jimin’s voice cracked as he shook with the cries.

Seeing Jimin cry for him was the last thing he had wanted and so his resolve crumbled with every sob and every tear until there was nothing left. He had no idea what to say to make it okay - there was nothing left but the truth. So, he said, it, quietly at first because he had never said it to anyone before and because he was scared and Jimin almost missed it.

“I.. I’m the wolf. I’m okay.” When Jimin didn’t react he took the younger’s face in his hands and gently wiped his tears away before he repeated himself, a little louder this time. “I’m the wolf, Jimin. I’m here. There’s no need to cry for me.” His hands trembled as he tried to hold on to Jimin, afraid that the younger would push him away now.

Jimin just stared at him blankly, searching his eyes to see if Namjoon was fooling him or making fun of him. He could feel the tremble coming from him and Jimin furrowed his brows, not understanding a thing anymore. “Y-you’re…Namjoon,” He sniffled. “H-how - that makes no sense. That’s not…you’re not an animal.” Jimin cocked his head aside, heart drumming hard against its cage as he tried to comprehend why Namjoon was telling him nonsense. Was it just to calm him down?

“I’ve seen the wolf, you…you told me to be aware of him as we hid from the hunters. You cared for the wounds from the scratch, you…” Jimin looked at Namjoon, really looked at him and saw nothing but honesty. There was no smirk, no fake smile, just him pleading with his deep brown eyes. The same one’s the wolf had. Jimin gasped and pushed a palm over his hand as his eyes widened. “H-how…”

“My mother. She was a wolf too. So as her son I… inherited the curse. I... I’m not always wolf, obviously but I can turn, willingly and sometimes... during full moons I turn whether I like it or not.“ He could see the words slowly sinking in as Jimin tried to work it out and then put the puzzle pieces together so he hurriedly said, “I’m so, so very sorry that I scared you during that one night! It was a full moon so I didn’t know what I was doing, I never meant to scare or to hurt you, really, I would never harm you, I didn’t mean to it’s just that I can’t really control myself but it’s only during full moons and apart from that I’m... I’m fine, you don’t have to fear me at all, I swear!” He was out of breath from talking so fast and desperately, so he sounded as lost and vulnerable as he felt when he added, “Please, don’t be scared of me.”

The tears were silently falling when Namjoon reminded him of the night that the wolf died and the pain in his mother’s eyes. Had she always known? About the curse of the woman and her child? Jimin almost startled out of his thoughts when Namjoon begged him so desperately, laying all of his vulnerabilities out in front of him and the younger looked up.

“I was never scared of you…or the wolf.” He spoke honestly, not moving an inch away from the one he loved. “But Namjoon, how… I don’t understand. You’re human now and…” Jimin shook his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it, feeling like he couldn’t believe anything anymore after what had happened last night. “I’m sorry, but how do I know it was you?”

Jimin sounded calmer now and Namjoon latched onto it immediately, trying to explain to make Jimin see him for him and not the creature he (sometimes) was. “It hurts but my body changes, the bones, the structure, everything. I… I could show you. Not directly please because... I figure it’s enough to take in for you already, but I could just go to the back of the house and change and come back to you as a wolf and you would see my clothes lying there and...” He swallowed hard. “You might want to cover your ears while I change because… you can hear it. The bones cracking and... I can’t keep silent during it because it hurts so much.”

“Y-your bones?” Jimin gulped heavily, his eyes flickering over his arms, soothing over his skin that showed so many scars and if this was true it might be from fights and turning. But this couldn’t be. It was absolutely mad.

Jimin stepped away from Namjoon nonetheless, not sure what he was getting himself into or if he needed to run any moment. Was he that bad at finding true love? Jimin licked over his lips as he nodded and although knowing that it would bring Namjoon pain and the guilt was flooding him, he knew he wouldn’t believe until he saw or knew for sure with whom he was dealing with.

Namjoon tried to keep breathing normally even though his instinct would be to run and hide and never look back. He was absolutely vulnerable when he turned. And even if Jimin didn’t think of killing him because he was a monster he might still freak when he actually saw him. And even if everything worked out perfect and he wasn’t afraid, and he wouldn’t tell everyone, and he wouldn’t run than who was to say that he could still love him? Someone who turned into something entirely else, something dangerous, a predator that hunted regularly if he wanted or not. “You... you want me to turn? Are you sure?” He saw it in Jimin’s face that the other needed proof and yet he had to ask, just to see if maybe there was an out.

Jimin nodded slowly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I understand.” Namjoon nodded his head in resignation and then started to walk away while slipping out of his shirt. He hesitated for a second, turning back to Jimin to ask him, “No matter what, don’t follow me okay? It’s ugly. The wolf - I mean I will come to you when I’m finished.” Then he went all the way to the back of the house where he discarded his clothes and cowered down onto the floor to make it easier. He tried to relax, to keep breathing and to not make a sound but he didn’t have a chance. He was still scared, his muscles were tense, and the wolf picked up on his fear, pushing through too quickly and roughly. When the first tendon snapped he cried out in pain, fingers digging into the ground to try and keep himself from crying out again, but he couldn’t help but whimper when his spine shifted, bones cracking as they rearranged themselves into his second form.

Jimin couldn’t tear his gaze away from where Namjoon had disappeared, staring at the wall, but each cracking sound, each painful sound coming from him made him jerk and yelp in phantom pain. He couldn’t understand what was happening and he was about to call out for Namjoon to come back when it was silent. Jimin was shaking, when he saw it only seconds later. Where Namjoon had disappeared, was now a wolf staring right back at him and Jimin couldn’t believe it. The wolf stood right in front of him, so close that he could reach for him and suddenly it felt like everything was clicking into place.

His mother running out into the woods, dying to protect them and crying for Namjoon’s mother the fateful night – just like he had done. The many full moon nights, she had stayed away and Jimin had been scared she would never come back. She always smiled at him then, saying in the sweetest tone that the wolf would never hurt those who they truly love. And Jimin never understood it. His grandmother asking him not to leave until he knew. Now he did. The wolf belonged to his side, just like Namjoon’s mother had belonged to hers. Only their fate hadn’t been on their side and maybe this was just the universe making this right and fixing its horrible mistakes. Jimin didn’t care, instead he stumbled a little when he took a few steps towards the wolf and slowly got onto his knees.

“Namjoon?” Jimin searched the wolf's eyes for the familiar glint in them and with a shaking hand he reached out, dangerously close to the wolf’s fangs.

Namjoon shook out his fur to fluff it up and make it look the best as he could. He hadn’t dared to come too close in case Jimin would feel threatened but the younger only needed a little moment before he knelt down in front of him. His name sounded like a question and so Namjoon tried his best to nod, even though it came out awkward and stiff because it wasn’t how he would normally communicate when he was in his wolf form. He just didn’t. He was a little scared to meet Jimin’s eyes so he bowed his head, keeping his snout out of the youngers face to appear as docile as he could.

“It’s you,” Jimin couldn’t hold the tears back when his heart recognized his lover and his hand buried into the fur, feeling the familiar heat beneath his palm. He wasn’t scared of Namjoon, had never feared the wolf like the others did. “It was always you,” Jimin buried his other hand into the fur as he made the wolf look up at him, “You’re my wolf.” There were tears rolling down his cheeks and his heart was aching in the most beautiful way.

Namjoon sat down, allowing himself to relax into Jimin’s embrace as the other buried his face into his fur, hands gripping into it to hold him close. He closed his eyes, trusting Jimin with his life in this moment. He pushed his snout against Jimin’s face, licking his ear because it was the only thing he could reach but he needed to show his affection or else he felt like he would burst from it.

There was still so many things he wanted to ask, so many things he didn’t understand but he knew with Namjoon by his side he would find the answers. This right here was where he belonged. His heart had known it all along. “I love you, too,” Jimin giggled, when Namjoon licked across his face with so much eagerness. He held onto the wolf tightly, letting its presence calm his mind and heart and yet, he couldn’t the deny the storm inside of him. Soothing over Namjoon’s fur, Jimin stopped to look at him with earnest. “You understand me…r-right?”

As an answer Namjoon licked him again, placing a paw onto his knee to get even closer to him and snuggle his whole furry body against Jimin’s form.

Jimin couldn’t help but smile, even though what he would ask him next hurt him and couldn’t stop the tears. “They will look for you, they will try and hurt you. I can’t let this happen. I won’t lose you!” Jimin kissed the top of the wolfs head, “You don’t deserve the hurt this forest gave you, no…you deserve to be in peace.” He choked on his words as he wrapped his arm around the wolf whose small whine made Jimin hold onto him tighter. “I don’t want you to get hurt no more and the village…it won’t be safe here anymore.” Jimin kissed the tip of Namjoon’s wet nose as he looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re my wolf and I need you to run away from here.” He breathed out the words that made him ache so badly, whispering the words into his fur.

Jimin was right and Namjoon knew this. They couldn’t exactly tell the villagers that one of them had murdered their people, they simply wouldn’t believe it and the only proof they had was Jimin who was seen as the ‘crazy witch kid’ already. They might burn him for it like they had burned his mother. So, leaving was the best option, Namjoon knew this. He howled at the thought of leaving the woods behind where he had grown up and where his mother had taught him to be a wolf, because it was the only thing he had left from here. However, if he wanted to have a future he needed to let go of the past. And he wanted this, a future, together with Jimin. The would find a space for them, maybe find another village that was more open minded and where Jimin could thrive.

“Run away with me, Namjoon. I won’t leave your side ever again. It’s where I need to be, with you…on full moon nights just as every other night.” Jimin smiled at him, wiping away the tears with a soft chuckle. “Do you think you can carry me?” There wasn’t much to take from his home anyways. It was replaceable. Jimin got up and walked around the big wolf, waiting for Namjoon’s response before climbing onto his back. He could feel the muscles shift underneath, the warm fur warming him perfectly as he leaned in and over him. “Let’s say goodbye to her, please.” Jimin placed a kiss on top of Namjoon’s head, holding onto him tightly, “And please never look back again.”

Namjoon let out an affirmative jip at that. Hope bloomed in his chest as the happiness filled him up. Jimin wouldn’t leave him. He said he would be with him, even during the full moon... he didn’t have to be alone any longer.

None of them did.

They had each other now. He tensed his muscles and then started running, with Jimin on his back, to where his paws would take them.

A/N: Ahhhh, we hope you enjoyed our very first adventure into our fairytale world! What’s next? How about beauty and the beast? ;)

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #324

“i'll sharpen my knife upon the stone made from the ruin of a dead god's throne / listen to these words as my seeds are sown: it's time to amputate the infected zone”

What is the last game you played on your phone? Pokemon GO. Do you give people personalized ringtones? No. Does your phone screen have any cracks? No. What makeup products are you wearing, if any? None. How would you describe your skin tone? Very pale. Do you have your full birth name on Facebook? Yes. What is your least favorite fruit? Probably cherries. How often do you walk around barefoot? Whenever I'm in my house or another person's who prefers shoes off inside. Would you need to sleep with someone before considering marrying them? Nah. Do you think people look up to you? No. How often do you have trouble sleeping at night? Every night. Do you ever rehearse conversations before you have them? YEP. In my head, at least. Can you name five current world leaders? No, haha... When taking a cab, do you talk to the driver? Cabs aren't really a thing here. I've never been in one. Do you always read the book before you see a movie based on a book? No. What is your favorite urban legend? The Jersey Devil. Mothman is dope and super creepy, too. I love cryptids, period. Are you an elitist (even a little bit) when it comes to anything? What? No, because I hate people like that so much. What type of fabric is most comfortable for clothing? I dunno, I don't pay attention to this. If you wear one – bras with or without a wire? With, so long as they're not poking out and stabbing you... If you wear one – are you able to find cute bras in your size? Definitely not. What length do you like your shorts to be? You'd have to pay me some big bucks to see me in shorts, period. Have you ever cut off jeans or other pants and made them into shorts? No. Have you cut the sleeves out of T-shirts to make tank tops? I don't think so, no. What was the last disappointing movie you saw? *shrug* What was the last disappointing book you read? Even bigger *shrug*. Do you ever watch compilation videos? Of what? Rarely, but if I do, they're generally old Vines and stuff. What was the last thing you rolled your eyes about? Probably something stupid on Facebook. Do you like Hellboy? If so, do you prefer the old movies or the new one? I have no thoughts on this. Favorite Disney character who isn’t royalty? Dory! Do you have a lot of people whom you don’t talk to all the time or see all the time, but still consider to be your friends? Yeah, like friends from high school and online childhood ones. Do you typically do your make up the same each time? Or do you like to change it up often? It's just about always the same. Do you enjoy making surveys as well as taking them or do you just prefer to copy, paste, fill out, post? The latter. I don't make surveys. Have you got a significant other? How are things between the two of you? If not, what was your most meaningful/long term relationship and how did that come to an end? I don't. My longest and deepest relationship was with Jason, and he ended it when my depression became too much for him to handle. Have you spent much time in a vehicle lately? What for and where have you gone most this past month? No. I've barely left the house lately for obvious reasons. Has it rained yet this year where you live? How about hailed? It's been raining like crazy lately. A few mornings ago, it also hailed very heavily for a few minutes. What is your favorite thing about Mac computers? I like the sleek, clean look of them. What is your favorite thing about PCs? They have more power for playing games. What are some errands you need to run soon? None. Well, we have a Wal-Mart order to pick up I think tomorrow, and I'll probably ride with Mom. What color was your high school graduation gown? Red. It was between that and navy, and I was really hoping for the latter, but it lost the vote. The red was so obnoxious. How many graduation gowns have you worn? One. Are your parents’ dreams for your life different than your own? I don't think they have their own specific "dreams" for my life. They both want me to create my own future that makes me happy. Have your dreams for your life changed? Definitely, over all the years. Would you ever want to learn sign language? Not especially, but it'd be cool I suppose. What’s the last thing you had for dinner? Chicken tenders, I think? Or was that the night before? Have you ever performed a solo dance in front of a crowd? No, but I almost did. At my old dance studio, the high school seniors had the option to a solo, and I was working on one to "Coma White" by Marilyn Manson, because it was and still is a song I really feel in regards to my mental health and many medications I "have" to be on. I was doing fine, but I stopped when I realized I just really was too nervous as a dance competition approached. Have you ever sung a solo? No. What was the last job you had? Deli worker. For two hours. What was your first job? Sales associate at GameStop. Who was/were your favorite coworker(s)? I never really had one. At what age did you start experiencing sexual attraction, if any? I don't know. Probably my freshman year of high school is when my levels of attraction to people reached a sexual and not just romantic level. Have you ever split open a rock with a hammer, to see a geode inside? UGH no, but I so wanna find one of those one day. What states have you lived in? Only North Carolina. S.O.S., get me outta here. What is your favorite thing about the month in which it is now? You start to see some flowers blooming. Who were your best friends in high school? I had a decent group of close friends, but I was closest to Hannia. I wish I still had contact with her. ^Are they still your best friends now? No. She deleted me off Facebook at some point. Do you live near the mountains? No; they're on the western end of the state, and I live on the opposite side. Do you live near a beach? It's about two hours away. What is your favorite beach that you’ve been to? I don't have a fave. Do you collect seashells? Nah, but I like picking them up and looking at them. My sisters and I used to collect them, though. We have a plastic container of them somewhere. If you were to start a new collection, what would it be? I desperately want a cornucopia of Markiplier merch, sobs. Is there a certain place or store you especially hate going to? I don't like going to most stores, really. I'm an online shopper. When was the last time you made plans with someone? October of last year. How long do leftovers usually sit in your fridge? Depends on the food. They tend to stay in there a bit too long, though. What is something you do for other people that shows you care for them? Offer to listen to them and always be a source of support and love. What was the last animal/pet that you met? Kinda recently, someone in our neighborhood was walking their German shepherd, and Mom chatted with the lady for a bit while I listened. Is there anyone in your life with whom your opinion changes on frequently? No. Have you ever kept a journal? Do you currently keep one? Yes, on-and-off during multiple periods of my life. These surveys are like my journals now. Is there a certain song or band who remind you of specific people? Yep. Motionless In White and Black Veil Brides, Jason. Pink Floyd and Evanescence, Sara. Metallica, Mom. Van Halen, Dad. Etc., etc. How often do you style your hair differently from how you normally style it? Never. Have you ever found out that you have been sleep walking? No, I never have. What’s the last thing you promised yourself? I don't know about promised. I take those so seriously, even to myself, that I hesitate to make them. Have you ever tried making something from one of those short cooking videos? How did it turn out? No, but my friend once tried making that "muffin in a cup" thing and it was absolutely horrid. Very eggy. When was the last time you had to wait in line for longer than a few minutes? Good question. Going into places is so rare nowadays, so it's hard to encounter this issue. Well wait, maybe at a fast food place? Idr. Have you ever written a review for a product you bought online? No, but I should do that once I actually use my own money to buy from small businesses in particular... if I had something good to say, anyway. I'd feel bad trash-talking a product. Do you ever interact with any brands/companies online? No. Is there anything you seem especially sensitive to, such as sounds, smells, etc? Smells, yes. What was the last thing you had the urge to do? Read, even though I didn't do it. .-. Is there anyone you feel that takes you for granted? No. Do you ever read the comments on social media posts? Sometimes, particularly if I have strong feelings about something. What was the last “good” thing to happen to you? My PHP therapist felt confident enough in my progress to step me down to three sessions a week versus every weekday. Last awkward situation you were in? Thankfully it was a one-on-one session, but the same aforementioned therapist was asking me questions that really stumped me, so I kept going very quiet as I thought and felt awkward and dumb. He's brilliant at his job. Think of the last time you were sick – what were you sick with? I think the last issue I had that qualifies as "sick" was a double ear infection from Hell itself. That was like two years ago. How do you think your life would change without social media? I'd be incredibly bored, but I, among I think most others, would be more positive and have a more realistic outlook on life. Social media highlights the best times in our life, and I do feel that that has had a negative effect on pretty much everyone. I don't at all believe social media is bad in essence, though. It's a wonderful way to stay connected. What was the last thing you wanted to buy, but couldn’t afford? I can't afford a new terrarium for Venus for probably a while, being without a job and all... How do you get your news? Facebook, haha. How often do you drive? Never, right now. My permit is long expired, and my vision isn't up to par to renew it. If you had to go (back) to school and completely change your career path, what would you choose to study/pursue? I guess biology? Are there any TV shows you constantly quote or know almost every line to? No. What do you think about lizards? I adore lizards; they're all so cute, big or small, and truly little dinosaurs. They're beautiful and so vast in appearances and behavior. Is there anything that people assume about you that isn’t true, and that you find very irritating? Not that I find irritating, no. How would you rate your “detective” skills? Uh, what am I "detecting?" I'm pretty good at digging online if I'm really hunting something down, I guess. Have you ever done consumer testing (testing products before they come out on the market)? If not, would you ever want to? No; I wouldn't be opposed, depending on the product. Have you ever received anesthesia or morphine? Both. The one time (I'm aware of) where I had morphine oddly enough did jack-all, though. If you had to choose which video game to be in, which would it be? Hmmm. Maybe like, Shadow of the Colossus, living in the beautiful garden on the top of the shrine? With the deer, the birds, fruit, just its general beauty... That would be awesome, especially with one other person, especially an s/o. Just the two of us in a gorgeous land. Between the two, would you rather live in a place where it’s only night or where it’s only day? Only day, I suppose. Vitamin D is very important, for one thing, and it always being dark would definitely affect my depression. And what about the flowers blooming and being able to take pictures? :( Sleep would still be possible by just closing your shades and stuff. Is there anyone that makes your skin crawl? Maggots, bot flies, parasites, patterns of small holes, etc. Do you like it when people are affectionate with you? Yes. If we're at least friends, anyway. I'm a very affectionate person. Have the past few days been bad, good, or neutral? They've been pretty all right. If you had to be an actor/actress in a movie, what genre of the movie would you be best at? Probably as an insane villain in a superhero movie or something. Are people more likely to tell you to tone it down or to speak up? Speak up. I'm a mumbler. I can be too loud sometimes too, though, particularly when I'm excited. What’s the last thing that you procrastinated? Now. Emerson's birthday was last month and I still haven't touched her pictures... Out of fire, earth, water, wind, light, and dark, which element appeals the most to you? Dark. What’s your favorite color on a vehicle? Burnt orange, pink. The last pain that you experienced, was it physical or emotional? Physical. What was one of your favorite songs as kid? I liked lots of pop songs. When’s the last time you tried to get revenge, if ever? Never. It's not something I chase after. Do you like Taylor Swift? No. What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? The Haunted Mansion, I think. That's a Disney movie, isn't it? If you met your favorite celebrity, would you be calm or star struck? I'd be a deer in headlights, stuttering and stammering over ways to thank him and crying like a bitch. I'd be super embarrassed, but I absolutely hope I get to meet him one day. Do you ever have to do yard work? No. Is your school close to your house? I'm no longer in school. Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? Yes. Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? Yeah, I like her. What shorthand do you use the most? Probably "lmao." What album is the current song you’re listening to off of? METAWAR. In your opinion, what song is the most overplayed right now? I wouldn't know; I don't listen to the radio. Are you in a band? No. When I started high school though, I wished I could be a guitarist in one. That's one reason I started taking lessons, haha. Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? Male. Have you ever been to a Broadway show? No. Do you prefer group or individual work? Individual, by a long shot. I work much better alone. Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? I think I have before. I used to love puzzles. When was the last time you rode in a limo? Damn son, never; what could possibly give you the idea I could afford to ever do THAT????? Do you take naps daily? Almost every day, yes. Do you still make Christmas lists? Yeah, because I'm asked to. Do you watch the show Dexter? Never seen it, no. Are you currently using a blanket? Yes. My feet are cold. How long is the song you’re listening to? 4:06. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom, but only by a year. Did you ever listen to Avril Lavigne when you were younger? Who didn't? I still listen to a couple songs. When was the last time you changed a light bulb? Not all that long ago when Venus' lamp bulb died. How often do you clean your car out? I don't have my own car. Did you ever buy NOW ("Now That’s What I Call Music") CDs? My older sister did, yes. What color (mainly) is your computer? It's black. What is in the back seat of your car right now? In Mom's car, idk. But there's usually some stuff back there. What is your favorite episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.? Never watched it. Last person’s house you were in? Besides my own, my older sister's. Who is the last person you sent a message to on Facebook? My friend Chelsea. We were catching up. Were you an honor roll student in school? Yes. Do you have a tan? HA. Are you someone’s best friend? Yes. <3 What do you think of when you think of Australia? Huntsmen spiders. *shudders* Favorite gemstone? Of the basic ones, rubies. If we're talking of all of them, even the obscure, then dragon's breath opal. I'd LOVE to have a ring of one of those. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Almost always the drive-thru. What color is your mom’s hair? It's all gray now. Does your first memory involve your dad? No. Biggest annoyance in your life right this minute? My social anxiety. Do you like watching a bonfire? Yeah. Fire is mesmerizing. Do you ever get flu shots? No, but I really should. Once the Covid vaccine is accessible to all though, I'm getting it for the protection of my immunocompromised mother.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''affluenza'' by 3teeth

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jacademia · 5 years

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Film Allusions in Crimson Peak

Hi, all! So because I am deep in my horror movie feels at present and, as horror is a genre that some of you are new to/unfamiliar with, want you all to have some more context for Crimson Peak as an intertextual Gothic pastiche, I thought make a little list of films (mostly horror) that CP references, alludes to, or visually echoes (other than Jane Eyre or any iteration of “Bluebeard,” that is). This list is certainly not exhaustive, but I hope will give you a starting place at understanding the scale of the intertextual web this movie is weaving (also maybe give you some movie recs if you’re into horror/classic cinema. I’ll try to include links to films in the public domain).

Nosferatu (1922) and other early 20th century cinema

Del Toro makes use of a lot of the aesthetics and techniques of film from the late Victorian period/early 20th century (appropriate since Crimson Peak is set in the 1890s - incidentally one of the peaks of Gothic literature). One of these is iris shots/iris transitions (shown above in this screenshot from Nosferatu). Iris transitions are when a circular black mask over the shot shrinks, closing the picture to a black screen (very common in early horror film and 1920s cartoons, ie Betty Boop). If you’d like some very iconic, silent vampire cinema, you can watch Nosferatu here at archive.org for free.

The Old Dark House (1932) | Watch free on Archive.org

Seeking shelter from a storm, five travelers are in for a bizarre and terrifying night when they stumble upon the Femm family estate.

A trope codifier for the haunted house movie, complete with oodles of Gothic weirdness, including those ooky spooky, co-dependent Femm siblings.

Rebecca (1940) | Watch free on Archive.org

A self-conscious bride is tormented by the memory of her husband's dead first wife.

Based on Daphne Du Maurier’s novel of the same name (itself heavily based on Jane Eyre), this Gothic variation on “Bluebeard” was Alfred Hitchcock’s first American film, won two Academy Awards, and is still considered one of the best psychological thrillers of all time. Features an overbearing female figure who directly interferes with our protagonist’s marriage to her, er, Prince Charming in the form of a Sapphic housekeeper obsessed with keeping the memory of the first Mrs. De Winter alive.

Notorious (1946) | Watch free on Youtube

A woman is asked to spy on a group of Nazi friends in South America. How far will she have to go to ingratiate herself with them?

Don’t drink the tea! Also, butterfly-backed chairs. Allll the butterfly-backed chairs.

The Fall of the House of Usher (1960)

Upon entering his fiancée's family mansion, a man discovers a savage family curse and fears that his future brother-in-law has entombed his bride-to-be prematurely.

Two prongs here: Crimson Peak is very much playing with Edgar Allan Poe’s short story (incest siblings! Gothic manors sinking into the earth!) and evoking a particular aesthetic associated with a number of 1960s/70s “schlock” Gothic horror films like those made by Roger Corman who applied his use of vivid color and psychedelic surrealism to a number of Poe’s works.

AESTHETIC!!!!! Speaking of aesthetic excess...

The Brides of Dracula (1960) and other Hammer Horror films

Vampire hunter Van Helsing returns to Transylvania to destroy handsome bloodsucker Baron Meinster, who has designs on beautiful young schoolteacher Marianne.

Known for a series of Gothic horror films made during the 1950s - 1970s featuring well-known characters like Count Dracula, Baron Frankenstein, and The Mummy, Hammer film productions hooked audiences with its use of vivid color, gore, sexy damsels in nightgowns, sexy women with fangs, sexy mummy girls, sexy... you get the idea. It left an indelible aesthetic mark on horror cinema since (including Crimson Peak). Also famous for catapulting the careers of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing or, as you might know them, Count Dooku and Grand Admiral Tarkin from Star Wars.

The Innocents (1961)

A young governess for two children becomes convinced that the house and grounds are haunted.

Frequently listed as one of the best horror films of all time, The Innocents (one of Del Toro’s direct inspirations -- clock the nightgown in the screencap) is a loose adaptation of Henry James’ seminal Gothic novella The Turn of the Screw.

So many more under the cut...

The Leopard (1963)

The Prince of Salina, a noble aristocrat of impeccable integrity, tries to preserve his family and class amid the tumultuous social upheavals of 1860's Sicily.

Another of Del Toro’s direct intertexts, which influenced Crimson Peak’s party scenes.

Suspiria (1977), the films of Mario Bava, and giallo cinema

An American newcomer to a prestigious German ballet academy comes to realize that the school is a front for something sinister amid a series of grisly murders.

A cult horror classic, Italian director Dario Argento’s Suspiria plays fast and loose with Gothic horror and fairy tale tropes, making for a slasher film quite unlike any other. Notable for its dreamlike surrealism, use of highly-stylized colorization, and sheer amounts of gore, Suspiria remains one of the most aesthetically influential horror films of all time and, looking at screenshots, you can maybe see its visual influence on films like Crimson Peak:

Guillermo Del Toro has also cited Mario Bava, another of the key figures in the golden age of Italian horror, as inspiration for his use of color and set design in Crimson Peak.

From Bava’s Black Sabbath (1963):

From Blood and Black Lace (1964):

Bava’s film, Blood and Black Lace, belongs to the giallo genre, which refers (at least, in English-speaking countries) to (largely 1970s) Italian horror thrillers/slashers notorious for their combination of intense, stylized violence and eroticism. Very much a precursor to the American slasher film.

The Shining (1980)

A family heads to an isolated hotel for the winter where an evil spiritual presence influences the father into violence, while his psychic son sees horrific forebodings from both past and future.

As film that also loosely adapts “Bluebeard,” it’s perhaps unsurprising that there are so many allusions to Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of Stephen King’s novel of the same name in Crimson Peak.

And, man, does it have it all! Snowed in, Gothic entrapment! Threats of domestic abuse! Secrets locked away in forbidden rooms! Ghosts! So many ghosts!

Ghosts in the bathtub!

Ludicrously enormous amounts of blood! Innocent waifs with the ability to commune with the dead! Intrepid third parties who heroically make an attempt to reach the isolated Gothic hellscape to help our damsel in distress only to get immediately merc’d! It’s all here, y’all.... except the incest, of course.

Flowers in the Attic (1987)

Children are hidden away in the attic by their conspiring mother and grandmother.

Ok, this is something of a cheat, as Crimson Peak is alluding more to V.C. Andrews’ infamous novel of the same name, not the 1987 film (which is an abysmally terribly adaptation and hilariously bad flick). Anyway, abused siblings are locked away in an attic... and... well... things get all... Sharpe family values, if you know what I mean.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

The centuries old vampire Count Dracula comes to England to seduce his barrister Jonathan Harker's fiancée Mina Murray and inflict havoc in the foreign land.

If you liked Crimson Peak, I think you’ll enjoy this too, as, like CP, this movie is a sincere horror film, but also a pastiche/celebration of the Gothic and vampire cinema. It’s visually sumptuous and very high-energy (if you didn’t like CP or Moulin Rouge!, this one is probably not for you).

Sleepy Hollow (1999)

Ichabod Crane is sent to Sleepy Hollow to investigate the decapitations of three people, with the culprit being the legendary apparition, The Headless Horseman.

This is another one that, if you liked CP, you might enjoy. Based on Washington Irving’s "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” Tim Burton’s film evokes a number of genres and horror aesthetics, most notably the Gothic horror flicks of the 1950s/60s, to create a kind of Hammer Horror film for American Gothic.

The Devil’s Backbone (2001) and Del Toro’s other films

After Carlos -- a 12-year-old whose father has died in the Spanish Civil War -- arrives at an ominous boys' orphanage, he discovers the school is haunted and has many dark secrets that he must uncover.

Crimson Peak is not Guillermo Del Toro’s first foray into Gothic horror, as ghost stories and dark fairy tales are very much his specialty (as we shall see again in Shape of Water later this semester). I highly recommend his ghosts-as-a-reflection-on-the-trauma-of-war film The Devil’s Backbone and his take on portal fantasy, Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), as they’re both excellent and you can see echoes between them and the effects/visuals of Crimson Peak.

#crimson peak #horror #a long post no one asked for

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fallen029 · 6 years

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About Life: Abide

Previous Chapter

She was different from Laxus in many ways and yet so similar in others. Tasha didn't have any magical abilities or any desire for them, truly. Guilds, magical and non, weren't something that was a big factor in the part of the Kingdom she resided in. They were heard of and she even met a few, throughout childhood, but magic blessed no bloodline there in those days and, any it had touched, had long moved away. The biggest way they differed, however, was actually rooted in the same way that they were similar.

Tasha didn't come from a broken family.

But she did come from one that was heavily splintered.

Her family was affluent, both on the sides of her mother and that of her father, but not nearly to the extent that her name was well-known. They made enough to be more than sufficient, however, and that meant something. She never wanted for much or at least not for long. It was a comfortable life with a mother, a father, brothers, and sisters.

That, however, didn't make it perfect.

Her father and mother never divorced, the idea was inconceivable, but they certainly had very little love for one another. Tasha would go as far as to say that they hated one another. With a passion. By the time that she was born, still not even the youngest, it was clear that the two of them had more than fallen out of love. They both questioned, even, if they had truly ever been in it.

But there were no choices, her parents both decided, other than the ones that they were making. Divorce was just...not an option. Think of the gossip. The looks. The children. Think of the children. Rather, they found it much better to verbally accost one another at every turn and make their home a rather hostile environment. And that was the thing that they seemed unable to understand.

It is impossible to have such a volatile relationship with another person, in the same close proximity, without it affection those around you. And they had to see it. They had to know. They had to pick up on the way that their arguments and snide comments affected their children. Not to mention, when you have such hate in your heart, you can never just turn it against the one person you mean to direct it towards. No. There were stretches of years where her mother, lost in such a marriage, became downright cruel and her father never was a pleasant man. Never.

They were miserable people and found it right to make others miserable with them.

Her father wanted his sons to follow him into his business while his daughters were meant to follow their own paths. If their own paths meant marrying the sons of his associates or taking up the more 'womanly' jobs in his company, such as secretaries and the like.

Tasha didn't necessarily reject this ideal. When she was eight, her oldest sister married a very nice man that owned a tiny music shop that sold all sorts of instruments. From guitars to trumpets, to flutes to an organ that took up far too much room and her sister grumbled constantly he was never going to sell, she didn't know why he even picked it up, the man sold everything. He also, once Tasha clashed one too many times with the piano teacher that her father had all his children learn from (the old woman was just too harsh; scales were just too hard when you had some old coot breathing down your neck), took over teaching her which lead to her spending far more time around the newlyweds than her sister probably appreciated.

But her new brother-in-law was far too nice and allowed her to stay over at their modest apartment frequently. Tom was his name. Thomas, her father called him, quite curtly, when he asked for her sister's hand. Tasha gagged at the thought, at the time, because all marriages were dumb and boys weren't dumb, really, but liking them so much was, especially enough to marry them. He was a family friend though, Thomas was, from way back. She couldn't think of a time, really, that Tom wasn't in their lives. His father and hers grew up together, in that very town, and got married around the same time, her mother told her with a sigh. She didn't enjoy Thomas' family near as much, but that was fine, because her opinion didn't matter near as much. All that did was what Father thought.

Oh, and her sister, Nancy. Nancy's opinion mattered. Maybe.

It didn't matter, anyways, because she very much so did want to marry Tom. Badly. For a lot of reasons, Tasha was sure, once she got older. It was a chance to get out of that house, Tom worked somewhere other than her father, and overall, he was a pretty decent guy. At no point would Tasha describe them as head over heels for one another, but that didn't always fair too well anyways. Tom was willing, if not perhaps pressured by his own father, and Nancy would do anything to get away.

Tasha didn't blame her.

In fact, once she realized that would be one less person in the girl's room, she was kind of excited. But it was only after her new brother-in-law began to teach her piano that she learned just how great it was.

Getting away from the house was a hassle in such a big family. Usually, either everyone went together, or no one went anywhere. And blood might be thicker than water, but man, there's no one you hate like your own siblings when you've been cooped up around one another for far too long. It gave her a chance to get away, even if it was just for a few hours a day, and she was plenty grateful.

"Do you even like piano? Tasha? Or music at all?" her brother-in-law asked one day as the girl struggled to get through the piece they'd been working on for the past two weeks. "Do you even practice?"

"No," she answered to all three questions. It was the truth. Well, sort of. She hated piano, practiced when forced to, and though she didn't hate music, she certainly did the kind that she was being subjected to by her father. "I don't."

He smiled at her with clear sympathy. Sometimes, especially at such a young age, it was easy to consider yourself to be the only suffering person in a situation. It was difficult to realize that those around you, even the ones that you don't particularly care for, also go through turmoil and difficulties. Though she could say nothing bad about Thomas' father, she had no doubt that the man could say a few things about him himself. Her father was the only tyrant. Her mother wasn't the only cruel woman in the world. He knew the struggles of growing up the same as her.

He'd lived it too.

"Well, what do you like then?" he asked her. Gesturing around the room, his hand went to many different places. A bookshelf, a few other instruments that hung upon the wall, even the radio lacrima that sat in the corner. "Because watching you struggle is just as frustrating to me as it is to you."

She didn't want to do much of anything in his place, really. Books were boring, more music was boring, even the radio looked boring, but that just might be because she was in a sour mood. Still, she slugged over to it after getting up from the piano book, to turn the little lacrima on. It was piled in the corner atop some flimsy, papery books and, when she lifted it up, she saw the cover beneath.

It was so bright and colorful and nothing like any book she'd seen before. Dropping the lacrima (much to the irritation of Tom), she immediately moved to pick that up instead.

"You like that comic, huh?" was what Tom finally said after some grumbles and scolding over her potentially breaking his radio. "Tasha? You can look at it, if you want."

No. She really couldn't. Or shouldn't, rather. Her father was insistent, even with her brothers, that mind numbing reading material. Inappropriate, even, was the names he used. They should read only things that enriched them. Or, rather, that he enjoyed.

That was the crux of the entire thing, wasn't it? Her father only liked for them to do things that he enjoyed. And he didn't enjoy comic books, so they weren't supposed too either.

But it was too late.

She was taken immediately.

He let her take a few home, Tom did, and after she mentioned how she wasn't supposed to had such a thing, he only winked and promised to keep it a secret if she did. But how could she? For awhile there, yeah, she could, but eventually, she found that her love went much further than just reading the comic books, but rather also place paper over them and tracing all of the interesting characters and even, sometimes, trying to draw them all on her own. The latter part didn't go too well, but she was trying. She was learning.

It happened because of the reasons listed before of why getting out of the house was a treat. Siblings could be the best people in the world to hang out with one minute and absolutely tear you to shred the next. She hadn't meant to break her brother's toy. Honest. But she had. Which meant he had to tattle on her to their father about her drawings and, in by extension, the comic books she was hiding under her mattress.

"Thomas," her father growled at him, quite curtly, the next time they saw one another and that fire in his eyes was just as filled was hate as it was when addressing his wife.

But it didn't matter. Not when her father took all of the comics and threw them out, even though they weren't hers or his to do so with. Not when he banned her from ever reading another. From ever drawing another one of her stupid character or anything, really. Not when he berated Thomas as if he were a little boy. Not when he forced her to go back to learning piano from that old hag who seemed all the more hateful, angry over been snubbed by the little girl in the first place. Not even when he threatened, should he ever see her with another comic or drawing anything of the sort ever again that he would flog her one good.

And not even when her own mother stood there and let it all happen, let the idiotic decree become the law of the land in their house simply because she was too tired to fight her husband on such a subjected as silly as keeping a child from doing something childish.

No.

It hurt. She hated it. She cried. Sometimes. But it didn't matter. But the love had already formed. And that was what was important.

Nothing her father said from that point forth would ever stop her from pursuing her newfound passion. It grew, of course, with her, as she grew. As she hid it, from him. Saved up jewels on her own, in secret, for her own art supplies. Learned that no one was trustworthy, not even the siblings you were so close to it felt like they were a part of you. She learned to keep her love to herself and not let anyone else in on it. They would only ruin it.

Most of all, she knew she couldn't do what her father wanted. Even without her art, she probably wouldn't have been able to. It was never in her. What was in her sisters. Her brothers. She thought it was, somewhere, deep down, but the older she got…

She didn't like to listen to others.

She didn't like to follow commands.

She didn't like to listen to her elders or her peers. She didn't even really like holding power, even, over her younger siblings or the nieces and nephews she had. No. Tasha didn't like being alone, but she liked having power on her own, over herself and only herself. She needed to be her own person and, at sixteen, she set out to do that.

When she returned that follow year, destroyed and crushed that so quickly she'd discovered how harsh the world was, how dangerous, how demoralizing, she came expecting everything he threw at her. Her father. The harsh words and demands of compliance. Even, maybe, not accepting her back. That was possible. That was very possible.

But instead, she found that no one was really happy she was back, mostly, or sad. Angry. Disappointed. Mostly aloof. Because something had happened.

"Is she going to be okay?" she recalled asking her brother who broke the news to her, not soon after her arrival. "Mom isn't...dying, is she?"

He let out a sort of sigh at that before assuring simply, "The doctor's will do what they can."

They would. And they did. It all turned out fine, in the end, but back then, it felt as if everything was crashing down.

That was the thing about running away from it all. Ignoring the past. You think it gets left in the pristine condition you put it in. Waiting for you. But it doesn't. Like an old lacrima in the blistering summer heat of an attic, not all things are structurally sound enough to just turn your back on. Forget about for awhile. You might come back and find them fine, yes, but never how you left them. And more often then not, completely ruined.

Her father, as bizarre as it was, turned out to be the only one that seemed to care that she was back. Or at least had something serious to say to her about it. Yes, her siblings listened to her tales and the friends in town she'd equally deserted wanted to know just what she'd gotten into (nothing good), but it was her father who commanded her to eat with him one day, alone, in the dining room. Which was fine as the older children were all married off by that point and, with their mother in the hospital, the few younger ones that hung around had been sent with their siblings until her return.

They didn't expect their father to watch them, did they?

Or want him to, probably, actually.

Tasha was broke though, if not broken, and had little else to do other than accept. He'd let her back into the hosue with no questions asked so far and, well, honestly, she was expecting him to tell her that now that she'd returned, he wanted her to get all the younger children back home and begin caring for them. She was already preparing for this fate, honestly, if not a worse one (she didn't think her father would be so cruel to marry her off so young, but she didn't put him passed him), but then he did something odd.

"What is it you carry around with you?" he grumbled to her the afternoon before their meal. "To keep your art in? A booklet or something?"

"A few," she responded in surprise as the man only waved her off and continued on down the hall.

"Bring it to dinner then."

So she did. With a bit of hesitance, of course. She was fearful the man would purposely destroy it. So she didn't bring anything special. Just a sketchbook she kept for random practice. At worst, she'd loose a few doodles and some anatomy practice, but nothing major.

It was odd though, the two of them eating all alone. She sat at her normal place at the dining table while he, of course, sat at the head, and it just felt strange. She couldn't remember the last time that she was alone with her father, but it definitely was disconcerting.

"What happened to you, then?" he finally asked after some uncomfortable silence after the butler left them there, in the big room, all alone with only their food, one another, and their resentments. "Tasha? Where did you go?"

"Away."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

"You didn't shack up with some man, did you?"

"Father-"

"Not if it makes a difference, anyhow, now. Nothing makes a difference now, really."

She frowned some, look to him then in a childish hope of catching some real emotion from him.

"Because mother is sick?"

He snorted then, rather loudly, and he'd seemed to age so much, in the year that she'd been away. Or had his hair always had so many strands of gray.

"Because who's going to marry you now? Who would I want to subject that too, anyways? Won't even listen to your own damn father. Why would I hand you off to a husband you would disrespect further? You've never listened. Ever. Hard headed. A terrible child, even from birth."

Frowning then, Tasha thought about leaving. Thought about getting up. Running off again. Only that time she wouldn't come back. She'd die out there, as penniless as she found herself before she fled back to the safety net of her family. It would be better than being near the man for another second.

Absence added forgetfulness, fine, but disillusionment was also a very heavy hand that could be dealt. A year away from the man didn't make her long for him, in no way, shape, or form, but it did give her the appearance of soft edges. The sting of his quips and put downs were softened and, especially wight the thought of her losing her mother just being presented to her, well, she honestly thought...she thought…

"Did you even look for me?"

He snorted again and she forgot how much she hated that sound.

"Did you want to be found?"

They were at a truce there. As she shook her head and started to get up to leave though, the man only reached for his glass of wine and spoke once more.

"Are you going to show it to me? Tasha?" He waved his free hand at her. "Your art?"

She didn't want to. She really didn't want to. But, for some reason, she found herself going over to him anyways and slamming the notebook down on the table, making the man give her quite the look, but he didn't look at it until she returned to her seat. Even then she was waiting for something. Something dramatic. Something evil. Something so like her father that she couldn't even stand it.

Instead, he only opened it at first, glanced through it, then at her, then back down at it, turning the pages slowly and with some sort of thought. Then, after a long sigh, he shook his head.

"I don't want you here, Tasha." Before she could protest though, he added, "And you do not wish to be here. Do you? You never have. Your sisters...even your brothers… You're not special, you know? You think you are though. You always have. You know the difference between them and you, Tasha? It's not that you're talented or that you're wittier or more cunning. No. It's that they knew what they had to do to get what they want. You never knew. You thought that plowing ahead on your own would get you there. And did it? Must not have, since you're back here, once more, with me-"

"What do you want?" she finally cut him off and that got her a glare, but she didn't care. Not in the slightest. "Father? What do you want me to say? Or do? If you're going to kick me out-"

"I have friend...a friend of a friend, honestly, who I've spoken to you about. You'll train under him. For a fee. And, if he likes you, perhaps, if that's how it works. I honestly do not know, with you...artists. Is that what you consider yourself? Some sort of artist, Tasha? Fine. Go play with the other ones, somewhere else. Away from me. Do not return again. I don't...I don't want to see you again."

She was at a loss. But not pleased. In the slightest.

"I… Mother is sick. I can't just leave her! What if she… I can't go. I won't. I-"

"This is a one time offer, Tasha. For once you will listen. Or else you can go back out on the street and find your own way again. If that's what you want, fine, but I am offering you, only once, to go and do as you please. If not… Are you that hard headed, girl? If someone tells you to live your dream, you refuse to do it because you yourself are not in control of it? Do you not know what the others would give for me to make them that offer? If your mother being sick hurts you so, then pretend as if she's well. Just as you did for the whole year you were gone. Pretend that we are all fine here. Go. You will never have an opportunity like this again."

"You don't even understand, do you?" And she was crying because, in that moment, she truly believed she was not only being forced from her home, but also her mother who she cared for in some facet. It was different, on her own terms. Now...now… "You never understood. Why are you doing this? Do you really hate me that much?"

"No." And he put down his cup and closed the sketchbook. "You're my daughter. I'm doing this because I love you."

She was close to being seventeen. So very close. She could do whatever she wanted. Outside of his house, fine, but one of her siblings would take her in. Her second older brother, he cared for her a lot. He'd endure the wrath of their father. She knew he would. And yet…

It became for the best, of course. 'Training under' was a weird way of putting it, but her father's 'friend' of sorts did need a new apprentice, and their styles were different, she was difficult to teach as she was so stuck in her ways at such a young age, but they got long. Ooh, they got along. Perhaps more than her father would have appreciated. Btu he wasn't there. No one was. And the man knew people who knew people who knew people and she outgrew him eventually. They out grew one another. She moved on and it was just an endless ladder, really, of people and places and sometimes it was hard.

It was always hard, really.

There wasn't much money in most things, but the things that there was money in felt fleeting until you grasped a hold of them. Held them tightly. You trick yourself into believing they never fade. But they do, of course they do, but that was art.

That's what he told her, that first night they met. He was the first man she was ever...well. It was immediate or anything. He really did seem to think, of her as a stupid teenage girl who's rich father was pawning off on him and, oh, she was, then, but then suddenly, she seemed to be much more.

She got the letter, eventually, from her sister Nancy, that her mother had improved and seemed like she'd pull through and, well, what better news was there than that? Except...it just made her feel a bit empty, it did. Tasha remembered trying to explain it to many people through the years, but it just never falling out of her mouth quite right. It was difficult.

It wouldn't be for many years that she finally found someone who completely understood what she meant. Or at least pretended to. He was convincing, anyways.

She met Laxus on a particularly terrible trip across Magnolia where inspiration was zapped from her and she felt as if she'd never sale a single painting again. She'd end up broke once more and have to find menial work to get her back home. Or find a new home, maybe, even and just abandon her old.

It was while she was in deep consideration over both topics when he showed up at the small tavern and sat down right beside her. Right beside her.

But didn't speak to her. Or look at her.

She knew that game.

And yet…

There was a certain allure about the man. She'd heard there was a mage in town and she picked up immediately form his overall aura that he certainly was the one. The air felt more electric with him around and…

It was so stupid. Even speaking to him. But after downing a beer straight, he glanced at her, finally, and he had this glint in his eye and, well, it'd just been a while.

It had been a long while.

The draw she'd felt to him, originally, had been sexual, but the one that attracted him to her seemed to be...so much more. She couldn't know, of course, of the thoughts Mirajane Strauss had already sown in his head, the fears, the doubts, but the hope.

The hope was a big one.

And he wanted to talk. So fucking much. He kept gushing, the whole time after, as they laid there. She listened, of course, but a lot of what he said seemed rambled and rushed. Like he felt like he couldn't get it all out in time.

"Do you have to leave or something?" she asked him when it all just acme out. "Laxus? Tomorrow?"

He looked conflicted, but only for a few moments. Just as quickly, his head was shaking and he buried it back into her neck and she laughed perhaps too loudly for such thin walls in the inn, but she didn't care. He didn't care. It was just them, it felt like, for those hours. Days. Was it a week? Was it more?

When he left, he had all sorts of promises on his tongue and she didn't believe a single one of them. She wasn't the little apprentice that just wanted someone to love her, just notice her, really, appreciate her and her art and what she thought and said. No, not anymore. She'd grown a lot over the years. Which, yes, did included many partners that led to regression, but she was in a good place, honestly, when she met Laxus. Maybe not financially or directionally, but romantically? Yes. Definitely. She was happy.

But she could be so much more happier, as she found out.

Laxus didn't lie. He did a lot though, actually. But not to her. Which was a huge red flag, of course, especially how upfront about it he was, but she still…

Home didn't need her. Immediately. If she hung around in the area long enough, got to know him some more, then…

She didn't know.

She didn't know anything, really, about what she wanted from him. He seemed like such a well put together man and yet, as she'd seen that first night, there was something wrong with him. No one is as strong as they appear, underneath, but him…

"You're a mess," she remarked one night as he leaned against the hotel building she was staying at, puffing at a cigar. It looked out of place, really, to be doing such a thing there. Not at all as regal as her father always made smoking them seem. And yet…

In one of his silent moods (she could fall into those herself), Laxus only puffed some and considered her words before, slowly, remarking, "So are you."

"So are we all," she corrected." She had a camera with her. She wanted to go and take some photographs, she said, of things. To remind her of this place. Maybe she could get some inspiration from them later, when she was away from them. She wouldn't be in this part of the Kingdom again for a long while.

"Unless," he added as she told him she was going to head out to do this, "you are."

And she gave him a look then, out of curiously, before she rose the camera to her eye and took an out of focus shot of him, there, making a face at her. That one he made when he thought he was right. It looked even worse, probably, with the cigar dangling from his mouth. She wouldn't know. She'd lose the camera before she got it developed.

But it was well enough.

She found inspiration in other ways.

It hurt, the first time that she nicked her tongue along his sharpest of canines and she didn't like it. Blood was never a turn on for her. But the way he laughed at her, at first, then became so concerned when she shoved at his chest and rolled away from them on the bed, it made her feel…

"You don't love me, do you, Laxus?"

He was very busy, when she asked that, lacing up his boots, and only asked in his deadpanned tone, "What's love?"

"Laxus-"

"Do you want me to?"

"Does it matter if I do?"

"It matters what I'll tell you in you response."

"I thought you'd never lie to me?"

He groaned too, and said her name, before looking over his shoulder at her, to stare dead in her eyes, as he said, "I guess I do. If that's what this feeling is. I honestly don't know."

It was good enough for her. Terrifying for him, but good enough for her.

Laxus never asked about her family. She took it at first to mean he didn't care, but that couldn't be it. No way. He seemed so invested in her and everything and, oh, man, when she met his friends, she finally understood why he never brought it up.

He wasn't used to knowing people who actually had them.

It made her feel pretty shitty to hear about poor Bickslow (as creepy as she found him) and his life. About Evergreen (as big a bitch as she appeared) and her wretched, abusive father. And Freed. Nice, kind Freed (who she clearly felt resented and hated her from the start) and the things Laxus refused to even share with her.

It all made sense.

Why did life always make so much sense?

So she brought it up, one day when he was talking about how shitty Ivan was (who she also found to be evil and disgusting and it really mattered, didn't it, who painted the picture) about her own father. Laxus seemed surprised, when she chimed in with her own story, and it felt childish, really, when placed beside his. Her father never tried to carve a lacrima out of her body.

"No," Laxus said with a shrug. "He didn't. Just tried to destroy your entire life because…you were a shit child? Sounds pretty similar to me."

Only if you squint.

He thought that he would hate her. Thought that he would resent her. When she said that her mother getting sick and then better….didn't right all the wrongs in her life. Didn't make her feel anything, really. Didn't bring her to outright tears.

That she didn't appreciate her mother getting through her sickness when his had been ripped away from him when he needed her the most.

But Laxus didn't say any of those things. Didn't think them, even, she was nearly certain.

Only shrugged and said, "Fuck 'em then."

It really seemed to his motto in life.

She had to tell them, of course, all of them, when Laxus proposed to her. Had to take him down there to meet them. All of them. Each brother and every sister. Made him pretend to give a shit about her nieces and nephews and told him when he shook her father's hand to look him in the eye and try not to rage at him, okay? It was best to just get through things.

"If you just press through the things you don't want to do," she sighed to him, after being forced to learn this lesson all on her own, "eventually you get to do the things you do."

Not all of his it was pleasant. Her father didn't like him, he wasn't a fan of mages, but her mother… She hadn't seen her mother in so long and…

She was glad she was there.

It might not have meant much when she was still figuring out her place in life, but to know she was there now that she'd found it, still around, to maybe, one day, reconcile, to maybe one day become close, maybe even friends…

Options were nice, at least.

Options were always nice.

There was one highlight though. Presenting her brother-in-law Tom (and, by proxy, her sister) some nice artwork to hang in the house they'd just recently moved in, as they'd begged her to do for ages, made the circle all feel complete.

"I don't understand it," Nancy told her with a polite smile as they hung it right there in the entrance way, for all to see. "But...I like it."

"I love it," Tom told her and clapped Tasha on the shoulder as he stared at it. "And I think I understand it perfectly."

But how could he?

How could a darkened face before a blue hued sky with a red tipped cigar dangling from its mouth mean anything to him? It couldn't. It wasn't something to interpret or understand, after all. Nancy only meant she didn't get why that, out of all the things Tasha had rolling around in her brain, was what she gave them, but it was just as well.

Art wasn't always just about being understood.

Sometimes it was just about being accepted.

The thing that killed her about it all was how well Laxus meant. With her. He always meant well. And yet he'd done it. The one thing she'd always known he would do and the one thing she'd also somehow never managed to prepared for him to do.

He broke his promise.

He lied.

He lied to her.

About the biggest thing in the world.

And now she didn't know how they were going to overcome it.

"Mira's not going to like this, you know," he complained as if she knew the woman. She didn't. Never even met her.

Still, with a hallow smile, she sent him on his way. "I know."

She wanted him to start exerting his rights. That's how he put it, anyways. She thought of it more as actually taking care of a responsibility that you've neglected for years and years just because it wasn't of interest to you. Just because it wasn't something that fit into your perfect world.

Laxus was going to love his daughter.

She was going to love his daughter.

Mirajane Strauss was going to love the fact that they loved her daughter.

And then they could all be one big happy, functional family.

Or else.

He was right, of course. Mirajane vetoed the idea immediately.

"She doesn't know you, Laxus," she told him and her blue eyes flashed those dark shades and man, did it just get colder in the room? "She's not going to go...where with you? Where is it that you live? Exactly? She won't even go down the street with you! You're a stranger. You-"

"She's my daughter, Mira."

"By blood only."

At least they were officially seeing eye to eye on that part of things.

"Then you come," he complained as he stood in the Strauss kitchen, late one evening. He'd taken Aura out with him, to dinner, along with her mother and aunt, where the three adults seemed to be unable to focus on the three-year-old, truly, as they spent far more time glaring at one another and hating the situation they all felt as if the other had gotten them into. "Mirajane. You come down, with her, and I'll… I'll put you up in a hotel. You can meet Tasha-"

"I don't want-"

"Mira, it doesn't matter what you want anymore. We did three years of what you want-"

"If you're just only going to ever bring that up-"

"What else is there to bring up? Huh? When you-"

"I can't. Anyways." Mira took a deep breath then, from where she was standing over by the counter. "Laxus. Right now. I've taken too much time off from the hall recently and-"

"Mira, you can't be serious."

"Well, I am, so if you want this to happen, why doesn't your wife-"

"She has a name."

"What difference does it-"

"I'll go."

That came from Lisanna. She was at the table, looking back and forth from Laxus by the kitchen doorway to where Mira was standing. It was starting to hurt her neck, honestly, moving it back and forth at such angles.

"What?" Mira made a face. "Lisanna-"

"What do you think the woman's going to do, Mira? Kidnap Aura?" She even rolled her eyes, Lisanna did. "By inviting her demonic mother over to her home?"

"Laxus, did that, actually, so-"

"Mirajane-"

"If Lisanna goes," Laxus cut them off, "can Aura go? Mira? I won't… You know that I'm not going to do anything without your permission, but you have to work with me. On this. You have to-"

"Fine!" And she dropped her arms then, from where they'd been crossed, and even huffed some. "Fine. If that's what you want, Laxus, fine. But if she so much as cries to come home, Lisanna is taking her back there. She's not an animal. She's a child. A human. She has feelings and emotions too. If she wants to leave or get away from you or...or Tasha, then-"

"I'm not vindictive, Mirajane." His arms dropped too. "I'm just trying to make this work."

But it wouldn't. They knew it wouldn't. Lisanna knew, Laxus knew, Mira knew. Aura probably knew, at least a little, maybe, as her mother told her she was going on a short trip with Lisanna that next morning.

"And Laxus," she added in the most hype she could put in her voice (for a woman that faked so much over the years, it was a pitiful attempt). "But not Mommy. Is that okay? You can take whatever you want with you. It'll only be for a short while. Then when you get back-"

"Why?" her daughter cut her off and that was her new thing. She asked that about anything and everything constantly in those days. "Mommy?"

"Because," Mira sighed, knowing it would never make sense, really, to the little girl, "it's just what we have to do. What we don't want to. You just have to get through it."

This wasn't a satisfactory answer, of course, but Aura was already busy deciding how she was going to shove all of her dresses and shirts and shoes and stuffed animals into her tiny little suitcase she used for when she slept over at Uncle Elf's house.

It wouldn't be easy, but if anyone could do it, she certainly could.

"You and your wife won't really kidnap Aura, will you?" Lisanna asked Laxus on the train ride as he grit his teeth, the little girl slept against her aunt, and the younger woman only stared across at him, from her seat. "Laxus? Because I really don't need to have Mira on my case about this. At a time like this."

"Time like this?" he asked through gritted teeth as he tried to think of everything other than the fact he had to hurl and, should he, he'd probably do it on his precious, sleeping little daughter who still seemed pretty suspect about him.

But Lisanna wouldn't answer and he knew, anyways. Some of it, at least. Sisters, especially two as bonded the Strausses, were beyond him, but he knew about betrayal.

He knew all about betrayal.

"Get me through the next few days, Lisanna, without your sister having to be called, "he finally sighed as his eyes turned to out the window, hoping something out there would calm his stomach. "If you were ever worth anything, this has to be it. You weren't given a second chance for nothing, were you?'

That made her glare at him, seriously then, before remarking, "No, but you probably were."

There was a grin then, in his teeth gritting, as he agreed. "You have no idea."

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#Miraxus #Mirajane Strauss #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction #Lisanna Strauss #11 of ?

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