#not only that but the sheer strength of his character after going through a trauma like that

[handfulofmuses]

Bluebell man.

Unlike Holly, he was underground when it all happened. Keep in mind, he is also the ONLY survivor from the rabbits who were underground. Holly said he can only imagine what it must have been like, but Bluebell interrupts him, saying that he can't and takes over the story.

Bluebell telling about everything that happens underground is the only serious moment in the book with him.

He was in the poisoned burrows. He was there when the does did not want to leave their kittens and attacked any rabbit that came close. He was there when rabbits were desperately trying to get out, clambering over each other and even ending up killing each other in the process. The cries for help. Kittens who were screaming for their mothers. Owsla trying to give orders during all that. The dead rabbit that came tumbling towards him - the same dead rabbit that he had to tear at to get out. Pimpernel trying to help him out, but constantly confused over everything and Bluebell biting him out fear that he might die and block the way. The guy has most likely PTSD himself from the event but he needed to keep himself and Holly going so he coped with jokes.

Just - the strength that must have took.

[prismaticpichu]

I’ve always thought this about Sephiroth, really since my first Wikipedia dive into who the heck he was, but EC’s starting to accentuate it all again in my mind~

*puts on dollar store glasses, clears throat*

Sephiroth was thrust into war at the age when most people are just learning that there are three different categorizations of rocks in the world. Was sent to smell the stench of death before probably ever smelling a real birthday cake. Was sent to get blood on his hands, raze villages, and most likely take the reins as some kind of military commander before most people can get their hands on a learner’s permit. And that’s not even taking into account all the magma beneath that—all the training and preparation that most likely swallowed any semblance of a normal childhood. Yes, true, the idea of “Sephiroth growing up in a lab and being given biweekly Mako surgeries and being fed gelatinous enzyme sludge” is fanon, but we can still take away from Sephiroth’s vitriol and disgust towards Hojo that he wasn’t playing catch with the guy as a toddler. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that, from a disgustingly young age, Sephiroth had to endure an experience more rattlingly tragic and red and horrific than anything most children could even fathom. Something that would take someone’s heart and twist it until it could hardly beat anymore.

And yet…..

Sephiroth is still kind. After everything.

In all seriousness, I genuinely think it’s an underrated part of his character—and my absolute favorite thing about it. Just the sheer fact that despite weathering through years of war, and all the terrors that come with it, and Sephiroth is still shown in CC to be an objectively good-hearted person. He flew in to save Zack from burning alive by Ifrit. He was patient, calm, and polite with him, even telling him tenderly to “take care” after one of their encounters—even permitting Zack to go back to the slums and protect Aerith. He happily allowed Cloud to go visit his family on their mission to Nibelheim. He stepped in without hesitation to donate his blood to Genesis. He wanted to protect his friends with everything he had—even if it would cost him the only life he had ever known. He never stopped being kind.

That is fucking STRENGTH.

It’s easy to let trauma be an excuse to treat others miserably, letting it all bleed out and not caring about the mess we make in the process. Sometimes, we just don’t know how to digest those things properly, and they get regurgitated the wrong way. And sometimes we forget how to treat people with kindness when we are so deluged with our own burdens. Heck…. It’s not always easy to be kind PERIOD.

The fact that Sephiroth was, in spite of the tumultuous cards he was dealt, in spite of how life treated him, is what gave him the title of hero.

And made it all the more tragic when he lost it.

[rfswitchart]

A Lesson From Owl House That Gets Overlooked

So, I don't know if you know this, but I used to have a tendency of bottling things up. I was scared of people being angry and upset with me, so I pushed everything way down and tried to not let things get to me. And the things I've been through are horrific at the kindest appraisal. I think you know why I'm bringing this up... So let's not waste time and just talk about the two most self-conscious characters in the series; Luz and Willow.

I don't know if you noticed this through the series, but Luz internalizes EVERYTHING. Even before Hollow Mind and the whole "I accidentally helped a genocidal maniac carry out his wicked plan" thing, Luz was quietly baring the burden of grief and trauma. We don't know the full scope of the bullying she endured, it was probably hellish and certainly isolated her. Not only that, but she was carrying the pain of losing her father, which she also internalized.

Because of this, along with the bullying and the lack of support from adults in her life (save for Camila,) Luz doesn't really have a great support system until she meets Eda and King. And even then, it took Willow, Gus, and especially Amity for her to really open up about things.

Meanwhile, Willow was browbeaten by virtually everyone in her life. Amity, Boscha, teachers, everyone looked down on her, calling her 'Half-a-Witch,' forced into learning Abomination magic by her dads instead of the Plant magic she excels at. And of course, instead of that pain manifesting as grief and misery, Willow's internalization of her emotions turns to anger, frustration, and self-loathing as we see the first time we meet her.

Of course, she befriends Gus and Luz and things start to get better, but they depend on her strength and wisdom too much, which allows her to mask her feelings in favor of helping and supporting her friends. We see that it doesn't help that much, especially after Amity once again hurts her by accidentally burning all of her memories.

Granted, things worked out between them, but Amity (subconsciously, as she was genuinely concerned and cared about Willow) was looking down on her much later. And yes, Willow gets to be in the Plant track and becomes the Flier Derby captain of her dreams. However she's still hard on herself, still keeping herself from letting things out... Oh, did you guys not notice that in For the Future? Because Boscha was egging her on and antagonizing her in a moment of weakness, Willow was going to probably hurt or even kill her bully out of sheer anger.

Yeah, if that scene played out any further and she wasn't rendered unconscious by sleeping nettles, Willow was going to do something incredibly bad. I think Elijah (not-so-average-fangirl) saw that too, which is why she said "Willow, are you ok?" during that scene. I know from personal experience that Willow was at her absolute breaking point and when you realize that, it's terrifying. She was going to let out her anger violently on someone who deserved it, but not to the extent that she was clearly going to go with it. It's also why Willow does indeed breakdown after that. She can no longer control her emotions, especially after seeing her dad puppeted and the guy she clearly had feelings for die in her arms...

Of course, we know how both Luz's breakdown in Reaching Out and Willow's breakdown in For the Future resolve. They both talk about it or let out their emotions, and they do so in front of the people that matter the most to them.

For Luz, she tells Amity about her dad. She cries over it in front of her and they resolve their first real fight since going out. Then, they both make flowers and cast them off over the Boiling Sea, continuing the tradition of Luz and her mom without being in the Human Realm. Amity's also the one that tries to comfort Luz the most after learning about Belos, because even if our hero isn't feeling great about what happened, she still someone who truly loves and supports her.

For Willow, it was a need for someone who doesn't rely on her telling her that it was ok to let it out. Someone who could stop her and beg her to never call herself 'Half-a-Witch' again. Someone who truly understood all the pain she was going through and was willing to both support her and let her vent. Now who could that be...?

Of course, Gus did obviously help in that scene, but Willow needed to hear it from Hunter. She needed someone who has only ever seen her as strong who didn't depend on her for support to just say 'you've been holding in a lot, haven't you?' Granted, I won't say you need romantic love to let your feelings and pain out to, but I am saying that a strong enough and supportive enough person can help with that. That's why Gus being there in the Willow breakdown was important. That's why all of Luz's friends telling her that helping Belos wasn't her fault was important. The most important thing about bottling emotions is to have someone there to talk to, be it friend, family, lover, or therapist.

[brisbookmark]

The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head. 

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound. 

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now. 

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her. 

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all. 

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again. 

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother, 

No, he couldn’t. 

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her. 

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already. 

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth. 

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar. 

No. Please, anything but that. 

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries. 

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again. 

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones. 

"Wrong!" 

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult. 

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried. 

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths. 

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting. 

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain, 

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway. 

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes. 

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for. 

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all. 

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him. 

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!" 

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness. 

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this? 

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck. 

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A. 

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting. 

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it. 

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing. 

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball. 

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go. 

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer. 

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him. 

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder. 

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared. 

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever. 

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him. 

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

x

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old. 

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness. 

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay. 

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. 

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like. 

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear. 

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up. 

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.  

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters. 

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running. 

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement. 

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!" 

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause. 

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster. 

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle. 

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities. 

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men. 

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm. 

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar. 

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd. 

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room. 

No. 

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again. 

x

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

[dreamsclock]

...au where dream dies at the final disc confrontation, (loosing a cannon life during the minecraft hit, but didn't tell anyone)

Also can I take check anon?

i’m not the proudest of this ficlet bc i wrote it while sick ndkjncdk, but i hope it’s okay anyway !! :)

warnings: major character death, permanent death, grief, emotional distress, murder, trauma, crying, hurt no comfort, unhappy ending

And the villain drops dead, because at the end of the story, all good villains do.

Sapnap watches, stares numbly as he does so — it’s easy to be big talk by donning armour and joining in group discussions about killing Dream, harder to keep up his strength in those ideas upon seeing him, impossible to comprehend when Dream sinks to the floor, dead. It’s not graceful, it’s not even dignified: his death is messy and inelegant and makes Sapnap want to laugh, hysterically, at the falseness of it all.

Because it’s a joke, isn’t it? It has to be a joke.

Dream doesn’t die so easily.

...His Dream doesn’t die so easily.

And yet there he lies, unmoving, to prove otherwise: Sapnap is at his side, because of course he is, though he doesn’t quite remember how he’d got there, and he’s prying at his mask with hands that shake too much to be his own. Nothing feels real — disconnected from his own body, the mad desperation that possesses him speaks through his mouth, croaks out a “turn away” that has people obeying automatically, all of them stunned.

It’s not supposed to be this easy. And fuck, it hasn’t been easy — not for Tommy, who looks like he’s going to collapse any minute, not Tubbo, who is mute and exhausted and bleeding worryingly heavily from his shoulder, not for fucking any of them, and somehow Sapnap still can’t believe Dream would die so easily. The fight hadn’t even broken out. There had been no big fight: he’d surrendered, dropped his weapons and armour, and died.

It has to be a joke. This can’t be Dream.

Sapnap stares into the face of his best friend after removing his mask and sees that it is. No impersonator on earth could fake Dream’s face, because he’s the only one who’s seen it, because Dream’s face is unique in the happiness it brings Sapnap. The same joy is drowned out now by a tidal wave of thundering horror: a sharp overwhelming thudding of his heart that sings your fault your fault your fault your your your in an off key rhythm he can’t dismiss from his head.

He’s only dimly aware of the ragged noise that leaves his lips, only dimly aware of collapsing over Dream’s body, seizing his hand with a desperate urgency and trying to will him back to life through sheer force of desperation alone. And it doesn’t work, obviously, but the fact it doesn’t only leaves him feeling worse.

Try harder, he urges himself, and then the thought returns that you should have tried harder with him before, and leaves him sobbing, breathing in the familiar scent of Dream’s hoodie and unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.

Dream is dead. He’ll be back, because he promised never to leave him alone. Dream can’t come back. But he will. Dream is dead and gone and it’s your fault and it’s my fault and Dream promised he wouldn’t leave my side he promised it would be him and George and me forever and this is not forever and

“Sap,” Quackity whispers, and he’s tugging him away from Dream, turning him to cry into his arms instead, “Sap, hey, come on, I’ve got you, I promise I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t say it’s okay, because for Sapnap it’s not, and both of them know it. Sapnap crawls into his arms and doesn’t once let go of his iron grip of Dream’s hoodie, clenching his fist hard enough to hurt inside it and feeling the world crumble apart around the three of them. Quackity doesn’t say it’s okay, because despite Sapnap being so eager to fight Dream, despite him training to put a sword through his stomach, he’d never wanted it — Sapnap hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t expected it, and nothing will ever be alright again.

The others are moving out. Taking Tommy and Tubbo back to base. And Sapnap is frozen. Quackity doesn’t try to move him. Inexplicably, he misses Karl.

(He misses Dream. There’s nothing inexplicable about that. He misses Dream, and he misses his best friend, and he misses his brother.)

The villain lies, dead, unmoving, long into the night until Quackity manages to coax Sapnap to his feet and into picking Dream up to take through the portal.

The server rejoices that night. They celebrate, they dance: Tommy laughs in dizzying relief and Tubbo cries in happiness to know they’re safe.

Sapnap digs Dream’s grave alone, and buries him without a funeral.

It’s not what his best friend would have asked for, but it’s the best he can give him.

(He cries alone, to the distant sound of music, until the sun begins to rise and it starts to rain.)

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt. 1

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader 

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut 

↳ (3.7k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread. 

➟ Warnings: This series will involve themes of graphic violence, depictions of blood, major character death and hints of trauma. 18+ rating. Reader discretion is highly advised. 

gif credit. 

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, December 22 

Love is a strange thing. 

It pulls individuals together, sparking fireworks and blissful rays of euphoria within seconds. It renders people affectionate, words dripped with honey and caresses full of tenderness transcending  without a means of stopping. To be frank, it’s majestic through the eyes of the beholder. 

But love is indeed a strange thing. 

It’s history has been plagued with moments of weakness and hesitation, moments that rip away layers to reveal raw, vulnerable selves from every individual. It’s inability to forget and move on clutches onto the minds of those that chose to associate with it, invading their memories and never granting them a single second to run free. Love is a strange thing, but it’s most putrid use has always been the necessity to use it like a tool. 

A deep breath escapes your tinted red lips, cold hands clutching onto the delicate bouquet that’s been thrust into them. The petal pink and lilac purple flowers rest against the chaste white of your dress, the awaited arrival of yours long passed as you raise your head and sneak a peek at the person standing in front of you behind your veil. 

Clad in a special tailored suit for the occasion, his dark brown hair has been brushed back and neatly tucked into the corners of his hair. He stands tall and confident, seemingly captivated by the words the priest mumbles through as he drags on through every dull phase written in his book. As if he can tell your eyes are on him, he suddenly looks in your direction and you return your gaze back to the ground, clutching onto the array of petals in your hands. 

The priest goes on to dutifully declare the responsibilities you must carry, including the very ones that tie you to each other. 

For better, for worse. Rich, poor. Sickness, health. 

Love. Cherish. 

“Until death do you part?” The priest peers up with fatigued eyes, glancing in between you. You suck in a shaky breath, eyes fixating on everything except for the man standing on the opposing side.  

“I-I do.” You hastily mutter, swallowing the lump stuck in your throat. Patiently waiting for his answer, you try not to focus on the collection of eyes gawking at you from the altar. 

“I do.” He states, firm and resolute with his answer. It shakes you to your core, eyes immediately flickering up to meet his warm ones. 

You’re perplexed for a moment, but you’re not given time to dwell any longer once the priest shuts his book, content with your answers. Relief floods you in an instant, yet it’s short-lived and has your stomach churning instead. 

“You may kiss the bride.” The priest steps back as if you needed room for the grandiose gesture, eagerly awaiting the showcase with the rest of the people seated in front of the altar. Nevertheless, your hands begin to quiver despite your best wishes and you remain planted in place. 

Before you even know it, the delicate veil resting against your forehead is being pulled up and tucked away, projecting your dolled up features on full display. You can only fidget when he draws near, preparing for the worse until he pauses. 

Glancing up in surprise, you’re caught off guard from the lines crossing his forehead and the dismay clouding his eyes. For a second, you could have sworn that you were gazing into a mirror, an image of your combined concerns being painted right in front of you. 

You’re caught in between a daze and bewilderment when he advances again, however all you feel is a soft peck against your skin before your veil is placed back into place. Your audience seems to be at loss with the action, but once he turns around to face them in the midst of holding your hand, loud cheers and roars flood the room as congratulatory confetti bursts into the room. 

Unconsciously, your hand drifts over to your cheek with furrowed brows and you steal another glance at the man you will be bound to for eternity. 

***

The L/N Family. 

Tactical and resourceful, known for their skillful strategies and trade explorations, a business they would go on to proudly pronounce in the arms industry. Others would look to them for support and reassurance, and they would in return cohesively make protective deals that would ensure no harm. Yonghwa, their head, would go on to make a legacy out of his family name. 

The Kim Family. 

Discreet and powerful, known for their relentless determination and invokable hunger, characteristics that would eventually seep into their weapon manufacturing business. They know how and with whom to pick their fights, vigorously acquiring a steady position in the industry within a flash before everyone’s eyes. Namjung, their head, carved the Kim name into a status no one would have ever imagined. 

Trade and manufacturing, two able sides of the same coin. They seeked to forge an union that would unite their two sectors, to create a harmonious flow of success within their collective industries. 

But not all deals, go as planned. 

On the fateful day, Yonghwa was found on the ground in a pool of his own blood while Namjung was left visibly shaken. Catastrophe seemed to only follow the event there on after, with both families seeking revenge on the other. Their union seemed to be the last thing on either mind, but after the years passed and stained relations had been fully dragged out, there only seemed to be one solution that could bring peace to the two of them. 

*** 

The wheels of the large suitcase hit the polished ground. 

It’s lavish and grand, crystals littering the high held ceiling and lilies spread over the handles of the spiraling staircase. It ends right at the large chandelier, with more crystals dangling down opposite the shining marble that your slippers find purchase in. 

You remain in place, staring with wide eyes and an agape jaw the scenery before you. 

“Please,” A girl bows before you, dressed in a simple pale blouse and skirt that’s paired with an apron. There’s a small twinkle in her pleasant eyes paired with natural pouting lips; the delicate features drawing out the sheer youth the girl embodies. “Follow me.” 

You snap out of your daze once she advances forward, her hands careful weaving through yours to clutch onto your packed luggage. At first, you’re a bit unsure as to if you should let her carry the heavy load up the stairs, but you’re pleasantly surprised when she manages to hall it all the way up.

She roughly pushes herself against a large wooden door, revealing the grand room behind it. It’s decorated similarly to the main portion of the house, however the sheer size of it has your jaw dropping again, eyebrows furrowed as its appearance. 

Your suspicions are confirmed right away, “This will be your room, Miss Y/N.” 

“I-I…” You can’t help but hesitate, “Are you sure?”

She nods, placing your luggage now. “Of course, Master Kim asked us to prepare it for you.” 

You instinctively flinch at the sudden mention of your husband, but the girl tilts her head to the side, curiosity peeking through her. 

“Don’t they have such rooms in the L/N residence?” Her eyes suddenly widen, and she slaps a hand against her mouth, “Oh no, I-I didn’t mean it that way!” 

A smile curls on the corners of your lips, “What’s your name?” 

She gazes at you with surprise, like she had been expecting a scolding fit for her lifetime. Nonetheless, she hastily answers your question with a bow. 

“I am Eunjoo, one of Master Kim’s most faithful servants.” 

“Little flower.” You decipher, “Sounds like a fitting name.” 

“It could have been summer’s grace.” Eunjoo offers with a shrug, “Though I don’t really like summer, so I’ve tried my best to ignore that meaning.” 

You let out a genuine chuckle from that, something that has Eunjoo instantly beam. The news of her own Master getting married to someone from the L/N family was initially difficult for her to digest, but it appears that she was too early to judge. 

A lopped smile etching onto your features, “And to answer your previous question, unfortunately the L/N’s don’t have such a residence. We’ve lost much of our wealth after‒…” You pause, biting back your words, “...after, you know.” 

You wave your hand away in the air and Eunjoo understandably nods, no need to delve into the long-lived history of your families that is known to all. She hurriedly aids in you in unpacking much to your reassured protests, following and assisting you around like a little fairy. Her company ends up being both interesting and comfortable, especially since the two of you discovered the other wasn’t well in adapting the titles you carry. 

A knock resounds against the door, drawing out your attention. Immediately Eunjoo drops the clothes in her hands, right before she straightens up and takes a graceful bow. 

Her reaction is telling of who's at the door, so with pinched lips and a creased forehead, you turn around. 

He remains glued to the door frame, still adorned in his tailored black suit. Aside from the similarity in his put together appearance though, his shoulders are no longer hiked up in a noble stance, nor is there any remaining amount of warmth spreading through his eyes. Instead, he appears akin to how he was in the split-second before your ultimate union was official, the memory causing the skin of your cheek to slightly burn. 

Swaying from side to side, he hesitates to step into the room. 

“I see you’ve met Eunjoo.” He mentions. On cue, the servant straightens up, a huge smile on her lips. 

“I was just helping Miss Y/N unpack!” 

“Oh that’s nice, perhaps I can assist to‒” He isn’t able to finish his sentence, because the next thing you know you jolt at the sound of a loud crash that echoes through the room. 

“Master Kim!” Eunjoo immediately rushes forward, scurrying to help the fallen man. He instantly rises up to his feet and dusts off his suit jacket, but remains of glass are scattered all over the ground. 

He lets out a groan and Eunjoo sighs, “Master, you know you have to be careful.” She begins to quickly pluck up the shards of the vase, raising one up to eye level with a pout, “I especially picked this one out for your newly wedded wife.” 

At the mention of you, Namjoon instantly glances up, pupils shaking. “I-I can get you a new one soon, it might take around a week but if I put in a request now‒” He scrambles around for a moment, before checking the inner pockets of his jacket for something to write on in a haste. 

Unconsciously, a small smile cracks through the seam of your lips, increasing as he tries to intervene with Eunjoo to pick the shards, and she protests that he shouldn’t get his hands soiled with her errands. He eventually has to sheepishly stand to the side, staring at her defeated like a child that had just gotten scolded for misbehaving. 

Eunjoo eventually collects all the pieces and ushers herself out, reminding you of the pending family dinner you’ll need to attend in the evening. She leaves the room and you decide to resume unpacking, until you come across the realization that you’re not alone. 

“Do you need help?” He peers at your suitcase behind you, “I’m usually more capable with things that aren’t easy to break.” 

The abrupt proximity catches you by surprise, but you merely shake your head at his kind offer, “I should be fine, thank you.” 

He nods and you assume he’ll excuse himself after a moment, but he lingers and that’s when you crane your head over at him. 

Appearing to be in between a deep ponder, he snaps back into reality once your questioning eyes fall onto him. “Uh I‒” A lengthy sigh leaves his lips, “I know this is strange.”

You wonder what he's referring to until you notice him gesturing to the gap between you, “It’s strange for me, and it’s strange for you. We didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” 

He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, a deep crease forming between his brows. You’re frozen in place, at a complete loss for words. 

He suddenly sucks in a breath, looking up to gaze into your eyes, “But I’d like to get to know you better….a-as my future wife.” 

Your eyes round and his declaration only receives dead silence in its awake. Flabbergasted, he attempts to correct himself amidst your prolonged response. 

“T-That doesn’t mean right away! We can take our time and I’m not expecting anything from you, so you don’t need to worry and‒” 

“I’d like that.” 

He freezes, “Wait, really?” 

You hum, a corner of your mouth lifting, “You’re right, it’s strange. But I’d like to get to know my husband better as well.” 

His eyes immediately sparkle, like you’ve said the very words he’s been aching to hear, “That’s great!” A breathtaking smile overtakes his features, “I guess I’ll see you at dinner then?” 

You nod with a smile,  and he departs, the euphoria never once leaving his lips. 

***

Evening draws near and long gone is the dilatory white piece of garment that’s forever confined you to your fate. Instead, it’s replaced with a delicate fabric of rose gold, perhaps to represent the luxury you have of being present in such a place or in the new beginnings that will soon follow you. 

Regardless, you prepare yourself. Although you’re simply arriving to dinner, there’s a family waiting at the table that you don’t know of yet. 

Eunjoo brings you down with her after putting your hair up and presenting a pair of matching heels your way. You’re wary as you walk down the spiraling staircase, barely balancing yourself on the elevated shoes. Luckily, Eunjoo notices and helps you down, but the split moment of relief is met with a jolt of surprise when you notice someone waiting at the bottom.

“I’ll take it from here, Eunjoo.” The women amiably bids. Eunjoo swiftly bows, mumbling something along the lines of Mistress Kim, before heading into the dinner room. 

You immediately whirl around, eyes on alert like a deer in headlights. She mirthfully smiles at you, carrying a warm tone in her eyes that feels familiar. 

“You don’t have to look so worried,” She reprimands, “I’m not going to bite your head off.” 

Your eyes widen even more, “I-I’m sorry?” 

She bursts out into laughter, concealing her ruby red lips with a hand that is glittering in assorted jewels. 

“Nothing, dear. I’m just teasing you.” You nervously laugh at that, and she places a hand against your back, guiding you forward. “Come, I’m eager to know what my son’s wife is like.” 

Politely nodding, you follow behind her and nearly freeze. If you had expected your bedroom to be astonishing, then you weren’t prepared for the enormous buffet that waits for you ahead. 

Pieces of food are scattered all over the decorated table, ranging from freshly cooked to foods you would have never imagined yourself eating. It reminds you of times your family could barely manage to have a decent meal for one night, lost scavenging for food that wouldn’t make your empty pockets hurt. 

You’re so lost in the thought that you don’t feel someone brush by you. There’s suddenly a warm hand planting onto your shoulder, drawing your attention with a smile full of dimples. 

“Do you want to sit down first?” He gestures to the table, where his mother sits next to his father and opposite to his sister. Embarrassed that you’ve been just gawking at the table, you hurriedly take a seat and so does Namjoon. 

Even though you’re only just sitting at the table, it seems like all eyes are on you, burning into your skin and tracing every move. The impending silence eventually does crack though, and it’s done by a person you would have least expected. 

“Is that chicken?” Namjoon’s father blurts out, his eyes following a tray one of the servants brings by. His wife immediately interjects, dismayed by his reaction. 

“Indeed,” She points a demanding finger at him, “But none for you, there’s a reason why your health hasn’t been the greatest as of lately.” 

He pouts at her response, longley staring at the dish once it arrives. The childlike display catches you a bit off guard, eyebrows raised. 

“That’s unreasonable though.” He suddenly looks in your direction, “What do you think, Y/N? Isn’t she being unreasonable?” 

The abrupt inquiry leaves you speechless, no coherent words manifesting at the tip of your tongue. His wife whirls around, cocking up a brow in his direction. 

“Why are you dragging her into this?” She faces you with a smile, “Y/N is the newest addition to our family so we should make her feel welcome, not bring her into such trivial matters.” 

The pleasant response astonishes you, but more so the mention of your inclusion. He lets out a sigh, acknowledging his wife’s sentiments. 

“You’re right.” He turns to you, “Y/N, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” 

His mother hums, “I’d like to hear about where you grew up, Y/N.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing really special,” You grow bashful, “I was raised in the outskirts of the country by my parents.” 

The two of them nod, intently listening to you, “Before coming here, I studied in the imperial academy for a while.” 

“Ah, involved in the industry I see.” He praises, “You must know a lot about how our businesses are conducted, right?” 

“Not quite.” There’s a strained smile on your lips, “I didn’t want to actively participate in it.” 

Although your answer seems to have taken both of them by surprise, his wife hums in approval. “So I’m assuming that was your personal choice?” 

When you nod, a giant smile stretches onto her lips, and she elbows her husband, “A gutsy one, don’t you think?” 

He smiles in retaliation, “Just like you.” 

She blushes at his sudden compliment, but a voice from afar breaks the two out of their daze. 

“Gross - we’re eating here.” 

Appalled at the feminine voice, you notice the young girl seated across from Namjoon, a deep frown etched onto her stern features. 

“Leave them be, Geongmin.” Namjoon coaxes his sister, but she lets out a grunt of disapproval in the midst of eating soup.

The corners of his mother’s lips turn up and his father faces you again, looking as if he had a million questions up his sleeve lined up just for you. 

Much to your surprise, the rest of the evening is spent exchanging pleasantries with them and keeping conversation light. There even comes a moment when both you and Namjoon end up reaching out for the bread basket, only to pull away once you discover your hands had ended up meeting halfway. As you grow bashful, you notice his mother smiling tenderly and his father chuckling at the abrupt affiliation. 

Once the evening begins to come to an end, you excuse yourself through the use of your own fatigue and request to head to bed first. They waste no time in understanding, with Namjoon’s father even wrapping a hand around his son and expressing that he needed to discuss some things with him anyway. 

You leave the room as he heads off with his family, granting you with some much-needed time and space. 

***

Treading back, you pause at the large wooden door that leads into your room. Your eyes briefly skim over the fine carvings on the wood, instead choosing to scrutinize the direction of your right and left side. A shadow casts over your pupils and your hand presses against the door, letting it slowly creak wide open. 

Step by step, you stroll inside and let the light fade out, replacing itself with only darkness. 

The moment the source of luminescence disappears, you move within a flash. The handle is locked, tugged at for a confirmation. There’s a speck of radiance coming from the small lamp you’ve turned on, enough to see the large suitcase you’ve brought get yanked out. 

Zippers are flying and the cover is ripped off. Clothes are frantically thrown astray, dumped into a careless heep without much of a second look. Your hands are weaving through the material and running rampant, eyes flickering with something akin to desire and alloyed with increasing unease. 

Once your hands meet with metal, a twinkle emerges within your orbs. The spindle of ore is unwound; detangling the material in a quickened manner. It looks distinctly similar to what one would use for electrical purposes, set with the intention of providing light in grim areas. 

Right. The intention. 

Unraveled, you cautiously drift over to the large window by the bedside and crank it open. Peering outside, there’s no glimmer or streak of luminescence meeting your eyes, only a dark, simple gray sky. 

Unconsciously a breath of relief leaves your lips and you reach out, reclining your body just enough to reach above and then below the window’s hilt. The instrument effortlessly blends in, appearing like a simple cable that’s been tightly strung around. 

You lean back and rummage through the luggage on the ground, pulling out a small plastic box that doesn’t appear to be much, but more or less, is the sole thing you couldn’t have departed without. With a small hinged click, it connects to the thin barbed string you just unraveled and right when a quiet buzz resonates through, does a smile tugs on the corner of your lips. 

A knock resonates through the box. Followed by another, and then another. It’s succeeded with a prolonged silence on your part, your entire body remaining in a frozen state. 

Static echoes and you let out the air you didn’t realize you were holding from your lungs. 

Within seconds, you are nimbly knocking against the box in repetitive notions. Your actions range from different types of knocks; heavy, light, twice the sound. 

More static echoes and your eyes immediately widen, hands balling up into tighter fists. 

A heavier one. 

“I have….” 

Lighter. 

“...successfully infiltrated….” 

One last firm knock. 

“....the enemy household.”

[atlasshrugd]

Hi seeing as you seem to be the only sorta active britin blog I can find lol I wanted to ask you about some of your favourite moments for them, as I'm kinda new to the fandom whatevers around lol, and would like to hear peoples thoughts on them if you don't mind answering 😊

Hey there! Sorry I am answering so late, but WOW this is a big ask because there are SO many favorite moments.

So I have narrowed it down to my Top 5:

1. Prom (obviously)

Okay this is a no-brainer. This is literally the most romantic sequence in all of television history. I still have not found something more beautiful, moving, triumphant, loving, and groundbreaking than when Brian and Justin danced to 'Save the Last Dance for Me' at prom. Obviously barring the horrific events of what followed, this scene transcended all stereotypes and barriers and allowed us as the viewers to feel pure happiness and pride as queer people. I remember seeing it for the first time at 14 and feeling so unadulteratedly happy and validated. This was a scene of two gay people unapologetically showing the world that they did not give a shit what anyone thought of them. The only thing that mattered was this thing between them; this unspoken understanding, solace, love, and pride. I still moves me to this day whenever I watch it, no matter how many times I do.

And of course we must talk about the implications of Brian's character in this scene. Throughout season 1, he has been an emotionally stunted and cold individual who does not believe in love, relationships, or trying to make other people happy. Here, in the finale, we see Brian finally putting away all his ego bullshit ("I wouldn't be caught dead in a room full of 18 year olds"), and going out of his way to make someone he cares about happy. The fact that he even showed up at Justin's prom is a direct U-turn from the moral principles he has been reinforcing all season. And by dancing to a "ridiculously romantic" corny song, waltzing, and kissing Justin in front of everyone without giving a shit — that is pride. That is one of Brian's long-accustomed walls tumbling down.

"And don't forget whose taking you home and in whose arms you're gonna be..."

2. When they make love for the first time after the bashing

Now these scenes...how do I describe the sheer profundity? After Justin's bashing at prom, Brian is left in shambles. He blames himself for everything, and it is just further proof that Brian's love always causes further destruction. Justin has lost all memory of that night at prom, and this is one of the big tragedies. Justin had promised that he'd never forget it, and that it was the best night of his life. That proof of Brian's love that he had for so long been longing to experience — has disappeared as if it never happened. Now, Justin's confidence and surety of the world has been distorted. He is no longer sure of anything, including himself and Brian. He needs reassurance and things spelled out for him.

When Brian and Justin sleep together for the first time after the bashing, it is not like all the other times they had sex. This, in fact, is the first time they make love. Justin is telling Brian that he trusts him wholeheartedly, enough to allow him in his body again after his own agency had been ripped away from him. This is where Justin absolves Brian of his guilt. He takes the blood-stained scarf off his shoulders, lets it fall to the ground. He gives Brian the forgiveness that Brian cannot offer himself.

"Like the first time?" Brian asks, because it is the anniversary of their first meeting, but at the same time—it is nothing like the first time. Now, they are not strangers. They are more acquainted with each other than they have ever sought to be; know each other in such profound depths. They are forever linked by this thing they have both experienced, but it is not just that shared trauma. It is based off deep understanding and love. They have, somehow along the way, become more each other than themselves. They know that they have become irreplaceable and inseparable parts of each other. And Brian has been holding onto that guilt for so long that it has become rooted deeply within him. SO when Justin absolves him of it, Brian allows himself to truly feel for the first time since the bashing. He gives himself to Justin, in that moment, as Justin gives himself to Brian. It is a brilliant and tender scene of trust, devotion, acceptance, and absolution. Something they both needed to soothe their troubled souls, and a new basis for their relationship.

3. When Brian helps Justin walk down the street after the bashing

Again, this is Brian showing nurturing, care, patience, compassion, and selflessness to another person. Justin trusts him enough to rely on him, and Brian doesn't take this trust lightly. These are some of the sweetest scenes of the whole show, because this is when Brian is completely focused and devoted to Justin. He wants to help him, more than anything, to get better. And he accepts and takes up this role of carer, not because he has to, or because he is obligated or forced to. But because he will do anything to ensure that Justin will be okay, and that he gets the life he deserves.

Specifically, my favorite scene is when the song 'Grand pianos crash together, when my boy walks down the street...' is playing. Justin is walking through a crowd and Brian has his arms outstretched. When they come together, they hug deeply and easily. This scene is so simple and pure, so chaste, but it shows the true essence of their relationship, beyond all the facades and bells and whistles. At the heart of it, Brian and Justin care about each other more than they care about themselves. They have established a stable foundation of trust that they can rely on. And it also perfectly encapsulates just how far Brian has come once again. He is showing such selfless care and devotion to a boy in public daylight, kissing and hugging him and not wanting to let go of his hand. Season 1 Brian would have never even considered that. This just shows how much the events of the prom changed him, and shows how his desire for responsibility of another person has matured him. He had been forced to face his inner feelings, fears, and truths. Now, they are out in the open for the first time and Brian accepts this. This alone is a huge development.

Brian is also afraid to let go of Justin. When Justin says he can walk back himself and says 'Later,' Brian repeats it apprehensively as he holds Justin's hand until he can't anymore. Then, he watches Justin go, walking through the crowds. The look on his face is wistful, a little troubled. He hasn't wanted to face just how much he enjoys Justin's presence and how much happier and content he is when Justin is with him. He hasn't wanted to face just how afraid he is to lose Justin again. Their words of 'Later' are a direct mirror of their last words on prom night, just before Justin got bashed. Brian had watched Justin walk away, too. And a second later, he was gone.

4. Pride

This is probably one of my all-time favorite scenes in television ever. I have cried each time I've seen it. There is something so pure, essential, liberating, triumphant and tender about this scene, and the song that plays (Chiquitita by ABBA) certainly shows it. Firstly, Justin accepts Brian in his entirety and doesn't expect him to change. He knows how much Brian has been devoting to Justin in his recovery, and how strange that role is for Brian. Here, he tells Brian to 'go find a stud, ask him to dance,' — because he knows how much Brian has been sacrificing for him. This alone shows Justin's maturity and inner strength. He loves Brian, so he will not try to change him or shackle him. He wants Brian to be free to choose and live the way he wants, and that is what he fell in love with.

But when Justin shows this sacrifical and detached love for him, Brian realises that there is nothing he wants to do; no one he wants to be with more — than Justin. He is aware of the myriads of choices he has. But he chooses Justin. (Technically, for the first time, perhaps aside from prom. But even at prom, he had been running from something [turning 30]. Here, he chooses Justin without pressure for the first time.)

So, he follows him outside. He ask him "Hey, stud. Wanna dance?" Justin doesn't believe him at first, because he is not used to Brian choosing him by his own volition. He cannot imaging Brian passing up getting laid, especially after being celibate for the whole day. He also feels like a burden; like Justin's recovery has been inflicted on Brian, stopping him from living his life normally. Justin loves Brian enough to let him be free, but the biggest part? Brian loves Justin enough to choose him in that freedom.

So this marks another checkpoint in their relationship. Not only is there trust, understanding, and love — there is also desire. Sure, they have always desired each other. But this desire is not the physical kind or one born out of loneliness. This is desire for the other person as a whole. This is desiring another person's company because theirs is the only company you want. This is desiring to be with someone when there are so many other options. This is real desire — the kind that originates from the heart and not the flesh.

"I promise you won't forget this one." Brian is promising Justin that this dance will be theirs, just theirs. Not to stick it to anyone, to show anyone anything, to make some kind of point, or to make somebody happy. This dance is theirs, for the reason that Brian wants Justin to have this: this moment where Brian only wants Justin, where he dances with him simply because he wants to. And he wants Justin to have this memory, to overcome all the vague blurriness of their past. He wants this dance to be the one he remembers when he questions himself. And so they dance, and they sway, and they kiss, and they press their heads together, and the lights are bright and colored on Liberty Avenue, and everywhere people are free and joyful, and there is nothing to prove, no one to run from, nothing to hide. Their arms are wrapped around each other and the sound of 'You'll be dancing once again...and the pain will end...you will have no time for grieving...' tumbles through the air and all around them. 'But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you.' Now: there is nothing to be afraid of, and everyday life is full of reasons to be alive. To be proud.

5. Their reunification

This is one of their main checkpoints. This scene is the moment they finally become equals. Justin had left Brian for the reason that Brian could not give him what he needed to be happy, which was: reassurance. After the bashing, Justin lost all sense of who he was. There was a huge gap in his memory, therefore a huge part of himself he could not claim. He had lost partial use of his dominant hand which took away the only thing that gave him solace; his drawing ability. He was no longer sure of anything and needed things spelled out for him. He needed to talk about it. 

But Brian was not willing to do that, because he himself was struggling with trauma from the incident that he did not want to face. Where his love language is in acts of service (letting Justin live with him, paying for his tuition, helping him recover) — Justin needed to hear the words. He needed verbal affirmation to prove that he wasn't crazy and just projecting his feelings onto Brian. He could no longer trust his own perception and interpretation of things whereas in the past he could read Brian's mixed signals easily without needing confirmation. This is the part Brian failed to understand. He was not willing to concede his identified notions of 'relationships' and 'love' — no matter how far he came. He had not accepted that his feelings for Justin were love, and that scared him. So he refused to compromise with Justin, believing that his actions were enough when they weren't. But all Justin needed was to be heard, and for someone to love him enough to give hime what he needed sometimes (which was, verbal and emotional affirmation).

So their relationship ended, and Justin thought he could get what he needed from Ethan, which proved to be another big lie. So at the end, Justin still cannot trust his own perception, but — he finally knows what he wants.

He comes to the realization that while Brian could not give him the words, he gave him honesty. He learned from Ethan that words without action had no meaning. So he prioritized what mattered more to him: hearing that Brian loved him? Or, knowing that Brian loved him. So he chose honesty.

And this is when they could get back together without that imbalance and insecurity.

"And you are never to play violin music in my presence again." This single line is the only thing Brian needed to say to indicate to Justin that he was hurt by Justin leaving. Brian has been putting up a front of indifference for their entire break up, only indulging in pain management in private. Justin leaving him irrefutably hurt him more than he could have ever anticipated. But he did not show it.

So, Justin smiles — a little nod of awareness — because that is all Brian needed to say. And he says, "I promise."

"And it's time...that we...grow old and so some shit..." plays in the background (Lover's Spit) as they start to undress each other, because they are now on the same playing field. They have no illusions, misunderstandings, and misinterpretations anymore. They are starting anew; a little older and a little wiser than before. Brian knows how painful it is to lose Justin. Justin knows how skewed his perception had been, because he had been so caught up in his isolation that he could not see the truth of Brian's actions.

But they both know at least one thing: that life is better together than apart.

Tbh I could go ON and write a dissertation about each of these individual scenes, but I hope this made sense and gave a little more insight on these scenes and characters. Thank you for the great question!

[hollyhomburg]

Of Fire And Love (Pt.5)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Human! Reader) (????? Jungkook, Dragon! Hoseok) (Sorcerer! Seokjin x Human! Taehyung) (Fairy! Jimin x Dragon! Namjoon)

Summary: When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of the woods.

Pairings: Dragon! Yoongi x Human! Reader, ????? Jungkook, Dragon! Hoseok, Sorcerer! Seokjin x Human! Taehyung,

W/c: 18.6k

Warnings/Tags: visceral violent death scenes, gore, blood, near character death, morbid, violence, referenced parental death, familial fluff, touch starved characters, brief smut, discussions of Aging/mortality, mentions of War, Namgi have a Lil fight in this, 

Song rec: Agust D- Burn it, 

A/N: well here it is! the big reveal! I will be posting a short thing probably explaining the end of this and the backstory of the Seokjins family a little more as well as a collection of all of the bits that foreshadowed the ending of this chapter! This is the second to last part! and the next part will probably be just as long as this and won’t be posted for a little while. 

Series Masterlist

- Yoongi is flying back when it happens and almost falters. Dipping in the air as the wind goes out from underneath his wings and a stabbing pain lights just underneath his heart. After being with his mate for so long it almost feels like he’s the one who was hurt not you. 

- It only knocks him out of the sky for a second before he’s righting himself in the air. And the panic takes hold- suddenly sure that something is wrong- terribly earth tilting wrong. He summons all the strength he has in him and hurls himself through the sky as quick as he can. Yoongi has never flown faster in his life. 

- Jungkook is only a kid, he can’t keep you alive. You’d only just begun to teach him how to heal. Even as Hoseok shifts back to human form- the attacker who stabbed you quickly dispatched by his teeth. Somehow Jungkook’s red scarf ends up pressed to your wound, pressing down on it with all of his weight.  

- “That’s good Koo- just like that.” you gently instruct. You’re barely alive by the time that Yoongi gets back, your breathing heavy and labored. Though Jungkook has bound around the wound, you’re half-conscious. Yoongi swoops in, shifting just in time to hurl himself through the front door cracking part of the frame with his shoulders. 

- He’s steely, even as his hands shake when he touches your pale face. You pass out with Yoongi’s name on your tongue- staying awake just long enough to see that he’s here, that your children have him to protect them, before a tidal wave of pain pulls you under. Yoongi takes one look around at the house, the dead men- feeling horror well up in him. Their place of safety, of softness and love, violated like this. 

-  He can hear and smell the ones that remain in the woods, the sluggish pull of their heartbeats as they die. And he knows the hairs on the backs of their necks are standing up as his anger grows. His fingers are black-tipped claws by his side- unable to resist the semi-shift- aching to sink into the rage that demands the world to sate it. Yoongi cannot and will not let this go unpunished. 

- But you’re still there dying on the floor, and the choice is easy. (When it comes down to it- Yoongi will always choose you) For you Yoongi will easily surrender this revenge. Somewhere in the house Yoongi smells fire. But he doesn’t care burn it all to the ground. Every happy memory with it too- everything. If it all ends like this- Yoongi can’t bear it. 

- But he needs too- for the two small faces that he loves more than anything in the world- looking at him like he holds all the answers. Hoseok’s face is wet with tears and blood when he tilts his face up, blinking them away furiously. His voice shakes when he instructs them. “Jungkook I’m going to shift and then you and Hobi are going to put her on my back and fly with me” he touches Jungkook’s arm and Jungkook turns his tear-filled eyes to his father 

- “I need you to be strong fledgling, I need you to hold her there and make sure she doesn’t fall off when we fly because tying her in will take too much time.” Yoongi touches Hoseok’s face- wiping away the blood on his mouth with a thumb. “Hoseok- this will be a long flight so keep up just above me so I can break the wind for you.”

- “If you can’t I’m going to-“ Hoseok squares his little shoulders, he’s only 15- and yet he meets Yoongi’s gaze, his resolve steely as he pushes himself up, nodding.  “if I lose you don’t worry I’ll catch up. I can follow your scent. If I fall back keep going.” 

- Yoongi had never imagined- that the trauma he’d been through as a child could have affected him in this way but Hoseok is steady as a rock in a stream. Pride wells up in him- smothered by the panic. 

- They fly through the rain and all through the night, Jungkook clenches Yoongi’s back with his thighs and keeps you on his back, putting as much pressure on your wound as he can with his arms around your waist. 

-  Hoseok is so exhausted and barely managing to stay airborne in his little red dragon form, dipping with every strong gust of wind. His ears are better at hearing now than when he’s in human form. And He listens for every ragged breath- every uneven thudding heartbeat of yours that slows with the passing hours. like a timer counting down the moments until everything will have been for naught. Hoseok pushes himself harder, his aching wings protesting with each flap. 

- Jungkook’s thighs and front are stained with your blood, and it makes Yoongi’s scaly back slippery and hard to grip with his trembling thighs, especially when the rain starts up. The terror keeps Jungkook awake and sheer will power keeps his muscles from giving out.

- Back at your manor house a hush settles over the woods, the men deep in the belly of your castle. As they raid Yoongi’s hoard- the minor blaze in the house put out. They’re merry at the prospect of so much gold but yet subdued at the men they lost today. their lives a small price to pay for the fortune that would make them as good as princes in their country.

- How selfish dragon kind where for hogging all of this wealth- not only did they have control of all of the fertile land in the world- but they also had 90% of the world’s gold. The least they can do is share. They raid Yoongi’s wine stores too. filling golden chalices with the dark red liquid.

- A hush settles over the woods as the mist starts to gather- but the calm won’t be there- not for long. They’re so drunk- they don’t realize the way that it sinks in through the windows with gentle clawed fingers, creeping in through the hallways and down to the belly of the manor house. a mist thicker than any you could cut. They only have a few moments- their drunken and gold-hungry gaze focusing on the house- full of mist- before they hear it- a brief humming of fairy wings.

- Jimin hits them with a savage stab- the flowers growing through one of their chests with a savage crack- roots splitting his sternum with a burst of red flowers. The roots sprouting around the edge of Jimin’s knife. Gone are the usual delicate features from the fairy, his face almost more horrifying than the sight of their dead comrade falling to the floor. The chrysanthemums blooming in his eyes, mushrooms budding along his spine, decomposing before their very eyes.

- What once was Jimin's cheekbones is now webbed black- his muscles sunken in and woven like a spider, his fangs hooked and buglike. His eyes glowing a horrifying red. His hands have more fingers than seem possible- more like a spider than a human. He dispatches the rest of them easily, leaving only one, pressing him close up against a wall. The man pisses himself, feeling the vines constrict around his whole body- but not killing him- not yet. 

- Jimin voice is a low croon as he drags his knife down his cheek, “now- would you like to tell me what you’ve done with my family? Or should I let my flowers do their job?” a massive head sinks out of the fog, claws clicking on the marble floors, his fangs long- blue fire leering deep in Namjoon’s mouth as he opens his mouth- the man lets out a whimper.

- He falls away like petals in the wind when Jimin wills it. Wiping his knife of the blood on his thigh and sheathing it in a simple movement. He’s thinking about seeing Seokjin again after all these years. If you’d really been as injured as they said you where- if they’d really seen Yoongi fly away with you, Jungkook and Hobi in toe- then Seokjin’s is the only place you could be heading too. All at once- the spider face gone with Jimin’s rage. He hadn’t thought- only smelled your blood in the woods and acted. 

- Namjoon nudges the edge of one of the men the flowers wilting as he dies. There isn’t a hit of remorse in his face. They’d found the puddle of your blood in the entryway after all. “You know this is sort of like Instant compost.” 

- Jimin snorts shoving at his head lovingly.  “You’re terrible” but he keeps his fingers tangled in his dragon's hair. “Let's get out of here” but before he leaves. He nudges one of them again, and a scroll falls out of their pocket, Namjoon stoops to pick it up. Eyes widening when he reads the first line. 

- “We need to call the council- this can’t wait.” 

- It’s early morning the next day when Yoongi finally touches down at the one person who could save you from the brink of death- Seokjin.

- No one is quite sure how old Yoongi is. But the last sorcerer left in the world is definitely older. The two are old friends even if it’s been more than a decade since they saw each other. But then again, Seokjin doesn’t really process time the way a normal person does- at least not when it comes to friendship.

- So it doesn’t feel like a reunion after a long time when Yoongi crashes down in the lawn in front of Seokjin’s castle. It feels more like a friend that’s popped in for tea at an unbecoming hour. But Yoongi’s never been good with manners and at the age he is, Seokjin can’t really expect him to change. 

-  It’s more clumsily then he’s ever seen him land. He even rips up the sod too- a great big skid mark all across Seokjin’s grass. Oh well, at least he hadn’t trashed the garden that Seokjin had looked after for the better part of the last millennia. He only slightly disturbs his morning coffee on his patio. Seokjin barely lifts an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his friend. 

- After all- Seokjin had felt him coming. Seokjin knows (almost) everything.

- The thing that does surprise him however, is the shouting- Jungkook slides off his back with you barely supported in his arms. That certainly surprises him a great deal. The way the youth sobs and looks at Yoongi- chanting “dad- dad please-“ Yoongi shifts to carry you. Scooping you up from the boy who looks half way to passing out. A smaller red dragon with fluffy feathers lands sloppily, crabbing to the left at the last moment and crashing into a cypress tree and nearly snapping it in half.

- He gives a muted grumble to let everyone know he’s fine- just tired, even as he drags himself over to the group his tail dragging. Yoongi and Jungkook carry you in a panicked dash.  Hoseok following Too tired to shift back to human but running next to them. That has Seokjin straightening up, getting out of his chair, his teacup clattering the floor in a crash, running over to meet them. Seokjin helps Yoongi with your weight- “Please save her Jin- I can’t live without her.” 

- Seokjin’s hands touch your abdomen with purpose, coming away red, your blood cold. “Yoongi she’s bare-“ 

- “Jin” Yoongi’s voice breaks, his lower lip quivering, every muscle in his body holding you gently, as close as he can without hurting you. Anything to keep you close for a few more moments. Jin doesn’t pause, doesn’t ask. He just rushes the four of you inside the small castle to his study. 

- The glass double doors blow open from an unseen force before they enter- tables and chairs and books flying this way and that clearing their path.  The crowded table clears with a flick of his wrist too. A hidden force sending everything flying back onto its proper place on the shelf. If he weren’t so terrified Jungkook would find it in himself to be awed- but as it is; all he can feel is scared. 

- Yoongi lays you as gently as he can on the table- your head lolling. Seokjin starts spitting words in a frantic language, his hands glowing a soft violet color as Yoongi tears at your dress- opening it up around the wound.

- This is different than Jimin's plant magic, the wordless sort of magic that has the world leaning in- no- Seokjin’s magic makes the world stop in place and turn around him. Every inch of intent spoken by his mouth an order that reality will bow too. It’s jaw-dropping to see, 

- Jungkook stands by the door until Hobi pulls him out of it, teeth ripping into the back of his shirt as he moves Jungkook like a mother cat would a kitten. He’s a good older brother- and he doesn’t think that you’d want either of them to see this. Especially when Seokjin starts to undress you- with only a medical like air in mind his movements quick and efficient meant to expose more of the wound.

- It takes Jin almost another full day to heal you to the best of his abilities and even then the rest is up to you. Seokjin works through the night and through all of it, Yoongi sits by your bedside, his forehead pressed to yours through the entire healing process. Offering his strength when Seokjin needs it. A hand on his shoulders sometimes, not to offer to comfort but to take Yoongi’s energy- his lifeblood- because alone Seokjin doesn’t have enough power for this.

- Seokjin’s drains the energy out of him to the point where he fears taking anymore. Yoongi slumped next to you, keeping himself in the chair by sheer force of will, whispering into your ear your cheeks start to pink up again slowly, your breath coming infrequently- but in time with the pulse of Seokjin’s magic.

- “Don’t you dare go on me yet Y/n, I haven’t had nearly enough time with you, not by a long shot” he holds your hand- he only ever wanted to do that- to hold your hands for the rest of time. However much time he had with you- he had always thought that would be enough- but now he realizes it isn’t. He’d never get enough time with you, not if you were by his side for 100 or 500 years.

- You never get enough time with the ones you love. Whether you’re immortal or mortal, no stretch of time is adequate. Even if you’re both there to witness the death of the cosmos and all else that lingers. Yoongi wants more- he needs more time with you.

- Both of your sons sit outside the room, Jungkook listing into Hobi once he gets too tired to stay awake. “I’ll wake you if there’s any news Kookie”  And even though Hobi’s tired from flying he just can’t close his eyes until he knows if he’s lost his mom again.

- Jungkook dozes, and Hoseok picks a spot on the tapestry that hangs on the opposite wall and doesn’t look away. Jungkook lying across his lap- one of Hoseok’s hands embedded deep in his chocolate locks. Holding onto him like he’s worried Jungkook is going to slip away too.

- “I killed someone Hobi- I- I killed someone,” he says, late into the afternoon when the orange light seeps through the window at the end of the hall. Hoseok blinks as he looks down at Jungkook- he hadn’t realized the younger had woken. A Geometric shape of orange light falls across Jungkook’s Face. His cheekbones suddenly present- all that made him baby faced fallen away in a single day, the bags under his eyes hallow bruises.  

- The way Jungkook says it- he says it like it means something. Like it Wasn’t just an act of desperation and an act of trying to live. To keep going.  Hoseok has to fight to keep his voice steady. “Do you hate me?” his hand fists in the front of Jungkook’s shirt over his heart. Covering a tiny fleck of blood with his closed fist. “I killed people too Jungkook, do you hate me?” 

-  Hoseok realizes with a start- that he’s killed more people than Jungkook- and can’t navigate his way back through the terror of the last few hours to count how many men had fallen under his tooth and claw. Hoseok tells himself that they had too- and believes it. After all- if they hadn’t it would mean the three of you lying dead on the floor of your entryway.

- Hoseok doesn’t want to think about what Yoongi would have done if he’d come home to that. He doesn’t think that his father’s rage would have been sated by the whole world on fire. He lets himself imagine it for a moment. The human world- swallowed in flames, everything burning. Jungkook reaches up and rubs away at the smoke curling over Hoseok’s chin, a juvenile imitation of rage- of the fire that Hoseok isn’t capable of yet. “Do you hate me Jungkook?” 

- Jungkook looks stricken with the very idea of it, he laces his hand with Hoseok’s over his heart and curls up around him so that Jungkook can press his face into Hoseok’s side. Hiding his face and his tears as he fights to stay calm- not to break all over his soulmates lap- even if he’s been breaking since he put his sword through that man in your home hours ago. 

- “I could never hate you Hobi.”

- Hoseok wishes he could feel more like Jungkook but he doesn’t. Sure he’s afraid, but the terror hovers below a steely calm that he can’t think through. He’s lost his mom before, and he can’t lose you too, doesn’t want to lose his mom again. But he won’t fall apart until he knows. Because If he fell apart again- he’s not sure that even Jungkook could bring him back. 

- It takes until the next evening for the trauma-induced calm to end. Jungkook next to him asleep again, but Hoseok hasn’t managed to close his eyes. And when he does for only a few minutes, images of you lie behind his eyelids.

-  The countless times you’d brushed through his feathers or ruffled his hair, how you’d excitedly congratulated him and Jungkook with every little bit of things they’d brought home. The cross look on your face, hands on your hips, whenever they came home more bruised and battered than usual. All of that gone in a day-

-  A memory from when he would wake as a child in your mountain home is what makes Hoseok fall apart. the first time he’d ever woken up feeling safe after his parents died. Jungkook asleep beside him, to the sound of your soft humming as you hovered over the stove, Yoongi’s dark wing shielding Jungkook and Hoseok from the light of morning. 

- But when Hobi had looked, he’d found Yoongi’s neck stretched out so that he could lay it down next to you while you worked. And whenever you’d finish with a task you’d reach over to scratch up and down his cheek. And Hoseok could feel the pleasant shiver and happiness all around him. 

- He remembers making a noise, and you turn to him. your hair falling all around your face free from the braid you usually bound it in when you slept.  Hushing him softly, ‘you can go back to sleep okay? Breakfast will be done in a moment little-honey’

- It’s when the memories hit him that He starts to cry, to hyperventilate. He keeps clutching Jungkook’s hand the whole time. When Jungkook wakes they hold onto each other. The younger pulling him in and reversing their positions. Strengthening the moment Hoseok needs him. And Hoseok’s world narrows down to just Jungkook. 

-  Finally, just after sunrise, Seokjin pokes his head out of the study and Hobi straightens up. He’s already magiced the table into a bed- and he’s left Yoongi curled up around you sleeping soundly- a quick calming spell to let his friend recuperate after the last day- Seokjin is sure he would have fallen asleep if he hadn’t put that spell on him. They’ll move you to an actual bed when yoongi wakes. 

- At the sound of the door opening Jungkook jerks barely catching himself before he crashes into the floor, blinks owlishly at the sudden movement. Seokjin’s greeting dying in his throat. Truthfully, Seokjin doesn’t remember being that young and it’s kind of strange. To be confronted with such youth after almost a full year on his own with no-one to talk too.

- They spill over themselves in an effort to get in the room “is she okay- is mom gonna live is she gonna-“ suddenly Seokjin finds himself inundated with two very concerned teenagers, clutching at the edge of his dark purple dressing-gown- he hadn’t even bothered to change from his pajamas.  “I’ve healed her wounds- but the rest is up to her” both of them sigh and then- none to surprisingly, burst into tears and cling to Seokjin who awkwardly pats them on the back.

- Jesus Christ- they haven’t even told him their names yet and already they’re tripping over themselves to thank him. “Can we see her and dad?” Seokjin sighs heavily, “I think it’s probably better to give them some space, your father and mother need to rest- why don’t you come with me so we can fix some food for you? And also do some introducing- your parents really didn’t teach you any manners did they? Luckily I’m good at that.” Because if there’s one thing that's better than a spell at fixing sorrow, then its food. 

- Seokjin starts jauntily down the hallway as Hoseok and Jungkook shoot each other a confused glance, suddenly both dubious and a little terrified by the sorcerer “Well come on- out with it what are your names little menaces?”

- When you wake, almost a full week after the attack, Yoongi is sat by your bedside holding your hand looking haggard and unkempt. He’s hardly moved all this time. Only changed and washed up because Seokjin had bothered him too- and left Hobi and Jungkook to watch over you for a moment, or to tuck the boys in and made sure they’ve eaten something. they’ve been so grown up the last few days. after the first day when- 

- a tangled mess of both of them in the bed, both of them woken to yoongi coming into their room, wetness on his cheeks, touching their soft heads as he cried- thanking the gods and all the goodness in the world that they hadn’t been hurt too. Hoseok blinking awake, whispering “dad?” into the open air which had made Yoongi break- his chest heaving. 

- And Hoseok- little Hoseok- knowing to reach up to wrap his arms around his father because that’s what he needed. To scent-mark his children and make sure they knew he was there- that he wouldn't be leaving. Jungkook has always been a deep sleeper hadn’t even woken. 

- but Hoseok had pushed at yoongi after a moment. “go- I know you want to sit next to mom. it’s okay, I’ll make sure Jungkook and I eat after he wakes up- you don't have to worry about us I'll- I’ll make sure we’re doing what she’d want us to be doing.”

- like washing their clothes and making sure they bathed and detangled their hair and made their beds in the morning. But also- that they were looking after each other too. making sure neither of them felt alone or uncared for- for too long. in all your years parenting- you’ve always emphasized being there for each other- and Hoseok and Jungkook won’t let you down now. they’re amazing in Yoongi’s eyes. Already grown up enough to understand that yoongi is as in need of as much comfort as they are. 

- And In all your time raising Jungkook and Hoseok together you have never seen Yoongi cry. But when you open your eyes and peer up at him Yoongi bursts into tears. looking tired but alive with a lingering ache in your stomach that seems to hold you down to the plush bed with a vengeance. His long fingers touching your cheeks, pulling himself closer to you.

- Yoongi sobs out your name, pressing his forehead against yours when you whisper out his name, your hands weekly coming up to grab onto him- you’re so tired- so weak and uncoordinated but still- you can’t bear to have him even an inch from you. “I was so scared my love, but now you’re safe and healing. Thank the gods you’re alive.”

- “I’m not a god but thanks for the high praise,” says a stranger from the door, his black hair shot through with silver streaks. His endlessly mirthful purple eyes haunting in the half-light of the bedroom. The stranger wipes his hands off with a cloth. But the glowing stone- set into the space just above his collar bones, glowing a light purple under a thin layer of skin, tell you enough about who this must be. 

- He does smile kindly, and you can already see his appraising eyes measuring your condition. “I’m Seokjin- I’m the person who saved your life” you give a weak smile in return. “Yoongi’s told me all about you and though I’d prefer it if we hadn’t met this way I’m eternally thankful. Thank you Seokjin, for allowing me to stay with my family.” 

- You turn to Yoongi, even now he can see how exhausted you are, “how are you feeling- do you want some water- some food my darling?” You’re about to say no, that you only want to go back to sleep when you jolt up. Your parental instincts cut through your haze and a bone-chilling panic suddenly seizing you. 

- Yoongi’s hands on both your shoulders to keep you in the bed- “oh my god the kids- are they alright are they-“ Jungkook and Hoseok peer out from behind Seokjin’s back, looking scared and restraining themselves from coming too close. But very much alive and uninjured. They hover until Yoongi gestures that it’s okay for them to come closer- that they won’t hurt you. 

- Both Hoseok and Jungkook immediately start crying and hurl themselves onto your bed. Hobi gets so distressed that he actually shifts and starts scent marking you like a cat. One of his legs wiping out to push Seokjin away unintentionally. He is a little big now- it feels more like an extraordinarily large puppy has taken up half the space in your bed. 

-  “Hey! Rude!” Seokjin shouts but lets himself be moved. The big bed creaks and sags as Hoseok sets himself firmly over the top portion of it. His warm underbelly curled around your head, his feathers tickling your face as he nuzzles in close, gently and slowly. Jungkook settles on your side, his hands locked in a death grip around your shoulders you weekly bring up a hand to card it through his hair. 

- “Boys! Be careful of her side! She’s still healing.” But you give him a look over Jungkook’s shoulder, a little teary-eyed yourself but smiling- the smile that Yoongi would die for would tear apart the world for. 

- “Yoongi told me how brave the two of you were flying all this way to help me Hobi, and keeping me on his back Kookie. I’m so proud of both of you.”  Jungkook lets himself pull back a little “Really?” 

- “Yes! you were so so brave!” you even scratch a little under Hobi’s chin, and he lets out a little content dragon noise and snuggles closer. Jungkook lets out his first even breath in days. Hoseok too- both of them crying those easy tears of relief in your arms. “You’re so brave boys, It’s okay- I’m okay now- you don’t have to be scared anymore.” 

- As he listens to you reassure your children and for the first time, Yoongi notices the smile lines by your mouth, a single grey hair starting to glitter along your hairline. The signs of aging that he never noticed before, and goes quiet, suddenly still.

- “Thank you” your eyes are tear-filled as you look up at Seokjin, your hands brushing over both your son's heads, so slow and lingering. like you thought you’d never get the chance to do it again- or had, and now were pausing to savor every moment. “Really Seokjin- I can’t thank you enough- I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” 

-Seokjin looks bashful, a stiff blush climbing from the back of his neck. And he’s stuttering when he talks- “it’s really not my doing- not most of it anyway- I mean- healing you was my doing but you never would have survived if it hadn’t been for this.”

- Seokjin fingers the cloth in his hands, darker red now than it was before. The four of you straighten up, suddenly confused. Jungkook lifts his head from your shoulder, looking perplexed, “My scarf? My scarf saved her?” Jungkook asks, 

- “Not the scarf- but the protection charm on it” Seokjin fingers the edge of it- which hasn’t frayed in all this time. How had you never realized it? over 13 years old and still it’s never lost its color. “It’s old magic- the kind of magic I haven’t seen in a long time. It will protect whatever it covers from harm. And in your case it kept your organs from shutting down before you got here. If it hadn’t been for this wrapped around your waist you would have died in minutes not hours.” 

- Seokjin looks at Yoongi, his lower lip quivering suddenly looking betrayed. “You- you should have told me- if you’d seen my sister you should have told me it’s been hundreds of years Yoongi- you know how much I want to see my family so- how could you.” 

- “I didn’t- Seokjin I didn’t see her- the scarf was with Jungkook when I found him.”  Jungkook looks up abruptly from the bed; Hoseok cocks his head in curiosity. “When you found me?” Jungkook looks surprised for a second before he straightens up. “No- I knew that I knew that I wasn’t yours- but- I always thought- the scarf was the first thing you gave me- that’s why it was so special.” 

- Hoseok’s shifts shaking his head his curls bouncing. leaning up against the headboard pulling Jungkook up to sit with him. Until the three of you are sitting up.  “I didn’t know- I always thought-“ Hoseok looks at you, and you shake your head. “Then if you’re not- where are Jungkook’s biological-“

- Yoongi puts his head in his hands, leaning up against the edge of your bed.   gritting his teeth, “Now isn’t the time for that conversation.” Yoongi isn’t ready and won’t ever be ready for Jungkook to hate him. 

- Hoseok has gotten better at smelling emotions through his sensitive nose- and whips his head around at the acrid scent of Yoongi’s displeasure- taking it wrong. “Then when will be the right time?” how Hoseok had managed to inherit your stubbornness but only ever decides to use it when Jungkook is concerned- Yoongi will never know. 

- “Yoongi” Seokjin brings his focus back to him. You straighten up in bed. Sending both of your children a thankful but strained smile. “Boys? Would you mind giving us a minute?” both of them won’t argue with you now. not with how weak you look.

- You tell Seokjin the story- Yoongi filling in the blanks more than you do. He’s being so tender with you- the physical contact filling you with a soft haze along with the sleepiness. His fingers rubbing down your arm slowly and gently. He’s fully sprawled next to you, your head resting on his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat. Dozing a little. “Are you sure Yoongi?” Seokjin asks gripping the scarf like it’s a lifeline.

- Yoongi nods certain, “it must have been some sort of relic- you know how the humans like to hand those down through the generations. Jungkook’s birth parent’s where- these warriors? I can only describe them as a clan of dragon hunters but I never went back after I-“ 

- Yoongi can’t meet Seokjin’s eyes. “I killed them and then Jungkook was just there and couldn’t- I didn’t want to-” you lift a shaky hand up to cup Yoongi’s cheek, and he leans into it. All at once you realize this- you in the bed, and Seokjin accusing Yoongi of something the likes of which you can’t imagine, are too much for him. 

- You jump in where Yoongi fails to articulate the words. “After that we took care of him together, and then Hobi came- and it’s only been us ever since. I’m sorry Seokjin, I don’t know who you’re looking for. But I don’t think it has anything to do with Jungkook” Seokjin’s protests die in his throat, and he nods sadly, setting the scarf gently on the end of your bed. 

- Later- Yoongi will tell you about Seokjin’s family. and how slowly, after a period of time- they’d all begun to disappear off the face of the earth. The only family of sorcerers left or made- even Seokjin didn’t know how they’d come to be. Only that there could only be the seven of them and no more. Not even any more children, As having children was as good as passing your power down onto them- and relinquishing your own immortality.

-  First his parents had gone- than his older siblings, and finally, his younger sister who had simply vanished one-afternoon leaving Seokjin alone- the only sorcerer left in the world. Seokjin had been searching for her ever since.  

- That afternoon- you have more energy with your children around, and even eat something small. Though Seokjin had warned Yoongi that it might take a little while for your body to recuperate- he’s happy to watch you sit up a little more. The warmth back in your cheeks when you play a game of cards with your children sprawled across the bed that night. 

- Both of them give you more details here and there about what had happened after you’d lost consciousness happy to receive more praise from you. Sometimes- Hoseok gets a little overwhelmed and needs to hug you and shifts- but he’s conscious enough to move before that happens this time (after a few poignant comments about the state of the bedframe from Seokjin), putting most of his weight on a plush couch that he and Jungkook had pushed over to the side of the bed. Leaning only his head on the plush blanket. It’s easy for both Yoongi and Jin to excuse themselves and go make dinner. 

- It always surprises Yoongi how much Seokjin loves to cook- for an all-powerful immortal that doesn’t necessarily need to put in effort into doing anything. Yoongi has seen him wave his hands and summon full cooked feasts. And still, the sorcerer does love to cook with his own two hands, finding the process more satisfying that way.

 - His friend looks the same as he had over a dozen years ago- his button-down shirt rolled to the sleeves, barking at Yoongi to pour out scoops of finely milled powders to make some sort of doughy saucy dish that Yoongi’s never heard of before. Seokjin’s mother’s cookbook sits open on the prep table- so it must be something special. 

- “Just say it- I know you have something you want to ask,” Seokjin’s voice is quiet and comforting. In their little cadre- Seokjin has always been the voice of reason. Yoongi’s hands are elbow deep in flour. Slowly kneading the dough. He hesitates for a moment. Knowing once he asks, the future might be out of his hands. 

-  “I can’t lose her Jin, I don’t think Hoseok and I will be able to bear it when they both go- I don’t want to go back to being that lonely person I was- I need them. I need you to find a way to turn her immortal like us, and then I want you to do the same with Jungkook.” 

- Hoseok is like Yoongi- won’t even reach maturity for another 20 years- and by that time, you’ll be older, and Jungkook will be nearing 35. He’s honestly surprised that he and Jungkook are still aging at the same rate as in general. Dragons stop aging once their human bodies start to reach maturity. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about the eventuality- 50 or 60 years down the line when Hoseok will loose his soul-bonded partner. They could lose both of you. If Seokjin and Yoongi don’t act now. 

- But yet- he knows- what he’s asking of Seokjin is no easy feat of magic. If it was- Taehyung would be standing next to them right now. Seokjin’s eyes darken when Yoongi asks, his hands still from where he’s stirring the sauce. flicking off the fire with a twitch of his hand and setting the spoon on a plate. 

- Yoongi knows a cure for mortality has been the only thing on Seokjin’s mind for a long time- before you were born even. It’s been his single goal since he’d met Taehyung. Yoongi wonders where Taehyung is- he should go and say hello to his old friend soon, but he’s not sure where he is in the castle probably hidden away near Seokjin’s bedroom. 

-  Seokjin makes a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers and a singular perfect drop of red floats from the pot and into his mouth. “This needs something” he pauses for a moment before he turns and walks to the pantry. Searching for some oregano- but it might be in the study- after all- it was very useful in most calming spells. “You should go check on her Yoongi, and send your boys here- I want to teach them how to make this.”

-  In the week since you’d been injured. Seokjin has taken it upon himself to teach the boys how to cook for themselves (if they’re going to insist on being the adventurers they are then it’s a skill they’ll need to posses) as well as “manners” which Yoongi had caught them grumbling about more than once.

-  Jin likes his boys a fair bit, Even if they have gotten into his stores of potions twice in the last week (of which one incident had, unfortunately, lead to Hoseok’s hair turning into full-on feathers as dark as Jungkook’s hair. But luckily that had been quickly fixed by a secondary spell. What Yoongi doesn’t have to know- won’t hurt him) “Jin please-”

- “I know how it feels Yoongi- I know- just enjoy the next few days okay? Let me think about it. And ask her if she even wants this its not just you who chooses what happens with your family, Jungkook and Hobi too.” Yoongi sighs, but respects Seokjin’s words.

-  And as much as Yoongi’s fear won’t let him make a coherent decision- he’s right. He should ask you first before he makes any plans about your mortality. Once you’re better- then he’ll ask. Yoongi lifts his hands up from the dough and unsurprisingly it keeps kneading its self pulled this way and that by an unseen force. A little too quickly- like Seokjin’s magic is a little agitated by so many questions. 

- “I never thought you’d have kids. The Yoongi I met all those years ago wouldn’t have wanted to bring a woman into his mess let alone a child” Yoongi has to laugh at it because he’s right. His younger self was a lot more angsty and pessimistic about the likelihood of a family in his future. 

- Yoongi can’t stop the soft smile that lights his face when he thinks of you. “They give me a lot of joy Jin- hope for the future too. Maybe the best way to change the world is to raise your own kids and make sure you do it right. Maybe that’s the way to change the world rather than any more pointless wars.”

- Seokjin knocks his shoulder into Yoongi’s “You’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you Yoongi.” And Yoongi can’t do anything else but smile- because sometimes- growing up is a good thing. 

- You get better slowly, it takes you a few days to get out of bed and see the castle that your children have taken upon themselves to explore. A dark gothic structure with vaulted ceilings; its Library full of jeweled toned spell books in languages that Jungkook doesn’t even recognize- and tries to learn (his curiosity as unsatiable as ever). 

- The books that seem to whisper in Jungkook’s ear. Sentences so quiet like t he’s just a little too far away to properly make out the words. 

- Enchanted brooms sweeping here and there. Making indigent squeaking noises if you walk along their path. Rooms full of drawers- the shelves lining all the way up through the ceiling- each ingredient labeled by its uses, it’s common name, and its magical name. You’re curious too- especially when you find some plants even you use for healing with particular uses. 

- The whole place is furnished like a decade out of the past- tufted velvet sofas and chipped gilded mirrors that have greyed with age- some of which are covered with cloths. You ask Seokjin what they hide when Hoseok tries to pull the covering off of one unseen magical hands stopping him. And the sorcerer just sighs a little clipped, and says cryptically “some things are best left unknown at his age.” 

- Later one evening you’ll go over to it again and ask. And Seokjin will tell you that the mirror Hoseok was trying to peer into shows the viewer their soulmate. And when you pull the casing off of it- you don’t see anything- anyone standing beside you at all. Until Yoongi comes into the room, having just made sure that your boys were getting to bed at a semi-reasonable hour. 

- Moving to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. smiling at you in the mirror and Tugging you to go to bed- and get some rest (he’s been seemingly obsessed with making sure you rest and become 100% better before you even talk about what you’re going to do next). You glance back at Seokjin- about to ask him what that means- to see no one. Until you see his small happy smile- oh, so Yoongi actually is your soulmate. You suppose that’s nice- knowing for sure. 

- And Seokjin will sip his wine from the fireplace and give you both a soft shadowed smile, his hands tapping vacantly- reaching out for someone who he can’t touch, and wanting all the same. when he takes a chance and looks across the room to see Taehyung smiling at him, reflected in that mirror. And gets up to cover it again. 

- Everything in the castle hums some sort of undercurrent. The room Seokjin sets you and Yoongi up in is lavish- the bed impossibly soft and the sheets that feel like running water on your skin. The fabrics that hang on the walls detailing stories that seem to be ever-changing. One morning you wake up to an embroidered phoenix hanging on the wall across from you and the next; some sort of intricate blue flower about to bloom. 

- There are 100 moments that could have prepared you for what happens in the end. Hoseok and Jungkook walking through the library- only to have Jungkook complain that it’s ‘too loud to concentrate” “what are you talking about Koo it’s a library” “yeah but- don’t you hear it?” or the fact that Jungkook keeps begging Seokjin to do spells but somehow they never stick. 

- You’re lounging in the sitting room next to the library, its tall glass ceiling- a small door to the side open to the backyard and garden. You’re shivering a little where you’re propped up against Yoongi. He keeps fussing, tucking the blanket around you tighter. And you’re ready for another nap even though you’ve just woken up. 

- Your children badger Seokjin about every different kind of spell that he can do after they find one that gives someone the ability to control the length of their hair- which is apparently something Hoseok really wants- though you can’t imagine why. 

- They’re just working out the logistics when Jungkook lugs over a spellbook more half his size and slams it down across the desk, making both Seokjin and Hoseok- having been bent over the spellbook- flinch.  “Page 497” Jungkook is almost vibrating with excited energy, as Seokjin waves a hand, the massive book flipping open, “Hyung” he tacks on- with little regard for politeness. But Seokjin supposes its better than he’d been before- when he hadn’t even remembered to refer to Seokjin as his elder.

- Hoseok is a little cross at Jungkook for interrupting for a moment, Before he leans over the spellbook, his smile lighting up his whole face, his voice suddenly loud and mirthful “oh yes- please- Seokjin Hyung-” 

- “What is it?” you call from where you sit, Yoongi putting a finger in his book and setting it aside so that he can watch, a gentle smile playing on his lips. one arm around your waist as you recline against him, leaning forward to slowly run his nose over your shoulder.

- Seokjin rolls his eyes, rising from the table and rolling up his sleeves, looking exasperated but ready for the challenge of doing a spell he’s never attempted. It’s far easier just to teleport that fly honestly. “Of course you’d want to fly- alright- come on then- to the middle of the room with you.” 

- Yoongi starts to protest- that maybe inside isn’t the best place for this, but you put a hand on his arm, soothing him because you want to watch but you don’t want to move. You suppose with a ceiling- Jungkook can’t let his flying get out of hand. It’s probably better to be more contained. Both of you watch as Jungkook practically vibrates with energy. Hoseok is happy glancing at him too- “I can’t wait to fly with you Kookie- this way- we can go everywhere! And I don’t even have to carry you!” 

- Hoseok and Jungkook had been trying to find a way to fly with Jungkook on Hoseok’s back for years. But he’d never been strong enough or large enough to handle Jungkook’s weight for more than a few minutes. He was getting stronger- but your boys are impatient. 

- Seokjin humors both of them, holding both his hands out and when he starts to speak, the purple light flares at his fingertips. The stone at the center of his chest glowing too. You’d asked him about it a few days ago- and he’d said that each sorcerer needed some sort of channel- a magical object to give them the ability to link their soul to the magic humming all around them. And you watch it pulsate now as he speaks the words. Jungkook closes his eyes as the magic washes over him like a heavy blanket, his hair rising on end.

- Jungkook only hovers an inch above the ground before the magic rebound upon him- slipping off of him and sticking to Hoseok- who suddenly finds himself floating 4 feet above the ground. The spell stops and he touches down as Jungkook makes a disappointed grumble, crestfallen, “Why didn’t it work!” 

- Seokjin blinks, looking down at his hands. “that’s strange” he says- before he asks Hoseok to step away- something about the soulbond interfering maybe.  Both you and Yoongi watch on- your books set aside to watch.

- Jungkook is almost vibrating with excitement as Seokjin closes his eyes really concentrating this time, Hoseok waiting and watching behind him. You think something should be happening- until you realize that Yoongi and yourself are hovering a foot off of the couch. 

- Seokjin sets you down easily. All of them laughing at you clinging to Yoongi when you realize you’re airborne frantically asking Seokjin to put you down. Yoongi’s gummy smile on display. Jungkook looks more and more put out by the second. “Let's go outside” Seokjin says, and your children head jauntily out after him, Jungkook lugging the spellbook under one arm, almost slipping in the grass under its weight.

- You and Yoongi are soft- piled up together. Yoongi’s long fingers dancing along the edge of your knuckles, rubbing over the little scars that you have here and there. You both watch as Seokjin tries and tries and tries- but Jungkook never gets more than a few inches off the grass. You can see the impression the magic makes in the grass as it rushes from Seokjin to Jungkook, making it stand up or fall down in place- like it’s some sort of wind. 

- “There’s something I want to ask you- when we’ve got the chance I-“ Yoongi’s sentence is interrupted by Hoseok’s shout of “Uncle Jimin! Uncle Namjoon!” in the yard, Yoongi helps you up and sure enough- Namjoon and Jimin are touching down in the front yard. Hugging each of your sons, Seokjin and Namjoon embracing once Namjoon has a second to shift.

- Jimin is just doting on Jungkook and Hoseok, hugging them- thankful that they’re alright- when he looks up- clothed differently and less flamboyantly than he usually is. His simple flying gear dark and patterned, making him sleek and quicker as a flyer- so much so that you barely see him before he’s colliding with you- “are you okay we found your blood and the men and-“ their words rush out of them before you have a chance to blink- 

- “I’m- I’m okay- a little banged up but- I’m fine Jimin” their face is panicked, Namjoon’s somber as they rush over. “We thought you were dead” he says, you can tell by his dimples- making a brief appearance that he’s happy to find you alive and relatively alright. 

- Even now- Seokjin and Namjoon stand closer- as if by proximity they could make up for the distance of years- its hard to wrack your memory for the reason why but then you remember- they’re soul bonded partners. “Did you-“ Yoongi’s voice trails off.  The feral glint in Jimin’s eye is more lethal than any you’ve ever seen in it- “I did” he says, relish in the words. 

- Yoongi nods, letting out an uneven laugh “good” he pulls you closer by an arm around your waist. Because he hadn’t been able to get revenge and the knowledge that the men that had hurt you hadn’t gotten away- its enough for now. “Oh you mean- the dragon hunters?” Jimin smile is fanged when he looks at you. 

- His hands are viselike on your upper arms as he tugs you close- whispers low in your ear. “No one hurts my family and gets away with It.“ you blush a little, unsure how to respond because that kind of loyalty is rare. and it does warm your heart a little. 

- “There’s more though” Namjoon says, and it's then that you realize that he’s dressed much in the same way Jimin is. The clothes simple tight and black, Namjoon doesn’t look happy when he has to say the words. Age-old tiredness in his face. 

- “That wasn’t any ordinary attack- it was ordered by the human king- to try to take you out before the fighting starts.” Yoongi and you straighten up, in the background, Hoseok and Jungkook stand a little closer, “the human king has declared eminent domain over all dragon lands. We’ll go to war within the month.”

- The argument that happens next isn’t what you expect- not at least- from Jimin and Namjoon. It ends with Yoongi slamming his hands down on a table in Seokjin’s study the sound loud and percussive. “No Namjoon- I won’t fucking fight.” 

- You’re glad that your sons aren’t here- have been told by you to go explore- neither of them had seemed too upset about it- maybe just a little because they wanted to see Jimin and Namjoon- but not enough to question you. They understand how serious it must be for all of the adults to look so somber.

- Smoke curls over Yoongi’s chin. And the room fills with an ice-like chill from Namjoon as his temper flares. “I will not- nor will I ever again- fight another war for that blasted council. I have a family to keep safe now Namjoon- and I can’t believe you’d even ask-“ 

- “That’s exactly why I’m asking you Yoongi. How can you expect them to be safe without you?” he makes a flippant gesture with his hands, and next to you in the doorway where Jimin leans, he winces Yoongi recoiling already taking that wrong. 

- “The last war took 33 years Namjoon, by that time- Y/n will be almost 70 and Jungkook will be aged too- you can’t expect me to waste what little time I might have left on something so-” 

- “Hang on-“ Jimin interrupts; he’s been standing, leaning back against the doorway for the majority of this conversation. “When did you get so obsessed with time?” “Since I almost lost her Jimin, I can’t-”

- “You didn’t!?” Namjoon straightens up, looking at his soul-bonded partner aghast. “You didn’t fucking promise him something that you can’t even fucking do for Taehyung- Seokjin!”

- Seokjin flinches back, from where he sits at the table, trying to stay out of the argument, his face drawn. Hands clasped, leaning his chin on them. He doesn’t respond. “Neither of you get it!” Yoongi yells, hands bursting into flames by his side, hot furious tears budding at the corner of his eyes. “Both of you are immortal you don’t know what it’s like- watching the person you love almost die. I can’t- I won't stand by while I lose” 

- Yoongi breaks off- glancing up at you, already stepping forward to comfort him, he swallows, meeting Namjoon’s furious glare. “I won't waste another day that I have with them- and neither should you- you both should fuck the council and side with us.” 

- “Yoongi” you say. Your voice breaking, running to him- his hands extinguishing the second he even gets close to touching you. Because you hadn’t really realized how much this was affecting him. You hold onto him as strong he holds onto you. Namjoon and Jimin sigh, their fight and the chill in the air dissipating as they accept Yoongi’s choice. Jimin grasping at his hand. Namjoon looks at Yoongi- suddenly looking defeated. Seokjin won't look at him, keeps his eyes on the desk in front of him. “Alright- if you won’t fight I can’t make you, but Seokjin will you?”

- Seokjin shakes his head, his voice so quiet and thick with emotion- with hope. “If both of us are looking- it will be easier- twice as much brain power as one- with Yoongi by my side- we’ll make twice as much progress in a year.” 

- You’ve been silent up until now, rubbing your face slowly into Yoongi’s shirt, Yoongi’s hands fisting in the back of your shawl tight around your shoulders. Since you nearly died- you’ve been colder than usual. There have been a lot of things said in this argument that you don’t understand. And from the somber way Seokjin speaks- you figure you should know.  

- You’ve been letting them argue because as much as you care that your mate stays by your side- this isn’t a choice any of you should make for Yoongi. Even if you’re on his side, and don’t want him to waste another moment. to be parted from you for anyother moment. “What do you guys mean? Progress with what?” 

- Jimin snorts, crossing his arms like it’s the confirmation that he needed. “See- you haven’t even asked her yet.” 

- “Asked me what? I don’t understand,” you say at the same moment Namjoon looks over at the clock, checking the time. “We have to go- the council is having a meeting about this tomorrow night and if they’re going to call the garrison without you- they’ll need time to pick a replacement.”

- None of them have to look far- the only one who could replace Yoongi would be Namjoon himself- his second in command. Yoongi watches with a sick feeling in his stomach- at the possibility of Namjoon going to war without either Seokjin or himself by his side isn’t apealing. But then Yoongi looks at you- and the prospect gets a little easier to bear. Namjoon and Jimin leave, embracing you before they go, and you touch either of their cheeks telling them to be safe. 

- And the three of you linger in study. Listening to Jimin and Namjoon hug Jungkook and Hobi on the patio outside and say goodbye at least for a little bit. Seokjin following them to say a few words to namjoon before he takes off. Because Namjoon and Jimin are sure to be busy for a while at least- this will take all of their attention. Damn Namjoon for his altruism and Jimin for his inability not to follow his mates led and stand by him. Yoongi wishes they would stay. 

- Yoongi comes over to stand by you as you watch them get ready to take off, namjoon already shifted, Hoseok shifted too to jump on his back playfully teasing his uncle, he scrabbles with his claws against Namjoon’s slippery icy scales. and you can hear Jungkook, Jimin, and Seokjin’s giggles from here. 

- Yoongi presses a hot kiss against the nape of your neck, and then your mouth when you turn your face to let him, and you can feel his frustration in it, all of the passion. Jimin and namjoon take off- leaving as quickly as he came.  It’s easy for him to Wisk you away to a quiet part of the castle. Needing some quiet with you- to have you all to himself for just a little while.

- The kisses don’t stop even when he picks you up after you stumble. You barely even notice the rest of the castle passing in a blur as he carries you through it, kicking open the door to your bedroom.

- He lays you back on the bed gently as he can, his hands touching and brushing all over you. His movements almost fever mad with the need to touch “Yoongi” you say, breathless- a half moan as he touches you the way that makes you dizzy and close to falling apart at the seams. But he’s hard there- ready to keep you together but desperate.

- “Let me feel you just- let me taste you” he says, kissing down your collar bones and rucking up your shirt so he can mouth hungrily at the skin of your stomach, every touch of his desperate and Shaking. “Let me just-please- I know you’re tired but I’ll do I’ll the work- I’ll take care of you-”

- You don’t understand why he suddenly needs your skin on his more than he needs air in his lungs. Maybe its because it’s the first time since you’ve been injured- or maybe because he’d been so close to losing you and Jimin and Namjoon had just reminded him of it. Maybe it's a little bit of the guilt he feels for not being able to protect you and take care of you in the first place. 

- And though you have so many questions, when Yoongi looks at you a little too emotional; you forget all your questions and kiss him back, touch him back when he shakes, because he looks so vulnerable right now- more than you’ve ever seen him.

- Your hand comes down to scratch around his horns in the way you know has had him coming at times, and he groans, low and breathless as he tugs down your pants. Shucking them off and hooking your knee over his shoulder fingers reaching down to part your wetness. The press of his long fingers making your back arch. His mouth as equally hot and wet on you as you feel.  

- True to his word Yoongi does all of the work, and it leaves you feeling boneless and sated in the way only your mate can make you feel. It's sweaty and sensual but close more than anything as he slides into you and keeps you near, chest pressed to yours. his face buried in your shoulder, almost crying with how good it feels to be so connected to you. The kisses lingering and hot and thankful because you’re here- you’re here.

- “Yoongi?” you ask, alarmed when you realize he’s actually crying. Seated inside of you after he’s cum, hiding his face in your shoulder. “Baby what’s wrong?” he can barely speak, his voice raw when he looks up, lips pursed to keep his sobs in.

- “I can’t lose you- I can’t Y/n- I just can’t and that day- when I thought I had lost you” Yoongi is lost for words. “I just- I can’t keep going if you die, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

- “Not ‘if ‘though” you say, being honest with him, crying as you shake your head, “when right? Because I’m not immortal like you” 

- Yoongi shakes his head, suddenly sitting up, “no- I mean if- if you die.” 

- With little more than that Yoongi launches into his explanation, the story of Seokjin and Taehyung, and what that means for both of you. Eventually- you end up sitting up next to each other. Fingers and legs tangled together- Yoongi rushing over his words like a babbling brook. And slowly- what he means to do starts to take hold. 

-  The next morning, Seokjin knocks on the door to your bedroom. “Where are Hoseok and Jungkook?” you ask, finishing braiding your hair while Yoongi laces up his boots. Seokjin leans against the door in his silky purple robe, fiddling with its ties. “They’re eating breakfast- you don’t have to worry about them- they’re okay- a little angry with Jimin and Namjoon for leaving but they’ll be okay.” Seokjin looks like they’re more that he wants to say- but doesn’t. “Did you ever manage to put that spell on Jungkook?” 

- “No- but for the life of me I’m going to figure out why” you can tell by the way he shakes his head that it’s not normal. Yoongi snorts a little, sitting behind you to fiddle with the tail of your braid a little. The action is almost subconscious. “It’s probably for the best- otherwise we’d have to clean him out of the rafters constantly.” Seokjin laughs at that- but still looks uncomfortable.  

- “Did you-“ he turns to Yoongi to ask, but it’s you who answers. “He did.” Seokjin seems to straighten up- nodding softly. Holding out his hand for you to take it. “There’s something I want to show you then.” 

- The boy in the glass coffin is something out of a dream. The flowers surrounding him of every single texture and fragrance, orange blossoms, jasmine, autumn clematis, datura, and sweet woodruff all in piles around the sleeping boy. Blanketing him in heaps of white, filling the room with an intoxicating scent. 

- “Who is he?” you ask, watching the way that Seokjin tenderly rubs circles over the glass. Even underneath it- you can see how beautiful the boy is, gangly in his litheness, but with a strong jaw that spoke of a turning of age. You would have thought he was dead if not for the gentle rise of his chest in his pale white shirt. The collar parted a little to show his chest and the runes written on his skin. 

- “His name Taehyung, he’s my lover,” Seokjin looks down at him like he’s about to cry, “Though a better word for us would be soulmates.” finally you know what Seokjin would see if he looked into the mirror in his study. And why he kept it covered- why look at an imitation when he had the real thing upstairs. 

- There is nothing but the most gentle, the most aching love on Seokjin’s face, and also- the deepest sorrow. “Or like Yoongi calls me- his mate” you smile, tipping your shoulder into Seokjin to try and make that look go off his face, his eyes flicker from the sleeping man up to you. “Yes- I suppose that’s right.”

- “What’s wrong with him? why is he in there?” “I put him in an eternal sleep to stop his aging- until I can find a way for us to be together forever- and turn him immortal like me.” “So you’re going to try and turn him into a magician?” 

- Seokjin shakes his head, “Not quite- it’s not possible for there to be more like me.  if I could turn him into a sorcerer like me- then he’d be immortal. But Magic- it isn’t so easily tamed.” Seokjin looks down at his hands, the blue fire creeping between them like some sort of bug, winding back around his fingers, as quick as you can think it- the fire solidifies into a snake- all at once going back to fire- so quick you almost think you imagine it.

- “Magic is particular about its host. If it bonds with the wrong person it kills them- and almost everyone can’t take it. It’s only ever been my family who was able to take the magic. There hasn’t ever been another bloodline that’s been strong enough.” 

- Yoongi had told you about Seokjin’s family. And you’d also seen one of the portraits hanging deep in the castle. Almost as tall as the room it’s self- the people painted at a one to one scale. Half a dozen people, and at the center of it- a chubby-cheeked Seokjin with those luminous purple eyes, probably no more than 6. Holding hands tightly with a female child with equally as haunting blue eyes. All of them- just gone. “And my bloodline is all dead or gone- there’s not much difference.” 

- So Seokjin only has Taehyung and that glass coffin, he gets to watch his love sleep as long as he wants, but cannot touch him. Forever just too far away until he comes back to life. You watch as Seokjin leans- and puts his weight over Taehyung. If there was no glass, he would be lying across his lap. 

- “Once a year I wake him up- on my birthday. Taehyung makes it my birthday present. But mostly it’s to make sure he hasn’t gotten lost wherever he is in his dreams. Sometimes it’s harder than others to get him to come back, but the good thing is that it just feels like a night has passed for him so he doesn’t have to miss me too much.” 

- “Even though it’s been a year for you? Doesn’t it get lonely for you?” 

- His fingers keep stroking lovingly over the glass of the coffin. “Its hard- but it’s not impossible. To get the chance to live with him forever- to get enough time with him- I’d do anything. One day a year is better than an eternity of nothing.” Seokjin turns his eyes on you, “Yoongi wants to do the same for you and Jungkook.” 

- The breath gets knocked out of your lungs, as you turn it over in your head- eternal sleep, immortality, and all of it boiling down to Yoongi. Of course- he’d told you last night- but now it hits you- this room filled with flowers. Seokjin so close to his love and never able to touch him. When you think back to when you’d been stabbed- you remember some words- comforting- Yoongi’s voice that you’d held onto through the darkness. ‘I haven’t had nearly enough time with you yet’

- “But- Jungkook- he’s only a child.” 

- “He killed a man for you, Y/n, he’s not a child anymore, neither is Hobi” you can’t help it. You wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. “I want to talk with Yoongi again,” Seokjin pushes up from his lovers bedside, his hand lingering on the glass coffin- aching to reach inside and touch him for sure- but he can’t. You don’t want to imagine Yoongi in the same fate. 

- You wait while Seokjin gets Yoongi, looking at Taehyung thinking about yourself locked in some sort of glass contraption. The more you look at Taehyung- the more something about him sticks out. You hear footsteps behind you. Seokjin leaves the two of you to talk for a moment. Intent on retrieving some tea for the three of you. It’s still barely before noon. “I think I may have dreamed about him one point- years ago. There’s something familiar about his face.” 

- Yoongi puts his hand on the side of the glass as if to touch Taehyung. “Did you know him?” “Only for a little while- but just enough to understand why Seokjin could never bear loosing him. In many ways Taehyung is what makes the world sweet for Seokjin- no point in living if all there is only bitterness.” 

- “Is that how- is that how you feel about me? Is that what would happen to you if I died? When I die?” Yoongi pulls you close, and before he can manage to pin his emotions inside of his fire-filled chest they spark up like embers and he’s crying- holding you close. “Don’t say that just yet. But it is.” there is nothing else needed but that- Yoongi’s face pinned to your shoulder, his hands holding you like he knows he wont be able to protect you from the world and all the horrors in it. 

- Seokjin walks back in- carrying a tray piled high with cookies and a pot full of tea that smells sweet. Yoongi holds you around your shoulders while you sit, too tired, and still weak from your injury to stand any longer. You don’t look at Seokjin much when you talk, only at Taehyung. 

- “I don’t want one day a year- not with Jungkook and Hobi being so young. And Yoongi doesn’t want me to wait either so- if you can give me one day a month until Jungkook turns 18. We think that could be enough. And if- if Jungkook wants the same treatment, he can choose it for himself. But we can’t make that choice for him. If he doesn’t choose it then I don’t- I won’t-” 

- Yoongi brushes his hands over yours, “we don’t even know- let's ask him first before you start talking like that” But you both think that Jungkook will want it too- even if it could mean an eternity asleep. You’re already doing the math in your head. Putting it together how much time they’d have left to figure out a cure for your mortality. 

- One day a year with a lifespan of about 80 years- that means Seokjin and Yoongi had around 15,000 years before you died to find a way to make you like them. It wasn’t easy- Yoongi couldn’t help but feel like they didn’t have enough time. Seokjin’s been looking for a little over 100 and he hasn’t found much at all. 

- “There is one other thing” Seokjin looks worried- too worried to ask this of both of you. You catch him clutching Jungkook’s baby blanket like it could be a lifeline again- for the hundredth time since you’ve come here.  He’d taken it a few days ago to study it- try and see if he could put a tracking spell on it to find the owner. But unfortunately- the spell only leads back to Jungkook. Not too surprising since it had been in his possession for so long. “If- if Jungkook’s ancestors are somehow connected to my sister's disappearance, then I need to know.” 

- “Seokjin” Yoongi isn’t full of reproach- only pity- because before now- Seokjin’s never doubted the fact that his sister was dead. That was the only reason why she ever would have left him, or stayed away for the last hundred or so years. 

- Seokjin shakes his head “Only a sorcerer could have put done this spell Yoongi. if it was a witch it would have worn off years ago. and I’m the last one of my family left and I didn’t do the spell. If my sister is still out there- then I need to find out. I need you to show me where you found him.” 

- Seokjin turns to where you sit by his loves bedside, through it all; Taehyung’s chest rises up and down. He turns a little fitful in his sleep. “Taehyung won’t wake for another three weeks- if we go tomorrow- we can be there and back in one. I don’t trust Taehyung with anyone.” his eyes flash with a flood of purple, dangerous as he stares at you, “but I think I can trust you- that’s my price. I’ll put you to sleep like him if you look over him for me while we’re gone.” 

- You nod softly, “that’s more than reasonable” “make sure your children don’t terrorize my castle either” Seokjin rubs at his temples. “God they’re- Hoseok is entirely re-ordering my series on shrinking spells- he thinks he’s putting them back right but- ugh- it's going to take me an age to put them back in order”

- “You can feel what they’re doing?” you ask surprised. “I can feel everything” Seokjin says, melancholy and bleak. “Everything that goes on in this castle if I’m not distracted enough- it kind of gets-” Seokjin’s chest heaves a little unevenly. “Overwhelming. That’s why I can’t live close to anyone all of their thoughts and wants and needs on display- like you. I can tell that you want Yoongi to sit closer to you because you're worried about what he’ll be like when he can't touch you, and I can tell that he’s still calculating something- and it’s making you nervous- please stop- it’s making everything worse Yoon.”

- Yoongi straightens up, his cheeks blushing a little before he pulls his chair closer to yours. You give up after a moment, standing up to sit in his lap. Seokjin doesn’t look uncomfortable- only mollified. Still shaky. “Taehyung used to be the only thing that would make it better-“ 

- “Can you tell what he’s dreaming of?” the way that he’s looking at Taehyung, it’s like he wishes he could lean forward and pulls him closer. Curl up with him on his lap the same way Yoongi is doing with you.  

- “Sometimes” his fingers tap on the glass, “but most of the time it’s hard to see through the glass. And it’s almost worse then- because when you can see your love- but you can’t touch them or hold them or talk with them- it almost makes it worse” he turns to Yoongi sharply. “I guess you’ll find out.” 

- Seokjin’s chest is still heaving unevenly and it makes you alarmed- especially when you see one of the roses by the window shake so hard all its petals fall off- you can almost feel it- the way the air trembles. A glass bottle on the shelf rattles, and nearly falls off the edge before it’s pushed back. 

- Seokjin’s hands shake too. You reach out- gently covering Seokjin’s hands with yours over the glass coffin. “If you can’t see him- maybe talking about him will help calm you down” your voice is low and honeyed- like you’re comforting a startled doe. 

- Yoongi can see the way Seokjin visibly shutters at the contact- almost shakes too much and Yoongi curses himself a little internally. His friend has been on his own for so long and it’s so painful to see. He’s so incredibly starved for human touch. Seokjin leaves his hand under yours over the glass casket, lets you touch him even though it looks like it’s overwhelming to him- so much so that it almost hurts.

- Yoongi knows what that feels like- remembers feeling much the same the first time he’d ever touched you- those first lingering touches- when you’d pass him baby Jungkook- or the feel of his son in his arms- such a slight boneless weight, warm and soft in all the most endearing ways. 

- You’re such a natural healer- and Seokjin looks so distraught- so achingly lonely- you can’t not reach out and try to make it better. If he’s going to give you Yoongi your family forever- the least you can do is offer him this. 

- “Taehyung was- Taehyung is an effervescent person.” Seokjin looks at his love when he says the words- soft and slow. “There are certain people that only come along once in a lifetime- that you are destined to meet. My sister- she was the fortuneteller of the family- she was the one who always saw what was going to happen to us before it did. And if she’d been able to meet him- I’m sure she would have said it was fate, because there isn’t any other explanation for him loving me.” 

- “Humanity is a delicate thing- you all- chase immortality like you should want it- like memories should be eternal- but they aren’t. It didn’t use to bother me- not being able to remember where I was born or how I grew up- but Taehyung- Taehyung made me not want to forget a single second.”

- “He was a farm boy, grew up with a big family as poor as could be but never with an empty stomach. even now,  if I think hard enough- I can still taste his peach tart on my tongue. He makes it for me every year on my birthday. I wake him up and he makes me a peach tart and we eat it. Tae calls it “every day a birthday” 

- “He’s the one who made me put him to sleep you know- I was prepared to live with him until he died and then- find a way to end my life myself- I wanted it- I more than wanted it but Tae- he saw right through me. He almost died just before. Got hit in the head during one of the last battles.” 

- Seokjin looks at Yoongi, and Yoongi nods. “I remember, Namjoon and I were fighting on the mountainside, and we saw this black cloud flood the valley- like smoke. And by the time it dissipated, there was only Seokjin and Tae left.” you bristle internally- wondering how powerful the man who sits across from you is if he can fell an army in a single day. 

- “I put him to sleep so that I could heal him- so that he wouldn’t die. The initial spell wasn’t much different than the one that’s on him now. I stitched him together cell by cell until his brain was healed. I was so worried when he woke up that he wouldn’t remember me but he did- and the first words out of his mouth were; ‘I knew you would die for me- but you also have to live Jinnie- both of us do- I’m not letting me be the reason you die.”

- You look up sharply at Yoongi when he intakes a jagged breath- “would you do the same for me Yoongi?” he can’t answer, only keeps holding your hand. And you know just by the way his eyes flood with tears and his shoulders hunch in that yes- that is the case. 

- Suddenly you’re flustered, standing up, “Okay this is a lot- we need to hug it out” you gesture expectantly with your open arms, suddenly not able to handle all of the emotion in the room without doing something about it.

- Yoongi gives an aborted protest at you standing. And Seokjin flushes all the way to his ears again. Both of them folding in around you- your arm coming up to loosely tug Seokjin into your arms and he goes gratefully after a moment of reluctance. Both of them holding onto you limply. “I don’t get hugs a lot.” Seokjin says, his voice sounding small and shy. 

- “Well it’s a good thing I have some to spare.” Yoongi gives you a thankful look before he tucks his face in close kissing your forehead and then dragging burying his face in your shoulder. both of them taller than you, hunched over to hug you properly. 

- The three of you hug for a bit and then you pull apart first- because as much as you are always happy to comfort him. Your side is starting to ache a little- and you need to sit down. Both of them understand, even if you do see Seokjin’s hand reach out a little at first- unwilling to part with his first source of human comfort in a little less than a year. 

- “Tell me more- tell me all of the good things” Seokjin launches into the story of when they first met without a second thought- smiling this time. Yoongi sends you a thankful look. Somewhere along the line. The room has stopped shaking with Seokjin’s tremulous emotions. And with his focus firmly on all of the happy memories he has with Taehyung he relaxes a little. 

- All in all though, it might not be the best moment for him to lose his concentration. As your 15 and 13-year-old sons are left unchaperoned in a house full of very magical and very dangerous objects and spellbooks. Not the best moment for Seokjin to be occupied.

- If he hadn’t been so distracted, he might have realized sooner- before it was too late. 

- Jungkook and Hoseok have found their way through the library and into a second more hidden library, then down a set of steps that where slippery with moss- through a separate hidden passageway and then through a door- which didn’t open for Hoseok- and then miraculously and for some unknown reason opened for Jungkook. (But don’t worry- you’ll discover why in the next 5,000 words or so- so please be patient) 

- “Huh- Seokjin- Hyung was really right- the spells really won’t work on you” Jungkook just shrugs, happily shoving back the heavy iron door using all his body weight to push it open. “He should have put a real lock on it- then that might have kept me out” 

- Hoseok smiles at Jungkook’s cockiness- only 13 and Hoseok can only think that if Jungkook where a character in one of your storybooks, He could have been a formidable child thief. “And besides what do they expect- we don’t have anything to do here. It's his fault for not giving us something to do!” 

- When Jungkook grins at Hobi- Hobi can almost feel the future. The mischief that both of them are going to get into once Hoseok gets large enough to carry them both around the world- they want to see it all. 

- Hoseok is glad- after a few days of being in a dream-like fog- it seems as though Jungkook is almost back to normal. There have been a few moments- one where he saw Jungkook flinch back from some warm water- washing up for dinner. And another, when he’d washed the clothes they’d been in that day to get out the blood. But other than that- he seems to be handling everything as well as can be expected. 

- Hoseok knows (as Hoseok always knows) that Jungkook is waiting for the right time to vent to you and Yoongi about it. Hoseok wants to too- and figure out why he doesn’t feel as affected- and it’s not like he feels heartless- like he doesn’t care that he killed people. No- he feels guilty but he figures those men had made a choice just like Hoseok had made a choice.

- The room is piled high with all but the creepiest of things- crystals glow a dull purple in the wall- as glass eyes curl and blink from a few crevasses here and there where the plaster has fallen away and the bricks are exposed. Glittering potion bottles, teeth in glass jars as well as something fluffy and black that taps at the side of one with sharp claws. 

- A glowing sphere here and there- nothing too bad- nothing too out of the ordinary. Stacks of black leather diary’s stacked on a shelf- more shelves crammed with things. Jungkook dashes off before with a happy hum before Hoseok can keep up, preoccupied with taking everything in. The younger disappearing through the maze of shelves and piles.

- Hoseok’s wades through the collection slower. There is something about the smell down here, Hoseok’s nose smarting with something acrid, that he doesn’t like- doesn’t want to be around at all. “Jungkookie?” Hoseok calls, walking through the isles of potions and books; somehow he’d lost sight of jungkook almost immediately. He walks too quickly, almost knocking over a fishbowl full of squids with human faces. His head bumping into some sort of crusty dried plant- the flower blooms when he touches it- but then dies when he moves away.

- For some reason he feels like he should apologize to it- and when he does- the flower bows back.  A shiver works his way down his spine. A feeling like he’s being watched by something old and ancient sinking its claws into the back of his neck. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

- “Ugh... Kookie! I don’t think we should be down here!” he calls, looking frantically around for his companion. and then he spots Jungkook, or the back of his head, walking forward slowly. It’s then that he sees it, set into a wall of shelves, a glass box faintly glowing, its door sliding open with a faint squeak.

- Hoseok can feel the pounding in his ears strengthen as Jungkook walks towards it growing closer to thunder. the light in the box, a long glowing stick that can only be described as a wand pulsing in time with the thundering in his ears- probably in Jungkook’s too. He shouts Jungkook’s name again but he doesn’t turn.  

- When Hoseok speaks it feels like he’s talking through water, runs forward to pull Jungkook back from the box, because whatever it is it can’t be good but the younger just pushes him off. It’s then that Hoseok realizes that something is wrong- terribly wrong.

- Jungkook’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated and glassy, lips parts as he stares at the wand, not even seeing Hoseok, “Kookie- stop I don’t think we should mess with-“ before Hoseok can stop him, Jungkook is reaching out, touching the wand. It’s so gentle, almost a caress. Hoseok sees it- the moment Jungkook’s brown eyes flood with bright blue- and the world explodes in a cloud of energy and magic.

- Seokjin is just telling you about the time that Taehyung tried to convince Seokjin into dying Taehyung’s hair bright pink when he pauses in the middle of a sentence. Mouth hanging open for a second before he’s cursing and disappearing in a flash- one moment present and the next not. You and Yoongi hear his voice a moment later- booming out with some sort of spell. “The basement- they found their way into- shit- fuck!”

- You and Yoongi break out into a run, and the house seems to move around you- aiding in guiding you towards them- the floors sloping down when you need and doors opening seconds before you pass them almost making Yoongi almost collide to one of them more than once. Yoongi keeps a hand on your side- supporting you enough that it barely hurts when you run. “Not that way you idiot- this way.”

- The belly of the castle gets progressively darker, glowing crystals hanging in alcoves and mushrooms growing in crevasses. Little hidden creatures that definitely are not mice making little screeching noises and running from the direction of where Seokjin guides you. Every living thing- even the moss on the walls, slowly itching away from whatever’s happened down there. You can’t run as quickly on account of your wounds but Yoongi doesn’t let you walk alone. Supporting you as you hobble along.

- “Jungkook!” you shout when you see- your son, floating a few feet above in the air, a diffuse cloud of light blue fog surrounding him- Seokjin is quick to stop you with a hand, “don’t touch him! If you want to live we can’t touch him!” Yoongi catches you around your waist just in time. Keeping you from lunging for your son. your shrill shriek of “Jungkook! Hoseok!” 

- Seokjin holds his arms stiff, his hands and fingers bent at awkward angles. Magic sparking between his fingers, the bright purple fire morphs into bubbles on the end of each finger-popping off as they float to Jungkook. Combining and growing in size- encasing him in a glassy cage. Seokjin is the one keeping Jungkook contained, the only thing that separates you all from life- and oblivion.

- A pile of books stirs next to you and a fully shifted Hoseok stirs, tossing books to the ground and sneezing in all of the dust. Shifting in a smooth movement, Yoongi reaching out to touch him- to make sure he’s there an uninjured. “Oh Hobi- oh” you try as he runs to you shifting mid-step, hitting each other and holding on, his head tucked under your chin. 

- “What happened!? What did you touch!?” Seokjin silences your protests of his tone with a look. “Just a- a wand I think?” Hoseok is small and scared in your arms. Seokjin looks enraged. “Don’t you know not to touch other people's things? Jungkook could have blown this castle and half the country to dust! And now he’s-“ 

- Seokjin chokes, the magic taking the air out of his lungs, he stumbles, but straightens. Making another complex movement with his hands when the bubble tries to swell. Contained by both his hands now- not just one. “Now it might be too late.” 

- “Seokjin- what happened to him- can he be-” “Yoongi please- it’s all I can do to keep this contained- he must have-” Seokjin cannot meet Yoongi’s eyes, “The wand is trying to bind with him.” The glowing stone at the center of Seokjin’s own chest seems to glow and pulsate stronger at the words. Yoongi almost falls to his knees- no- not Jungkook. You and Hoseok are confused, horror on Yoongi’s face, Hoseok already stepping in-between you and Jungkook- like that will keep you safe from whatever threat.

- “What does this mean?”  it hits him, almost makes him fall to his knees, Hoseok can’t breathe. He can’t feel Jungkook’s soul bond at all- not an inch of it. The light in his chest- the glowing soft press that always lets him know that he’s not alone- isn’t there anymore.

- Seokjin says the words steady, the way only an immortal can. “It means Jungkook is going to die.  And if I don’t keep this bubble around the magic- so will all of us.” 

- Jungkook doesn’t know what happened, one moment he was standing in that room and the next he’s being blown back, back through the darkness and a strange pulsating blue light and into a dark unfamiliar night.

- Also- straight into a puddle. His hands hit the mud dark water soaking his clothes- He splutters as the rain hits his face, his eyes focusing on the dark tree line. The buildings- peaked roofs with bright green tiles- different. He’s never seen them or any that looked like them before. But there are lights in the houses. 

- He stands, his back and pant legs soaked with rain, he figures- there must have been some sort of transporting spell on whatever he touched (because he’d been reading Seokjin’s spell books every chance he gets and he’d discovered that those are a thing). A sudden horror fills him- because wherever he is- it’s certainly not close to Seokjin’s. The air feels colder here- closer to winter than to summer. Strange- he can almost see his breath exhaled in a cloud of blue when he heaves a shaking breath.

- He’s scared for about half a moment- before he hears the telltale whistle of dragon wings- almost unnoticeable- and he see’s the black wings faintly in the night sky, blocking out the stars. A sight he can recognize only because he’s seen it before countless times. Thank god- he thinks- because where ever he’s managed to end up Yoongi has still found him. 

- He starts to run, almost calling out his name. He ends up face to face with him after Yoongi lands soundlessly knowing to stay a little ways back incase his dad doesn’t see him yet. Yoongi’s eyes sparking with a familiar yellow glow when he runs forward to greet him. “I don’t know what happened dad, one moment I was there and now I’m-” 

- It surprises him- when Yoongi opens his maw and spits fire.

- He flinches, but it only takes him opening his eyes realizing that he’s not dead he’s not burning. The fire isn’t going around him- but through him he realizes when he holds his hand up. He’s confused- his mind tries to justify that it’s just a spell- the last few weeks have led him to assume that- the amount of charms that he’d begged and bugged Seokjin to put on him. (Much to the elder's frustration when the vast majority of spells just don’t work) Some sort of protective charm it must be. Like the one on his scarf that Seokjin had seemed so so interested in. 

- He hears the screaming- the ear-piercing shrieking as the people run out of their houses- a gong sounds. But its already too late. “Dad- you’ve got to stop why are you-” but Yoongi just barrels through him, pulling down the roof of a house with one grab of a claw. Jungkook realizes that he must be dreaming when he tries to grab a sword sitting by the stoop of one of the houses and his hand goes straight through the handle.

- Jungkook stares at his hand for a moment- Dreaming- this must be a dream- that’s the only justification for why Yoongi would be doing this- why he would ignore Jungkook and why he would be hurting all of these people. 

- All of the carnage- the people burning and screaming- some of them running, trying to roll on the ground to put their burning clothes out. Jungkook stands in the middle of it all- powerless to do anything. Jungkook watches as Yoongi tosses one back against a tree. The mans back breaking with an audible shatter that jars his ears. 

- When the carnage stops He’s crying, climbing over a broken house. looking into the face of a charred corpse when Yoongi finally shifts human. “Dad” he’s crying when he tries to walk to him. “Why did you do this? Why did you hurt these people? Please I need to know- I can’t-” 

- Yoongi doesn’t respond, looks at the surrounding world with disgust and hatred, and turns to walk away- he can’t hear Jungkook- can’t hear him at all. “FUCK- JUST LOOK AT ME GOD DAMN IT!” Jungkook shouts, near hysterical. He feels his words startle something- a small flinch under the boards in his feet. And suddenly a shrill crying starts up. 

- That makes Yoongi turns at that, surprise in his face, he moves a heavy board and Jungkook moves to let him. He recognizes the red baby blanket first- how many times had he twined that little thing around his neck- loving the familiar comfort of the fabric. The squirming little thing is small- probably no more than 6 months old at the most, blood on his cheek. 

- Jungkook reaches a hand to touch the scar on his face. “That’s me isn’t It.” no one is there to answer it as he watches. Looks- and doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. 

- It’s- this is a memory- not a dream. 

- The baby version of himself settles into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook watches his father look at him. A sudden gentleness in his eyes. “Don’t- don’t leave me here dad- don’t let me die please” his words fall on unhearing ears but the rain starts up again. And Jungkook watches as Yoongi uses his body to shield the small red mass from the deluge above. His words are soft and shaky, “it’s okay- don’t cry- it’s gonna be fine I’ll- I’ll take you somewhere safe.” 

- A tugging fixes in his gut- a feeling like he’s just about to vomit and then he’s thrown into the next memory. He’s at the cottage. The one he barely remembers- but the leaky roof, the chicken coup, and the front porch- that he knows. The times he’d fallen up those two steps. The soft feeling of a baby chick in his hands, a drop of water falling on his cheek- that he remembers. 

- Unlike before- this world is all golden tones- the trees shining bright green. A happy memory at golden hour. And on the front porch leaning against the railing- you and Yoongi stand a few inches apart, and he can tell just by looking at you that you haven’t quite fallen in love yet. 

- Your voices low- you don’t seem to notice Jungkook standing in the grass, but he hadn’t really expected either of you to see him at this point. To his left- he hears a noise- a startling in the chicken coop, a chicken indignant at being bothered, a small body chasseing them.

- “You’ve never told me- how you got Jungkook you know? And if we’re going to do this co-parenting thing, I feel like that’s something I should know.” Your words knock Jungkook’s attention from the younger version of himself back to you both.  Standing next to each other- not letting your shoulders brush, but he see’s you lean a little and gathers that you might want too. 

- “Do you want the truth- or a pretty lie?” your smile is small, Yoongi’s too. “The truth is preferable- we’ll have more than enough time to lie to each other” 

- “Did you kill his parents?” Jungkook can tell the sudden question startles Yoongi. By the way his jaw goes tight and his eyes go down. Won’t meet yours. “It’s alright if you did- not much we can do about it now.” 

- “Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, “yes- I think if we raise him at all well- when he finds out- it will hurt sure. But if we raise him well enough he’ll know that you didn’t have a choice.” Your voice dies in your throat. When you see Yoongi’s crestfallen expression. “Yoongi what are you thinking?” 

- “I’m thinking that He’ll hate me when he finds out- he should hate me- you should hate me- do you know how many humans I’ve killed? How much blood is on my hands? You shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-’” 

- Jungkook sees Yoongi flinch back when you reach out to him- on the porch, Jungkook can hear a giggle- a small black head of hair that must be his own poking up in the tall grass. Chasing a chicken through the underbrush in his direction. God- he doesn’t ever remember being that small.

 “Yoongi” you try to stop him as he spills out into the soft grass. A few feet from where Jungkook stands. Golden light shining overly bright in his black horns. “I should go.”

- You look scared when you ask, “are you going to come back?” “I don’t know” he’s being honest Jungkook realizes, hand on the railing. You look so much younger than Jungkook ever remembers seeing you.

- The chicken dashes across Jungkook’s path, and in the grass- a small body tottels- Jungkook looks down at himself, so small and innocent- even now- adventurous. And for a brief moment, he stares into his own eyes- and sees a flash of curiosity in his child self’s face. Jungkook looks around to find something his child self might be staring at and finds nothing but himself. The young boy reaches up a hand and lets out a happy giggle- pointing at Jungkook like he can see him. 

- The next moment is much like the first, all dark and black tones. Only this time the earth is sandy and sooty beneath his feet. There are so many of Hobi’s kind here- great big birdlike dragons. But it’s also as chaotic as the first. The world on fire red feathers falling from the sky. Jungkook is inside of an unfamiliar house looking out the window.

- Jungkook can hear the men shouting outside, as he looks around the house- the nest. It’s a simple accept for the golden plate wear and the shining tapestry on the wall. He hears a crash a roar. And massive being crashes into the doorway as fire roars outside. The dragon shifts- the woman limping in her human form- her golden horns polished and sharpened to points on either side of her cheeks.

- “Hoseok! Hoseok baby we have to go- go with your sister and get out of here” a small redhead- his soulmates head pokes up from underneath the kitchen table his horn catches on the edge as he stands sending the gold plate wear clanging to the ground. He runs for the woman, his little hands fisting in her long patterned skirt.  “No! I won’t leave without you alpha!” the woman grabs a long sword hanging by the door. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment! I can’t stay my little hatchling” she turns away, tearing Hoseok’s hands from where they clutch at her skirt forcefully.  

- And Jungkook watches, horror-stricken as Hoseok heads out after her. So small, shouldering his arms as he heads out into the bloodbath- too young to understand. Too young to understand and yet Jungkook knows that Hoseok will grow up a lot today- that he won’t ever really be the same. “Stop Hobi- you can’t“ Hoseok’s head whips around at the last moment, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, looking around the room for the source of the voice- but sees nothing. Continuing on after a moment. 

- The next few memories are a flurry- go too fast for Jungkook to really gather what they mean, one after another. The memories piling over each other like pages in a book. Hoseok in dragon form looking down at a younger version of himself, his tongue flicking out to lick at his cheek. Dialogue from you and Yoongi spoken through the darkness. “How did this happen- how did they get through the mountains?”

- Yoongi’s voice answering your question. “Happens more often than you think- it’s easier to get through in the south- where the snow doesn’t fall as thick. My parents died in much the same way.” The fog around Jungkook thickens, sinking into his lungs and choking him. Jimin voice- not yours, delicate and lilting. The sensation of a hand dragging through his hair. Asleep by a fireplace with the taste of the salty ocean on his tongue.

- “Dragons and humans are like separate sides of the same coin- can’t stab one without running through the other.” Yoongi agreeing, “A nest gets raided- and a dragon like me gets sent to kill a whole town. If we keep fighting- the bloodshed is never going to end Namjoon.” 

- The next time Jungkook lands on even footing, he’s in the cave in the mountains and everything is golden again. He can see out the wide opening from this angle, and when he sees the green dragon in the sky circling above. He remembers this day, the first time he’d seen a dragon that wasn’t Hobi or Yoongi. He remembers how scared he’d been- Yoongi attacking with an almost feral power. He looks back into the cave as the dragon descends to your spot in the rocks waiting for his father to take action and protect you. 

- But Yoongi still isn’t turning, still doesn’t see what’s about to happen, Jungkook’s anxiety builds as he sees the dragon start into a low spiral. Spotted you in the rocks. Jungkook looks down and sees a red head and a black head dancing here and there as they play a game that Jungkook’s forgotten the rules of. Looking back at Yoongi- any moment now- Yoongi will realize what’s about to happen, any moment now he’ll come to your rescue. 

- But time ekes on- precious seconds- his father will be too late if he doesn’t go now. And you will die.  Jungkook doesn’t think- just runs over and tugs- actually tugs on Yoongi’s sleeve. 

- This time- his hand doesn’t just go through Yoongi, this time he actually touches him. “Did you want a snack?” Jungkook tugs again, because Yoongi still isn’t turning. When Yoongi turns he still sees no one there. He calls his name once, and then Hobi’s and by that time he sees, he’s jumping through the opening to fly to your aid leaving Jungkook standing in that cave. 

- Jungkook feels his shoulders curl in on himself, “I want to go home- please just- take me back” and the cloud that surrounds him- what can only be magic- listens to him. 

- This is different than Jimin's plant magic, the wordless sort of magic that has the world leaning in. The kind makes the world stop in place and turn around him. Every inch of intent spoken by his mouth an order that time will bow too. 

- If dragons and humans are two sides of the same coin- then so are Seokjin and Jungkook. 

- Jungkook wakes up- his eyes shooting open in the bubble- no whites of his eyes, only bright blue. The bubble bursts in a flash of power and light that hits you like a gale. Its only Yoongi’s quick thinking that keeps you and Hoseok from falling backward. Even Seokjin has to bring up an arm to shield his eyes from the flash of blinding light. Jungkook hits the floor with his hands out, catching himself before he falls. 

-   “I don’t hate you” is the first thing he says when he lifts his head, chest heaving scrambling to his feet. Running to Yoongi without a second thought tears in is eyes. 

- “What- Kookie-“ Yoongi barely comprehends his youngest throwing his arms around his neck, pulling him in close tightly for a bruising hug. “it’s okay- you’re safe now Jungkook” Jungkook pulls back- a smile in his face and tears in his eyes. “Dad I really don’t- I saw it- I saw you- the night you got me- and you need to believe me- I don’t hate you.” 

- “Jungkook what are you talking about,” Hoseok asks, disbelieving, so relieved to feel the soulbond back in place in his chest that he’s breathless.  Jungkook looks between your faces- one after the other. Smiling so wide his nose scrunches. “I saw it- your memories, the night you found me! I was going to be a dragon hunter wasn’t I? But I wouldn’t have wanted to be. That’s why you didn’t let me fight, but I love you guys- I’d never hurt you- I understand why you did what you did and this doesn’t change a thing- I understand everything now.” 

- “Well that makes one of us- is anyone going to tell me what just happened?” Hoseok snarks.  “I don’t know either Hobi,” you say, shaking your head. But Yoongi is almost crying as Jungkook’s words hit him. Because how could it be? how does he know? and does he really understand? His first instinct is to believe that Jungkook couldn't. but then, when he sees Jungkook’s face, sad- but not angry- not at Yoongi at least, all of the fight going out of him. 

- That’s the second time Jungkook ever sees his father cry. Touching his cheek and pulling him in. “My little hatchling I-“ he’s at a loss for words, something that feels like pride and hope clawing its way- vicious and golden up through his chest. 

- Yoongi’s arms reach out- tugging the four of you close- he can barely get his arms around you all- the three people that matter the most in the world to him. All in one spot. Yoongi holds onto the three of you tighter, like his own arms will be enough to shield them from the horrors of the world.

- Besides all of you Seokjin falls to his knees, his eyes unable to leave Jungkook. Uneven breath heaving in his chest- his focus- his whole world narrowing down to Jungkook too. 

- “I’m not- I’m not alone- I can’t believe it- I-” 

- The four of you look up where Seokjin sits, pulling himself over on his knees his trembling hands reaching out for Jungkook. A part of you that feels fiercely protective wants to reach out and stop him from touching your son- too soon after having him in mortal peril. “Seokjin- what do you mean?” beside you, Hoseok straightens up; letting out a small sigh of relief- this has been a stressful 30 minutes- that’s for certain. 

- “Hold out your arm Jungkook” Jungkook does, where once his forearms had been bare, now a light hovers below his skin. a line of brilliantly glowing blue the length of his forearm. The magic wand embedded in his skin where it will sit for the end of time- or until Jungkook dies- whichever comes first. 

- The veins in his arms glowing too- taking the magic to the rest of his body. Not rejecting it at all- but growing to accommodate the magic, which has chosen Jungkook as his host. 

- The four of you huddle around him, and when Hoseok tries to reach out and touch it too- a little bolt of lightning sparks and shocks him he flinches But reaches forward again- in awe anyway. Pleased to find the same thing doesn’t happen the second time when he clenches the hand of his soul-bonded partner. 

- “If you where human bonding with the wand would have killed you” Seokjin’s hands are soft on Jungkook’s arm as he traces the line of the wand almost lovingly. “What does it mean” Jungkook breathes, the wand feels Bulging and hard underneath Jungkook’s skin not uncomfortable, but not pleasant either.

- “It means that you’re not human Jungkook- you’re a sorcerer like me.”

I know times are tough on all of us, but if you like reading my stories please donate to my Kofi to help support my work!

[shihalyfie]

Daisuke and Ken’s dynamic, and what Ken does for Daisuke in return

Everyone in the main 02 cast can be said to be a little surface-deceptive in some way, and so, even with Daisuke and Ken as the relationship at the forefront of 02′s story, there’s still more going on behind it than first glance would initially make you suspect. It’s all too easy to just take the surface reading and decide that Daisuke is some kind of saint whom Ken is singularly dependent on for his happiness (which would really be quite the unhealthy relationship), or, worse, shove them into the stereotypical BL tropes just because they’re the two at the front, even though the story practically went out of its way to depict them as unusual characters who don’t fit into those kinds of boxes as easily.

Even though it wasn’t stated outright in words, Ken did a lot for Daisuke in return, and there’s a lot of layers to their relationship to each other both in the series and in going forward after it.

What Daisuke does for Ken

That Daisuke and Ken have very “complementary” personalities goes without saying, but this applies to both their surface demeanors and what lies beneath them. Daisuke has an abrasive surface demeanor and a tendency to get defensive, but isn’t actually very assertive at all; on the other hand, Ken is more polite and ostensibly “soft”, but is significantly more assertive than Daisuke is. This also means that, while it would of course be foolhardy to pretend that Ken could easily shrug off all of his trauma, it’s also conversely reductive to shove the two of them into boxes where Ken is a constant crybaby angsting over everything bad that’s happened to him while Daisuke’s the only ray of sunshine who can get him out of it. A lot of Ken’s strength in the series is self-supplied; he of course does end up needing the others’ support at times, but extreme readings like this really don’t give the kid enough credit for how good he is at gritting his teeth and pushing on without anyone prompting him.

The initial problem, however, is that Ken is too assertive about the wrong things at first. Like, say, in 02 episode 26, when he assertively says that he’s going to...recklessly chuck himself into an exploding reactor! For the third quarter of the series, Ken deliberately tries to keep his distance from others, and is very clear and open about his reasons why: in his mind, it’s his responsibility, and the others shouldn’t have to be involved. He doesn’t want their friendship, he doesn’t even think he deserves their friendship, and here’s Daisuke going “okay, yeah, but that’s stupid, shut up and let us help you.”

Adventure and 02 have a strong thread of driving it home that “doing things on sheer principle eventually becomes pointless when it gets in the way of being practical” -- and Daisuke, being a simple-minded and “straightforward” person who doesn’t overthink things, is basically there to keep Ken’s focus back on the proper picture. Because yeah, Ken can attempt to do things like frame things in terms of whether he “deserves” all of this, or “whose responsibility” this all is -- but the fact of the matter is that Daisuke and his friends want to do something and help instead of being sitting ducks about it, Ken’s practically not going to be able to do this alone, and, well, that’s the base of their first Jogress in 02 episode 26! Ken says outright that his goal is to do something to help, but then decides that “helping” should involve suicidally chucking himself into an exploding reactor, and Daisuke, hearing out Ken’s troubles, reminds him that him dying there won’t actually help the way Ken wants to help, because it won’t leave him alive to do all of the other things he wants to do and will hurt his family even more just when he was starting to repair things with them -- and as much as this extremely suicidal plan might temporarily spare the others from dying in an explosion, Daisuke would have to live with the guilt of letting Ken go off to die like that, so it won’t make him happy either.

So in other words, while Ken’s trying to sort out his complicated feelings of guilt, shame, and sense of responsibility, Daisuke’s there to keep his head on straight and remind him when he’s about to run himself in mental circles. Ken would have easily spent the rest of the series trying to make up for what he did even without Daisuke’s help, because he’s such a strong believer in “the right thing to do”, but his way of going on about it would have involved him staying in isolation out of a perceived sense of responsibility, endangering himself out of a sense of self-sacrifice, drowning himself in self-blame and feelings of regret, and, eventually, not addressing the very gaping hole in his life that he very much needs emotional support from others right now.

One thing particularly interesting about the Japanese version of 02 is that, for nearly the entirety of the second half of the series, Ken only refers to Daisuke as “Motomiya”, which is surprising given the fact that he employs given-name basis with the others quite quickly. Ken eventually does commit to “Daisuke” after the series in almost all post-02 material, and this image fits the two so well that pretty much every doujinshi artist has caught onto it despite it not being there all that much in the actual series, but it really took him a while; what gives? (Daisuke himself committed to “Ken” from surname basis “Ichijouji” starting in 02 episode 39.) Well, the important distinction is that Ken dropped the honorific with him from very early on -- meaning that he did want to approach Daisuke with a little bit of casual bluntness in a way beyond the distant respect he treated the others with, but at the time, going straight to buddy-buddy on given name with no honorific at all would have been a bit too much for him, and it comes off as him almost deliberately giving off a sense of distance. Why?

Ken didn’t have too much of an opinion on each individual kid in the group until 02 episode 8, when he developed a particular hatred for Daisuke for “ruining his pride” and decided to emotionally torture him a bit. Then, come 02 episode 25, this same kid approached him with no sense of grudge whatsoever, and presents him with a completely different way of seeing things: “whatever you did in the past, you’re clearly trying to help now, which means we’re now on the same side, so we should work together.” It’s pragmatic; it’s extremely pragmatic, and it’s not like Daisuke was working off of blind optimism and trust as much as he observed, very practically, that Ken was clearly trying to do better now and that therefore they should work together and make use of it. This kind of thought pattern is completely alien to Ken’s “I deserve/don’t deserve this” mentality at this point of this series, and by all standards of his own logic Daisuke should be one of the people who hates him the most, and yet -- nope!

By the time of their Jogress, Ken of course understands that Daisuke’s trying very hard to communicate with him, and thus they develop a sort of rapport -- but they’re not quite friends yet at the level of truly being “comfortable” with each other, because most of the second half of the series involved circumstances where Daisuke was helping Ken through a very emotionally hard time. It’s only at the point of the Christmas party in 02 episode 38 when Ken can really think about having these kids as real friends in terms of socializing and not just people who are willing to work with him in his penance journey. It’s enough that Ken’s able to admit that he wants the help of Daisuke in 02 episode 44, when beforehand he’d been trying to keep everyone out of what he’d perceived as his business. And, as Ken’s slowly more exposed to Daisuke’s way of life and its influence on the rest of the group around him, he comes to understand that maybe having a “close friend who can support him” isn’t that bad after all, since it’s not like these friends are just being “open-minded” towards him; they really are there to support him and his actual feelings and welfare, not just “cutting him slack” because he’s helping.

And so, with that, once the crisis is resolved and all is said and done, Ken finally truly accepts Daisuke as his friend and moves him up to given-name basis (no honorific!). This is most prominently shown in Diablomon Strikes Back, where their interactions are now removed from the question of Ken’s former actions and his emotional problems, and it turns out, they’re still good friends in the sense that friends are. As in, people who laugh together, hang out together, converse with each other casually; even if they are working together on the same thing for the duration of the movie, it’s not such an emotionally tense situation that you could chalk their interactions up to sheer necessity. With Daisuke’s help, Ken was able to move on from all of his past hangups, and the two of them became able to enjoy the moment of “now” like normal children.

What Ken does for Daisuke

Daisuke may be simple-minded enough to not have deep-seated concerns that eat at him every day, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was a bit socially maladjusted during the early parts of the series. Namely, being really insecure and prone to getting defensive whenever he felt he was being made fun of. Those kinds of things were what was most likely to get Daisuke to “lash out” at others, because he slips into his worst bouts of these whenever he’s lacking in validation.

Daisuke was, undoubtedly, improving over the course of the series, with him slowly starting to become more assertive by the time of 02 episode 20. It’s incorrect to say that Ken was the only person who could truly help him with this; 02 is a series about a group dynamic after all (even if the Jogress pairs are the most instrumental in helping each other), and it would be a pretty unhealthy relationship if one person were so dependent on another to even remotely function. But starting in 02 episode 22, when the crisis is momentarily resolved and everyone’s not sure what to do, Daisuke’s feeling of being third wheeled by Takeru and Hikari shoots up right at the moment everyone’s feeling a bit lacking in purpose. Two episodes later, Miyako immediately stages an intervention to help keep his mind off of things, and she’s arguably even the most comfortable with him at this point in time.

It’s not that Daisuke isn’t improving, nor that his friends aren’t trying to help, but, well...emotionally sensitive as Miyako can be, she’s also a bit all over the place herself and sometimes needs restraining; Hikari may be assertive, but she’s pretty obviously apprehensive about shutting Daisuke down too bluntly, and Takeru being so hard to read and evasive about everything means that Daisuke can’t really tell what he’s thinking or understand his intentions; Iori is younger and is restraining himself, so he still won’t cross certain lines with Daisuke. So as you can see, they’re all doing their best, and they’re not doing a terrible job of it either; hell, the rest of the series involves them maturing into people who can better interact with and support each other, so their own relationships with Daisuke are likely to improve even well after the series ends. It’s just that, especially at this point in the series, there’s definitely room for an extra person to fill a certain niche that’s got a gaping void here, begging for someone who’s assertive and put-together enough to regularly keep Daisuke in check, yet also willing to be properly straightforward with him to the extent that he doesn’t have to feel insecure about their intentions. Hmm, who could that be?

Although “the priority of reaching out to Ken” eventually becomes enough of a distraction that it certainly takes Daisuke’s mind off potentially feeling insecure, as we start to see more “casual” interactions between Daisuke and Ken, we see that Ken actually fills in a lot of the gaps that had been so sorely missing in this group dynamic for a while. Forward-thinking as he is, Daisuke’s simple-minded way of going at things has its drawbacks in that he’s not very smart or good at thinking, but Ken is the opposite, being intellectually analytical and much more thoughtful overall, and since Daisuke is the kind of person who defers to others when they’re better than him at something, Ken being right next to him means that he can give him a hand in making important decisions he can’t by himself. This is especially so in Diablomon Strikes Back, when Ken’s role is largely keeping an eye on Daisuke and making sure he’s not a loose cannon -- something he’s very capable of doing -- but also simply being there as a springboard whom Daisuke can comfortably approach and talk to, since Ken is such a mild-mannered, straightforward person who won’t set off his overly defensive tendencies as easily.

That doesn’t mean that Ken is completely above teasing him, of course -- a lot of post-02 material in fact makes sure you understand that he’s not just some soft-hearted saint and can be quite the snarker when he wants, since his increased comfort level with Daisuke means he’s now able to poke at him here and there, even doing something as mean as dumping all of the Christmas shopping on him (the character songs and other related in-character material lie in questionably canonical territory, but that kind of punchline is not unreasonable to imagine given their respective personalities). But, overall, he sets the right tone for Daisuke to have a friend he’s able to be around regularly and receive support from, and to fill in that niche of his casual interactions so that Daisuke can have some more solid grounding in his life.

It’s also a testament to how much Ken himself had changed in terms of becoming the kind of person who could handle Daisuke like this. When the two of them first “met” in 02 episode 8, while Ken was still fully under the influence of the Dark Seed, even if we were to put the part about him being the Kaiser aside, this sort of person would never be able to become a good friend to Daisuke. This episode had Daisuke put him on a pedestal -- someone he’ll never be able to be as good as, whom he looks up to as an “idol”, much like the way Daisuke has a tendency to instinctively put himself down in uplifting others. Thus, it was a negative relationship for both of them; Ken being put on a pedestal that ultimately made him uncomfortable, and Daisuke contributing to putting him there in the first place, and taking it extra personally when that pedestal was shattered. But then, Daisuke himself (and, ultimately, the rest of the group) became able to treat Ken like the “normal person” he wanted to be, with no pedestals, simply considering him as a friend with his own feelings and needs; as a result, being this sort of “normal person” making friends through his true personality and desire to support others meant paved the way for him becoming the one person who was best equipped to deal with the very difficult-to-handle Daisuke.

Incidentally, in terms of Kizuna: considering how 02 was such a series about everyone becoming people who could fundamentally interact and communicate better with others, it stands to reason that everyone’s relationships with each other would uniformly improve even after the events of 02, and you can see better interactions between everyone that go beyond just the Jogress pairs. Ken’s clearly able to interact with more of the people in the group in a much more casual manner than he did in 02 itself, and it’s made an important point in the drama CD that Daisuke took everyone’s incidental advice to heart, not just Ken’s. However, advertising material still prominently features the two as a pair, and although part of this is of course due to marketing, Ken is also the one who gets the final words in extracting his “promise” from Daisuke in the drama CD; the official website also calls special attention to him being the one to accompany Daisuke on his ramen outings, even though the one depicted in the drama CD and movie was planned to involve everyone in the group. There are multiple indications that Daisuke himself has learned to become somewhat less defensive and prone to insecurity compared to himself in 02, and it seems that this was accomplished via Ken still actively putting himself in a role of checking on him and making sure he feels properly supported in all of this.

[sasarahsunshine]

Oh god have we considered ABO HotchReid where they’re together (and living together) during the Foyet arc?? Foyet manages to get the drop on them in their house and subdues them both and they have to watch each other being tortured by him. No character death cuz I can’t handle it but the sheer angst and Hotch would blame himself because he didn’t take the deal but Reid wouldn’t have wanted him to take the deal cuz that’s not who Aaron is and they’d both have to work through their trauma and I just 🥺🥺🥺😭

!!!!

I freaking LOVE Hotchreid during the Foyet Arc! <3

(I also cannot do major character death so you're good, Anon! I will never ever ever write permanent character death <3)

But let's make it angstier, okay? Because I am evil.

Hotch started properly courting Reid after the Hardwicke incident. He waited until he officially signed the divorce papers with Haley, and got confirmation from Reid that the Omega wants to be with him as well. They're not in a hurry to bond and mate: they've known each other for years, and the job comes first (like always).

In the beginning, it's all just courting. Hotch proving to Reid that he will be a good mate, a good Alpha. Reid already knows this (he's known Hotch for years like I said, and he knows that Hotch is an amazing father and mate). Reid gets a bit shy and embarrassed every time he walks into the bullpen and sees food, coffee, a bottle of water, and some kind of little gift on his desk.

It turns into Hotch Alpha posturing while on cases. When other Alphas sniff around Reid, try to talk to him, or get a bit too close, Hotch puts himself in their space and forces them to back off with a growl alone. Only once did another Alpha challenge him, the LEO clearly too young to understand how badly he was about to lose against the experienced Alpha. It ended with a hospital visit, but not for Hotch (poor young buck).

When the whole Reaper thing starts, Foyet watches how Hotch acts around Reid. They aren't mated, not bonded, but the flirting is obvious to anyone who's watching closely. Which, Foyet is. A lot of touching, feeding each other (Hotch isn't the only one courting and proving his worth; Reid is trying to show how much of a good Omega he can be by bringing food and water to Hotch when the Alpha forgets to eat), and a lot of shared glances. Foyet even noticed how, during the scene where Hotch gets upset outside of the bus of slaughtered people-- Foyet's address numbers written in blood on the windows-- Reid is the one to calm him down by allowing the Alpha to scent him, his nose buried in the crook of his neck.

Ah. A weakness. Good.

The night when Hotch would have gone home alone to end up face-to-face with Foyet, Reid ended up following him. He wanted to tell Hotch that he's ready to make it official. The courting can come to an end; it's been a few months now, and he's ready.

But instead of a night of planning a future together, Reid walks into a gun being held against his head. Hotch is standing in the kitchen, hands raised in surrender, growling as his eyes flash dangerously red, but he can't move. Foyet is standing behind Reid, using him as a shield, a wicked grin on his face as he pushes the gun into Reid's temple. He leans forward and inhales the scent of fear that is radiating off of the Omega. "This is my favorite part," he rumbles, licking his lips and watching Hotch's reaction.

Hotch is snarling, fingers twitching as he holds himself back from just going feral on Foyet. "Leave him alone. You want me, remember?"

"Why can't I have you both?" Foyet asks, twisting the gun a little and making Reid whimper. "I bet he screams so pretty."

The next thing Hotch remembers (because things happened so quickly) is he's tied to a chair, watching Foyet straddle Reid, the other Alpha rumbling happily as he traces his knife along each one of the Omega's ribs, grinning as Reid whines and whimpers. He tried to talk his way out of it, like with Hardwicke, but nothing he would say seemed to make any difference. Foyet just patted his cheek with the side of the knife, grin never faltering, "Quiet little Omega. You need to save your strength."

Hotch tries to fight back, to pull against his restraints, growling and threatening Foyet. "Get off him. Get off him or I will make your life a living hell!"

Foyet fucking giggles. Then plunges the knife into Reid's chest, giving it a little twist when the Omega cries out in pain, tears springing to his eyes as he tries to fight back. The Alpha leans down and licks at the blood that is bubbling up from the new wound.

Hotch sees red.

But there's nothing he can do. But watch. As The Reaper stabs his precious Omega over and over again, sliding that knife in so agonizingly slowly, giggling like a maniac as Reid slowly stops fighting back. The blood is pooling on the floor, staining the carpet a permanent crimson red- and staining Hotch's mind with images of his Omega's death.

Eventually, Reid's eyes slip closed, even as Hotch cries out to him, "Spencer--Spencer please open your eyes! Look at me, don't look at him, look at me!"

Foyet hums, tapping Reid's face again to see if he can rouse him. "Huh. Weak Omega. I was hoping he'd last a little longer. At least long enough to watch me do the same to you."

Hotch feels defeated, staring at Reid's chest intently. Is he breathing? Is his chest moving at all, or is he imagining it because he wants to see it so badly?

In the silence of the apartment, he hears it. The raspy breathing of his Omega, the smallest whimper when Foyet climbs off of him.

He's alive. But he won't be for long if I don't get him out of here.

[yongtxt]

turn back time [taeyong]

word count: 6.2k words

characters: amnesiac!taeyong x girlfriend!reader ft. doyoung

genre: angst [meant to be just melancholic so no crying !]

warnings: few mentions of a car crash and some wounds. taeyong suffers from amnesia.  it’s a couple trying to learn how to love again.

author’s note: yesterday was my first year anniversary here on tumblr and i give you a short angst fic of the first nct member i wrote for as a present. anyway. i need a break from angst after this also i need to stop writing people getting hurt/wounded???? [stream turn back time by wayv later <3] / unedited

Taeyong awoke to harsh fluorescent lighting filling his vision, a throat so dry it could compare to a desert, and the muffled cries of his lover.

His arms ached, muscles extremely sore that it hurt him to even lift his limb. He wanted to reach out to you, to run his fingers through your hair, and to tell you that everything was gonna be okay—he would work it out with you, together.

You had Taeyong’s hospital gown clutched in your hands, soaking the fabric with your weeping. WIth your face buried into his blanket, it took you a second to realize that your boyfriend had already woken up from his deep slumber. Your cheeks flushed at his intense gaze, dropping your hold on him almost immediately as if it was hot to touch.

“You’re awake!” You exclaimed, voice cracking. Fumbling to wipe your tears, you scrambled to your feet. “Let me grab some food, okay? You must be hungry.”

Taeyong did his best to shake his head, “No, you don’t have to. Please just stay beside me.”

A beat passed and you could only stare at him. The hesitance you exuded didn’t pass unnoticed, you sat back on the stool beside him and stayed tight-lipped. Taeyong sighed through his nose, a bubble of nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even look you in the eye, his attention darting everywhere but to you.

“How are you feeling? Do you think you can move better now?” You asked, soft and wary—afraid of what his response would be and he didn’t like the sound of it not one bit, but he didn’t let it show.

“I can move my head better than yesterday.” Taeyong pointed out, craning his neck enough to prove it to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your face and his chest floods with an unfamiliar warmth. He added, “My joints just hurt since I’m kept on bed rest all day.”

“Well, you’re getting released tomorrow.” You said, subconsciously outstretching your hand to brush off the fallen lock of his hair from his forehead. He blushed at the contact of your fingertips and you immediately retracted it back. “Uh, your doctor wanted me to tell you that you should start walking around again if you can to avoid using crutches.”

“I’ll try to go for a walk tonight.” He nodded his head, staring at his lap as if it was the most fascinating thing in the room. “Can you help me drink some water?”

“I’m sorry, of course.” Your cheeks reddened the same way his were, fumbling to punch in a straw inside a bottle of water as you propped it up for him to sip on. Of course he was thirsty, he had been asleep for almost half the day.

Your fingers were trembling, he noticed. Before he could point it out, the door slammed open and you were forced to draw away his drink. You haven’t been told of anyone visiting so it came as a surprise to see your boyfriend’s childhood best friend panting in the doorway, holding himself up on the frame while he gawked at Taeyong’s wounded form.

Bruises of varying sizes littered across Taeyong’s pale skin and a bandage was wrapped around his forehead, his bleached hair peeking out from the bloodied cloth. A large gash can be seen trailing along his jawline and although it had been healing nicely, a mark remained. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken from fatigue and a lack of nutritional intake, much like you.

He didn’t look well, Doyoung thought with a pitiful gaze Taeyong was already too familiar with.

“Aren’t you gonna come in?” Taeyong chuckled, grinning at Doyoung who frowned at him. He rushed to his side and mindlessly took him into an embrace, cradling his bandaged head into his shoulder. You felt hot tears pool into the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away before they could see.

He berated him, the way he always would when Taeyong got himself into trouble that could’ve been easily avoided if he would just think straight. The blizzard, Doyoung kept bringing it up, he shouldn’t have driven when the weather was too dangerous.

“I’ll try to remember that next time.” Taeyong said, reassuring him before Doyoung could burst into tears. He wouldn’t know how to handle him if he got too emotional, he doubted you’d be able to.

“Why were you driving, anyway? What was so important that you had to risk your life to travel?” Doyoung huffed and you rose from your seat from instinct, about to insert yourself into their conversation when Taeyong grasped your fingers.

You stared at him and you were suddenly reminded that he must’ve put himself in pain to stop you. You sat back down and he smiled, he wanted to say it himself and you could only respect his wishes. You hadn’t been able to inform Taeyong’s friends about his car crash as it had been only a week since it happened, all of your time was spent tirelessly tending him back to health. You didn’t have the time to share the unfortunate news.

“Apparently, I was on my way back to Seoul from visiting my family.” Taeyong said, gently grazing your skin away from his best friend’s sight. At Doyoung's confused knot on his forehead, he continued, “My mom told me that they couldn’t make me stay because it was the night of my anniversary with my girlfriend.”

“Taeyong, why are you talking like that—”

“The doctor said I hit my head on the steering wheel pretty badly.” Taeyong laughed mirthlessly, and you subconsciously squeezed his hand. “Bad enough that my memory got a bit fuzzy. Retrograde amnesia, I think that’s what they called it.”

Doyoung blinked, lips gaped at Taeyong who only smiled at him. He looked up at you, a sudden onslaught of anxiety coursing through him that you could just see him almost shake in worry. He whispered to you, “Amnesia? How far back can he remember?”

You bit your lip, turning away and loosening the grip you had on Taeyong’s hand, but he held it tighter with a strength you were sure he was only forcing. You said, “The beginning of third year in college.”

“What?!” Doyoung choked on his spit, leaping from his seat in shock. You offered him an unopened bottle of water but he shook his head. “You’re already a working man, Taeyong! We graduated two years ago, man!”

You did your best to calm Doyoung down, much to Taeyong’s appreciation. You knew where his emotions were coming from so you had to explain why it happened in a manner he would understand. You said that the blizzard was so strong that the roads had iced up and due to the speed he was driving, the car had slipped and crashed into a tree. He hit his head and the sheer impact caused trauma to his brain and made him lose his memories.

The doctors diagnosed him with retrograde amnesia, a form of memory loss that occurs from a traumatic brain injury. It prevented Taeyong from remembering what happened prior to his accident. His recovery was supposed to be gradual, it will take time for him to regain the memories he had lost but it wasn’t assured.

Taeyong doesn’t like telling what happened because people’s first reaction to his amnesia was to resort to aggression. As if their anger and frustration could magically make him remember what he had lost. You didn’t think of it that way, on one quiet night you told him that maybe it was just their desperation to bring him back to the person he was.

He thought it was selfish of them, but you kept your lips shut and refused to tell him that losing two years was a big deal to some people. Although he was still himself, quirks and habits are the same as you’ve first witnessed them, little aspects of him were different; some just different enough that others would do a doubletake to make sure it was really him. The person he is now just wasn’t exactly the person he used to be.

A slightly-off Taeyong, he grimly made a joke about.

You wanted to reassure him, comfort him that he didn’t need to try so hard to be who he used to be. You know despite all of his nonchalance and soft smiles, he was hurting. He instilled it in himself that he disappointed his loved ones by being a person they weren’t accustomed to. But you couldn’t, you weren’t in the place to when his last memories of you were when you have only first met during the anthropology class in your third year of college.

“God, that means you can’t even remember your own girlfriend.” Doyoung mumbled, mostly to himself but you heard it clearly enough as if he personally made it a point to stomp on your heart. Taeyong frowned.

“Shut it, Doyoung.” You grumbled, tears threatening to spill again. You and Taeyong have been so emotionally exhausted that having another person in the hospital room usually would lift both of your spirits, but Doyoung proved himself to be a disturbance instead.

Hours were spent lounging around with Doyoung talking Taeyong’s ears off with stories that he had missed in the past two years, how he was the one who had forced him into the class he shared with you and how coerced him into asking you out before he graduated; a bunch of stories that it almost made Taeyong wish that everything could just go back to the way it was.

He wasn’t the Taeyong they speak so fondly off, he was merely just the shell of him. Still, Doyoung had brought out a smile that you had been unable to make and for that, Taeyong gave him his thanks. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and sniffled.

Doyoung left not too long after, but he promised to visit soon. He knew you needed the support. You were left alone with your boyfriend again and the silence envelops you whole. When you excused yourself to grab a much-needed coffee, Taeyong sank to the hospital bed and succumbed to his tears.

This was his last night in the hospital and it had felt like the longest. He was out like a light but you stilled in your chair beside his bed, fumbling with the ends of his blanket in worry of tomorrow. Not much had progressed in your relationship with him. He was still embarrassed, timid in how he acted around you. You asked if he wanted to go home with you and he reassured you that he would be fine with it, but the panic you felt was still prominent.

Morning came and after what seemed like hours of finishing what was left of Taeyong’s documents in the hospital, it was time to finally leave. You hailed a taxi and you couldn’t help but notice your boyfriend’s sudden rigidness inside the vehicle. Swallowing your reluctance, you took his hand and forced his attention on you throughout the entire drive. He was thankful that you were able to distract him.

The apartment you shared with Taeyong was small but humble, the third unit in an old building that you swore was built in an era before the current. Thin walls and a poorly constructed floor, it was all both of you could afford when you’ve decided to move in together fresh out of college. Despite its imperfections, it was home as long as you had him with you.

With the creaky sounds your front door made, you heard the familiar sound of soft thudding of feet run across the wooden floors to welcome your arrival. Your heart leaped at the sight of Lala, the three-year-old Labrador you adopted with Taeyong, bolting towards your direction with her tongue sticking out.

Taeyong trailed behind you, drinking the place in. His gaze kept on darting from one place to another, his lips parted in amazement at the thought that he really had the courage to move out of his parents’ house to live with his girlfriend. It looked lived in, bits of his and your personalities showing in the way it was decorated and cluttered. The clashing of color schemes and wood tones almost made him want to laugh over how it was clearly furnished purely on indecision and compromise.

He was too busy familiarizing himself to notice that Lala had jumped on him. Your heart squeezed at the sight.

You crouched down to your knees, reaching over to scratch the back of Lala’s ear. You chuckled at Taeyong’s confusion on how to approach the hyperactive puppy, “Her name is Lala, she’s three years old. We adopted her on your birthday last year.”

Taeyong nodded with widened eyes, getting down to your level to attempt to pet her. He commented offhandedly, “Good girl, Lala.”

“She definitely prefers you over me, too.” You mumbled, watching Lala cave into Taeyong’s touch. She hadn’t seen him in a while so you wondered if her attachment to him would waver but it seemed to only grow stronger, the same way you were with your boyfriend. “I had my friend take care of her while we were gone.”

Taeyong kept his quiet and you swallowed the lump in your throat. His doctor told you to treat him especially kindly since he was in a vulnerable state, but you should instill a sense of normalcy. You were instructed to treat him as you normally would, he needed to be reminded of the lifestyle he used to have little by little.

The idea of having to consume copious amounts of medicines every day was already exhausting and gruesome, he even had the bandage around his head to deal with. He had a lot on his plate, you wouldn’t dare add to it by pressuring him to become the adult he doesn’t remember that he was. In his mind, he was still twenty years old and was living in a rickety dorm with Doyoung; it will surely take time for him to grow out of it.

You told Taeyong to go sit down on the stool across the island, to make himself comfortable while you prepared dinner—attempt to prepare dinner. Racking all the recipes his mother had taught you over the years, you wanted to cook a meal he would enjoy and reminisce over.

“Doyoung told me you didn’t like cooking very much.” You heard Taeyong’s voice said, a voice free of malice and full of genuine interest. He said, “It makes sense that I should be the one making food for us right now. You know, for all the trouble I’ve caused you the past week.”

You shook your head firmly, turning around so your back faced him. You didn’t want to let him see your ever-growing frown. You sighed, “Don’t worry, I can handle this. Do you want some coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.” He mumbled, pressing his cheek against the palm of his hand. He wished he could do more for you, but you weren’t letting him; you had your wall up as high as he had his.

Shuffling to where your coffee maker was, you quickly fixed a cup of coffee for him as if you moved purely on instinct. Taeyong watched you in amusement as you slid a blue mug to his way. The paint of its design was chipping off the edges and it had a small crack on the handle, it definitely had seen better days but he felt oddly drawn to it.

You saw him eyeing it out and you chuckled, “We went out on a pottery class for a date once and I made that mug for you. You refused to drink coffee without it, but I think it’s time for us to throw it out and buy you a better one.”

“No!” Taeyong interjected almost immediately, waving his hands to dismiss your idea. “I like it. We’re keeping it.”

Your chest ached, but you were unable to pinpoint the feeling that made it so, “If you say so.”

Taeyong was a picky man when it came to his coffee. He wasn’t an avid drinker of dark and rich brews, often preferred the sweeter and creamier side of the spectrum. The drink you made for him tasted just right, the perfect balance, and he was overwhelmed with gratitude. It made him laugh, how his taste in college didn’t seem to change in his twenty-three-year-old body.

“You can go look around while I cook.” You remarked, jutting your chin towards the rest of the apartment that he has yet to see as you run your hands under the running water. He followed your gaze and shook his head. You quirk an eyebrow, “You sure? It’ll take a bit before these noodles cook.”

Lala encircled his feet before cozying herself on top of his shoes, refusing to leave his sight. He laughed, bending down to pick her up and place her onto his lap. With his hands deep into the puppy’s golden fur, he asked, “Is Lala supposed to be a reference to the Teletubbies?”

You turned the stove on and plopped in the boxed pasta you retrieved from the pantry, “Your nephew loved the Teletubbies at some point so we made him name her.”

A visible twinkle appeared in Taeyong’s eye at the mention of his nephew. He’d only seen photos of him recently, the last he remembered of him was that he was only an infant cradled in his sister’s arms. And as if a barrier was put down, he asked if you could tell him more about what he had missed in his personal life. If Taeyong from the past trusted you enough to move in and adopt a dog together⁠—which he couldn’t believe he was able to do in college, he had to trust you, too.

You gladly entertained his curiosities while you prepared a mediocre version of his mother’s Jajangmyeon. As obscure some of his questions were, you were as honest as you could be. From how he managed to pass his senior year to how he got the job at his company, he asked it all while stuffing his face with dark noodles.

In your eyes, he looked like a kid who wanted to know what his older brother did, to follow in his footsteps and be just like him. He wanted to absorb so much information, it almost pained you to look at him listening to you with an expression so clearly resembling envy.

He cut you off and called out to you with a voice lower than before, sadder but still hesitant. You glanced at him in worry that you were rambling too much. He averted his attention away from you, “You’re crying.”

Raising a hand to your cheek, it was wet. You coughed in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He mumbled, meekly offering his half-empty drink to you.

You hopped out of your seat beside him, carrying your empty bowl to the sink. You stayed a bit longer away from his line of view, wanting to keep your emotions in check for Taeyong’s first night back in the apartment. You didn’t want to scare him away, he was getting more comfortable and you succumbing to your feelings would ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.

You turned the tap on and cracked your neck, “I’ll clean up here while you can go take a bath. The bathroom is next to the bedroom.”

He let out a breath and nodded, lingering for a moment before ultimately deciding that it would be best to leave you be. He didn’t know how he could comfort you when he was the reason for your distress, it would only hurt you more if he tried to console you of things he didn’t know of.

He spotted a box on the coffee table on his way to the bathroom, a bright red box with doodles scribbled onto its sides. Glancing at you, he was about to ask what it was inside when he clamped his mouth shut. He sat down on the couch and let his curiosity get the best of him, reaching to fiddle with the latch that sealed it closed.

Inside were piles of polaroid films, photos were not only of you and him but also of his friends from college and people he had yet to remember. An assortment of knickknacks filled it to its brim, variations of trinkets that included movie tickets and receipts. It was a box made to help Taeyong remember the memories he had lost, the connections he had with people that he had forgotten.

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek, it must’ve been your doing. You probably asked around for others to help assemble the box, his heart swelled at the thought. You were working hard to make himself and his environment feel normal after losing a good chunk of his memories, he had to work hard as well.

His fists were shaking, his knuckles turning a shade paler than it already was. Lala snaked into the crook of his arm and whimpered at her owner’s change of composure. He laughed humorlessly, scratching her belly in appreciation.

Shutting the box closed, he sighed. He made his way towards the unfamiliar bathroom and filled the tub. Doyoung always told him that a bath could melt all of his troubles away, and how he wished it was that easy.

Taeyong came out of his long bath with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, blushing as he hastily pulled on the clothes you had prepared for him in the bedroom. You remained unfazed as you waited for him in a change of sleepwear, he realized that you might’ve already seen him naked before and the thought of it only worsened the state of his cheeks. He perched on the edge of the bed once he was finished.

You grabbed his ointment and attended to the injury on the side of his head, a gash that the doctors had sewn back together. You had a light hand, he noted, but the ache persisted. It burned when the tip of its applicator grazed along the stitches. He reached out to toy with the hem of your shirt, to divert his attention from the pain. You wrapped a bandage around his head as quickly as you could.

You mumbled, “It’s all done.”

“Thank you.” He smiled up at you and you returned it halfheartedly. “Let’s go to sleep, yeah? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, don’t! This bed is yours, too.” You said, holding onto his wrists before he could make a home on your busted couch that functioned as Lala’s chew toy half the time. “I know how much your back hurts because of the hospital bed so please, sleep here.”

Taeyong looked at you with a conflicted expression on his face but after seconds of contemplation and mental debate, he relented only if you’d use the bed as well. You sighed and caved in.

He crawled to his side of the bed, making you wonder if there was an inkling of a chance that he remembered how much he preferred his half that faced the windows. You shuffled to your side, mindful to not cross any boundaries. This would be his first time sleeping next to you and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable by being too close for comfort.

You switched to your side, away from his sight. The awkwardness was suffocating you, it seemed like you were the only one affected by it because soon you felt his side dip as he made himself more comfortable while you were frozen like a statue. You were nearing the edge of the bed, so far the end that one wrong move would make you fall out of it.

“Taeyong, are you asleep?” After an hour of silence, you spoke up but in hopes that he was already sleeping.

Unfortunately for you, he hummed in response. You could feel the blankets shift, making it known that he was facing your direction now that you’ve called him. At your lack of reply, he must’ve thought you didn’t hear him so he cleared his throat, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, look. I just want to say that if you want to break up with me, I’ll understand.”

“What?” He slowly sat up in confusion, hefting himself up with his elbows. You refused to look at him, gnawing on your lips and your eyes squeezed shut as if you were a kid caught by your parents awake past your bedtime.

“This situation we’re in, you don’t have to force yourself to be with me if you don’t want to.” You managed to choke out, choosing your words carefully. “I want you to continue living who you are now, I’ll just hinder you from moving on if I only remind you of the memories you lost.”

He called out your name, much sterner and different from the gentle tone he always used on you. You were suffering worse than he was, that he knew, but he didn’t know just how much until you’ve finally cracked—the insecurities and worries you’ve hidden from him, pouring out all at once and he didn’t know what to do with it.

You were sobbing into the sheets and he could only rub circles onto your back as a failed attempt at comfort. He wanted to tell you so many things, to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking the way you assumed he would be.

Taeyong thought of you so highly. You were someone who carried all of his burdens and stories that made him the person that he was, someone who had so much love for him despite not having it reciprocated back, someone who just wanted him to forgive himself for not being who he was and to start living again. You weren’t just some stranger to him, but the world had robbed him of you.

He ignored his hesitance and whispered under the blanket of the night, “You might’ve lost the Taeyong that you love but I promise I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that I’m worthy of the same love you’ve once given to me.”

“Taeyong—”

“It’ll take some time and I can’t assure you that things will be the same as it was but I swear, I will never forget you again and we’ll be happy.”

There were a lot of things to do, but none of those things were as important to him as lying here next to you, to pick up what remained of you from his ruins. He knew full well that he wasn’t the only victim. He was aware that you were also trying your best for him, to hold onto what’s left of the pieces you used to love about him.

“I really want this to work out.” You admitted amid your hiccups and sniffles, his heart broke at the sound of it. “I know I haven’t lost you yet.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” He mumbled, running his nimble fingers through the locks of your hair as a serene silence filled the room as you didn’t say anything back. After a week of being in the hospital, your heavy breathing was enough to lull him into his sleep.

You glanced at him for the first time since you had laid down, observing his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. A small smile appeared on your face, he looked tired even though he was already deep in his sleep. You whispered in the dark, “Sleep tight, Taeyong.”

The cold of the night renders you restless once again, your eyes brimming with a bright red hue and utter exhaustion. You swung your legs to the side of the bed, careful enough to not wake your boyfriend who was already asleep. His gentle snores filled the room and you made your way towards the balcony connected to the bedroom with your phone in hand and a blanket draped around your shoulders.

It was another starless sky, you looked up and the absence of the twinkling lights comforted you. You pulled on the blanket closer as you fiddled on your phone, tapping on an option that directed you to a phone call.

“Don’t you know that it’s two in the fucking morning? What do you want?” Doyoung’s voice replaced the monotonous ringing, sounding raspy from what you assumed was his sleep.

“I wanted someone to talk to.” It was your honest answer and you knew he wouldn’t judge you for it.

He yawned, and for a moment you felt a twinge of guilt but it dissipated the second after, “How is Taeyong doing? You brought him back home earlier, right?”

“He’s okay. He’s passed out on the bed right now.” You said, stealing a glance at where Taeyong was sprawled across the bed. A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips, you haven't seen him more at peace. “It kinda sucks, you know? I want to be strong for him but I don’t know how long I will last.”

“You love him, right?”

“I do. So much.”

“Then just be patient, please. You’re the only person he can truly rely on right now.” Doyoung sounded like he was almost pleading with you, entrusting his best friend to you for a second time with the first was when you agreed to be Taeyong’s girlfriend. He said, “The love you shared is very strong, it conquered many hurdles and it will overcome this.”

You nodded your head, but you remembered Doyoung couldn’t see you. You whispered, “I’m scared, Doyoung.”

“Of?” He asked as quietly as you were being as if you wanted the conversation to only be a secret between each other.

“What if he never loves me again?” Your nail was shoved in between your teeth, your leg anxiously bouncing against the floor. It was a thought that had flitted about your mind but you have shoved it so far back in an attempt to ignore it but it demanded your attention, to face its possibility.

He scoffed at the other end of the line, “It’s Taeyong we’re talking about here. If he could fall in love at his first sight of you in college, he could easily do it again.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Thanks, Doyoung. I needed that.”

“Alright, good night. Take care of yourself.” He said, dropping the call when you didn’t return his farewell.

You bent over the railing, tilting your chin up to face the night sky once more. You scoured the endless dark for even just a glimpse of a shooting star, for a chance to wish upon the universe to end this nightmare of yours. Your boyfriend was right there with you, but you have never felt more lonely.

Shutting your eyes closed, you let out another sigh. You were so tired of crying but it felt like the only thing you could do. You wondered just how much an average person could cry, maybe you’ve exceeded their record.

You left the balcony not too long after, padding back to the bed with a heavier heart. You sat on your side and twisted your body to face Taeyong. His mouth was parted and his cheek was pressed onto the pillow he held onto, a chuckle rolled off your tongue. Before you could even think of stopping yourself, you leaned onto him and placed a kiss onto his forehead.

A familiar heat rises to your neck at what you have done, you jumped from where you sat and raised a hand to your lips as if you’ve been burnt. You hadn’t been this intimate to him since the accident happened.

You grabbed your blanket and bolted to the living room, making do with the couch for the rest of the night as you forced yourself to sleep. Lala sleepily watched you in confusion.

Days passed and things have gone relatively the same as the first time Taeyong returned from the hospital, but you noticed the tension has lifted ever-so-slightly. You finally stopped crying yourself to sleep and eventually he has grown enough courage enough to express his affection—discreetly holding your hand and tugging you into his arms late at night to cuddle.

He was forced to stay at home for the remainder of the month while he recuperated, family and friends have visited from time to time to keep him company while you returned to your job. All the stories he’d heard about the two years he’d forgotten about, all of them were linked to you one way or another and it sparked a familiar surge of jealousy he had over his own self; that his past self made so many good memories with you that he could not never experience again.

His feelings for you were growing steadily, dare he said that he may have grown a crush on you. He could never admit it aloud for how pathetic it was, to have a crush on your own girlfriend. But it was your soft hair, your gentle hands, and your never-ending love and patience for him—these were some of the things he could not believe he had forgotten the existence of, how loved it made him feel, and he was ready to drown himself in it again.

Taeyong received a package when you were still at work one day, the label of his hometown address stamped at the right-hand corner indicated that it was from his parents. He ripped off the packaging tape with Lala nuzzling into his side.

He looked inside and saw his luggage. When he was rushed in an ambulance after his crash, his parents were the firsts to arrive at the hospital so the nurses had entrusted to them his belongings that were found in the wreckage. They failed to return it to him once he regained his consciousness as they hurried home soon after you had arrived, unable to stay much longer for personal matters.

He supposed that he only had clothes in it for he was told that he came from his hometown for a week-long visit. Rummaging through his clothes, he was surprised to see a velvet box hidden underneath the pile.

He took it out and gaped at it with owl-like eyes, he fumbled to flip it open. A shiny sparkle of a diamond reflected a faint rainbow from the sunlight that poured from the nearby window, he stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Chuckling softly, he held the engagement ring close to his chest with a newfound source of encouragement.

You returned home that day to a romantic dinner. Candles of different scents were lit up and a torn picnic blanket covered the dining table, you took off your shoes and followed the scent of your boyfriend’s familiar cooking and spotted him in the kitchen. He donned a suit but he had on an apron to protect his front, busy with whatever meal he was preparing to see you peeking in from the doorframe.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and Taeyong swore you had on the brightest smile that he had seen in a while.

He turned off the stove and threw aside his apron, he strode his way to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed his chin on top of your head and said, “I want to get to know you better.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I want to take you out on a first date—well, not out out, but you get what I mean.”

You giggled, pressing your cheek against his chest but you suddenly drew back, the worried expression you had taking him by surprise. Raising a hand to his forehead, you asked, “Your heart is beating really fast. Are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

He stared at you incredulously before bellowing a laugh, a hearty laugh you’ve never heard before. Shaking his head, a small hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He gently pried off your hand from his face and placed a kiss onto the back of your hand. He said, “I’m okay now.”

You were unconvinced that he was, but his sudden affection made it easy for you to ignore it. He leaned down and stole a chaste peck onto your reddened cheek. He put his hand inside the pocket of his suit and nervously fiddled with the velvet box.

Taeyong lost so much of his memories, but he was ready to make new ones as long as he was with you. He will learn to love you again as much as he did before, if not more as long as the universe allowed his heart to.

[scrawnytreedemon]

Shit I’ve Been Winding Up For A Long Time Now But Am Very Aware Will Probably Hold No Relevance Should I Actually Go Into This More--

This is about Bhunivelze.

I.

You know, when I was chilling out, on my bed, that evening on that half term in early June, deciding to check up on ClementJ64′s FF retrospective because-- Hey! It’s been awhile, I wonder if he’s got around to doing the final bit of the FFXIII saga --You know, I was there, chilling, just for a laff. Just a laff.

The rest of that week was spent spiralling into a hyperfixation I absolutely did not anticipate in any way, shape, or form, because the way they introduced that character was “wwhdhfjjhHJDFJKHKJHW H A T??”

That retrospective and a good amount of wiki-scrounging is all I have as a basis for this. This is not a coherent character analysis-- Though I might tag it as that for ease of access. This is not, by any means, the thoughts of someone deeply familiar with FFXIII on the whole beyond plot synopses and overarching themes.

I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.

Reading the vast yet surface-deep lore on those wiki pages on my birthday while in a delirious state of mind was enough to make me somewhat nauseous.

Do you think I’m going to go through all of that in real time?

(Someday, someday.)

Ugh, I don’t know how to begin, but let us, I guess. I’d recommend you read this church-mime-demiurge’s FF Wiki page if you want the same level of base-knowledge I had, and maybe the aformentioned retrospective if you want the experience, because I don’t think I have the wherewithal to get into all of that from the bottom-up.

I am also, so, so fucking sorry for any remaining FFXIII fans in advance. There is like, a good chance I may be butchering the characterisation completely, so bear with me here.

With that... we begin?

Where do we even start with this guy?

How on earth to you begin to explain the absolute monolith you’ve constructed from crumbs of a Guy, some material no doubt spliced in from the Pale King, Sephiroth, y o u r  o w n  G o d  O C and other characters, and the mountains of religious trauma you carry around at all times that is probably the only reason you’ve been able to latch on as hard as you did?

I’m going to try.

What gets me, in summary, about Bhunivelze is how he’s a prime example of how love and concern can become deadly forces if in the wrong hands. His first acquainting with human emotion was by deceiving and possessing Hope, reverting his body to a teenage state, and planning to live among humanity through him. He sees human sorrow and suffering, and decides that, to End This(because it must be ended, you see) he’s going to destroy all the souls of the deceased that make up the Chaos that’s been eating this world for the past five-hundred years so they all forget and Are Happy. :).

Capital G God here hasn’t been present for the vast part of human history because he’s hidden himself away from Everything due to paranoia from killing his own mother and throwing her body into the Cosmic Basement, THEN creating the beings that would come to create humanity and OTHER beings because he didn’t have the keys to the cosmic basement. And also he believes death is a thing because she’d’ve somehow cursed all things to pass(including him) out of Spite.

Which explains why he’s so fucking averse to it and anything to do with it.

Bhunivelze, to put it lightly, is Shit at stepping into others’ shoes and Getting their experiences-- All the FalCie in FFXIII are, but him especially. It’s clear(again, in the f u c k i n g JP--) that he makes attempts to sympathise with them and does what he can to help, but it’s with such a loftiness and a complete inability to Understand why anyone would want grief, The Worst Fucking Experience In Existence, and even less why they’d be willing to Go Up Against Him And HisThe New Perfect World just for it-- And what would it matter, anyway, forgetting their loved ones. It’s not like you can grieve lost memories, right?

Right.

It reminds me of when at the end of the story of Job in the Bible, where, after putting this man through hell on earth, God rewards Job by giving him ten new children to make up for the ones that he lost. I. And that’s fucked! Nothing can replace the sheer uniqueness of each individual person you loved so dearly! But if you were a nigh-omnipotent deity high and mighty, with a cursory, almost mechanical knowledge on the functionings of the human psyche, that would seem adequete; enough.

Bhunivelze is doing that on a cosmic level.

I now want to get onto the romance: that being, his affections for Lightning. I don’t know how much I’m going to say, but it’ll probably be alot. It’s something that hits very close to home.

There is this... thing, within certain branches of Christianity, perhaps even in those of various Abrahamic faiths, where God’s love is posited to be the love-- The ultimate, most-fulfilling, all-encompassing love you could ever imagine --Because, well, he is love, so the story goes, and so often the best way to convey that is through the imagery of...

Marriage.

Giving up yourself so completely, to serve, to be the Bride; to be bound by him for all eternity; and for there to be no higher bliss than this.

This angle is pushed on young girls and women the most; from the mere parallels to the woman’s role in marriage, all the way down to downright-horrifying ultra-Evangelical purity pacts. With men, God is your dad, your best bud and confidant, your boss, your king, your this, your that, and the ‘marriage‘ as it were is relegated to a sort of half-thought; a metaphor.

For me, God was an attempt at all that, and my arranged groom.

(It was almost incestuous; was incestuous, that my own Divine Father would reach for my hand in marriage.)

Bhunivelze experiences Emotions™ for the first time through Hope, experiences Hope’s sheer overwhelming admiration for Lighting(whether there were any baby-crush feelings mixed in, I can’t say), and promptly falls into a nigh-romantic obsession with Lightning, deciding that she will be Etro(his all-but daughter)’s replacement, will be his Goddess of Death to-be-- He even calls her as such, before the final boss-battle--

...In the JP.

What happened in localisation, probably due to a number of factors, all the way back in early 2014, was that everything emotionally challenging about Bhunivelze was scraped off, like it was extra fat, and tossed aside, leaving us with the bland, clichéd shell of a foe-god we’ve seen time and time again. And I mean everything. I mean his very love for humanity; the fact his ploy was, in his eyes, to save them. Because if they’d left that all on, then it would raise the question of even if there was such a seemingly pure, all-knowing, loving being hell-bent on setting things “straight,“ would they truly be unquestionable? Would we have the right to fight for our humanity in the face of the Creator of the Universe?

To reject a love so personal?

That’s what gets me about FFXIII’s tackling of God, no matter how hackneyed and poorly-executed. It’s personal.

It’s from a feminine experience.

I know that terming is... vague, and problematic, but the way Christianity and much of the video game industry handle femininity itself is weird and problematic, so as it stands, I’ll have to simplify it. Apologies.

What sets FFXIII’s Let’s Kill God™ plot aside from most JRPG Let’s Kill God™ plots is that with our protagonist being a woman, and one who is very in touch with her femininity alongside her sheer strength; often, in these stories, God is reduced to Yet Another Foe, expected or unexpected, and you are tasked with taking him down unquestioningly for the Good of Mankind-- You will fight God, because you are right to, and you will go man-to-man-to-however-many-men you decide to bring along for the bloodbath.

And that just, doesn’t speak to me.

Even as an Extian.

Especially as an Extian. And an AFAB one with a deeply complicated experience with my gender, at that.

Leaving Christianity was painful. Questioning God was painful. Coming to terms with the fact that I had been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually traumatised under the guise of All-Encompassing Love was so, so fucking painful. I had been taught since I was five years old to devote myself to him, spent my life desperate to feel something, anything, to stay connected because I just, I never could Feel It on a deeper level, never could Give Up Myself, all I was, couldn’t Die A Spiritual Death And Be Reborn As His Eager Vessel, thus deeming myself to be worthless and a broken vessel for years and years on end... And for all that to have been... Nothing.

Lightning is hollowed out, the shards of her dead sister ripped from her in-stasis, leaving her emotionally numb for the majority of the game, Bhunivelze sweeps it under the rug, pretends he’ll perform a miracle and return Serah to life in exchange for her compliance, then sends her on her way to do his work, all the while knowing he’s going to pull said-rug from under her and elevate her such dizzying heights in the aftermath--

That he’ll deny her humanity.

Sand down all the rough edges that make her her, and polish her up afterwards, gild her as he is gilded, make her a Goddess.

And he’ll do it all because he loves her.

You can’t fight God like you can everything else. To fight It is the fight Existence Itself; FFXIII even conveys that by making Bhunivelze’s model part of the arena; it’s baked into the fabric of the game, no matter how minute.

While Lightning Returns is far from perfect in its execution of this concept, and that in itself makes me wince, not even taking into account the horribly botched excuse for a localisation Bhunivelze endured, it speaks to me more than anything else I’ve seen so far.

And it’s helped uncover some things within me. Helped me untangle them, just a little more.

So, yeah. I have alot of Thoughts on Bhunivelze, I want to share them, and I’m kinda really sad I have no one but my currently-absent friend Vee to share them with. I could get into alot more, like his very Fucked relationship with familial bonds, and how Lightning’s role as saviour so deeply parallels the overwhelming panic and never-ending guilt of Evangelical proselytisation, but I think I’ll leave those for another time.

In short, Bhunivelze is the epitome of Divine Love gone deeply wrong; on all fronts.

And if all of that isn’t enough to intrigue you, then, in Vee’s words, Lightning and Velze are literally canon endgame Sefikura lmaOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

[iturbide]

the fact that edelgard is the villain in 3/4 routes and yet intsys STILL glorifies her to no end enrages and annoys me. no other villain has been given that perspective of “well actually maybe they arent so bad” except for the hypocritical tyrant. even when she has *literally become an inhuman monster* intsys is still like “oh no dont worry she was right actually!” and it upsets me deeply

It upsets me, too, friend.  IntSys seems to really like glorifying people who don’t deserve it, especially in recent games (Walhart in Awakening, Rudolf in Echoes -- I can’t say if his whole ‘orchestrating a plan to have his son murder him’ thing is carry-over from Gaiden or not, but it definitely exists in the recent remake so I’m including it), but Edelgard actually ends up as a bit of a weird case. 

(I have a lot of thoughts about this, so I’m just going to cut preemptively.)

Now, I’m actually not opposed to Edelgard being the protagonist of the fourth route in Three Houses.  Anyone who’s been here a while knows that I generally see Grima, a figure that IntSys generally tries to paint as a rote villain, as at least a sympathetic villain (and possibly even a secret hero in the events of Awakening itself); it’s entirely possible for someone that’s a villain in most of their appearances to have legitimate reasons for what they’re doing and why, and revealing that in their personal route could be incredibly powerful if done well. 

And here’s the thing: Edelgard really is a compelling character, in large part because of her moral ambiguity.  I actually agree with her when she says that the Church of Seiros is corrupt at its core and the system needs to change.  She’s right about that!  While Seiros might have had decent reasons for establishing things this way, over the past thousand years human societies have changed while the church itself remained stagnant -- something potentially exacerbated by her selfish ambition to restore her mother -- and this has led to a structure that once served an important purpose becoming a toxic and destructive mess for humanity at large.  Edelgard has a completely valid point there, and it’s something that I could absolutely get on board with if she had gone about achieving change in some other way, because she does have other methods available to her that she writes off without real reason -- and even that can relate back in part to her deep trauma and difficulty trusting people after the betrayals she faced at the hands of her “uncle” and her own father’s powerlessness to stop the nightmare she and her siblings suffered through. 

IntSys probably could have crafted a narrative that showed from her perspective why she believed war against the Church was the only valid option available to her.  The issue is that she undercuts her own argument by targeting all of Fodlan, rather than specifically going after the Church: she doesn’t give the Kingdom and Alliance a “stay out of my way or else” warning, she literally turns her sights on the Kingdom as soon as the monastery falls and attempts to fully annex it once Cornelia sets up Dimitri’s fall, leaving the Alliance only because she has her hands full with Faerghus.  She didn’t have to take Cornelia up on her offer of making the Kingdom into the Dukedom of Faerghus and sending troops to finish the job: she could have just left the woman to her own devices, forcing the Twisted to utilize their own people to maintain and secure full control of the region while she worked on addressing the systemic issues, which would have had multiple benefits:

The Imperial Army doesn’t get overwhelmed and exhausted fighting in conditions they’re not equipped to deal with, leaving them stronger overall while the Twisted forces are potentially weakened by the same

Hubert is able to better assess the threat they’re dealing with, including learning their capabilities and possibly even where they’re coming from before Merceus

Edelgard actually puts her money where her mouth is and ends up helping the people she claims to be doing this for, rather than just using them as fodder for the war to grind up

Unfortunately, the way she’s written ends up just making her an imperialist.  She’s not just going after the corrupt core of the Church, she’s trying to forcibly unite the continent and return Fodlan to some long gone ideal where it was all united under the Imperial banner because she refuses to believe that Adrestia could have split by natural causes.

Crimson Flower ultimately ends up being a particularly egregious example of this glorification phenomenon in action because they give her a personal route that makes no effort to critically examine her actions and make her face consequences for them.  This, I think, does her a massive disservice as a character, because that aforementioned moral ambiguity that makes her so interesting could have been utilized to great effect -- and the proof is actually there already, because they do it in Dimitri’s route.

Dimitri is himself another interesting character, and outwardly presents as Edelgard’s polar opposite: he recognizes that he doesn’t have all the answers, struggles to figure out the correct course of action when presented with difficult subjects that have  no clear-cut answer -- like the fact that reliance on the Crest system is toxic for noble families, but it’s those very Crest-bearers and their Relics that help keep Faerghus safe from invasion by Sreng -- possesses incredible strength but specifically refrains using it in most cases to avoid harming others, and generally takes everyone’s problems onto himself to his own detriment.  He’s also deeply traumatized and was never given a chance to deal with it in a healthy manner, which contributes to how he snaps -- and Azure Moon starts with Dimitri being so far out of reach that you can’t unlock any of his supports and can’t even engage with him in the weekly discussions.  He’s lost himself to his survivor’s guilt and need for vengeance, considers himself to be nothing more than a monster, and has no qualms about killing if it helps advance his quest; as the story progresses, he faces a direct consequence for this murderous inclination in the form of Fleche who attempts to exact vengeance for her brother’s sake in the same way that he’s attempting to claim it for his family and friends -- only to lose Rodrigue, and have his dying words be a plea for Dimitri to live for himself rather than those who died before him, at which point Dimitri sets his sights on opposing Edelgard rather than killing her and seeing to atone for the crimes he committed.  While I think the game made the change a little too abrupt, it’s handled well overall, and shows a real development arc complete with both actions and their associated consequences that directly relate to Dimitri’s growth as a person.

Contrast this to Edelgard in general and Crimson Flower as a route.  Edelgard believes that she has all the answers despite not trying to engage with anyone outside her own House, decisively chooses what she believes to be the right and proper course of action regardless of how difficult the subject matter, possesses great strength (both physically and of sheer will) that she uses to dominate others, and forces others to join her in addressing what she sees as problems -- such as her line about making her own people into “worthy sacrifices” for her “higher cause.”  Crimson Flower is the only route where her attack on the monastery fails to capture Rhea, but once Byleth returns she sets her sights on attacking and subjugating a territory that has remained entirely neutral through the past five years, turns on the Twisted while she’s still in a vulnerable position which ultimately causes the deaths of at least a third of the forces she left at Arianrhod once they fire their warning shot, lies to her friends and allies about what happened there, murders her step-brother, and allows a city full of trapped civilians to burn unchecked while she deals with what she considers to be the “real” threat on the opposite side of the Faerghus capital -- and all of this is capped off with her never dealing with the Twisted, and cute little endcards that talk about how everything worked out fine and there were no problems ever, The End.  Edelgard doesn’t get a development arc in her route: she’s never challenged, she never faces real consequences (and the one she does face she literally lies about to her friends and then leaves as a problem to deal with later), and she pretty much ends the game exactly where she started it: completely assured that she made the right choices.  The moral ambiguity inherent in her character is instead cast as “of course she’s in the right, she’s so great and there’s nothing at all wrong with what she’s doing or how she’s going about it, isn’t she wonderful?”

At least in the main game, Hegemon Husk Edelgard is treated with real gravity, shown as the pinnacle of her drive to see her ambition come to fruition and the tragic consequence of her inability to change course and find another path.  The Forging Bonds event just takes the CF brush and paints her actions as the right ones, even though what made her so compelling is that her reasons were right while her methods were horrific.  Edelgard really could have been wonderful.  The potential is right there in her character.  But IntSys completely botched the execution of it, so that her route feels rushed, incomplete, and at best unsatisfying (or, if you’re me, utterly disgusting for how it glorifies imperialistic conquest), and her Heroes appearances only make it worse.

[sirenprincess15]

Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 6

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

In this chapter: The horror of Aleksander's past combines with the recent trauma of Marie's death (which was almost Alina's) to haunt Aleksander. In other words, Aleksander's PTSD is causing nightmares.

Chapter 6

Aleksander glanced at the clock. It was a good hour after he was supposed to awake Alina for his turn for sleep, but seeing her sleeping so peacefully, comfortably in his arms, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

The night before, she had softly reprimanded him for letting her sleep so long when he needed rest too, but she had stopped quickly when she saw his reaction. He hated to be chastised for caring for others. It reminded him of when Baghra had punished him as a child for caring too much about Grisha. He couldn't help but care for Grisha, even if their lives seemed temporary. And there was absolutely nothing that could convince him not to prioritize Alina over himself. She was needed. He was needed only to support her.

He could give her a bit more sleep. Maybe he could fall asleep on his own tonight and be alright. He had been doing so well since Alina had been helping him. If he could just hold onto that feeling of being enveloped in her warmth, maybe he could safely doze off. He was getting drowsy already. He focused his thoughts on their pleasure earlier in the night, the taste of her, the way her hips moved when he found just the right spot. If the happy thoughts could get him a peaceful sleep for even an hour, that was an hour more sleep that she could have.

He dreamed of taking Alina horseback riding again to their spot. It was quiet without all the interruptions of the Little Palace. She rode with him so he could feel her in his arms, smell the sweetness of her skin. Once they arrived, he dismounted and held up his hand to help her down. They could sit and talk and share dreams for the future. At their spot, it seemed like happy endings weren’t too rare to hope for outloud.

But then something changed. Shadows sliced through the air, formed a curtain, a wall. The Fold. It didn’t belong here. How was it so close? He quickly stepped in front of Alina to protect her as he stared at the darkness that had haunted him since its creation.

Something was coming out. To his horror, he realized it was Zlatan and he had brought his army. How had they crossed the Fold? It didn’t make sense, but there was no time to think on the how because Aleksander knew the why. Zlatan was there for Alina.

He raised his arms to make the blade for the Cut, but, no. No! He jerked and struggled. Someone had his wrist. How had they gotten to him so quickly? Not his wrists, not his wrists! He kicked and even tried to bite, but try as he may to turn to get to the man holding him, he could not even see him. Not the wrists. Anything but the wrists. He could not stand any pressure on his wrists. It was his worst nightmares come to life. The man had the other wrist now as Zlatan approached.

“Alina, run!” he cried. “Don’t worry about me. Just go!”

“Aleksander!” she screamed back as the army moved towards her.

His other wrist was wrenched painfully behind his back. The bar put between them was the perfect length to stop him from being able to touch his hands. He used every ounce of his strength and adrenaline to try to break the bar, but they were smart enough to switch to steel now. It would not budge. Maybe if he could dislocate his shoulder ...

“Aleksander!” Her cry broke through all thoughts. All that mattered was saving her, somehow. He would die if he could just get his hands free from their bonds for just a moment to protect her.

Zlatan was approaching.

“No!” he screamed, struggling against the cuffs around his wrists more and more. “Alina, it has to be you. You have the strength. Find it in you. Cut him down! We cannot let him take you!”

Zlatan swung his sword, and her head rolled to the ground. Aleksander screamed and screamed, the wail of someone so devastated by loss that there was no will to contain himself. Shadows erupted from him in every direction; he didn’t even know how with his hands bound, but he did not care if they consumed the whole world. Nothing mattered without Alina.

And then there was her light breaking through it all.

He blinked and he was no longer outdoors. Bed posts were in his view within Alina’s blinding light. He blinked again. His shadows swirled outside the ball of light, but they bounced off every time they came near her dome.

He gasped for air, but his throat was closed off. No air would come. He glanced frantically inside the light and found Alina, her head still connected to her body, hovering over him with worry.

“Aleksander?” she asked. “Are you back with me? Please stop the shadows. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold them off.”

He tried to move his arms to command the shadows to stop, but he found his wrists still paralyzed, frozen by some imaginary bar. He tried again for breath to focus on finding the strength to free him, but again no air would come. He gasped and choked and his whole body began shaking. She was alive. That was all that mattered. He could take the pain of paralyzed wrists, survive without oxygen, as long as she was alright.

“You’re hyperventilating,” she whispered. “Try to match my breath. Don’t go faster than me. Deeply in … and out …”

Was he? He felt as if his lungs weren’t working at all, but as he listened carefully, he could hear what she was saying. He was breathing so fast that his lungs weren’t functioning, but it was all from the sheer panic going through him. He needed to calm down to get the shadows under control, to regain use of his arms, but he was struggling to get the image of her head falling off her shoulders out of his mind.

“No, no, no,” she stopped him. “Focus on me. Only on me. Feel my light? Feel it in your skin? I’m here. Now breathe with me.”

His body didn’t want to give him control of breathing yet, but he tried to just focus on her warmth and her face and her concern, and somehow, after some time, his breathing slowed down to match hers. It was finally enough for him to move his arms and banish the shadows.

She sighed with relief.

Tears of shame flooded his eyes. He was humiliated she had seen him like this, and furious with himself he had let his shadows get so close to her. She would hate him after seeing his pathetic weakness now that she knew his shadows went through and through to his core.

“We’re okay now. We’re okay,” she whispered in his ear, and to his surprise, she cuddled into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Words were not enough, but he needed to say them.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” she said before directing the light towards him to banish away the last chills of the nightmare.

[aros001]

Read through light novel vol. 8. Random thoughts.

It's funny that what's made me the angriest thus far in this series is Priestess getting her clothes stolen. Closest was Wizard Boy's arrogant ignorance. With the goblins I feel horror and disgust and yeah there's anger there too, but for whatever reason I had just such a strong reaction of "That bitch!" when the girl stole the mail from Priestess and made her cry.

The news that the first princess had been kidnapped by goblins was enough to make the king stand up from his throne.

Okay, I was mad but not that mad!

“About, that...” Witch, who had produced her pipe from nowhere, gave Priestess a heavy-lidded look. Erk... Priestess felt her heart skip a beat; she put a hand to her chest. Would she be able to have this effect on people someday? It was going to be a long time coming...

That does make me wonder, has there ever been a design for Priestess as an adult, be it official or fan-art? She is only 16, so even if she doesn't get much bustier she should still reasonably grow a bit. It's interesting to imagine her and Goblin Slayer anywhere near a similar height.

Also, this is me probably looking too deep into things, but between Witch, Sword Maiden and even a lot of her interactions with Noble Fencer, does anyone else ever get the feeling Priestess might be bisexual? I hesitate to say that because usually I dislike how often I see people insist that a deep friendship/connection/admiration immediately equals love, but how the narration sometimes describes how Priestess is thinking about some other women makes it sound a lot more like attraction than just envy over body proportions. I say bi and not just gay because she does seem to have at least some romantic feelings for Goblin Slayer, even if it is just a desire for his attention and approval.

That aside, I do really like that she wants to be more like Witch, or at least how she perceives Witch. Cool, powerful, knowledgeable, elegant, stacked. I've always had a soft spot for characters who have another person they admire as their goal to be like and are so humble that they don't quite see the positive effect they already have on those around them. The person who admires someone for their positive qualities not yet seeing that they too are admired for similar qualities.

The skin her vestments revealed was perfectly white, almost translucent, as if untouched by the sun. It meant that the tinge of rose in her cheeks was probably not just from the light. She almost seemed like a harlot—and there were temples that kept sacred prostitutes.

What the f**k is a sacred prostitute?

Given that we know High Elf Archer sleeps in the nude, that's twice in this book Goblin Slayer just barges into a woman's room while she's not dressed, first with Cow Girl and then with her to wake her up.

“I know it’s hard,” Goblin Slayer said with utmost seriousness. “When I was a child, I would lay in bed trying to find out how long I had to keep my eyes closed before it would be morning.”

Again, one of the big draws of this series for me and why I think it works is that it takes trauma seriously. The raping goblins aren't just a gimmick to make the series seem edgy. It addresses that these creature would really mess a person up and that the lingering trauma is treated with understanding, never like it's cowardice or foolishness. How this series handles Sword Maiden especially is something I really respect. She comes in to save the day at the end but it's clear it's taking everything she has just to be there. How she froze up when she was called on in the court to deal with the goblins and the relief like a bright light when Goblin Slayer came in to take the job. The position she's in of being powerful enough to face the Demon King but unable to fight "mere" goblins and no one aside from those who've personally experienced the sheer horror of the goblins able to understand, adding to her feelings of isolation and helplessness. It's really good stuff.

I remember when I first started with Goblin Slayer and I saw some people complaining that the series was kind of dull because he never fights anything other than goblins. One, that's just flat-out not true, as he's fought many non-goblin creatures. He just has no interest in fighting anything that's not a goblin. But even when it's just the goblins, I think this series does a good job at making the goblins always feel like a threat and shaking things up often enough. Giving them new tactics, new leaders, new bases of operation, even new breeds like the Goblin Paladin. Every time they're doing something even slightly different from the norm for them it always sparks some dread about what's coming. The moment this volume mentioned a band of goblins with identical tattoos marking them it was just an instant "Oh, that can't be good" from me, which leads into the Goblin Priest, a big cause for alarm given how useful Priestess has proven herself to be, which led into the weird demon arm thing. It's like complaining that a character never fights anything other than humans or dragons or vampires. The power level doesn't matter if it's the same kind of human/dragon/vampire every time. Be it the things that use goblins as their minions/followers or the goblins themselves, I personally think there's enough variety involved to keep things interesting.

A nice moment with Priestess visiting Wizard's grave (so this is the leaked image that got the false rumor started) and, something I'm really hoping for, the possible return of Fighter, even if it's just Priestess eventually finding the courage to see her again at least once. Again, the reason the goblins work is because what they do isn't just a gimmick. Several volumes after her first party's wipe, Priestess is still thinking about them, lamenting their loss, thinking about what could have been, and how difficult it'll be for them to see each other again after what happened. They weren't just Priestess' origin story, they were real (albeit fictional) people, taken before their time and violated in the worst way possible and they shouldn't be just a footnote. Be it for Priestess and Wizard's brother, they should and do still matter.

She strengthened her barriers as an attack came from a strange angle; Sage was thinking fast. It seemed likely that this thing, this shade—if it could be called that—learned by absorbing other living things. They were simply lucky that the creature it was trying to parasitize at the moment was so incredibly stupid. But... Sage gave voice to the obvious question. “How did the corpse of a goblin drop onto a mountaintop...?”

Holy shit, that's hilarious. And the best part is, there was build up to it. Back in vol. 6 when Goblin Slayer used a scroll to flood a nest he did believe there were some goblins he wasn't able to get. Throughout the series it's been noted he doesn't like using the same tricks too many times in a row in case the goblins learn from him, thus the importance of making sure every goblin he encounters he kills. If some escaped, yeah, it makes total sense he'd change to a different type of location for the Gate scroll, just in case he ever meets up with goblins whom are expecting a flood to pop out.

Second only to this with how good the set-up was has to be Priestess turning the blood from the Goblin Priest's ritual into water, ruining its sacrifice to the dark gods. She discovered she could do that last volume but it seemed like she never would again because she's forbidden from using her miracles to deliberately harm another living being (even a goblin). This was a very clever way of bringing it back, having her learn from her experiences while still being devote to the Earth Mother.

Priestess noticed that her hand was still clinging to his and blushed. She made to disentangle her fingers—hesitated—brushed his hand softly and, finally, pulled hers away. She was humiliated, pathetic, pitiful...and yet. I want to be... ...a source of strength to him. That day, she stored up the smallest of prayers in her heart. One day, she swore, she would be.

All shipping and such aside, this is something I really hope to see someday. That point in the series where Priestess is no longer Goblin Slayer's sidekick but rather his partner. Someone he can have truly walk and fight beside him as an equal, easing the burden on his shoulders, until the day all goblins are gone.

What kind of world is it where I'm thinking "Thank goodness, the princess was only severely beaten and nearly sacrificed to a dark god"?

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinSlayer/comments/g4llnd/read_through_light_novel_vol_8_random_thoughts/

[depressedhatakekakashi]

This is Not Relaxing

AU: None/Canon

Words: 1560

Rating: Teen

Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Tsunade Senju

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol

Summary: A day off was something special. Time for shinobi to relax and enjoy themselves. Apparently, Tsunade-sama has different plans for Kakashi’s day off.

Days off were a rare treat for Kakashi.

A chance to kick back, relax, and not have to stress about the newest mission that Tsunade-sama had decided to send him out on. Somewhere under a nice tree, he’d huddle up with his favourite book and spend hours just getting lost in a familiar world. Maybe he’d even take a nap.

All of those plans were thrown out the window as soon he woke up that morning to find none other than Senju Tsunade, Hokage of Konoha, sitting at his dinner table.

“We’re hanging out today.”

The words were still ringing in his ears as he followed her through the streets of Konoha, wondering where it was they could possibly be going. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with the older woman. He quite enjoyed her company, when she hadn’t consumed too much sake to stand on her own anymore.

When he thought of a ‘day off’ though, the first thing that came to mind was not spending the day with the Hokage.

“So, I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me why I just got dragged out of my apartment by the Hokage,” Tsunade-sama’s only response was the slightest shift of her eyes. Something that was easy for anyone else to miss, but clearly said ‘Stop there or die’ to Kakashi. “Right, of course not.”

It was his mistake.

He should have known better than to use her position when referring to her, even if it was the correct thing to say. Being Hokage was as much a dream for Tsunade-sama as it was for Kakashi himself.

In other words, it was the furthest thing from what either of them wanted in their lives. Kakashi was surprised Naruto had managed to convince the Sannin to take the job at all. Of course, he was the number one unpredictable shinobi. If someone thought a job was impossible, there was no doubt that Naruto would find a way to do it just to prove them wrong.

“Mah, I was really looking forward to relaxing today.” extracting his hands from his pockets, he poked the older woman’s rib cage and chuckled when she responded by trying to deck him. It wasn’t an easy punch to dodge, but he managed to duck under it at the last second, avoiding having his head popped off by her incredible strength.

“If you keep this up you’ll be relaxing for a week in the hospital, brat.” She warned. “Jeez, you’re just like your father. You always have to bug me.”

His father.

A small smile tugged at Kakashi’s lips. He hadn’t heard her mention his father in years. Partially because she was always out of the village travelling, but mostly because the last time she had tried Kakashi had yelled at her.

He had been so young back then. Angry about what had happened, and hurt beyond imagination because of his father’s choice. When he had heard fondness in the older woman’s voice at the mention of his father, he snapped.

Told her never to bring his old man up ever again. That he was dead and gone and Kakashi was better off without him.

Back then, he had believed his own words. Now though, he’d give anything to take them back.

“How about some Sake,” Her smile is wider than he has ever seen it before, with a glint in her eyes that screams danger. “I’ll pay.”

Well, as long as he wasn’t the one having to pay.

“How can I say no?”

With the invitation accepted, Tsunade-Sama took hold of his right arm and tugged him through the streets of Konoha to whatever place she had decided to get him drunk at.

He wasn’t looking forward to the hangover in the morning, but there was one bonus to getting drunk with the Hokage. If it was her fault that he wasn’t in any shape to do a mission, she’d have to give him an extra day off to recover.

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

Agreeing to go out drinking with Tsunade-sama had been a huge mistake. There’s no reason he shouldn’t have known better. Everyone knew about the Hokage’s terrible drinking habit and her high tolerance for alcohol.

There was no way he was going to be able to keep up with her, but here he was. Sitting across from her at a small restaurant watching as she poured him a fourth glass of Sake like it was no big deal.

His head was already starting to get foggy, and he’s pretty sure the filter on his mouth stopped working after his third shot of Sake. That was the only explanation he had for the fact that he had just told her, without fear of judgment, that he had never gotten the ‘birds and the Bees’ talk.

“No wonder you’re always reading Icha Icha,” setting the bottle of Sake down, she lifted her glass towards him and then proceed to shoot back her fifth cup. Already one ahead of him and looking like she was handling it a lot better. “You know, Jiraiys books are the worst place to go for information on that kind of stuff. I wouldn’t call him ‘experienced’ in the subject.”

“Meh, where else am I supposed to learn it?” Giving his shoulders a shrug, he stared down at his own cup of sake. “I’m an adult with no parental figure to ask about that sort of thing. At this point, it’s sink or swim.”

“Did Minato never give you the talk?”

“I think Sensei had bigger things on his mind around the time I might have gotten that particular talk from him,” His pregnant wife, Rin’s death, Kakashi’s trauma’s, his duties as Hokage. There were a lot of things his Sensei had to take care of at the time, and then before they knew it he was dead. “Besides, he would have made it awkward. He was always so…”

“Embarrassing?” Tsunade-sama chuckled. “That’s the impression I always got of him when I would watch him training with Jiraya.”

“It’s not the wrong impression,” Kakashi agreed. “Sensei was a deadly shinobi, but he was also a dork at heart.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Picking up the bottle of Sake once more, she held it up for him to see. A silent question that he quickly answered with a simple nod towards his still full cup. “Even the most deadly shinobi’s in the world can be giant dorks, Kakashi. You should know that better than anyone. After all, your father was the biggest dork of them all.”

Kakashi laughed. A shallow, bitter laugh with no real joy in it.

“You don’t believe me?” Tsunade-sama waved a finger towards him. “Don’t tell me people really have you thinking he was some suave, sophisticated guy. He was a huge dork. Most days he could out dork Minato without even trying. Heck, Even Naruto isn’t as dorky as Sakumo was.”

“I believe you,” holding up his hands in surrender, he watched as she narrowed her eyes. “I just…”

It was hard to admit.

Most people had pictures of their families. Memories that they held dear to them of the loved ones they lost.

Him?

He had nothing. The few pictures his father had been able to take between missions had been lost to time. Some of them still hidden somewhere in the old Hatake residence that Kakashi refuses to step foot into even though he continued to pay for it so that it wouldn’t be torn down.

“Tell me a story.” The filter on his mouth failed him once more, but this time he couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed about it. It was his day off and he was supposed to be enjoying himself. What better way to enjoy himself than to actually hear a good memory about his father.

Something to combat all of the vile spewed on his name after his death. All the hatred that had been thrown at him and Kakashi for the simple mistake of choosing his teammate’s lives over the mission.

“A story?” There’s a sad look in her eyes. One that Kakashi knows deep down is because of him. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Last time-”

He waved a hand, cutting off the rest of her sentence. “I was a kid. Angry and bitter about things I really didn’t understand,” but he had come to terms with it all. Accepted what he couldn’t understand back then. “I just...You’re the only person I know who has stories about him. About who he was outside of missions and duty.”

Sadness gives way to fondness, and with a playful smile, she leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table.

“It could get embarrassing,” She warned. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“If there’s one thing I know for certain about my father, It’s that he is easily the most embarrassing man to ever exist in this world,” Picking up his cup of Sake finally, he tipped it towards her and gave her a soft smile. “Beside’s, nothing you can tell me could possibly be worse than what I have to endure with Gai most days.”

Judging by the look of sheer glee the made its home on Tsunade-sama’s face, he was wrong.

So very, completely wrong.

And he couldn’t wait to hear all about it.