#at that point he’s an old abused dog that does not trust the hand that feeds

[syndianites]

Call me a fool, but Jayce looks like a man who whimpers when you tug on his hair

[willowed-wisp]

ghost as a dad ( part two ) [ simon riley ]

part one | part three

- Definitely takes your eldest to base when she can walk small distances with him on occasion.

- He literally crouches down and holds her little hands. Her doe eyes wandering everywhere, a pinch of awe and a little bit of fear but when she looks at her dad she gains the courage to continue.

- Definitely calls her, ‘pumpkin’, ‘princess’, and other things that has uncle Soap like a puppy dog.

- Johnny is the only person he trusts with her on base- he is your kids’ god father, along with Simon’s brother, Tommy.

- When Simon notices her getting sluggish, “Come on, sweet pea,” holding her with caution as she has the nerve to bonk him on the nose when talking to his superiors, “what has mummy been teachin’ ya, huh?” Not mad at all, impressed even- she had an impressive right hook for such tiny hands.

- Her head shook, “Not mama, dada,” her finger pointed over to someone, “It was Soapy���” Simon had been on the verge of hysterical laughter but contained himself- remembering the encounter later that day. Even telling you over dinner.

- He has two personalities when your son is born, maybe it was because of his abusive childhood that drove him to leave home but he had a mental block after learning the baby was a boy.

- All of his worry melted away in the delivery room- Simon was the first to hold his baby boy. Something he’d missed with your daughter.

- He decided to be a better father figure to his son than his dad. The BEST father figure even if it fucking killed him.

- Simon’s mother was watching your little girl at home. It was the afternoon that you went into labour. 6 hours down the line it was over and you were hell bent on getting back home.

- Simon takes care of the nitty gritty for the first fortnight, while you get proper rest.

- He rarely sleeps while deployed so he’s used to taking the night shift on. Until your stubborn ass gets him to allow you to take it and that he doesn’t need to do that every night of the week.

- Simon gets his best sleep when your daughter crawls between you in the middle of the night.

- His heart breaks when he sees this little blonde haired figure swaddled in a fluffy blanket waddle through the door he leaves ajar for this exact reason. “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

- She shuffles over to him, blanket falling at her feet as she jumps into his open arms, “Couldn’t sweep, dada,” Clung to him like a koala bear.

- He gives a gentle boop onto her nose, making her giggle, “Guess you’re gonna have to sleep ‘ere then…” Plopping her down in the middle and giving her one of his pillows.

- She’s such a deep sleeper- good when the baby cries but a nightmare trying to wake her up without getting kicked. She was her dad through and through. Down to the brown eyes, to the little mannerisms she has.

- When she starts nursery, Simon is on school duty. He loves making sure his little girl gets there safe and sound. Ditching the car parked near the packed nursery before walking hand in hand with his pumpkin.

- You wait in the car on the first day, with your boy in his car seat in the back of the Land Rover. In tears watching this 6’5” man crouching down to hold his four-year-old’s daughter’s hand.

- When he returned to the car, his hand at the back of your head dragging you into a breathtaking kiss. You were taken aback, “What was that for?” Said between laughs.

- Tears trapped in his gentle eyes, “You gave me the best kids,” your fingers brushed by his lips before he held them in his, “Thank you…”

- Definitely hangs whatever artwork your girl does on the fridge, praising her macaroni art pieces.

- Gets a call while on base, “Mr Riley?” He acknowledges it’s him. “Hiya, it’s the nursery… there’s been a situation. Y/D/N has gotten into a scuffle with one of the boys…”

- “Is she okay? She hurt?” He blurted out and did the maths on how quickly he could get to his daughter. Not caring how this looked to the other guys.

- “No, Y/D/N punched one of the boys in the face. They were picking on her, when’s the soonest you can pick her up?” He had to hold that laughter, reign it back in a cough.

- “I’ll be there in ten…” He hung up the phone, now giving a small chuckle.

- Price is the first to speak up, “What’s got you so happy, Riley?”

- “Y/D/N just punched a bully in the face…”

- Gaz raised a brow, “That’s a good thing?”

- “I’ve never so proud in my life…”

- He goes to the nursery, doing an act in front of the staff before they get to the car, “Don’t be mad at me, dada…” His heart crushed as she said that, as if he would ever be mad at her.

- “No more punchin’, okay? Call ‘em a prick instead, alright?” Then he turned to her fully. Fist outstretched to her, instead of bumping it she slapped his knuckles. He’d have to teach how to fist bump, “Don’t let people pick on ya… I’m always here…”

- The next day, you received a call. From the nursery… telling both you and Simon to come in.

- Simon carried your son, sound asleep on his dad’s arms. You could tell the staff were maybe a little intimidated by your husband. You were before you discovered he was such a kid under that tough exterior.

- His eyes softer than they had ever been looking at his children, “What’ve you done now, missy?” You studied her features, so much of you in her but that look was all Simon. Determined and a slight scowl, yeah that was Si alright.

- “Y/D/N called one of the other children, something beginning with ‘P’ and ending in ‘Rick’,” Something told you she had some influence from her father.

- He fist-bumped your daughter when you were walking back to the car. You’d have a word with Simon later that day but for that moment. To see him so at peace and her little smile… you wouldn’t spoil that for the world.

- When your son was four years old, you saw the difference with how Simon treated the pair. He instilled kindness in him, took him to football games with the members of 141.

- It affects Simon to be away from them during deployments but you’re the best mother to them. He couldn’t ask for a better partner.

- He lets the kids colour in his tattoos… a pink skull on his arm… green fire… they used sharpie/permanent markers. During deployment it breaks his heart to see the colours fade, he contemplates filling them back in but he says to himself, “Gotta get home so the kiddos can do it…”

————

taglist:

@thychuvaluswife @foxygirl-4287

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Thank you so much for your posts defending Sirius. 🙏🙏🙏 It's so refreshing to read! I'm always a bit taken aback when people say that Sirius' projects James onto Harry tbh - or even that Harry was looking for James in Sirius. I mean, he was the connection, but that's it. They were always so clearly precious to each other (at least to me lol). Honestly, it reads to me like Harry has the least in common with James, on a deeper level. Like, sure, the surface stuff is there but their childhoods, lives and values were so fundamentally different. It's rather sad.

You're welcome and thank you for the kind words! 😊

Yeah, I love Sirius and Harry as individuals and their dynamics with each other. Like, I made it no secret that Harry's my number 1 favorite precious son, but Sirius is a close 2nd most favorite of mine. I just love Sirius a lot, especially in my more recent rereads.

Sirius isn't the image of perfect mental health (how could he be after 12 years in hell?), but he is clever and sensible and much more mature than I'd expect him to be. He so clearly has Harry as his first (and really, only) priority.

Sirius and Harry don't neatly fit into a father-son dynamic, and it's a result of both of their lives up to this point. Harry never had a parent or adult he could look up to as a parent. He was abused all his childhood, and he learned not to trust adults, and yet he trusts Sirius with everything, and he does so easily. But Harry isn't exactly looking for a father, he thinks he is, but he is too independent for that, too uncomfortable with authority of any kind. I think he trusts Sirius as much as he does because their dynamic isn't a neat parent-child one.

And Sirius was sent to Azkaban when he was 21! (younger than I am, which is insane to me) Like a 21-year-old isn't that different from an 18 or 19-year-old in behavior and development, and sure, the war matured him, I'm sure it did. But the kind of maturity war brings is not the same as being allowed to age and grow up. This means Sirius, in his head, is younger. Yes, he is an adult and he can and does act like one, but it is easier for him to connect to Harry and his friends as equals than to the older members of the Order. Like, we see him having fun talking to the younger members more than the older ones (except Remus who's an exception due to their shared past), as Azkaban did stagnate Sirius' development. He was probably quite mature even before Azkaban in ways, war does it to people, being an eldest child with a younger sibling can do it. Even before Azkaban, he was willing to lay down his life for James, Lily, and Harry with no hesitation. But he still has that early 20s behavior to him, especially in OotP when Grimmauld Place brings back all his worst and best memories while being locked there:

“Speaking of dogs,” said Snape softly, “did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform . . . gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in the future, didn’t it?” Sirius raised his wand. “NO!” Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, “Sirius, don’t —” “Are you calling me a coward?” roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. “Why, yes, I suppose I am,” said Snape. “Harry — get — out — of — it!” snarled Sirius, pushing him out of the way with his free hand.

(OotP, 520-521)

Harry, the 15-year-old, needs to be the adult for two 36-year-olds in the above scene. It shows their dynamic isn't a neat one, it's messy and it's between two traumatized individuals who are both trying to protect each other because they are the only thing close to a family that either of them has. They both know what it is to be completely on your own, and they try to be there for each other in their own way.

Honestly, their dynamic kinda reminds me of the one I have with my mother, tbh (if less intense and with way less trauma, lol). Like, yeah, she's my mother, and she would make huge sacrifices for me, but we talk more like we're best friends and not like a mother-daughter. We go shopping together, we gossip and talk shit together like friends do (like, I'm an adult now, so it makes sense, but it was like that when I was 14-15 too). So, like, I know how a dynamic of a parent-child where the child is really mature and independent so they're sorta treated like a friend can be. And it's a lot of fun, I mean, I love my mom and we're still really close friends (although this style of parenting isn't necessarily good for everyone).

And Harry is that. An incredibly mature and independent child who doesn't actually know how to have a parent. And Sirius is not trying to be his father, he isn't trying to be James, which results in their something between a parent-child to close friends dynamic we see. But even with this, Sirius doesn't really see Harry as James, nor does he treat him as James. He sees their similarities, that do exist, but he sees Harry as Harry. Harry who is younger than he is, who he is responsible for, and who he needs to teach and protect. With James, I think it was the opposite. James was kinda the unofficial-official leader of the Mauraders, Sirius usually followed him around (so did Pettigrew and Remus) so their entire dynamic was different. As peers, yes, but, peers where Sirius would defer to James in a way he doesn't with Harry. With Harry, he listens carefully without the friendly shit-talk I'd expect him and James to have and is willing to give out advice that James likely wouldn't have asked for. He'd move heaven and earth for both of them because that's how Sirius is like when he cares about someone.

In my headcanon, how Sirius treats Harry is closer to how he treated Regulus than how he treated James. He is half in denial about it, but this half-parental half-friendly dynamic is probably close to what he had with Regulus. Like, older siblings tend to be the more responsible ones, but it's exaggerated when the parents are absent, neglectful, or generally not overly involved, even when the age difference isn't a large one. I think when they were younger, Sirius, as the heir, got more attention from his parents than Regulus who was a bit overlooked as a child. I honestly think that as children, Walburga and Orion raised Sirius and Sirius raised Regulus (in a way. And in a joint guardianship with Kreature). Baby Regulus looked up to baby Sirius and followed him around constantly and it hurt Regulus so much when Sirius left. I'm sure when they were younger, Regulus would come to Sirius with his issues and Sirius would sit and listen and try to give his advice the way we see him do with Harry.

As for Harry and James being very different on a deep level, yeah, that's definitely the case. Like, they have some surface similarities, besides their looks, but at their cores, they are very different people. I think James' priorities near his death were closer to Harry's, but they had such drastically different experiences growing up and just existing. I think Harry's anger is James' though. I mean, we see Lily when angry, she doesn't curse anyone, or get volatile, instead, she removes herself from the situation (or gets sad in some instances, like with Petunia). Lily is cold when angry. James, on the other hand, is more volatile, we see him curse in anger, cursing Snape after he calls Lily a mudblood. I think this is something Harry shares with James, his volatile temper. But his values, his priorities, his compassion, and his self-sacrificing tendencies are much more Lily than James.

[leafnyx]

Whumptober Day 15: Childhood Trauma - Micah Bell

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Child abuse, dog trauma, reference to dog abuse

Setting: Pre-Rdr2 / Chapter 3 - Clemens Point

A/n: I like the idea of Micah’s name being Abel before he inherited the name Micah (reference to The Devils by Amras) but for this fic his name was Cain because it fits with the story :>

(This is a part 1 to my previous Morbell post for day 8, but can be read separately)

Cain Bell is sneaking up to the property of a barn on the outskirts of a small town. At only 10 years old, this isn’t his first robbery but none of his previous ones have been credited to himself, they’re all said to have been done by Micah Bell Jr., his father.

Cain and his brother, Amos, are both competing to get the name of Micah Bell the 3rd, they’ve been competing since childhood. Their grandfather had the name, who passed it down to his son, and now it’s being passed down to whichever one of the twins turns out to be the better outlaw. Cain feels like he’s been fighting for the name since he was born, but it feels like his brother doesn’t have the same want for it.

Amos has never been the competitive type, he has complained multiple times about going on robberies, that is until his grandfather beat the complaints out of him.

Cain jumps over the fence of the property, now officially in. He looks back towards where his father is in the forest. Cain has been in-trusted to do this job on his own, he just has to get in, get the money, and get back out, easy enough right? That is until an unexpected factor comes sprinting towards him, a guard dog. His father didn’t tell him that there would be a dog on the property.

Cain tries to get back over the fence but before he’s able to the dog is already on him, biting his leg. Cain does his best to hold back a scream as he topples back over the fence and off of the property. The dog continues barking at Cain as he covers his mouth with a hand, letting out pained whimpers.

——————

Cain sits up on his bed, tired, rubbing his eyes. His leg is bandaged up from the dog bite that he got the previous night. He can’t remember much from after the bite, but he does remember his dad yelling at him. He always remembers those moments.

Abel walks up beside Cain.

“Are you okay?” He asks, worried for his brother, but all Cain lets out is a tired “I’m fine” before turning away from his brother.

On cue, their grandfather bursts through the door, making the two young boys flinch.

“Abel, Cain, get up! We’re going hunting”

“But.. Cain’s hurt” Able says, wearily since he knows not to talk back to his grandfather.

The old man turns to fully face Able and stares at him “what did you just say?”

“Nothing” Able quickly replies, turning away from his grandfather.

“It’s not my fault Cain wasn’t quick enough to kill that mutt before it bit him, because of his accident, we didn’t get the money. Now get up” Their grandfather walks out of the room.

Able looks over at Cain, giving his a sorry look, before walking out of the room, leaving Cain alone again.

Cain gets up from the bed, wincing as his hurt foot hits the ground. He hobbles out of the room as quick as he can, which isn’t very quick.

Once he gets out of the house, he gets onto his horse and him, his brother, and his grandfather leave for the forest.

——

Cain moves slowly, aiming his rifle for a deer a few feet away from him. He moves forward but suddenly his leg gets caught on a thorn bush. Cain lets out a surprised shout, falling over and alerting the deer who runs away.

Abel quickly rushes over to Cain after hearing the shout and offers his brother a hand to help him up but Cain pushes him away, getting up on his own.

Their grandfather walks towards them and Cain freezes, scared.

The wildlife in the area all fly or run away from the area, leaving it barren and quiet apart from the old man practically screaming at the young, hurt, child.

Cain holds back tears threatening to spill, his leg bleeding from the cuts in his already hurt leg. Cains grandfather grabs him by the arm, dragging him back over to their horses, Abel follows quietly behind.

The ride is quiet, Abel and Cain not knowing where they’re going, until they pull up to a familiar homestead.

“You’re going back in there and getting the money you failed to get yesterday.”

Cain freezes on his horse, not replying.

“What are you waiting for, go!”

Cain hobbles off of his horse, wincing as his feet hit the floor. He slowly wobbles over to the fence, wearily climbing back over it, just as he did last night. And just like last night the dog sprints towards Cain, teeth bared and barking.

But unlike last night, Cain pulls a gun out and shoots the dog before it’s able to bite him again.

-

Micah jolts awake, his arm hitting a bottle beside him which smashes to the floor. He’s sitting at a small table in camp, where he passed out the previous night. He quickly sits up, looking around camp as if any of his relatives are there watching him. Micah pushes himself up off of the chair, and walks over to Pearson’s wagon, grabbing a bottle of beer.

He pops the lid off and drinks as much of it as possible in one go when something pokes him in the leg. Micah flinches, the phantom pain from the bite which healed long ago causing him to move. He looks down to see a dog who looks similar to the one from his past, a dog who shares the same name as a boy the world forgot long ago.

Usually Micah would kick the dog, the underlaying fear showing as anger, but today he doesn’t have enough energy in him, with the memory so fresh in his mind.

Micah almost runs into the trees beside camp with the bottle of beer he took, trying to escape the ghosts of his past.

[greenelight]

a   detective   &   a   FBI   officer   go   head   to   head   into   the   police   department.   yeah   ,   never   heard   that   joke   before   either.   ever   since   the   FBI   has   been   thrown   into   this   heartbreaker   case   ,   it's   been   nothing   but   a   hassle   for   mason   to   deal   with   ,   with   so   much   paperwork   to   fill   out   &   phone   calls   to   handle   on   top   of   the   work   he   already   does   trying   to   investigate   these   crimes.   &   to   make   matters   worse   ,   they   send   in   the   most   hard   ass   ,   least   kind   person   mason   has   ever   had   the   ❛   joy   ❜   to   work   with   &   from   day   one   he   &   parker   have   butted   heads   on   how   to   go   about   solving   this   case   ,   both   of   them   having   different   sets   of   expertise   &   strengths when it comes to this line of work.   there's   only   so   much   you   can   do   to   solve   a   case   of   this   magnitude   &   mason   is   the   real   key   in   all   of   this   ,   seeing   as   how   he   has   been   targeted   by   hearbreaker   specifically.   &   yet   even   then   parker   won't   see   how   to   solve   this   case   from   his   point   of   view   &   honestly   ?   mason   is   done following the rules &   playing   nice.

the   moment   the   door   to   his   office   closes   shut   ,   mason   unleashes   hell   unlike   ever   before.   he   gets   angry   &   frustrated   fairly   often   on   this   case   ,   but   this   is   the   first   time   he's   ever   yelled   at   anyone   before.   ❝   you   are   unbelievably   out   of   line   ,   ❞   the   agent   spits   back at him   &   mason   laughs   at   the   very   idea   ,   shaking   his   head   as   his   hands   slam   onto   the   desk   table.   ❝   i'm   out   of   line.   sure   ,   okay.   &   you   belittling   my   experience   &   progress   in   this   case   isn't   ?   i   didn't   ask   for   your   help   ,   parker.   the   FBI   fucking   butted   their   heads   into   other   people's   business   like   they   always   fucking   do.   they   don't   trust   us   to   finish   what   we   started   &   then   they   take   all   the   fucking   credit when the work is done.   you're   just   a   hired   hand   ,   man.   the   dog   they   sent   to   sniff   this   case   out   &   solve   .   .   .   &   in   a   shitty   way   ,   might   i   add.   you're   good   at   what   you   do   ,   i'll   give   you   that   ,   but   this   is   MY   case.   mine.   you   know   why   it's   my   case   ?   it's   been   my   fucking   case   since   i   was   assigned   to   it.   since   i   found   the   first   set   of   finger   prints.   since   the   fucker   decided   to   kill   my   damn   abusive   ex   &   left   his   old   jewelry   on   my   door   step   !   ❞

rage   surges   in   him   to   a   point   where   he   chucks   his   pencil   cup   at   parker's   feet   ,   not   trying   to   hit   him   , but   more   so   just   because he needed   to   throw   something to release some steam.   hands   dive   into   his   already messy hair   as   he   turns   his   back   at   the   agent   ,   well   aware   of   what   he's   just   done.   yes   ,   he   was   out   of   line   ,   but   so   what   ?   isn't   he   allowed   to   get   pissed   ?   to   get   mad   ?   people   are   dying   every   fucking   day   because   of   this   asshole   ,   so   he   can't   help   but   be   mad   .   .   .   but   even   so   ,   parker   doesn't   deserve   his   fury. at least not to this degree. ❝   just   go.   fuckin'   get   out   of   here   ,   man.   ❞   mason   doesn't   even   bother   to   look   at   him   ,   too   angry   &   embarrassed   to   even   try.   ❝   go   ahead.   report   me.   tattle   on   me   to   your   big   head   honcho   in   quantico   or   whatever.   i   don't   care.   but   when   you   wanna   solve   this   fucking   case for real   &   you're   ready   to   fucking   listen   &   follow   my lead   ?   who   knows   ?   maybe   i'll   answer   the   call   ,   maybe   i   won't.   ❞

˗ˏˋ     ᶤᶰᵗ·     mason’s   NYPD   office   ﹕   the   parent   trap.   co   -   starring   @agentnash   as   parker   nash.

[tommyxgrace-always]

Symbolism in peaky is exclusively around Tommy. The horses, swan, the sapphire, photos are all portrayed via Tommy. So the same goes with the cage too. In the shot we see him go in and out of the cage but that cage also has two birds. And the set up is in ruby’s room with lizzie waiting in the cage, ready to flee. The above description you posted from another person is summarising the same idea I was trying to explain. Tommy is caged in that marraige with Lizzie because he wants different things. They have different needs. Tommy is burdened with his trauma, his regret for hurting his family and his mission to change the world for better. He wants to redeem himself of his sins but to do it, he will have no limitations and he is afraid he will hurt people. Same thing was quoted in s5 with Ada “when he tries to do good, innocents get hurt”. Which again points to why that marriage had to break. Lizzie wants him to leave everything and live up a mountain, that is not going to help him grow. He will continue to riddle in his chaos of he has nothing to work towards.

This is my last response to you too. We fundamentally disagree on the idea about tommy and lizzie. My view is they are over for good. There is no potential of getting back together because it is pointless and serves no purpose anymore. They were caged in a marriage where neither of them was fulfilled. And I agree symbolism is at multiple points. Throughout s6, there is a recurring theme of their hands break away at various points, that also foreshadowed the break up. Also as you said, they did not part in anger or resentment. It was just acceptance. Lizzie must be disgusted at one point but she looked like she finally accepted the fate and is not angry. She looks tired when she speaks.

I also understand your point about growth but they grew diagonally. Tommy went from treating her like a property and insulting her to respecting and caring for her as a wife and mother of his children (although not let her in like a true partner). Whereas Lizzie went from blindly loving him and being submissive to calling him out as a bullshit husband who needs to get his act together. But now they are stagnant and growing together is not possible because they have differing priorities for the future.

The burning of the vardo- I don’t agree with this one. Its a standalone reference. Tommy’s old life is burnt and he will rise like a phoenix through the ashes. No reference to cage, in-fact he is free from it all.

Basis of their marraige- I think Ruby was the primary reason for marraige but I do see the other things you mentioned. Cillian said he married her for loyalty. I think her reliability, familiarity with his business and family and trustworthiness made her the ideal candidate for a convenience marraige. Tommy was not looking for love again. But he did want a mother for Charlie (parallels with John and his reason to marry lizzie). I think Tommy saw her as one of his henchmen like Johny dogs. He would trust them with his life. Tommy also ordered whores in front of lizzie and chases May, so i think he likes her and values her but also was never commited or showed any real feelings for her. After marriage we do not hear of Lizzie’s activeness in the business. She is part of the board because of shelby name just like linda but i think she is full time mother. Thats why I said Ruby was her only connection to Tommy and she was her strength to carry on when Tommy is aloof and secretive.

Linda made a choice to leave. The attempt to kill arthur was in frustration and anger over her friend being attacked. But we see from the start how serious linda was getting to leave him. And after arthur is saved, she does CHOOSE to leave.

The three birds- I completely disagree on leaving out lizzie. They all have bad marriages, call it abusive, manipulative or troubled but they are all facing issues. Arthur and Linda do not have a history of abuse, Arthur does get angry but we have seen him treat linda tenderly for many many years. While he physically intimidates her, Tommy is no less. The “my property” scene was utterly toxic. Many lizzie fans view it romantically but its a highly unequal dynamic. The reason we didn’t see tommy getting too physical is because lizzie is submissive, she wasn’t standing up to her decision like linda was. They both write the letters and contemplated divorce but lizzie backtracked. We did not even get a true reaction from tommy before she submitted herself. His expressions and throwing her in bed showed his intimidation. Lizzie and Linda both made choices. Possessives something tommy also showed through Mosley so i think that was a regular husband reaction for them. Lastly, the reason i said the three birds are a foreshadow is because s6 and s7 changed drastically after helen. Maybe in original script, its another person who was supposed to die.

I also disagree that Diana coerced Tommy to sleep with him. Tommy had a choice. He could have chosen to not do it to go back to his wife. But he chose to go ahead because his primary focus was poor people. Also Tommy continued to sleep with prostitutes and the show made it clear by showing it in the first episode of the season. To me it was done deliberately to show that Tommy may be doing his husband duties but he still not committed to lizzie as a husband.

Swan symbolism - Swan symbolism is about Grace and it is exclusively stated by the production team and steven knight himself. Throughout s5, swan represents Grace. The ballet about love also showed tommy and grace’s story. Even though Linda was parallelly shown, we could see it in Tommy’s expression that he was thinking of Grace. Grace’s breadth is also heard in the background when the swan is about to be shot. Grace’s ghost is a representation of his dark thoughts and declining mental health. Ut it also represents how he longs for her and the void she left was never filled.

Singing like songbirds- interpret however you want. Diana relieving herself on tommy or the other way around. My point was it does lead to the break up. For lizzie, it is Tommy who betrayed her. Many fans like to blames diana or mosleys to break them up. Just like they blame grace or grace’s ghost to say tommy cannot love lizzie. But i think its bullshit. Tommy is his own man who makes his choices. He whores himself if needed to get what he wants. When the mosleys test him physically, he decides to do whatever they say. Not because he is coerced but because he has a bigger end goal. He eventually got what he wanted. But lizzie felt betrayed because she expects him to be a different man than who he is.

Billy grade scene - my point was lizzie finally accepted who he is. I understand its not a new revelation but lizzie still had an idea of him. That someday he will leave all the lies and rest with her in the mountains. She even says “we dont need more money, we have enough” again pointing to some disillusionment that tommy will leave everything to flee with her because they have enough money. He calls himself cursed but lizzie was trying to talk him out or distract him. But she gave up now and accepted that he is cursed, never to be around other people.

It does related to finn more. Finn is family. The Shelby’s have a strong protective instinct when it cane to family. So even though he was neglected by his brothers. Finn was still expected to be loyal to family. As a Shelby he has enjoyed privileges in life and he should have been responsible to make the right choice.

the motif around the caged songbird is not about lizzie and tommy's ultimately doomed/unhappy/futile marriage, you actually have to take into account that it's a reoccuring one and when and how it shows up in the show to make proper sense of it and why it's used in that scene between them in the finale

[flightfoot]

You think Ladybug will ever tell Chat about having Alya(Rena & Furtive + Scarabella) as a second partner who is also her Co- guardian since prett much the beginning of her guardianship, or has that ship sailed?

Seeing that plot thread still not being touched upon for no reason while Marinette has Alya with her each and every day to talk to (most importantly the CATACLYSM incident for which Adrien conveniently never needed support for. Support that Marinette on the other hand got from Alya :/), but Adrien is stuck with Monarch his abusive Father now trying to groom him and a best friend who for some reason doesn't quite understand enough how dangerous Gabriel is to his son... it just continues to sting while watching. I just wanna watch this show normally again without it STILL leaving a bitter taste in my mouth for Adriens sake, can this just be over now? Can this boy just have SOMEONE on his side besides Plagg and his own (overly taken advantage of by the show) out-of-this-world resilience?

Even Nathalie is not entirely save to rely on bc she still on the evil side and yeah, ik Adrien has Marinette now but

Man I just wished that boy was allowed to have anyone else really on his side than just Marinette and Ladybug in what sadly limited support he can get from her often bc of the usual circumstances. I get that he's her love interest and it's HER show but the story is just straight up refusing to give Adrien any other options to get help besides Kagami that one time in Determination and thank god for that one

What reason is there at this point to not have Ladybug tell Chat about Alya in a mature (LONG overdue thanks to Multiplication) conversation so they are a team of three? It just feels like complete secrecy towards Chat out of principle now. Monarch KNOWS. Just TELL HIM so Chat has ANYONE he could secretly visit too when he needs someone to talk to! How hard is that? Marinette wouldn't even "loose" any time with Alya, Chat can just join their sleepovers they seem to be doing almost daily now. So you can still even include Marinette in that! *yells into the void for 10 years out of frustration*

And I would just be more bothered by this whole situation if that secret is only allowed to come to light by force somehow in the Kwamis Choice or some other plan Monarch had. That's just gonna force Adrien to find it out in the worst way possible AGAIN and he has to mostly swallow it down and be nothing but supportive for Ladybug AGAIN bc him finding out is gonna make her sad so that has to be priority, which will be it.

Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! I don't wanna be so negative about this but I'm so annoyed Dx Why does this show always have to be so one-sided in all of this?

I think the ship has sailed on Ladybug telling Chat exactly how involved Rena Furtive has been, and for how long. Chat knows that she was around more than he'd been told about, and I think that's all that's gonna happen with that story thread. Chat is very content to let sleeping dogs lie. So long as Ladybug needs and wants him and does appear to be trusting him with information now, I can't see him poking at old stuff. He is forgiving and understanding to a fault.

And yeah I wish Adrien could have more of a support network! I'm glad that Marinette has Alya, because she needs someone to talk to about everything secret identity related, but Adrien doesn't have that same luxury. I agree, he does have out-of-this-world resilience, which I wish he didn't need as much as he did. Let the boy break down and not be okay, and have someone there to catch him - and not JUST Marinette, as much as I like the cute scenes between them.

I did love Kagami in Determination. She's very to-the-point and forceful, she's not exactly a comforter, but she wants the best for Adrien and will help him to get what he needs. I'm rooting for her to become Adrien's confidant, especially since it'd explain why Adrien lied to her so often. If Luka gets to be aware of why Marinette couldn't tell him the truth, then Kagami should get that same luxury.

I don't fully agree about Ladybug telling Chat that Alya, specifically, is her confidant though. There's some secret identity problems there. If Chat gets mind-controlled, he could spill that secret, and then Monarch's even more likely to go after Alya than he already was, and to learn Ladybug's secret identity by doing so.

I do really want Adrien to get to have some breakdowns and need comfort and have that comfort get to actually be the priority at some point. To not have Ladybug have a breakdown at the same time, and Adrien to have to force himself to be strong for her. I really want him to get that kind of comfort and love and to just... not HAVE to be super resilient all the time.

[bonny-kookoo]

𝓖𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓗𝓸𝓾𝓻 🔞

BDSM • Rope Play • Toys • Subspace • Dom!Kook • Rigger!Kook • Oral/Cunnilingus

He watches the way your eyes look at him- he'll never get tired of it and he'll never get used to it either. It makes his heart flutter, sends shivers over his skin, and fills him with a feeling he only ever gets with you.

He finishes the last knot, hands well trained and mind focused on his task.

Only once he's finished does he step back a little admiring his work and your body decorated in it; your eyes are closed, breathing steady, calm and relaxed as you've fallen into your very special headspace already. He feels proud at being able to help you reach this point of mind- after all, it had taken you both some time to realize that none of this was bad at all.

He remembers when he'd first started to develop his interest in the scene, his former girlfriend and even friends shaming him for being a sadist with sick thoughts when it came to sex- degraded as a pervert and embarrassed to the point of leading him to quit his job and move into a completely different city, far away from his old past. It's where he'd met you; a coworker at his new job, sweet and caring as you've helped him get settled in. He'd fallen for you quickly- trying to maybe even see you as a new start.

But the thoughts and fantasies, they never stopped, tainting his mind.

He'd been a bit more than tipsy one night with you as he'd spilled those dangerous desires to you; explaining how badly he wants to see the rope on your soft skin, to have you let go all control and just leave everything to him. The morning after that talk, you'd spoken to him about his words, and he'd tried to deny it all- but you knew him.

And you wanted this just as much.

Before Jungkook, there have only ever been men in your life that used you. Your father used you by trying to force you into a career he was never able to achieve himself. Your brother later abused your kindness by living in your apartment and never paying rent for years, simply because you did all the chores and paid for everything. And your boyfriend had used your trust- sleeping around while you always waited loyal like a dog for his return.

But Jungkook was different.

And it took some time, but he happily gave that to you if it meant he'd be the man to earn your trust like that. Control was something you didn't like giving up- but under his watchful gaze and gentle hands, you felt safe, comfortable, protected.

There's a smile on his lips as he approaches your body, bound by ropes that form patterns over your skin as you hang from the ceiling- your eyes slowly opening with a glazed over look, hazy and happy. His hands move over your skin, softly touching, chuckling a little when you jerk a little as his fingers touch your breasts, nipples hard and perked up instantly at his antics. You're completely at his mercy, thoughts blank as you anticipate what he's got for you this time. It's always special, always new, always exciting.

He walks around you, always touching, always sure to remind you that he's still there, before he picks something up, fumbling with it, before adjusting the ropes and knots tied around your core. You're bare, no clothing whatsoever, but you won't need it anyways for what he's planning. The small toy is inserted slowly, silicone butterfly sitting snug against your core, held securely there by some of the soft ropes, before he turns it on.

He's being nice this time- the first setting the lowest.

You quickly become aroused, steady buzzing of the toy accompanied by your soft breaths, before you begin to move a little, swaying. But his hands stop you from doing so, holding you securely as he turns the intensity up.

He's sometimes a bit of a sadist, but he's always playing it safe. Never risking, never bringing you into any potential danger.

He pulls away the toy, instead running his fingers over the top of your core over your clit, down between your legs, right over your hole, never entering. He smiles a bit at the fact that you're more sensitive to his touch than any toy he could ever use on you. You're his- he shouldn't be surprised. But he still can't help but be, every now and then.

He removes himself from you completely except for one of his hands still keeping contact with your leg, watching with eager eyes how your glistening heat looks, desperate for attention. With the way the sun stood now, you're dipped in gold it seems- skin an even shade, while his eyes follow a small drop of your arousal dripping down on the small carpet below you.

He never hangs you too high, always thinks of emergency ways out for you. So it's no wonder when he gets on his knees, that he's pretty much eye-to-eye with your desperate heat. His fingers grip the rope around the inside of your thighs to keep you steady, pull you towards him before he starts to devour you slow and sensual. He doesn't have to rush; you're already caught. There's no way you'd run.

He knows by now how to use his lips, his tongue, even his teeth. He doesn't mind getting messy either- only goal on his mind to see you absolutely wrecked with bliss. You're royalty to him; not a mere princess, never, but a queen deserving of everything he can give to you.

You're his queen.

And so he makes sure to bring you pleasure whenever he can- detaching himself from you as he wipes his mouth, before he undoes his pants; strings of his sweatpants quickly undone before he pushes them down, the fabric together with his underwear falling to his ankles while he grabs a familiar foil package from close by. You're almost instinctively squirming at the sound, at the promise it holds. He's ways so warm, and heavy, and big- filling you up and making you feel so nice every time.

He knows you like to help him get ready, but today he'll do it himself.

With the latex condom over his swollen length, he finally positions you for him to enter you slowly. He doesn't want to hurt you, but there's no need to worry. With all the preparations, you're eager to take him in, welcoming him into your warmth as he holds onto the ropes, using them to meet his thrusts halfway. Your eyes are closed, mouth open as you don't hold back any sounds. He lives it like that- loves when you're just yourself, nothing else.

And its already taken a toll on him as well;his end quickly approaching him, one hand leaving your body to press his thumb onto your clit- already enough to make your legs shake, clenching around him and bringing him over the edge as well.

He takes a moment to stay inside you, before he slips out, discarding his condom and pulling back his pants before he helps you out the delicately made harness, your body leaning yearly on his before he helps to clean you up, letting you lie down on the couch. He joins you soon enough, using the familiar lavender lotion on the places the rope had dug into your soft skin- hands gentle before he holds your naked body close, blanket around you.

He knows you'll need a moment to come back around. But it's totally fine;

He loves taking naps with you as well.

[soldierswar]

A Puppy

Bucky x Reader

Wholesome fluff

Plot: You and your fiancé Bucky have been fighting about getting a puppy for a little while. But what happens when you don't give Bucky much of a choice?

“Y/N we’re not getting a puppy,” Bucky groaned.

“Why not?” you pouted.

“What the hell are we gonna do with a puppy, doll? They are so much work.”

You and Bucky had been bickering about the idea of getting a puppy for the past month. It was always a dream of yours to have a husband and a dog that you could cuddle with on the couch while watching a movie. And now that you were engaged and about to get married in a month, naturally, the next step would be getting a puppy.

Unfortunately, Bucky didn’t agree.

“But come one, babe,” you whined while batting your eyelashes.

“You love dogs.”

He pointed a finger at you.

“I am not falling for that glossy eye trick of yours again.”

You smirked. It really was his downfall sometimes. But much to your dismay, sometimes he had more self-control than others.

“Puppies can be messy,” he pointed out.

“My little sister had one and trust me, they take a while to get house trained, and you have to get up early to walk them every day. And they can get so stubborn.”

“And we can learn how to train him. Come on, Buck. You’ve been through a lot worse things in your life than getting a puppy.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“We’ll talk about it later, I’ve gotta go.”

This usually meant that you weren’t going to talk about it until you decide to start nagging at him about it again.

You sighed pretending to admit your defeat while he started to put his shoes on.

Then you noticed his pause. Not just any pause, but a suspicious pause.

“Y/N?” he questioned.

“…What was that sound?”

Your heart stopped the second that he asked you that.

“What sound?”

He glared at you suspiciously.

“Come on,” you reasoned.

“We live in an apartment building. There are lots of sounds.”

He didn’t stop glaring and slowly stood up and stepped over to the door of your office.

When his hand reached the doorknob and opened, you gulped. And of course, he saw what was really in your office.

“Yeah…I fucking thought so.”

Your new dark grey Pitbull puppy scurried out of your office and jumped on Bucky. Bucky didn’t react. He just stayed still.

“If it makes you feel any better I got him at a shelter. He’s 2 months old, and house trained.”

You held a guilty look on your face.

“I knew I should have been suspicious when you referred to our hypothetical puppy as a ‘he’.”

You shrugged.

“Freudian slip?”

“We’re not keeping the dog,” he huffed.

You frowned.

“Why is that your decision?”

“Why was that your decision to get this puppy?”

He looked down at the puppy that innocently tilted his head. How could he say no to that little face? You certainly couldn’t resist him at the dog shelter.

He shook his head and put his other shoe on before leaving.

“We’re gonna talk about this later.”

Okay so now he was down to talk.

When Bucky left the puppy made his way over to you for you to pick him up.

“How did you manage to get out of your crate?”

Of course, he couldn’t answer, but he just panted while enjoying scratchies.             “He’ll come around,” you assured him.

He barked happily.

“I promise.”

…

(Cont.) Day 1

When you walked in the door you were surprised to find Bucky home already. You had only left an hour after he did, and you were only gone for an hour. What surprised you, even more, was that the puppy was on the couch with him with his head comfortably resting on Bucky’s leg.

“Uhhhh…Hey there.”

Bucky was startled and looked down at the little guy.

“He um…” he began explaining.

“He was crying to get out of your office when I got here. It was irritating.”

“Mmhmm,” you answered as you began taking the groceries out of their bags. That included puppy food, bowls, and toys.

“What are those?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” you retorted.

“Umm, it looks like you’re getting ready to make him comfortable here.”

“Well if the shoe fits,” you shrugged.

“We can’t keep him, Y/N.”

The puppy then climbed onto Bucky’s lap nudging onto his shirt for attention and more scratchies. And for the next two minutes, all he did was give you reasons why keeping a dog would be a bad idea as he mindlessly and continuously pet him without even realizing it.

In fact, if you didn’t know any better you would think that this was even relaxing Bucky. Either way, he was talking to deaf ears. All you could do was watch your fiancé subconsciously make this puppy the happiest pet in the world.

When he realized what he was doing he picked him up and passed him over to you.

“You have a week to find him a new home.”

You gave him angry nostril flares. But you then thought about watching Bucky bond with the little guy that he claimed he didn’t want.

“We’ll see about that.”

…

Day 3

Three days. Three days since you brought the little guy home and Bucky still insisted on giving him up.

You were glad that he at least didn’t want you to take him back to the shelter. He wasn’t cruel like that to put him back in a cage.

You constantly bickered on why you guys couldn’t keep him. Especially since one of his first arguments was that puppies were hard to house train. But he had owners for a  little while before being put in the shelter. So he was already house trained. And then he’d claim that he just didn’t want to keep a dog…Yet his actions said otherwise.

When he wasn’t around you, you caught flashes of Bucky looking like he kind of liked him. You’d catch him giving him attention for a few seconds while checking to see if the coast was clear. Or even giving him a treat every now and again just because he did something cute. If you didn’t know any better you’d think that he was starting to like him.

That’s when you realized…You were wearing him down.

Good boy.

…

Day 4

“Alright Smokey, sit.”

The puppy sat and waited for Bucky to give him his treat.

You rubbed your eyes unsure if you were seeing what you were seeing, or if you were still asleep and just dreaming. But sure enough, it seemed like this was really happening.

You looked at where you had last left the leash and it wasn’t there. It was on the counter…And the puppies’ paws were wet. And what did he just call him?

“Did you walk him?”

Bucky snapped his head in your direction startled by your presence and immediately hardened his expressions hoping that you didn’t notice his little tender moment. But there was no way that you were letting this go.

“Did you just call him…Smokey?”

He froze.

“I…I um. I mean I figured we should call him something for his new home. We can’t have people think that we’re abusing the little guy.”

You were suspicious at how fond he sounded talking about him. In fact, how long had he been calling him Smokey?

“Smokey,” you called out in a soft high pitched voice in his direction. He immediately snapped his head, let out a little happy bark, and trotted over to you.

He had definitely been called Smokey for long enough. And the little guy seemed to like the name.

“Did he wake you up or something?” you croaked, sleep still heavy in your voice.

“No,” he answered.

“I just couldn’t sleep after 3 am so I just took him out early.”

He said that with a smile on his face, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” you said.

“Well, I’m going back to bed. Have fun with each other’s company.”

…

Day 5

“No, buddy you give me one paw, not jump up to give me two” Bucky sighed sitting on the floor in front of Smokey. Smokey gave Bucky a frustrated bark because of the withholding of another bite of his treat.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart just turn into goo inside of your chest. They just had to be the most adorable pair.

A few hours ago you walked into the apartment to find Bucky asleep on the couch with Smokey laying comfortably on his chest, with Bucky’s hand resting on him. You had never seen Bucky look so comfortable sleeping without you, or even take a midday nap. Another thing to point out was that Bucky just seemed overall a little more relaxed in general since you brought Smokey into the house.

Before it could go any further you decided to break the news to him.

“I think I might have found a home for him.”

Bucky frowned while letting Smokey chew on his index finger.

“What?”

“Yeah, this couple from Colorado seem really interested in him.”

His face dropped a little bit before catching himself to seem more neutral.

“Well,” he said.

“I mean…I guess he might like the countryside?”

He picked Smokey up and held him against his chest while scratching his neck.

“You think you’ll like that?”

Smokey looked him in the eyes and barked.

“There’s also another couple in Brooklyn that are considering taking him too.”

He looked a little more intrigued. As if he was pleased that Smokey would be a little closer to you guys instead of being in another state.

“Are they close by?”

You smiled.

“Yeah, actually. I think we might even know them.”

He looked even more curious.

“They’re this pretty hot couple that is engaged,” you began.

“The guy isn’t quite sure about wanting a puppy, but his fiancé is getting him around to the idea and he’s minutes away from giving in. I think you know him. Tall guy? Metal arm?”

Bucky shook his head.

“Okay, I get it,” he groaned.

“I mean I’m not sure about them quite yet, so I can call that other couple in Colora—”

“Y/N, stop.”

He held Smokey up like Simba and looked at him fondly.

“What do you think?” Bucky asked Smokey scrunching his face at him.

Smokey leaned forward to kiss Bucky’s forehead.

You walked over to your room and picked up the phone making the phone call that you needed to make.

“Hello?” you said when the call started.

“Hi,” I’m calling on behalf of Smokey.”

“Okay, I get it!” Bucky exclaimed making you chuckle since you could hear him from the living room and of course through the phone.

When you went back to meet them, Bucky was still sitting on the floor playing with little Smokey who was rolling on the floor and play biting him. And then he asked you,

“There’s no couple from Colorado, is there?”

You snorted.

“Of course not.”

“I haven’t put one ad out on the internet.”

Bucky side-eyed you, and you gave him an overexaggerated innocent grin.

“You win this round future Mrs. Barnes.”

…

Day 7

This was it. Your dream had officially come true.

You and Bucky were snuggling on the couch watching a movie, and there Smokey was curled up in a ball on your stomach.

In all honesty, you weren’t even paying attention to the movie. All your attention was the impossibly cute little creature laying on you absorbing every pet that you gave him, even in his sleep.

Every time you looked back up at Bucky, you noticed that his eyes weren’t even on the tv either. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of the cute.

“Can we keep him?” you whispered for the 100th time that day.

And just like the other 99 times, he kissed you on the head and whispered exactly what you didn’t want to hear.

“As long as I’m still his favourite.”

[nikkywrites]

Haunting Instinct

Summary: Olive ran from her past, years ago. Spent every minute trying to forget it. But it threatens her when a friend admits to giving an old enemy her name, warning that they’re still looking for her.

Warnings: childhood abuse if you squint hard enough, a bit of a mental breakdown/panic attack.

*****

Braden is complimenting her hair, calling her pretty like that undoes the last minute of her life, like that will earn him back the trust he's just crushed in his hands.

He just—

Her ears are roaring with the racing pound of her heart, drowning out his empty, pointless rambling compliments — a nervous habit, like the tick he does with his left hand. He's doing it now, she notes, as she struggles to breathe past the heated clench and frozen tremble of her throat. Her mind buzzes with his earlier words, echoing without diminishing. And beyond the nervousness sitting plain on his face, there's a flickering hope in his eyes. That the paper mache compliments will mend the chasm he's just dug between them.

Olive is harder to impress than that, harder to distract.

Though it doesn't stop her from noting it, from noticing. Trained instinct has her taking in everything and filing it away. She tastes old copper in the back of her mouth. She doesn't want that instinct anymore. Doesn't want to be her mother's daughter. Doesn't want to accept that Braden's given her up.

And the audacity of him to try to sweet talk his way out of this. How dare — sure he doesn't understand the full gravity of this, but — how dare he? This isn't a simple mistake. This isn't something he can talk his way out of.

He could say anything. Call the shit in the sewers beautiful. It would be as relevant, as important, as true as what he’s saying now — something about her coat. It was pointless. His opinion, subjective and changeable and voiced in the worst wrong moment.

That’s not where her focus really is though. All of her that isn’t half-stuck in a memory (sixteen and cold and guilty) is honed on him. What he said. What he did.

To think she thought him a friend — a brother.

She’s hyper vigilant. Noting the tiny details of his mannerisms in case there’s something important hidden there. A deeper, larger betrayal. A trap.

She cocks her hip out, hand gravitating to rest there, knuckles tight against the flight instinct she’s holding back. She swallows around the fear coated in her mouth. And, drawing on years of repression and pretending, composes her vocal cords enough that she can speak without her voice shaking. Confrontations, after all, are pitiful if one (she) breaks down during.

“What?”

She doesn’t have the time anyways. The clock is ticking, whatever answer he holds. She’s been found.

He chokes, mouth stumbling over what sounds like three different sentences as he processes her question. A flash of fear, briefly overtaking the nervousness. "You are!" he insists, not noticing the panic flared in her eyes, pressing on his stupid disjointed point like she was doubting his admiration. Like she has an insecurity issue, like she doesn't believe him. Like calling her pretty is the only thing he's said.

Like that's the only thing she could possibly be questioning.

He's ignoring the truth, she knows. Avoiding the worst, trying to see the mundane in this. Yet not seeing her mindless cast off to his words that she's projecting to cower behind. He should know better, on many counts. To ignore what he admitted, not seeing the truth of her posture, be it in the projected or the real. (Because how can he not see the panic? Her heart is beating in the base of her throat, pounding through her skin, beating at her collarbones, how the fuck can't he see that?). She doesn't care what he thinks. Especially now.

When he's daring to ignore it. What he's done -- given her name to those guard dogs. Fucking ignoring it. Does he think it doesn't matter?

His body language is screaming fear, too, his brown eyes focusing on hers and flying around like the man he spoke of will come back and clobber him. His fear is reassuring.

They're not coming. For the moment, she is safe. Safe to confront him. Safe to efficiently burn the bridge he's trying to rebuild between them.

She falls back into her head, into control. (It's dangerous to get distracted when you're scared, a voice hisses, familiar in ways she's tried to forget).

"What" —she clears her throat, staggering a step forwards to enter his personal space. "Repeat what you said," she strains, voice low, so wary of prying ears.

She needs to hear him say it again.

Ensure that her mind is not playing tricks, hearing betrayal where there was just an innocent compliment (not that she needs it. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her appearance. It held no value). She needs to hear that confession clearly, when the drumbeat of her heart doesn’t fuzz out the end of it.

Maybe she’s losing her mind. Let that be the case. Let her be overreacting to a compliment.

She needs to know if he’s really turned her in. If their friendship is truly lost.

If she really has to leave.

Braden sputters.

Olive would laugh if she wasn’t so fucking scared. This was absurd. This was important, how can he just — talk around it like it’s not there? Be able to even pretend to think that complimenting her makes up for shoving a knife in her back? Betraying her. Ruining the life she’s finally settled into.

She stifles it easily, thanks to the crawling feeling trailing up and down her spine.

His shoulders hunch in and forwards. “Olive, I— I didn’t mean to,” he chokes out, almost too breathy for her to decipher but relieving in that he’s finally acknowledging it.

A snort threatens to bubble up her throat at that, harder to bite back than the laugh. Does he really think that’s enough for her to forgive and forget? A wordier oopsie? This is her livelihood on the line. Her life. Her voice strains with the effort of holding in the mistimed amusement.

As if she could forgive or forget this.

(It’s what she gets for making a real friend).

"No," she spits out, low and stony in hopes that the message will beat itself into his skull so he’ll give her a moment to think without the backdrop of his fearful rambling. She just needs a moment. God, what was she going to do? Was he even after forgiveness? He has not asked for it or apologized properly. Is he not sorry? He’d hardly been able to admit his fault in the first place.

Was it no accident? Was he willing?

“How is that a fucking mistake?”

Her tone makes him flinch. It hurts and gives her some sick pleasure. A sinking guilt. She doesn't want to enjoy his fear, even if he should be feeling it.

There's a part of her, though, a part that has always longed to be comfortable that wishes he said nothing. It would damn her, but. She wouldn’t have to deal with this, if he hadn’t. She’d be stuck with demons she’s far more familiar with than him, in this context.

His throat bobs. There’s a bruise, green-blue, poking up out of his collar. Olive had noticed it when he walked up, of course, had been on the cusp of asking about it when– when he admitted what he did.

Then she knew.

He got it from whatever Hero captured and interrogated him. And he just — told him everything about her.

And, well, the part of her brain that’s scrambling to exonerate him thought that he was reluctant, that he had no choice. That it hadn’t been something he chose and there was still something to salvage. Except he hasn’t apologized and she doesn’t see any signs of guilt crushing him to the floor. He looks spooked and beaten but otherwise fine. He’s shaking in his fear but he’s able to look at her. If he felt anything about what he did-- he wouldn’t be able to look at her so easily. The guilt would be too much.

He’s not guilty and her pursuers know more about her than they did before they found him.

Braden made his choice.

“How could you?” she breathes, hurt lingering in the lightness of the question.

Olive backs up, retreating from the shuddering feeling of realization that’s beginning to flutter down around her. She calls it disgust, trying to be rational. To think she’d thought him a friend. Family, even. A tremor slams against her shoulders. She starts to turn, spin a 180 on her toe and get the hell out before her past catches her, but she stops midway, clicking her heel down.

“I can’t forgive that,” she says, unsure if she’s saying it to him or herself. This is no time to be forgiving, she tells herself, the words echoed in her voice and a much harsher one. Forgiveness is weakness. Weakness is getting yourself killed or worse.

She peers at him through narrow-lidded eyes, jaw tight against the hope plummeting down her throat. He does not look guilty, or sorry. Just afraid. Afraid of her and… not of her. If he was that scared to face her, a text would have delivered the message the same. Yet he insisted on doing it personally.

Why is she staying? She should be gone. Not hesitating. Hesitation was a fool’s game.

“Olive…” he stares at her with big, wet eyes.

He came seeking comfort, she realizes, for his fear of her to be unfounded. But he blocked out that chance by saying the one thing that would make her run. Her self-preservation was too strong to risk everything by staying so she could keep him from breaking. He wounded her freedom and came to her to— what? Make amends and pretend he did nothing at all?

“You should,” she says, “never speak of me again. Forget we were ever friends.” She has to look after herself — the first rule. The most important. If he’s a traitor, he’s a traitor.

Nothing to salvage from that.

(Everything to salvage, if she just learns the details. She should. Was it just her name, innocent enough or does he know, somehow? Know everything she’s been running from?)

She’s not one to hold a grudge (liar), but she’s not one to sweep away the past without proper rectification either.  If he doesn’t fix the bridge he’s started burning, if he doesn’t convince her that he wasn’t eager to throw down the match, she’ll watch it crumble into the river.

This can become water under the bridge or there can be no bridge for the water to race beneath.

It’s his choice.

It shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t get any more chances. She should leave, but. Aren’t the details important?

“Twenty minutes,” she sighs, with a grumble. She’s gotten too soft. “Come on.”

She completes her turn and lifts her foot to take her first step towards a nearby bench. This is necessary. She needs the details, the who and the why and the what. And if he happens to explain himself, fix things. Well. That’s his matter. It’ll be hopeless if he tries but it’ll speak volumes to his motive whether he does or not.

It’s not a surprise, though, really, that he hasn’t tried yet. She knows him (that’s why this is stinging so much) but it still hurts that he’s not trying to smooth it all over immediately like she might have hoped. They’ve argued before but only over petty matters and misunderstandings they were able to talk out. There are no words, she reminds herself sternly, to make what he did right.

He sold her out.

He didn’t assist in a ploy to capture her (thank god. If he was in on it and smooth enough, she might have fallen for it), but he gave them her name which is a secret she’s kept for years. It was a starting point, them gaining headway on their fucking investigation that had nothing to do with her.

Or, well, it did. Had everything to do with her, in a sense. Not in how they think, though, potentially. Are they looking because of Wisconsin or because of that last job? She has skeletons to hide and some do lie where they are looking but she refuses to be buried for her family. The skeletons buried back then weren’t buried alone and she won’t suffocate for things her family forced her to do, the only thing she knew how to, won’t fall alone to mask their sins. She’s shrugged off everything she can from them, skeletons and memories and a name she does not respond to (but not, her brain snarls, the instincts. She knows better. She’s failing. It’s a miracle she isn’t caged or dead).

She hasn’t associated with them for years (since she was able to escape), longer than she’s been keeping her name private from the people who are desperately searching for a weak link in her family’s bloodline, for a chance to tear them all down. She has what they want. Names and addresses and aliases. But turning them in means doing the same for herself. Meant facing her demons. She won’t go down for her family and she’ll drag Braden down if he tries. She’ll ruin him if he even attempts to ruin her.

She won’t enjoy it. She never has. But she is capable of it, even without the shadow of her family as a threat lurking at her back. She learned from the best and those lessons linger.

“What?” he calls, too loud on the sidewalk.

She can feel his presence behind her, hear him scrambling to chase her. Her nails dig into her palm. She stops to glare at him over her shoulder. Was it not obvious? “You have twenty minutes,” she repeats. “I want everything you’ve said. Cooperate and I’ll call us even. I’ll let you go, just this once.”

She’s gone soft.

Why is she giving him the chance? He betrayed her, gave her name. Names can be traced to places traced to her. Does he not understand that? Does he not understand why she’s doing this? Why she’s threatening him with things she’s not sure she can carry out? Why she’s pulling back from their friendship?

She settles on the bench, the cold biting through her jeans.

His loyalty has a price.

A scuffle and some questions and he spit up everything they wanted to know. Someone like her can’t be close to people whose loyalty can be tarnished. Whose loyalty can be bought. She has secrets and a life she has to struggle to keep. Civilian life was hard. He was a threat to that.

Maybe she’s being a little irrational. Overreacting like her family is known to do because he didn’t tell them anything important, just an alias she can throw out and use to guide them on a wild goose chase, but he was put under pressure and he caved.

If he was willing to give her name over a little scuffle, a few bruises, what would he give over a broken bone? His life?

So no. She wasn’t overreacting. He settles beside her, clumsy and hesitant. He was a threat to her. She was going to leave, for good. Had no choice. It was run or be caught.

Too soft, she mourns. Civilian life is getting you killed. She can’t have friends that know who cave. He can’t– betray her, even if it was minimal, and expect her to welcome him back. She’s forgiving, she knows, with his mistakes but he’s never messed up like this before, putting her in danger.

He’s had the chance (a simple phone call to a hotline available at all times). This is the first time he’s taken it.

“Olive, please,” he begs, fingers twitching to grab at hers. She keeps her face smooth and thanks herself for telling him another alias as her real name even if that is the name she likes best for herself, one she’s particularly fond of. If she’s being honest… she doesn’t have a ‘real name’. But the one her family gave her isn’t the one he knows. If it was, she’d already be behind bars. “They had a gun on me, I didn’t know what else to do!”

Olive’s blood runs cold.

A gun? That– no. That was wrong. Extreme, out of place. There shouldn’t have been a gun, not if…

Heroes don’t threaten lives like that. Not directly, at least. Lord knows they were responsible for their share of injuries and worse but those were always a byproduct of Super Battles, of subduing Villains — easily explained and pardoned. She could see them scuffing Braden up a bit and threatening him, but a gun? That was horribly out of character.

That means—

“Did you see them? Notice anything that stood out?”

She has a sinking feeling.

She knows the culprit behind this, now, and it’s not the one she originally assumed. But it can’t be. But it could and if she’s right, she can’t blame him. She can’t say he’s a liability or a threat if she’s right.

It would change everything. But she prays it isn’t. Let it be that the Heroes or agents are too eager, that someone stepped out of line and Braden betrayed her. That’s easy. She can cope with that. It hurts but the alternative is so much worse.

Please let her not be right.

“I… it’s fuzzy,” he says, frowning at his knees. “My head felt weird. I didn’t… their voice was odd, too.” His brows pinch together. “Echo-y. I don’t know, it was… weird.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Were you told to lead me somewhere?” she asks.

He looks at her, eyes damp. “No.” He shakes his head.

Olive pulls the corner of her lip in her teeth. “Did… did he tell you to tell someone something?” She’d say that name, the one he would have said, but. She doesn’t want to out herself unnecessarily. She doesn’t want to wrap her tongue around the acid in those syllables.

She’d die before someone calls her that again.

“Yes.” He hesitates, eyeing her in a new way, pupils blown wide and whites stark. “...how did you know that?”

“Because.” It’s her turn to hesitate now. She glances subtly at her surroundings, at anyone who may be listening, pairing memory and guesswork against the people milling about. What if he’s here? “That was… I know who that was,” she explains, in the vaguest way she can. Then, because the truth is already confirmed and she owes Braden for doubting him. “That was my uncle,” she whispers, like the dark secret it is. It only makes sense.

The fogginess, the voice… She always hated Uncle Felix’s power.

But how did he find her? How did he find him? She ran alone, no one to pull her plans from. She was careful to keep her current self from her past, from the people she shares blood with. Paper trails were easy to follow and hers leads to the east coast, to Florida.

She’s not on the east coast. Not in Florida.

“What?” His eyes, comically, widen further. “Your Uncle?”

She nods. “Probably.” There’s a chance it was his son – they were still waiting to see if he picked up powers and there was a chance he inherited them from his father. She swallows, breath catching. “What were you told to say?”

Braden dips his chin. “I, uh, was told to tell– um.”

Olive’s hands shake. Don’t say it, she pleads. Aloud, she fills in his hesitation. “A Villain?”

“...yes.” He nods.

“And you were told…” she trails off, for him to complete her sentence.

He tugs at his left thumb, his nervous tick popping up again. “To tell… them,” his eyes lower to the concrete, “that they will not be able to stay hidden.”

Olive’s breath shudders out. 

She thought they wrote her off. A lost cause.

“And,” he continues, “that they will not stop looking.”

“Oh,” she practically mouths, the word dissolving like medicine tablets in water around her. Her family was still looking. Time has not freed her as much as she hoped it would, has not watered her from their memory or lagged their search. “Oh.”

“That’s not” —Braden clears his throat. “What does it matter?”

She shifts her feet under her, pressing the balls of her feet against the floor. Adjusting her weight as assurance that despite how it feels, the world has not fallen out from under her. “That’s a long story,” she says. Pulls air into her lungs and pushes it out. As long as she is still drawing breath, she can salvage things. Herself. “You should go. It’s…” she stands, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “I have to leave and… it’s dangerous for you.”

“I–” his hand brushes near her elbow. Ghostly. She is unsure if the touch is meant to be soothing for him or her. “I already know,” he says, an odd sadness to his tone. “Let me help you.”

“We’d have to leave for good,” she tells him. “It wouldn’t be… entirely legal. I don’t know that we’d ever stop.”

He shifts to the edge of the bench, clasping her arm tighter. “But I won’t be left alone,” he says slowly, like a realization, “will I?”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, stares up at her. “We’re friends, right?” he asks, and she knows that her answer is important. He’s pieced it together. He’s not tossing her aside. She still has a reputation and he can’t ignore it. But he’s not running.

She nods, after a heavy moment. “Yeah. We are.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“You won’t be able to take that back,” she warns.

“I know. You’re family.”

Her breath catches. She holds his gaze. She should leave him behind. It was easier to find a pair than a lone person. But he knows too much. Fragments of the bigger picture, a past she swore when leaving that she’d never share. He was a friend and she trusted him, despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. “Okay,” she whispers. “If you’re sure.”

He grins. It’s lopsided, imperfect, but genuine. “I said I’d follow you anywhere, didn’t I?” He stands. “Us against the world, remember?”

She huffs, half poking-punching him in the side. “I was giving you an out, asshole. This isn’t a joke.”

“On brand, though.” He tips his head back. “Always knew you had a shady past.”

“Too soon,” she says. It was more than shady. Was awful. And they were on a time crunch. She was prepared to disappear, but she wasn’t prepared for him. She had to adapt. “I have a safe space,” she tells him. “It should be okay while I get you figured out.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

She sees how this overwhelms him, how out of his depth he is. It’s to be expected. He’s normal, from a normal family, he grew up living a normal life. He didn’t grow up in a family of Super Villains.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promises, the words slipping out without her agreement.

It’s something she wants to promise. That means it will be hard for her to have. She’ll have to fight for it to be true. That’s fine. She’s fought before. She can hold her own. She can keep him safe, too, since that’s what he wants and she’s weak not to do what’s best for him. She’s been hungry for a friend like him since she was a little girl, shaking from her mother’s harsh tone.

“Don’t worry,” she tells him.

He clings to her arm, probably bruising her, but she doesn’t care. She’s had far worse. “Okay,” he says. “I trust you.”

Her chest constricts. What did she do to earn him? This fathomless trust?

She’s a criminal. And yes, she’s seen him like a brother, but. Family-like ties have never been sturdier than any other. But Braden… she bonded to him so deeply. Cared so damn much. Her mother would have opinions on that. Bonds are means of destruction, dearest. You must not have any. They’ll ruin you.

Looking at Braden, the person who’s never questioned her, who has become her piece of normal, who has always welcomed her, she amends her mother’s warning into a hope. They can save you, too.

And if she has to run forever to keep that, the normalcy he brings her, so be it.

She’ll do what she has to.

*****

Olive and Braden will be coming back, eventually. How do you like them?

Taglist: @super-writer-gal @mr-writes

[cdroloisms]

Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao) 

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 8

Word Count: 1879

Warning: trigger - hunting, and demeaning verbal abuse.

A/N thanks again to my beautiful @sillyrabbit81 for your editing and @amberangel112 for your encouragement.

Chapter 8

Henry could not understand why Jessie was still considering going out with this jerk. He huffed at Joe’s words and was pleasantly surprised at Tom’s reaction. Pleased to have someone in his corner, he nuzzled into the young man’s arms. It felt nice, an odd feeling of loss and regret pulled at his soul. He hadn’t seen his nephew in five years, he would be fifteen years old now four years younger than Tom. Memories of their last time together flooded his mind, the feel of his hands running through his fur. Even then he had refused to change, sadly his nephew had never known him in Human form.

The packhouse was large, made of local stone it would be considered menacing to outsiders. But for those invited in, it was a house filled with love. They had found Henry and his nephew Adam just outside their forest line, half-starved, dehydrated and desperate for care. The pack doctor had tended to Henry whilst one of the pack's mothers had shared her milk with the little pup. Adam had captured the mother’s heart and at Henry’s approval had adopted him into the pack. Henry had grieved the loss of his only kin but been so grateful to them. He knew he could not look after the little one, not with his heartbroken in pieces.

Over the next ten years, he had come and gone from the house checking up on Adam, watched as he grew strong, not only physically, but emotionally he had developed into a beautiful soul. Their last time together they had sat just like he was now with Tom. He had curled up next to Adam, his head in his lap, Adams fingers running through his fur. “I wish you could change for me Uncle, I see all the other dads and sons playing together and I love the idea that when I change next year we can run together. Then I can finally talk to you and hear your voice back. But I want to know what you look like, to be able to hug you like I see that others hug their dads.” His face had added to Henry’s grief looking so heartbroken and longingly at him. He had tried at that moment, had attempted to honour his request but his human side was so lost, hidden in pain. He had left the house that day, knowing even if it broke his heart, he needed to let his nephew grow with his new pack and not be held back by him.

Now nestled against Tom he regretted that decision. He heard a chuckle soft and happy. “Well look at you two. I would never have guessed Wolfy could be so comfortable with another human. I haven’t seen him like that with anyone except with me. What’s your secret Tom?” Her bright eyes landed on Tom who had continued to scratch behind Henry’s ears.

“I don’t know Miss Jessie, but I have always loved wolves, well any kind of animal really but especially wolves.”

She seemed thoughtful as she eyed them both making Henry wonder what she had planned. “Tom, are you free tonight? I have a date and I really don’t want to leave Wolfy alone again.” Henry felt Tom stiffen. Wondering what was wrong with the request, he moved his head to look up at the boy.

A brief look of disapproval flashed in his eyes before they softened as he looked down and saw Henry watching him. “Yes, Miss Jessie. I would love to spend more time with this beautiful boy.” Internally he chuckled at Tom’s words, if only he knew he was twelve years older than him.

That afternoon Henry, Jessie and Tom spent out in the garden. Tom seemed to fit beautifully into their friendship group kneeling beside Jessie as they planted new flowers and shrubs where they had pulled up the weeds. Together, Henry dug the holes, Tom placed the plants and held them in place whilst Jessie filled the soil around them. Henry enjoyed hearing the light conversation between his Mate and his new friend until it became heavier. “So, Tom, when did you begin to love wolves? I know your father traps them, so I’m interested as to why you don’t follow his belief.”

Tom continued to work, as a gentle hum was heard working up from his throat. “I know why Dad does it, although I don’t think he is correct. He blames the wolves for his loss of cattle, but I haven’t seen that many around. The wild dogs are more to blame but he won't listen. They have a group that meet purely to discuss the wolf problem, but in my whole life, the only large group I have seen was back when I was four. It’s the first and last time Dad allowed me to come to a hunting party. Mom was horrified that he was taking me, but I wanted so much to be with Dad, and he wanted me to be just like him.”

Henry shuddered as the boy spoke as if by some force of nature, he knew that he was about to hear what had happened that day. He also sensed the grief radiating off the boy, wanting to calm him he pushed his body into Tom’s side. Nuzzling his head as if to say, “It's ok, I’m here for you.” Tom let out a heavy chuckle as if he had heard Henry’s voice.

He sat back looking down at Henry as he spoke, “Thanks Wolfy, you would think that I would not remember something that happened that long ago, but it's imprinted in my mind. They had been tracking a pack that had only just entered the area, convinced the rest of the ranchers that they were a risk to our lively hood, that we couldn’t let them nest here. So, the best of their marksman left, when we found them all, sitting around a tree, curled up sleeping, all I wanted to do was go play with the cuddly animals. Dad kept pulling me back holding me still and quiet. I didn’t understand until the loud bangs began.”

Tom’s voice wobbled at this point and Jessie who had been silent up till this time also came closer. She pulled him into her side, her arm encasing his thin body as his shoulders began to shake. “I started screaming as I saw a single wolf with a baby on its back running away, Dad aimed for it but I managed to push the barrel up making him miss. I got the thrashing of my life that night. I couldn’t sit for a week, but it was worth it. I was never allowed to come again after that, not that I wanted to. It took a while, but Dad eventually began to trust me enough to check the traps. I am glad too because it meant I could help this fella.”

Jessie held the boy as his sobs subsided. Henry was trying to hold his anger in, these were the people who had destroyed his family. And yet this one boy had not only saved him once but twice, his gratitude was the only thing stopping him from wanting to go rip the throats out of the group. Ignorance and fear were the driving forces that ended his family, if only they knew the wolves would only ever take a sick animal, and sometimes the young, never the strength of the herd. They would never kill without need. But the wild dogs he had seen were giving us a bad name.

Jessie's voice interrupted his thoughts, the softness not hiding the grief in her own. “Was that near here Tom?” How did Jessie know?

“Yes, Miss Jessie, by the tall tree in the middle of the forest.”

She silently picked up the tools, both animal and human watching her, wondering what she was thinking. Sighing she stood up, “Come, it’s getting dark and I need to get ready for this date.” She walked silently back into the house. The boy and the wolf looked at each other before both followed.

Jessie fixed dinner for Tom and Henry then left to dress, leaving the pair to their own devices. Tom seemed quiet after revealing his early childhood trauma and Henry was eager to help calm the boy. After eating, he plodded into the living room, jumped up on the couch and yipped in Tom’s direction. Chuckling, Tom responded, “You want to watch some TV boy?” Nuzzling the remote, he yipped eagerly hoping to distract the boy from his thoughts.

Tom settled next to him and picked up the remote, they settled on watching a rerun of M.A.S.H before they both heard the clicking of heels and the rapping of knuckles on the front door. Open-mouthed both Henry and Tom sat dumbstruck as Jessie walked down the stairs in a light yellow sundress her dark hair flowing softly twisted into waves. “Wow Miss Jessie, you look amazing” got in first before Henry followed with his eager Yip. Giggling Jessie smiled softly at them both, “Ok I won't be out late, but even so, don’t get up to any mischief”

This caused both Henry and Tom to laugh, one sounding more like a series of yips. The door opened and closed and Jessie was gone. Together the two sat, watched movies and shared some popcorn that Tom had found in the pantry. Just as the end of a Witcher episode finished they heard yelling coming from outside. “I don’t give a dam Boyd, you had no right to hit that poor man, It was an accident.” The front door opened as Jessie stormed inside, the front of her dress had a brown stain down the side of her skirt.

Next Boyd came crashing into the room his face red as he reached out to grab Jessie's arm, this caused Henry to jump into action his snarl reaching the ears of the big man before he saw the wolf racing towards him. Jumping back almost stumbling over the kitchen chair Boyd’s face grew hotter, “Keep that mutt controlled Jessie otherwise I’ll control him for you with my shot Gun.”

The air went still as Henry felt Jessies and Tom's hands on him, “That is enough Boyd Hatfield, you are no longer welcome in this home. Get. Out!” Surprise filled Boyd’s face as he not only recognised Tom but registered his marching orders. Menace replaced the look of surprise, “Listen here little girl, you better watch that attitude of yours. I’ll allow you to cool off but we are not finished talking, and if you value the life of that mutt you will do as your told.” Punctuating the statement with a nod of his head he turned and strolled out the door.

Heart pounding he turned looking up at Jessie who seemed to have lost her speech, her face pale and her hands shaking. Tom moved swiftly pulling her into his arms as she began to cry, frustrated that it wasn’t his arms holding her, Henry pushed his body against her to show he was there, but inside he was furious. That man had threatened not just himself but Jessie, but he had to focus on her right now, she was more important no matter how much he wanted to go after him.

Chapter 9

[fascination-street-writing]

Somewhere to Begin | Pannacotta Fugo x Ghirga!Reader

He has always adored you, like the sun and the moon and more - but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece iii for @idontlikerisottounlessitsnero​ -

Content Warnings: Not SFW Content, Post Break-Up, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Regret, & Explicit Sexual Content (Aged-Up Characters)

You had promised your brother Narancia to never involve yourself directly with Passione; even the occasional stay for a meal at Il Libeccio made him antsy, yet you failed to see the harm in sharing a plate of bruschetta with Fugo, or a pot of hot tea with Abbacchio – two of his closest companions. It was only fair that you ought to spend time with the men who gave you unbridled protection at the behest of nothing more than goodwill and magnanimity. Not that you needed such security, but it kept street thieves from picking your pockets, at least.

You had promised him indeed, and now that he lies in the casket before you – clad in the suit from your mother’s funeral that you never thought to see him wear again – you intend to keep it. Giorno had offered to have an outfit tailored for your brother, but you refused him with consternation that your he would not be buried in something from the boy responsible for his death.

“No,” you had told him, cold as the wall of ice that has crept around your heart, while clutching the woolly material to your chest. “This one will do nicely.”

And so, the mortician severed the seam along the back of the jacket and draped a silk sheet over Narancia’s legs so that no one would be wiser to fact that his ankles stick out past the bottom hem of his trousers. It was bad enough that you could not afford the casket on your own. You knew better than to believe it when Mista told you that it and the headstone were paid for with the money yielded from the liquidation of Bucciarati’s assets. If that were true, then why not pay for a new suit, too?

Trish snatches a single white lily from the memorial wreath and tucks it between your brother’s still, clasped fingers. She hides her grief behind a pair of sunglasses that do not match the overcast weather that looms above your heads. You had not wanted to wait so long for the funeral – for two months, Narancia’s body had been left in the morgue to chill on ice, par Giorno’s insistence that the service must wait until his transfer of power over Passione has finished.

Thus, for two months, you had lain awake at night, shuddering at the melancholy and its melody that reminds you how you your brother died without saying farewell – his platonic little soulmate. Giorno may have his victories and suffer for them, but you would not let him entomb Narancia in the mausoleum with Bucciarati and Abbacchio.

“He’ll be buried next to our mother,” you said to the new Don with indignancy. “After everything you’ve taken from me, let me have this. Lascia che mio fratello torni a casa – let my brother come home.”

Your wish was granted, though you suspect it only so because he was growing tired of fighting with you over burial rights and passages. The congregation is kept small, consisting only of yourself, Mista, Trish, a tortoise named Jean-Pierre Polnareff, regrettably Giorno, and a handful of bodyguards, though the latter kept their distance from the immediate service; it would not come as a surprise to you, should you learn that the men in black suits were employed to protect their Don from the mournful sister of the deceased.

The handkerchief clutched in your grasp is damp with past tears. Not even your father had come, despite your pleading that he ought to pay his respects to his only son. Too preoccupied with his floozy of a new wife and her children from two previous marriages than to love his own – you never needed him in your life anyways, because you had Bucciarati. Now, you suppose that you must be a proper orphan.

You do not weep when the casket seals and cleaves the line of sight betwixt you and your brother forever. You do not weep when the mechanical apparatus lowers the coffer made of Osage orange wood into the steel vault that already holds your mother in oak. You do not weep when the gravediggers shovel the dirt mound back over the crest of opened earth.

You do not weep until Mista clasps your trembling hand, pulls you to his chest, and embraces you amidst the anguish that burns you alive. His is the consolation that you needed, but never thought to ask for, though it is not his touch that you long for. One by one, the attendees disperse for the train of luxury cars and you remain alone with the gunslinger who had been courteous enough to come without his oddly patterned beanie hat.

“Why don’t we get going?” Mista urges to coax you away from the gravesite – away from yourself and the suffocating agony. “Giorno’s having dinner for us all, back at the estate.”

You pull away. Rivets of mascara stain his white dress-shirt. “You can go on ahead,” you tell him, not quite liking the way your voice strains in your throat. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then, let’s go grab some coffee or something –”

“I’m fine, Mista.” He frowns and averts his gaze. “I have some things I need to take care of.”

“Oh?”

You tug your cardigan closer to your chest. “I’m going to collect Narancia’s belongings from our dad’s house. Not sure what I’ll do with it all, but I know it can’t stay there.”

Mementos of life, from when things were far simpler and your brother far more alive. Family photographs with tattered edges and holes of where your father should have been, wedged between unread and abused schoolbooks. Worn out blue jeans with patches of fabric scraps from your mother’s old dresses that you had sewn on for him. A collection of empty glass soda bottles. CDs and cassette tapes of Snoop Dog, Tupac, and whatever other American rappers had appealed to his tastes.

“Alright, I guess. Promise me you’ll call when you get there.”

Soon to be packed away in cardboard boxes and to be stacked precariously in the living room of your studio apartment – another gift from Bucciarati – with nowhere else to go. You simply cannot afford to rent a storage unit downtown.

“I will.”

Mista does not offer to help, because he knows you will refuse it. With that, he takes his leave of you in the cemetery. Left to your solitary devices, you clench your fists and stew on hatred and loathing for none other than Giorno Giovanna. You do not blame Narancia for his eagerness to trust the boy so quickly; his charisma, as appealing as it entreats to the willing, is an infectious disease.

If not for Giorno, your brother would have been buried two months ago. If not for Giorno, your brother might still be alive. And perhaps you must resent Fugo too, for what he has done – or rather, the lack thereof of doing; yet for everything, you are incapable of such feelings, as you have always been fond of each other. The optimistic heart within you stands that he has saved you from suffering more – that in his choice to stay behind in Venezia, it only meant you would not have to bury him, too.

Because surely, his unrestrained anger would have gotten him killed – if not before, then certainly after Narancia’s death.

With a quivering sigh, you turn from this dreary place and meet his illegible violet stare. A row of crackling headstones separates you from the boy whom you love more than life itself. Fugo clutches a pretty bouquet of daffodils wrapped with parchment paper and a white-string bow – your favorite flowers, though you wonder whether they are meant for you or your brother’s fresh grave.

You do not know, nor will you ever, as he sets the flowers atop the nearest monument and makes off, as if on sabbatical to you.

And it fills you with nothing more than bitterness.

“Everyone misses you,” Mista confesses between a sip of tea and a bite of strawberry cake. “You should come around sometime soon.”

Nearly a year has passed since the funeral, and you have yet grace anyone from Passione with your presence, with the exception of Mista for weekly sojourns to Il Libeccio to catch up on life – because, as you have learned, much can happen in seven days’ time. With each occasion of crossing the archway’s threshold into the private dining room at the back of the restaurant, you find yourself preening for two heads of black hair – one neatly combed and clipped, the other a sprawl held in place with an orange headband –, taut lips painted in black, and Fugo. And every time, you are left with the kind of disappointment that curdles your soul like sour milk.

“Who misses me, Mista?” you reprimand, pointing your icing-lacquered fork in his direction. “I barely even know Trish, and I have no interest in ever speaking with Don Giovanna again.”

You wish Giorno would call off the bodyguard who trails you every waking hour of the day; it makes you feel like a child who has proven herself untrustworthy to her parent. But you have done nothing deserving of such punishment. You suspect that his intent is an extension of the olive branch treaty that does not exist between you two – a reiteration of Bucciarati’s protection that should not have to be reiterated, because he should not be dead, either.

Or, alternatively, he wants to irk you so far that you might barge into his office one day – fuming with unspent determination to admonish him regarding his dominion over your life – just to trap you in a conversation wherein he might attempt to suspend your animosity towards him. Alas, you are simply not interested; you will scorn him, because it is all you can do.

“Forget I asked . . .” Mista trails off, swirling a dollop of whipped cream with his knife. “So uh, by the way, have you seen Fugo lately?”

Just the utterance of his name has you perking in your seat.

“No.”

“Hm, well, rumor has it, he’s working at the public library. Shaking people down for late fees or something like that.” It is not implausible to imagine Fugo in the position of extorting old ladies and young children for overdue fines – but, you know that it is only a jest. Regardless, he has always been the type of boy to surround himself with books instead of people. “Why not visit him sometime? He’s not affiliated with Passione anymore. Or, not now, at least.”

You stab at a strawberry. It bleeds beneath the weight of your fork.

“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Mista’s question is one that you ought to be asking yourself, as you sit here at the scratched pine desk of the library – pretending to study for an upcoming exam on the history of art in Pompeii – though you look up from your scrawl of notes every few minutes to see if Fugo should pass you by; perhaps pushing a cart of books to be put away, or branding return cards with a plush red stamp to mark the date in two weeks’ time.

You have seen him only once more since his implied attempt of reconciliation at your brother’s funeral. It was by chance that you should wander into the same café as him that day; and by extended odds that – while you stood over his table with a sad smile and a cup of coffee – he stood abruptly and left without finishing his own drink. He had not even bothered to wish you well.

Today, you catch him on your way to the reference section. The look of hurt in his eyes – like salt instead of sugar on the tongue – brings a scowl to your face. “Please, Panni,” you plead, and though your fingers ache to catch his hand with your own, you refrain for you know the gesture is a crossing of the line between you two. “Can’t we just talk?”

“No,” he says, so dry and unrecognizable. “I’m not getting paid to do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Panni, I – Please, don’t do this. I already lost my brother: don’t make me lose you, too.”

A fuse switches in his head, and you have been the one to flip it. He clutches the encyclopedia in his hands with such fervor that his knuckles pale, and for a moment, you wonder if he means to hit you with it. And maybe he thinks it too, but he drops it atop the ground as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He takes a step back, as if you have scorned him – maybe, after all, you have.

The cover spills open, and the pages bend against the hardwood floor. You wish he would do the same to you – to disclose his grievances and let you in. Instead, it is the toxicity of acrimony “Don’t ever come near me again,” Fugo warns. “Haven’t you realized by now that I never want to see you again? Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.”

You will save the tears for when you stand in front of the bathroom mirror tonight before bed to wash away your makeup from the day, amongst other regrets. But you will never understand the guilt that suffocates him – a noose that is just taut enough to keep him breathing – each time he looks at you, and even when he does not. You are everything he has ever wanted and more.

And you are the emblem of everything he has ever done wrong.

“I still care about you,” you tell him with an affirmation that will not fix the desolation. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

He bites his lip and looks away.

“I know you’re hurting. I am too. So, can’t we heal together?”

“Are you stupid?” You grimace at his words. “I told you to go.”

There is no chance to dispute it, nor to bid him an aggrieved adieu, because he is gone again. Burying him might have been easier, after all; a corpse cannot remind you of what a fool you have become.

And so it seems to you that dying dreams are the best ones.

Adulthood is – as you have found in your years of treading its waters – a dreadful inevitability. You and your brother’s boxes have outgrown that compact studio apartment, though for years, you had made it work perfectly fine. When Giorno pulled the strings to terminate your lease and forcefully relocate you into a sizeable townhouse in the Chiaia district, you wanted to hate him for it – for his reminder that you cannot sever your connection to Passione. Yet, boggled down with university loans, you were in no position to turn down his assistance.

And he knew it, well.

A pretty townhouse located in one of the nicest regions of Napoli cannot bring Narancia back, nor can it attune for every bit of suffering incurred since his death; but if it is a strain upon the aging Don’s wallet, then it is all the better.

On the day of your fourth birthday spent in solitude, you treat yourself to a tub of gelato and a dress from the costly boutique across the street that you will never wear because you have no need to. It will hang in your closest amongst other unworn gowns, still pinched with price tags, that you have impulsively accumulated over the years – a hereditary habit of your mother’s that had caused more than a few spats between she and your father. You know your vice, but there is something so gratifying about it.

You sink into the tweed couch that does not quite match the architect’s vision for the living room – with its crown-mould white walls and hardwood floors the color of wenge; too clean and proper for what furniture you have kept from your former residence. Silver spoon clenched between your teeth as you page through television channel after channel, you balance that melting gelato on your lap. Perhaps you should have grabbed a straw from the kitchen as well.

The evening passes by, uneventfully so. You have spent it spoiling yourself and replying with fabricated enthusiasm to incoming text messages from study mates, who wish you well on this happy day – as if you have a reason to remember your twenty-first beyond the accomplishment of finishing the entire tub of would-be-frozen lemon curd without incurring a single regret or twinge a of brain-freeze. You have gotten rather good at knocking back shots without needing to stop for breaths, too.

At the ringing of the doorbell, you are torn from the real estate program that you have invested so much time these past few hours. Mista, no doubt – come to deliver a gift and takeout because he knows you have not eaten properly tonight. You have no room left in your belly, but whatever he brings will make for a decent meal tomorrow.

You do not bother to tidy up, and when you open the door, you wish you had. Illuminated only by the balcony light stands Fugo with a bouquet of daffodils, a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and a remorseful, sheepish smile upon his handsome face.

Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.

“Uh . . . “ He trails off before he has even begun, perhaps taken aback by the widening of your eyes and the disheveled appearance that, despite your own judgement, he thinks to be the most beautiful vulnerability in life. He speaks your name with the kind of tenderness that you have not felt since you were teenagers. “Buon compleanno.”

You need not ask how he found you, because you know without question that either Mista or Giorno had told him. “Why are you here?” you ask.

He clutches the flowers a bit tighter. You do not move to take them; however, you have already decided on which vase you will place them in. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. And give you these.”

The bottle of wine feels far too heavy in your arms – and the daffodils, as if they might float off in an unforeseen gust of wind. “And, to apologize. For too many things that I can’t ever make right; although, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try.”

“Fugo, I . . . I don’t know.”

“Please, [Y/N]. That day in the library, all those years ago . . . I never stop thinking about the horrible things I said to you. It killed me – it ate me alive; I thought for all this time and before that you hated me, because of what happened to Narancia. Because I wasn’t there to save him.”

“It hurt when you told me to get out of your life, but I listened, and I did it.”

He brings the heel of his hand to swipe at the tears in his eyes. The curling of his other fist is a gesture that terrifies you – although, not for your own sake. “I couldn’t face you. I was scared to look you in the eye, because I thought you hated me,” he mutters like a broken record as his voice cracks with agony. “I thought you hated me, because of him.”

He stops, throwing his head back with a groan. The apple of his throat bobs up and down as he chokes down a sob. He refuses to look at you when he speaks again – too afraid to come undone before he has made his peace with you, his greatest loss. “We were young. Probably too young to even understand what love really meant. But, dio dannazione, you were the most important thing to me, and I understood that more than love.”

His words have always held the capacity for swaying you, as if they replenish the empty spaces within. It is why, as you open the door wider, you let him fill you once again. Fugo contemplates the crannies of your living room, hovering above the couch that you insisted he take a seat upon – he remembers when you bought it, because you had dragged him to the furniture outlet that day. He pretended to be annoyed, though in truth, he was beyond elated that you had chosen him over Mista, or even your brother.

“I guess I should put these in a vase,” you say about the bouquet of flowers. “They’re beautiful, Fugo. Thank you.”

He nods, suddenly entranced by a photograph of Narancia that sits atop the fireplace mantel. You do not notice his unease.

“I’ll grab us some glasses, too.”

You find your vase in the kitchen cabinet niched into the alcove above the refrigerator. Its emerald swirls glisten under the twine of the recessed lights that add no character to the room. So much for a birthday spent in reclusion, you chide alone. Deep within you sits a fire that longs to ignite – to send Fugo away in some thwarted act of retribution for the very loneliness he inflicted upon you years ago; as if to say that the rejection suits you well.

Of course, you cannot deny that your heart leapt into your throat when you saw him standing before the front door, a vision of a man who still held those inklings of boyish charm that you fell for in your adolescence. They say you should not dote over the first person beyond your mother and father to call you pretty; it is weakness to complacency. Your life has never been one of convention – and so by that right, who there is to insist that you must abide?

Bearing a content grin, you trim the stems one-by-one to better fit the vase. In synchronous rhythm to the next, the green stalks bounce from the cluttered countertop to the floor. You have only just stuffed the flowers back into the vase when the shattering of glass resonates its way into the kitchen.

The photograph of Narancia lies amongst bits of broken frame and wreckage. Face buried in his palms, Fugo crumples until his knees meet the ground; he shakes, as if smothered by a chill. When his hands fall to smack the coffee table – baring his grief, in all its pandemonium – you catch them and force his arms around your waist instead; his fingers lock together, holding you in place. He whimpers against your stomach. Already, you can feel the wetness of tears through the fabric of your overstretched shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

Your own fingers curl through his strawberry blonde hair – a means of stability as you too have begun to cry. “It’s just a picture frame,” you promise, and it is the grandest thing he has ever heard. But it is more than a box made of wood and glass – it is an impossible longing. “I’m not upset at you.”

“I . . . Okay.”

Mindful of the mess, you rock him backwards until he is lying down. You join at his side, take his hand into your own, and wait in silence for the moment when his misery will dissipate for clarity. Regardless of the circumstances that have brought him here tonight, you are grateful for it – even if your birthday is spent wallowing in irrevocable regret.

Above all else, you know that he has always adored you, like the sun and moon and more – but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

Your thumb coaxes over the back of his knuckles. “There’s a crack in your ceiling,” Fugo announces, nonchalant and monotone.

“Where? I don’t see one.”

He raises an unoccupied finger, and you follow its gesture to the corner of the ceiling, just above where the moulding meets. It is no longer than the length of hair from his head, and quite honestly, not an underlying issue of foundational complications. Still, you indulge him. “Oh, wow. I never noticed.”

In this hasty repertoire of patterns, you fall into stillness again. “Panni,” you whisper with the utterance of his endearing name. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He squeezes your hand.

“But it’s getting late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Truthfully so, you cannot send him on his way in such a state of disarray.

“I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

However, you do not make it far because he has – inspired by a need to express his devotion and apologia – pulled you atop himself, hands braced on your hips as you balance on bent knees and grasp his shoulders. Tenderness is becoming of the boy – no, the man – who looks up at you as if you are the embodiment of everything good that exists in one life to the next. It is a side that he has never shown to anyone other than you.

You covet it like a piece of cherry-flavored candy, even when you lean down to capture his lips and nip at his tongue that likewise explores the long-forgotten caverns of your mouth. It is a distraction of meaning and not; from the broken frame, loss, and perhaps everything in between. Every attempt to catch a breath of air is met with resilient protests of needier touches and not before long, you lie on the couch – shedding your clothing like the skin of the woman you no longer wish to be – and let him in.

Bare chest to bare chest, you cup his hardness as he places his fingers to your untouched folds. You mean to tell him that you love him, but the penetration of unpracticed digits to your core stifles the very thought from your scattering mind. In dark closets and empty rooms, you two have had your share of imprudent experimentation with one another’s bodies in the past – and nothing more than warm, tentative touches that lead to girlish giggles and boyish huffs.

Fugo pinches your nipple, drawing a plush gasp from you; it urges him to do it again until at last you are throbbing with need from your lower half, your pelvis jerking upwards to meet his for the stimulation of wanting. His breath ghosts your face, and you think you smell wine – a drink for good luck, you think, because despite the distress manifesting in his soul, his mannerisms are otherwise as habitual as you might recall from moments of normalcy.

It feels wrong – to be filled with such wanton, salacious desire within the very hour that you have both spent in mourning of your brother and everything else that has been discarded to the wind, to be picked up by someone else. Yet tonight, you will not sleep with Fugo to forget your blue heart, nor for celebration’s sake as you embark upon another year of being – you will sleep with him, because you have grown tired of learning how to end your days without him.

“I haven’t . . .” You trail off, mesmerized by the way his violet eyes look at you; though puffy and stained red from crying, you take them in as he cocks a brow, imploring you to finish your thought. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

“Good,” he sighs, and you think he is trying to hide a smile. “Me neither.”

Braced by his arms, you are flipped onto your stomach. The tweed upholstery bites into the soft flesh of your breasts with each jostle elicited by the curling of a finger within you. You push backwards until you swear you can feel his fingers against your cervix.

“Oh my god,” he groans, flexing out as if to move deeper. “Ti senti così bene.”

“If it feels good, then do something,” you whine, hands dug between the cushions for support.

But, to your chagrin, he takes his time to admire the way your folds pulsate around just two fingers. You glisten like a gem – his gem. Indignant with petty annoyance, you pull away and straddle the lithe, albeit toned, legs that dangle off the edge of the couch. Arms thrown around his neck, you sink down until you have reached your fill of his manhood.

“I did tell you to do something,” you sigh at Fugo’s displeasure, biting your lip as you adjust to the size of his shaft. “Didn’t I?”

He kisses you once and moves grasp your backend. You savor the feeling of him ingulfing you. “I was distracted.”

You would laugh if not for the anticipated bulging inside you as Fugo buckles into your heat. The sight of your jostling breasts with each bounce of you on his cock is a page of some heavenly doctrine – one that he should study and commit to forever. He moves with strength that he reserves for moments of rage, and even his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises for the days to come. You do not mind; they will help you to remember the best night you have had in years.

With a cry that blossoms into a moan that tells him that he has treated you well, you ride out your orgasm and slump against his chest in your own exhaustion. When he reaches his peak, he slides out; you reach for him – dampened with your slick – and finish him until white pearls bead at the tip and trickle over your working fingers.

Foreheads pressed together, you flash tired grins before settling against the cushions, your head pressed to his chest and his arm braced around the small of your back while his fingers trace shapes against your perspired skin.

Panting, his heart skips every few beats – like a song, sung only for you. Content with that which has returned itself to you, you fall asleep to the sound of this lovely little love affair.

| 4966 Words |

[fluffy-bunbunny]

What is the complete storyline? Is Valentino an abusive ass in this one 2? If so, why does Angel let him around Whitey? And why does Alastor treat him the way he does?

Part 1:

Valentino took Angel Dust and made him a star.

He surrounded Angel with his cigarette smoke and promised him all the riches of hell if he worked obediently for him, he just had to say "yes" to everything and be a very submissive boy.

Drugs ran through his blood. He couldn't live without inhaling that red smoke, Angel needed it in his life, if he didn't breathe it, became nervous, depressed and hysterical.

Being close to Valentino was the only thing that made him happy and he would endure any abuse for his dose of drugs.

Angel worked hard to earn a position as his right hand man and also a position in the heart of the Moth. His life was drugs, fame and money, Valentino adored Angel and was about to confess.

Angel was sickly in love, dependent, would have done anything to make him happy... But he made a mistake that would cost him everything.

Valentino lost a lot of money, territory and fame, because of a mission that Angel failed and Valentino swore by his life that Angel was going to give him back every dollar that he lost because of his mistake.

Angel Dust was overexploited to the point of fainting, consuming more drugs every day to stay on his feet and earn Valentino's forgiveness. He cursing himself every day, every second for having defrauded in this way the one he had "saved" him from poverty and had made him a recognized star.

The debt went on and on growing. As time went by, Valentino added disproportionate interests with which he kept Angel in misery. Their relationship was totally broken and Vox entered the game.

So many years passed. Still, Angel Dust thought there would come a point where Val would forgive him and they would have that beautiful dream relationship again, that idealized relationship, for which he cried every night.

Sales began to drop, Valentino proposed as a novelty to turn Angel into a woman and reach a new audience. Angel was terrified at the idea, but he would do anything... to please Valentino.

Many experiments later, it was possible, Angel Dust would now be a woman. She would shoot straight porn for a limited time and that would boost sales. Val was beaming, happy and that made Angel happy too.

Angel was still very sore from all the experiments they did on him... Although for Val there was nothing that some sex would not solve and Angel enjoyed the few times that Valentino was kind.

Angel Dust returned to the Happy Hotel, to recover and get used to her new body.

Alastor has always been an egocentric who only thinks about himselft, but seeing Angel in his new body caused him curiosity, and he approached to find out more; he unconsciously acted as a cordial and polite man, the feminine essence made him lower his guard. Angel in his new body made him more friendly, as he always was with women, a cordial and educated man.

A drink, a few caresses, one thing led to another. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just a one night stand.

Cap 2 The recordings were going very well, but Angel felt bad, dizzy, disgusted and somewhat weak. He went to the doctor and received the horrible news: an unwanted pregnancy.

Angel was very sure it was Valentino's, because he was the first to "taste" his new body.

They tried to abort him in a thousand ways, cause for them it was only a hindrance, but Angel's body was not resisting: weak, thin and sunk in drugs... And Valentino was not going to lose his source of income.

Although it did not seem like it, after the initial shock the idea didn't seem so bad. Valentino, in his egocentricity, wanted to leave offsprings and have a "Mini-Me", he wanted something of his own blood, something made by himself and the more time passed, the more he got excited about the idea.

Angel… He was happy to make Valentino happy and he dreamed of a family, a good family, not like the one he had in human life, a family with parents who would love his children.

This new beginning brought Val and Angel back together, who began to reconcile, fantasizing about a happy and powerful family.

Even so, Angel Dust didn't stop doing porn and only added the tag “pregnant”.

The expected day arrived, after a long wait a little white-haired male baby was born in hell. Angel returned to his masculine form immediately after that.

A soft fluff surrounding his neck… And deer ears decorated his head.

Valentino didn't take the news well at all, he felt betrayed and used, exploded in anger.

He had them both killed.

Angel Dust, using all of his strength, took off running towards the Happy Hotel, with Valentino shooting to kill and with Vox's dogs hot on his heels.

He barely managed to arrive, exhausted and broken, just in time to reach Alastor's arms and ask for asylum, who didn't understand anything, but would not let Valentino, least of all Vox, were to cause problems in his hotel.

Big was his surprise when he found out that this little boy was his son, someone with whom he never had a single connection, who only had a one night stand, came to bring him his little newborn.

After the chaos, Charlie took Angel and the little one in, while Alastor made sure to guard the place without letting Valentino carry out revenge on him.

days passed and Angel thought about killing his own son if it brought him Valentino's forgiveness, but he knew it, nothing could heal such a broken relationship.

On his side, Alastor avoided getting close to Angel and the little boy, not knowing how to react and how to take on his fatherly role, watching them from afar and stalking them around the hotel.

Alastor made it clear to the pimp and his square-faced lover that if anything happened to his son's 'mother', he would destroy them without thinking.

Knowing that they couldn't kill him, but Val and Vox came up with a good plan to keep making his life miserable.

Cap 3 Final.

Val demanded that Angel return to work as soon as he could, so he would continue to exploit him and make his life miserable, knowing that in the end he wasn't in a relationship with the red demon and a deal... It's a deal: all Angel belonged to Valentino by contract.

Alastor made it clear to the pimp that if anything happened to the spider, he would eat his body for dinner.

Little by little Alastor got closer to Angel (not in a romantic way) to get to know his little one better. After some debate, he ended up being named White: on one hand a name that sounded appropriate for Alastor and on the other hand, for being a nickname for cocaine (White dust, White powder, White rock). His little one "Whitey".

(Here I make a clarification, that there was never an agreement on the name in general and Whitey's first name is Alastor Jr)

Alastor Jr White.

... But White hates it and prefers to be called Whitey, Witty, Whitie, etc)

Angel didn't want to make Alastor uncomfortable, he didn't even trust him, as he felt that it would be easier for the Lord to eat Whitey than to bear an unwanted child with someone like him.

Somewhat overprotective and without wanting to get away from his baby, he preferred to take Whitey to work, leaving him in charge of other porn actresses while he worked. Whittie was still a months old baby and he wouldn't remember or know what was going on around him.

Thus, Whitey's childhood was spent in the arms of actresses and prostitutes. Angel just came out of filming, took a shower and ran to pick up his son.

Valentino avoided Angel because he felt that if he saw him he would destroy his face with rage, but he never imagined meeting the little one.

The girls huddled together to give affection to that small and tender being, they filled him with kisses with lipstick and hugged him with the smell of cheap cologne, remembering their children they had in life. He started to be a "everyone's son" in the studio.

The pimp was curious about the situation and went to see, running into the baby. He had angry feelings when he saw him, he had waited for him for so long, he had wanted him and he had even bought things for his arrival and now he was in front of him... But It wasn't his son, yet Val had loved him for so long that the feeling couldn't go away easily.

Valentino took him in his arms and felt something inside him, White smiled for him and wagged his tail happily.

When Angel Dust finished filming, he saw Valentino surrounded by the other actresses with his baby in his arms, laughing loudly and playing with him. His heart clenched at the thought that he could hurt him... but he didn't, he looked happy and Whitey too.

Despite the fright, Angel couldn't refuse to let Valentino approach Whitie, because he would get in trouble with the pimp, so he just stayed on the sidelines, making sure that the little one didn't enrage the madman who was his boss.

As a result, Angel, Val and Whitt began to spend time together, creating a false sense of 'happy family', one where Angel would see Valentino smile daily at this new 'toy' he gave birth to for him.

The one who was not happy was Vox, who had made a baby specifically for Valentino (Bytez), to fulfill his frustrated dream of being a father, but Valentino had cruelly rejected him after becoming fond with Whittie.

On his side, Alastor promised to give his son the best possible life.

He placed high expectations on him, relying on his ego in wanting to raise him as someone faultless, Alastor wanted him to be perfect, a worthy son of him, one that people admired and feared, a powerful being like him who could dominate the masses.

Whitey was still a baby but Alastor saw a lot of potential. Knowing that Angel was taking him to his work was not to his liking, much less knowing that his son was in the hands of someone like Valentino.

When he was barely old enough to learn, Whitey passed into the hands of Alastor, who gave him tutors and teachers, molding him from a young age with a strict regimen.

Alastor's high expectations destroyed his bond with Whitie, always demanding more of him, always demanding a perfection that he couldn't achieve. In his youth, he did't know how to shoot a weapon (and when he learned he had a horrible aim) he didn't hide his feelings behind a smile like him, he was explosive and affectionate, he had a hard time controlling his inner power. Spending father and son time was a headache for both of them: always fighting, always arguing, too different to get along.

Alastor saw his son as a disappointment and even as a danger, because he had to control that his bad temper didn't cause greater havoc, controlling the power in him.

Unlike Valentino, the pimp loved to see Whitey be destructive, be messy and boisterous, be dirty and annoying. He loved taking him to fast food and limousine rides, using him as a weapon for his enemies, watching him tear people apart and bathe his white skin in blood, watching him devour his victims like a wild animal.

Val gave him the acceptance and attention that Alastor denied him since he was a child, the paternal hugs, the words of encouragement, hearing him say "I'm proud of you", "you are the king" "you can achieve what you propose".

And so was his life, between the studio and the happy hotel. Loving Angel, hating Alastor and loving his “uncle / stepfather” Valentino.

[becomewings]

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

  BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 4 / 4

« pt. 3  |  start at the beginning

Introduction

The final sections for TaeHyung’s arc and the Epilogue are 4.3k and 4.4k, respectively. As with earlier parts of the series, I have included “tl;dr commentary” at the bottom of the post after a section of additional thoughts (specifically devoted to an interesting MV location parallel!). This commentary summarizes the parenthetical asides I made throughout the summaries and may be of interest as standalone reading to those who have already played the game yet would like to review its connections to the BU texts and MVs.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Heart’s Distance

TaeHyung’s story opens with a short cutscene. In his apartment (with the calendar on the wall open to May), TaeHyung smiles at a photo of his father holding him as a baby. (The image looks similar to the photograph he holds at 1’48” in the HYYH On Stage: Prologue short film.) Remembering his father’s drinking and violence, he crumples the photo with a sigh. SeokJin then narrates over a series of shots explaining the latest developments in the loops. By this 15 May Year 22, he has saved NamJoon, ensured that JungKook and YoonGi saved each other, prevented HoSeok’s accident in the hospital, and borrowed everyone’s help to free JiMin. Everyone is gathered outside NamJoon’s container that night, smiling and giddy from saving JiMin. “How long has it been since we’ve all laughed together?” SeokJin asks. (This is a reference to the recurring phrase “we can laugh when we’re together” present throughout the Notes and occasionally this game.) He wants to relax and enjoy the moment too but knows this isn’t over yet. TaeHyung is laughing radiantly next to JiMin. “What drives this happy and innocent TaeHyung to commit such an unspeakable act?” he wonders.

SeokJin’s reflections on the coming days in previous loops present the crux of his challenge and this story: on 19 May, TaeHyung is arrested for vandalism while painting graffiti on the streets. (The bus stop depicted in the shot is the same as the one in Highlight Reel.) One thing SeokJin has learned through the loops is that TaeHyung and his sister live under the constant threat of domestic violence. On 20 May, TaeHyung goes home after spending the night at the police station. The situation gets especially bad for his older sister, and TaeHyung makes a choice that he can’t take back. (In the shot in the game, TaeHyung approaches his father from behind and the sound of glass occurs on a cut to black. We know from the I Need U MV and Save Me webtoon that he fatally stabs his father.) SeokJin’s inner thoughts relate that he has tried to stop this event by preventing TaeHyung from going home this day or even involving NamJoon—but all of his attempts have ended in failure.

While SeokJin is mulling over this challenge during their gathering on the night of 15 May, HoSeok approaches and asks what he’s thinking about by himself. “Oh, nothing much,” SeokJin dismisses. HoSeok remarks that it’s nice to be there with everyone. “It makes me think of the old days…” While HoSeok happily chats, SeokJin’s attention stays on TaeHyung as he approaches NamJoon. The player is given the choice to “get closer to eavesdrop” or “listen to what HoSeok has to say.” In the first path, SeokJin excuses himself to make a phone call and only pretends to pick up the phone as he nears TaeHyung and NamJoon. In the second path, HoSeok jokes about eating too many snacks in high school thanks to SeokJin. SeokJin is a little distracted, but HoSeok notices that TaeHyung has snacks. “Huh? What’s that? I want some too!” SeokJin uses this opportunity to follow HoSeok and join their two friends. The paths converge with SeokJin overhearing TaeHyung and NamJoon’s conversation. TaeHyung says he doesn’t want to go home and asks if he can spend the night at the container. SeokJin remembers that TaeHyung often mentioned not wanting to go home in high school. Back then, they thought it was because he enjoyed being with the group, but now SeokJin knows that he was probably avoiding his father. He wonders why TaeHyung insists on going home on the 20th since he hates it there so much. Maybe learning the reason will be the key to stopping—and saving—TaeHyung. “Do whatever you want. You can sleep over,” NamJoon replies. TaeHyung brightens visibly at this answer. “Do you want to stay up doing something? We can play a card game, or…” HoSeok chimes in too that it sounds like a fun idea, but NamJoon says he has work tomorrow and can’t stay up late. “Let’s play until I have to go to bed.” TaeHyung’s phone vibrates. His face is already grim when he peers at it. “Actually, I think I have to go home.” Surprised, NamJoon asks why, but TaeHyung leaves without answering.

SeokJin leaves the gathering and follows TaeHyung, shadowing him carefully to avoid detection. He wonders what was in the text that changed TaeHyung’s mind and notices that they’re heading in the opposite direction of his home. After purchasing snacks at a nearby store, TaeHyung stands at a bus stop. SeokJin wonders if he’s waiting for someone since he lets several buses pass by. Eventually, a disembarking figure approaches TaeHyung. SeokJin recognizes her as Kim Eunhye, TaeHyung’s older sister. She asks why he is waiting for her since he said he’d be home late. “I was about to head in, so I thought I’d wait for you,” TaeHyung replies. “You should’ve gone ahead. Dad probably hasn’t had dinner yet…” she trails off. TaeHyung says he ordered delivery to the house for their dad. “Did you eat yet? Here.” He hands her a hot dog. SeokJin follows at a distance when they begin walking home. “Do you think dad will be drinking?” Eunhye wonders. “Is that even a question?” TaeHyung returns. They go back and forth about how he has been drinking less these days, goes to work every day, and doesn’t get as angry. “I hope things stay like this,” Eunhye finishes. “...It won’t last,” says TaeHyung. From his sigh, SeokJin senses how little TaeHyung trusts his father. He is surprised to hear that his father goes to work every day. In previous loops, he wondered if the cause for TaeHyung’s accident was an external force and went to observe his father’s workplace, but the man was not at the construction site and apparently hadn’t shown up for several days.

“I better check it out,” SeokJin decides. He calls Uncle JunHo, his father’s assistant, to ask for a favor. The two meet later in SeokJin’s bedroom. “You wanted to go on-site for practical training, right? This is the form you need,” says JunHo. He dismisses SeokJin’s thanks. “The Assemblyman seemed to be interested, too. He said he’ll be keeping an eye on things.” “Father said that?” SeokJin checks. “Make sure to use this opportunity to take a thorough look around. It’ll all be helpful to you later,” JunHo advises. (It’s helpful to know that Kim ChangJun is involved in some shady business with a construction company—this is revealed in The Notes 2.)

On 17 May, SeokJin visits the construction site. The foreman tells him that they’re busy and won’t have time to pay any special attention to him. SeokJin is glad for the lack of watchful eyes because it gives him the opportunity to observe TaeHyung’s father, Kim SungHoon. He is working silently, and SeokJin can’t see anything wrong on the surface. “Why does he get so violent at home?” he wonders. The foreman has apparently been watching too and yells at him. “Oi, you! Why aren’t you working?” Kim SungHoon points out that there isn’t any scaffolding. The foreman orders him to use a ladder instead. “You can’t get any work done being all careful.” Kim SungHoon tries to protest, but the foreman won’t hear it. “Are you going to pay for it if the schedule gets delayed, Mr. Kim? Hurry it up!” A look appears on Kim SungHoon’s face as though he’s been wronged, but he uses the ladder to begin working. SeokJin’s concern must be visible, for the foreman makes conversation with him. “Ahem. Don’t get the wrong idea. You might not be well aware of it yet, but it’s hard to always follow the rules on site. We can’t stay on schedule if we’re not flexible.” “I see…” murmurs SeokJin.

Another laborer shouts, drawing their attention: Kim SungHoon has fallen from the ladder and lies groaning on the ground. The foreman curses and rushes over, demanding how he could be so careless and shifting the blame to him for not paying attention. With a hurt back, Kim SungHoon cannot continue working. Trying to downplay the accident, the foreman gives him a few bills and advises him to stop by the hospital. TaeHyung’s father seems to have something to say, but he withers under the foreman’s stare and accepts the money in resignation. The foreman then assures SeokJin that this happens occasionally on a rough worksite and hands him money too. “You’ve worked hard, so here’s a little something for you to get a nice snack. Forget about everything that happened today. You know what I mean, right?” His brazen, selfish attitude angers SeokJin, but he smiles and leaves to follow Kim SungHoon. He is shocked to witness TaeHyung’s father purchase alcohol at a convenience store rather than go to a hospital. Worried about what will happen if he drinks while injured, SeokJin tries to call TaeHyung, but he doesn’t pick up. The episode ends with a small scene of TaeHyung finishing graffiti on a wall. He doesn’t know why he painted what he did, but the “dumb, ugly-looking graffiti” represents how he feels. He rubs the still-wet paint, yet it doesn’t go away. Picking a new color, TaeHyung sprays over the existing layers like he’s pouring and emptying out all of himself.

On 18 May, TaeHyung deals with his third rude customer of the day at the convenience store. The man demands why he must pay for a bag, even though the law has changed so they can no longer be given freely. TaeHyung either relents and gives him the bag without charge or stands firm. In the first path, he gives in, knowing that he probably won’t restrain his anger if they argue further and that he’ll have to cover the cost with his own paycheck. In the second path, the customer flings the money at him before leaving. TaeHyung clenches his fists and holds in his anger. The paths rejoin with him reflecting that this isn’t a good day. He greets the next customer and realizes that it’s SeokJin. “How come you’ve been stopping by so often these days?” TaeHyung asks while ringing up his bottled coffee. “Huh? Just. I have some things to take care of around here,” SeokJin answers. TaeHyung doesn’t know whether or not to believe him. SeokJin keeps asking how he’s doing, and it makes him a little uncomfortable. Today, SeokJin asks more meaningless questions as always, until: “How’s your father?” TaeHyung can’t stop himself from responding sharply. “Why do you ask about him?” Taken aback, SeokJin stammers, “N-No reason, really. I was just wondering if he was well… Uh… Never mind.”

A rich-looking father and son enter the store, interrupting the awkward silence. The way the father looks after his son and buys him what he wants to eat plunges TaeHyung into memories—he once felt the same as the boy about his own father. He remembers asking his dad who the baby is in the photograph we see at the beginning of the story. Kim SungHoon said it was him. “Don’t you think you look just like dad, TaeHyung?” An incoming phone call shakes TaeHyung out of his memories. The food deliverer informs him that no one is home to accept the order of hangover soup. “Huh? My father should be there…” TaeHyung confirms that the deliverer can leave the food outside the door, but he worries about his dad, who was passed out drunk and groaning in his sleep when he left for work. “SeokJin. I need to run home really quickly. Do you think you can watch the store for me?” TaeHyung leaves as soon as SeokJin gives a startled affirmative. The episode ends in SeokJin’s perspective. He’s curious and concerned about what is going on with TaeHyung, as he couldn’t overhear the phone call. Since leaving the store alone to follow TaeHyung may just create more trouble for him, SeokJin decides to stay put and look for clues.

Arriving home, TaeHyung brings the hangover soup inside and finds his father slouched in the corner. More soju bottles are lying out than when he left this morning. “Your lunch is here.” TaeHyung shakes him when there’s no response. “Wake up and eat.” Kim SungHoon mumbles something unintelligible, so TaeHyung nudges him again. His father shudders and cries out. “You bastard! I’d just gotten comfortable!” “Oh… I just wanted you to eat before the soup gets cold…” says TaeHyung. Kim SungHoon calls him a bastard for not listening. “I just told you to leave that damn thing here!” “Hah… Anyway, eat your lunch.” TaeHyung touches his shoulder again, and his father shoves him away. “The pain is killing me. Get lost, bastard!” TaeHyung yelps. The back of his neck burns from something he hit, but he doesn’t feel the pain over the rage brewing inside him. He can’t stand to look at his father for another second and kicks the door open to rush outside. “But of course. Why did I run over here to make sure that miserable geezer ate something?” he thinks bitterly. TaeHyung’s temper cools as he walks back to the store, and he remembers the pain in his neck. His fingers come away with blood when he touches the spot. He trudges onward, planning to bandage it at work. The memory of the rich father-son duo comes to mind: the man holding his son’s hand so tenderly, and the kid smiling brightly up at him. It makes TaeHyung even more miserable, and he fights to suppress the feelings that threaten to overflow.

Alone in the convenience store, SeokJin feels anxious not knowing when TaeHyung will return but decides to poke around, hoping to learn something like he did when observing NamJoon’s room at the gas station. He either looks through TaeHyung’s backpack or a full box near the register. The box is only a makeshift lost-and-found with customers’ forgotten items. Despite his discomfort at rooting through someone’s belongings, SeokJin finds the crumpled photograph of TaeHyung as a baby with his father in the bag. “He wouldn’t be carrying it around if he truly hated his father. But it wouldn’t be crumpled if he liked him, either. Is it… love and hate?” SeokJin wonders. He also finds a post-it stuck on the counter with a note left by HoSeok: “I packed this for myself but Auntie invited me over for dinner. There are two patties inside. Make sure to enjoy it and write me a full review at least one page long!” SeokJin realizes they’ve spent all this time looking out for each other. He’s glad to see the signs of HoSeok taking care of TaeHyung and TaeHyung being grateful enough to keep the note.

When TaeHyung returns, SeokJin is concerned to see blood from a cut on his neck. “Are you okay, TaeHyung? What happened to your neck?” But TaeHyung avoids looking at him and doesn’t answer, instead putting on a bandage and continuing work. SeokJin ignores a call from Uncle JunHo, deciding it’s more important to look after TaeHyung. “Are you sure you can stay here all day like this, SeokJin? Aren’t there people at home wondering where you are?” TaeHyung speaks up at that moment. SeokJin smiles sheepishly. But with the incident looming ahead on the 20th and no solutions yet to avert it, he has no choice but to stick close to him. After TaeHyung’s shift ends, SeokJin asks what he’s doing now. The red seeping through the bandage worries him. “I’m just… gonna go paint some graffiti,” says TaeHyung. He reluctantly agrees to allow SeokJin to tag along. His phone vibrates before they leave. “Sis? What’s going on? What? The emergency room? Why is Dad there? Hold on. I’ll be right there!” TaeHyung runs out. SeokJin catches up to offer him a ride, which he accepts after a moment’s hesitation.

The perspective switches to TaeHyung when they arrive at the hospital and find his sister waiting with an uneasy expression. She thinks that their father was injured at work. When she tapped him lightly to wake him up for dinner, it caused him a lot of pain. TaeHyung remembers the incident at lunchtime and wonders if he felt like that earlier, too. Eunhye notices SeokJin, and TaeHyung introduces them, noticing that her hand seems to make her uncomfortable. “Did you hurt yourself, sis? What happened to your hand?” “Oh, it’s nothing. I… tripped before we came to the hospital.” TaeHyung knows she’s lying but doesn’t argue. He pretends not to see her injuries, and she pretends not to see the one on his neck—like they always do. Eunhye voices concern about the high bill, which the hospital wants them to pay before discharging their father tomorrow. “The company will take care of it if he was injured at work,” SeokJin assures. TaeHyung finds the construction foreman’s number in his dad’s cell phone and calls him. Reporting the situation, he asks if his father’s injured back can be processed as an industrial accident. The foreman denies that they can help. “How can we cover an accident where Kim SungHoon was drunk on the job and failed to follow safety protocol?” The foreman informs him that he already gave Kim SungHoon money to see a doctor. “There’s nothing else to say, so I’m going to go. And I’m telling you—don’t try to pull anything.” TaeHyung swears when the call ends. Eunhye wonders if the foreman is mistaken because she doesn’t think their father drank that day. TaeHyung purses his lips shut instead of replying, filled with rage at the patronizing foreman and their incompetent father. He hates that he can’t say his dad isn’t the kind of person to drink on the job, and his body shakes with indescribable emotion.

“They won’t cover it as a workplace accident?” SeokJin asks, the perspective shifting to him. He knows the foreman is lying but is unsure how to help TaeHyung and his despairing sister. He could pay the hospital fee himself, but that was counterproductive when he tried it for NamJoon in an earlier loop. Noticing a text from Uncle JunHo asking where he is, SeokJin postpones his decision for later and bids TaeHyung a quick farewell. “I’m sure there’s a way to take care of all of this. Don’t worry too much. Take care of your dad. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

On 19 May, TaeHyung and his sister exit the hospital room with twin sighs. Their father called the foreman back after hearing about the first conversation and let loose, only hanging up when his supervisor agreed to speak in person at the hospital. He also demanded alcohol all night and only recently fell asleep. TaeHyung notices that Eunhye looks exhausted and suggests that they take a nap before the foreman arrives that evening. Later, the foreman arrives with some workers and a box of drinks. TaeHyung stands in the corner, not wanting to butt in since this is his father’s business. The foreman asks how Kim SungHoon is doing, advises him to rest, and then adds, “We’re here to say that you shouldn’t bring up compensation since it’s your fault you were injured.” The foreman accuses him of drinking on the job, and the coworkers Kang and Seo nervously agree. Kim SungHoon argues back about being denied the scaffolding and drops the box of drinks, a “token of their sincerity,” on the floor. While the other works avert their gaze, the foreman looks down on him and clucks his tongue. “You bastard! You call yourself a man?!” Kim SungHoon roars. The foreman bristles. “What? Bastard? Watch your mouth punk!”

Eunhye tries to intervene, pleading for her father to calm down and apologizing on his behalf. The foreman accepts her actions like it’s the obvious thing for her to do. His arrogant attitude reminds TaeHyung of how he probably deals with his underlings. “Sir. My father wasn’t drunk,” he speaks up. The foreman’s arrogant air dissipates. “What are you saying? I have witnesses here.” TaeHyung explains that his dad did not drink that day or the previous one. The foreman scoffs. “Look at this kid. Where’d you learn your manners? He probably drank on the way to work even if he didn’t at home! Who do you think you are, raising your voice like that?” TaeHyung’s hands tremble with rage at the injustice, but he has nothing to retort. Suddenly, SeokJin appears. “I also saw everything. Remember me? I was there on site for practical training that day. I watched him work and he definitely wasn’t drunk.” The foreman grows flustered as SeokJin reveals the truth of the site’s dangerous work process and makes it clear that he coerced Kim SungHoon into not following the correct procedure. He glares between SeokJin and TaeHyung. “I don’t know how you both are putting up this united front… But you think it’s going to change things? We already paid him. It’s a done deal. Understood?” Fuming, the foreman leaves with the other workers in tow. “It’s alright now, TaeHyung.” SeokJin gently taps his shoulder. TaeHyung realizes how tense he has been when he loosens his grip and sees little crescents of his fingernails cut into his palms. (His wounded palms are a recurring motif.)

The perspective shifts to SeokJin while TaeHyung stares blankly at his hands. He decides to come clean about his payment of Kim SungHoon’s hospital bill, since the problem with NamJoon was that he paid it secretly. “You can think of it as borrowing—” “Thanks, SeokJin,” TaeHyung interrupts. “I’ll pay back all of it. Thank you.” SeokJin is a little shocked by his response—it is the first time he’s heard “thank you” from TaeHyung. He hopes that this is the beginning of solving TaeHyung’s problems and bids farewell for the day. Outside the hospital, SeokJin runs into HoSeok, who correctly guesses that he came to visit TaeHyung. “How’d you know?” “I stopped by TaeHyung’s work and didn’t see him, so I called him right away,” HoSeok explains. SeokJin expects him to ask about Kim SungHoon, but instead HoSeok worries about his friend first. “Is TaeHyung alright? He must’ve been so shocked. He cares a lot about his dad…” “TaeHyung does?” SeokJin checks. “Yeah. Even though he says that he doesn’t want to go home all the time, he always makes sure his dad gets a real meal every day. Even if he just eats convenience store snacks himself.” This is new information to SeokJin, who wonders if this is why TaeHyung is determined to go home on the 20th. HoSeok seems more familiar with TaeHyung’s sincerity than anyone else. SeokJin is still braced to explain how he knew about Kim SungHoon’s injury, but HoSeok is more focused on contacting TaeHyung and continues on towards the hospital. Overcome with exhaustion as his tension ebbs, SeokJin trudges home to plan his next move.

Later on 19 May, TaeHyung helps his father walk home after he is discharged from the hospital. He is grateful that SeokJin paid the bill but even more so that he intervened to verify Kim SungHoon’s unjust treatment. “SeokJin might be a better person than I thought.” No words are exchanged as TaeHyung supports his father. His arm is thin, but the weight that presses down on him is burdensome. “It’s the weight of the wheel that I can’t escape. The weight of reality—that I’m always going to be responsible for my father. A person that I wish I could let go, but can’t, and the contradictory feelings of hating my father but wanting to protect him.” In a perspective switch, SeokJin watches at a distance with bated breath. Even though TaeHyung seems accustomed to helping his father walk, Kim SungHoon raises his voice every time he almost falls. SeokJin guesses that TaeHyung is adamant about going home on the 20th because he is worried about his father, who is just out of the hospital, but all he sees is violence against his sister when he arrives. “I’m going to stop it this time, no matter what,” he vows.

On 20 May, SeokJin stands at the bus stop and touches the graffiti for which TaeHyung was arrested the previous night. (It’s the “I’m Fine” message depicted at the same location in the Highlight Reel.) He wonders what TaeHyung felt when he painted it and feels uneasy that he may not be handling this sequence correctly. SeokJin shakes away this premature doubt. There’s one thing that has changed from the previous loop: him. He has protected Kim SungHoon after his injury, paid the hospital bill, and built up enough credibility with TaeHyung to earn his thanks. This time, he reassures himself, his words will get through to his friend. Later, SeokJin follows TaeHyung when he leaves the police station. They walk in silence, but TaeHyung does not push him away or ask why he’s following. “Thanks for walking me here, SeokJin,” he speaks up when they arrive at his house. SeokJin waits a few moments before heading inside after him, entering a familiar situation he has seen far too many times: TaeHyung lunging toward his father, who looms near Eunhye. “TaeHyung! No!” SeokJin dashes to grab his arm. “Let go!” TaeHyung snarls and flails. SeokJin holds tighter, pleading for him to calm down. TaeHyung yells and shoves him away. SeokJin slams into something and falls, pain blooming in his skull. TaeHyung spins around with an expression of shock. The voices calling SeokJin grow fainter, and his vision blurs. “Tae… Hyung…” The glass shatters, marking another failed loop and concluding the story. (This is not the first time TaeHyung has caused SeokJin grave or mortal injury during his intervention: in the Save Me webtoon, he accidentally stabbed SeokJin with the broken bottle instead of his father.)

Nightmare: Epilogue

Throughout the <I’M FINE> series, we have witnessed SeokJin’s trials and failures in the earlier time loops. These experiences culminate in the Epilogue, titled “Nightmare,” as in The Notes 1. This arc spans his efforts to save each of his friends between 11 April and 22 May rather than focusing on one or two characters. SeokJin’s decisions and their consequences here closely follow The Notes 1, so now we have a more detailed picture of his journey between the Save Me webtoon and the first book. The Epilogue fills in some gaps and provides greater depth to these events. For the sake of clearer context, I have still summarized the moments that parallel The Notes 1.

On 11 April Year 22, SeokJin opens his eyes to the familiar bedroom ceiling, the events of the previous loop replaying in his mind. Will he be able to save his friends this time? Uncertainty, horror, and the fresh pain of failure plague him, but he looks at the photo of his friends by the sea. Once, he believed that saving them would be straightforward. But while obsessing over only the problems that he could see, SeokJin lost his way and had to learn from his mistakes. The “signal fires” that helped guide him back were the times spent with his friends, the moments they began to truly understand each other, and the memories he wants to treasure. As he leaves his room, he reflects: “We’re all connected together by a single string, and we’re fated to save one another. And the person to finally put an end to all of this… has to be me.”

In his car, SeokJin encounters a scene at the school crosswalk that he always runs into around this time. He sees a downcast-looking JungKook crossing the street among a group of students. The player is given an option to get out of the car to greet him or pass him by. Regardless of the decision, SeokJin knows that he can’t let his emotions steer his actions. In a previous loop (depicted in JungKook’s arc), he brought JungKook to see the cherry blossoms blooming on the university campus. SeokJin wonders if the JungKook from that loop enjoyed it at least a little. But ultimately, it was just a day and JungKook ended up alone with nothing changed. Not wanting to repeat his past mistakes, SeokJin drives by without stopping.

Later that night, SeokJin pulls into Naeri gas station. NamJoon greets him with a now-familiar look of surprise. “Oh. SeokJin?” “It’s been a while.” SeokJin is determined to make this the last time they repeat this conversation. (As mentioned in part 1, this sequence parallels their moment at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV.) As they move to a corner of the station to continue their conversation, the perspective shifts to NamJoon. Something seems a little weird to him, and SeokJin looks like he has a lot to say, but he manages to gloss over it. NamJoon is about to invite him to the meetup with the other guys after work, but his boss yells for him to do his job. An expensive foreign car pulls up to the gas pump, and the customer drops the money on the ground when NamJoon reaches for it. “Ah, butterfingers. What are you doing? Not gonna pick that up?” the man sneers. The player is presented the choice to pick up the money or not. In both paths, NamJoon unconsciously clenches his fists. “You don’t want it?” asks the customer. The paths converge with SeokJin easily picking up the bills and handing them back to the driver. “You dropped this.” Hands shaking, NamJoon is mortified by the situation that caused SeokJin to react, yet his friend continues to stand there between him and the customer. The man demands who he is, but SeokJin advises, “You must be busy… So you should leave.” Out of steam, the customer drives off. NamJoon thanks SeokJin. “It’s nothing. What were you going to tell me earlier?” NamJoon forces his mouth to move. “Ah. I’m meeting up with TaeHyung and HoSeok today after work. Do you want to come with me?”

Back in SeokJin’s perspective, these are the words he’s been waiting for. Nerves dry his mouth, but he tries to speak naturally and inquires about the others. NamJoon doesn’t really keep in touch with them, but offers to call HoSeok, who still talks to YoonGi. SeokJin knows that YoonGi will call JungKook after hearing from HoSeok—this is how he saves JungKook tonight. His phone buzzes with a call from his father. “Oh, I’m sorry… But I need to leave.” NamJoon’s expression reflects disappointment yet understanding. “That’s too bad. Let’s hang out another time.” “Yeah. Tell the guys hello for me.” SeokJin turns back as he arrives at his car. “NamJoon. If we can get everyone together… Let’s all go to the ocean.” NamJoon looks puzzled by the suggestion. “The ocean?” SeokJin smiles in lieu of an explanation.

The third episode begins with JungKook fighting a group of thugs in a covered alley. (The date is unspecified, but this is a continuation of the night of 11 April.) They kick his stomach and spit on the ground as they walk away, a sight that reinvigorates him even though he can barely sit up. He either says something to provoke them or hurls his bag at them. Riled up, they beat him again as he laughs, vision blurring. They’re gone by the time everything comes back into focus. JungKook got what he wanted: he deliberately provoked them, and when he laughed, they called him crazy and hit him harder. He watches a breeze flatten a tuft of grass in the pavement, just like him. JungKook forces himself to laugh again because he’s afraid he may cry. Where does he go now? He feels like a ghost at home: he’s never a priority for his mom, and dealing with his stepfather is a pain. JungKook closes his eyes, hoping that when he opens them, he won’t be here.

The scene that follows appears to be a memory of 7 April, although it is not specified as such and is written in present tense. (This encounter occurs in The Notes 1 as well as episode 4 of JungKook’s story.) While wandering the streets at night, JungKook is drawn by a familiar piano tune to a music shop with broken showroom windows. He sees YoonGi, for the first time in two years, playing within and looking like he will crumble at any moment. JungKook can’t muster up the courage to follow when he leaves and instead sits at the piano. The keys feel cold like no one has touched them. By memory, he stumbles through the song that YoonGi played this night and back in the classroom hideout. YoonGi appears beside him and corrects the notes like he did in their school days.

The story cuts to YoonGi in the present, possibly in the classroom. He ignores his ringing phone partly because of his drunken stupor and partly because he doesn’t want to talk, but he finally relents and answers. HoSeok offers that NamJoon wants to hang out later. “I’m not going,” YoonGi says immediately. “Hey, don’t be like that. SeokJin’s here, too. Do you want to talk to JungKook? I called him earlier, but he didn’t pick up.” HoSeok encourages YoonGi to call instead because JungKook may pick up for him. YoonGi hangs up, thoughts complicated as he remembers a time when he watched JungKook play piano. “Looking back, that kid was my shadow. I couldn’t ignore him, even if he wasn’t speaking to me. And I kept looking out for him… because it seemed like he’d fall apart if he was ignored.” He considers leaving it be, but his fingers are already dialing.

The perspective switches again: on a rooftop overlooking Songju, JungKook grows dizzy and stumbles. Darkness grasps his ankles, and his mind empties. “I don’t want to leave anything behind. This will just be the end.” At that moment, his phone rings. He sees YoonGi’s name, and everything sharpens, as though he’s awoken from a dream. “What took you so long to pick up?” asks YoonGi. When JungKook doesn’t answer, he continues, “Everyone’s meeting up later. Do you want to go?” After a pause, JungKook says, “YoonGi. Please come get me.” (From the thug beating to the rooftop, this is how his 11 April entry plays out in The Notes 1, but it ends before their phone conversation.) Waiting for YoonGi down on the street, JungKook recalls when they all used to hang out in the classroom. “I have a place to go. People to be with. Right now, that’s enough.”

On 2 May, SeokJin sneaks into YoonGi’s workroom, which is filled with oil-soaked papers as though he intended to set it on fire. (It’s dark, so as the later part of the episode occurs in the daytime, it must be past midnight or in the early morning.) There is no foolproof way to save YoonGi since he acts unpredictably between the loops, but SeokJin has determined that YoonGi needs someone who can tie him to the world—someone whom he won’t push away. Once, NamJoon told SeokJin that JungKook still carried the photo they took at the beach. (The photo depicted in the game is the one of the boys on the wall by the sea.) While NamJoon probably relayed this to show that JungKook hasn’t forgotten about SeokJin, it stirs a different memory for him. In high school when they ditched and went to the beach, hunting for a boulder that supposedly made dreams come true, SeokJin noticed JungKook ask YoonGi an important question while their voices were drowned out by construction noise. He has now realized that both JungKook and YoonGi have the same desperation in their eyes. JungKook knows that YoonGi is like him: a person who needs a string to hold him here. Therefore, JungKook is the key to saving YoonGi.

SeokJin places his copy of the photograph next to the mirror in the workroom, hoping it will lead to saving them both. Before he can leave, footsteps grow closer. Flustered, he chooses to either explain himself honestly or hide. In both paths, YoonGi stumbles inside and collapses on the sofa, too drunk to notice that someone else is in the room. In the second path, some extra information is presented when SeokJin notices a little water dish and paper cup with breadcrumbs as he hides beside the piano. “He must’ve looked after it again.” In another loop, SeokJin saw a small, weak bird that got mistakenly trapped in the workroom. YoonGi looked after it, most likely thinking of JungKook. (This particular episode is called Small Bird, so the title may only be meaningful to players who choose this path or are familiar with the bird from The Notes 1.)

SeokJin escapes undetected while YoonGi sleeps. Later in the day, he watches the workroom from his car. The most difficult part starts now: JungKook must follow the hints SeokJin has left to save YoonGi. After staring up at the second floor for a while with an unhappy expression, JungKook seems to make up his mind and enters the building. The story cuts briefly to YoonGi’s perspective. In the workroom, the mirror shatters. (The reason is unspecified, so we are left to wonder if a confrontation unfolded like the one depicted in the Run MV and implied in The Notes 1, or if something else occurred.) Dizzy, YoonGi falters but manages to stand up. (Again, standing up from what? Possibly because JungKook hit him.) “YoonGi…” JungKook is rooted to the spot in surprise. YoonGi runs, leaving him behind. Back in his perspective, SeokJin starts the car as soon as he sees JungKook dash out of the building. He hopes that leaving “a sign” will guide JungKook to the correct motel. (In The Notes 1, it is a bloody tissue that SeokJin drops by the entrance gate because YoonGi fled his workroom with busted lips. The game episode closely follows how this scenario proceeds in Notes 1, so I’m not sure why it is so cryptic around the details implying that a fight occurred between YoonGi and JungKook.) Inside the motel (once again matching the I Need U MV), YoonGi lights the bedsheets on fire. He regrets having JungKook by his side because the people close to him get hurt. The memories of his childhood burn along with the flames: fragments of the day he arrived home and found it collapsing in a fire. YoonGi hears JungKook shouting. “I’m sure… He’ll be sad because of me. But he won’t be unhappy anymore,” he thinks. JungKook shouts for him to get up, and YoonGi finally looks at him. His last view of the room encompasses the red flames, the air wavy with heat, and JungKook’s crumpled face. The episode ends with sirens playing over a black screen.

Episode 5, “Connecting Threads,” picks up on 12 May with SeokJin preparing to set events in motion for saving his next pair of friends. At the hospital, he waits for JiMin to show up and overhears a conversation between a nurse and doctor. If SeokJin stays where he is, they notice him and postpone their discussion, but if he steps out of sight, they continue. The nurse mentions “patient Park JiMin” who has “transferred down from the 9th floor.” She reports that he keeps roaming the hallways at night and wonders if they should stop him “just in case.” “He’ll be headed back up in about three days or so. Just leave him be. If it really bothers you, check with them,” advises the doctor. SeokJin moves to his precalculated spot when they leave, planning to lead JiMin to the stairs so that he’ll run into HoSeok on his way down. In his perspective, JiMin is troubled by his stiff wrist as he waits for the elevator. A familiar voice suddenly calling his name draws him to the stairwell, but the light makes it difficult to see its owner.

The story cuts to HoSeok wrapping up a consultation with the same doctor from earlier. The doctor states that they haven’t noticed any huge issues and that he’ll be discharged soon. “Do you have any discomfort still?” “Nope, I’m fine!” HoSeok answers energetically and even strikes an exaggerated pose, feeling that he needs to. “Please take care to avoid any future collapses,” the doctor adds. This comment makes HoSeok either recall the last time he collapses or the last moment he spent with his mom. In the first memory, he collapses on the bridge as he thinks about his sick Auntie leaving him alone after she has always been at his side. In the second, he stands at the merry-go-round and wonders if his mom will be standing there when he finishes counting. “Sir… Sir? Are you alright?” The doctor’s questioning shakes HoSeok out of the past. He wants to say hello to JiMin before he leaves the hospital, but JiMin’s bed has been empty for a while. Worried, HoSeok heads to the elevator to look for him. A woman dressed in a long skirt and hat passes by with her child. “Mom!” Convinced that she’s his mother, HoSeok chases after her. He shoves past people, breathing ragged and heart pounding. Afraid to lose her, he either yells out again or goes to the stairs. The results are ultimately the same because she doesn’t respond to his shouts and disappears into the stairwell. HoSeok skips steps down the stairs in his haste. “Mom!” His foot suddenly slips, throwing his weight forward. He flails, but there’s nothing to grab onto—and suddenly, his fall is arrested by someone grabbing his arm. “HoSeok?” “JiMin? How are you here…?” JiMin looks equally surprised. HoSeok realizes it’s obvious that the woman isn’t his mom. Though he can’t remember her face anymore, he still can’t let her go. “Are you alright, HoSeok?” JiMin asks. HoSeok figures that JiMin doesn’t inquire about what he was doing or why because he already knows. “I wonder if JiMin is like me… living trapped in the past. If he’s unable to get better and move on, stuck inside the memories that bind him…” “JiMin,” HoSeok says aloud. “Let’s get out of here.”

From JiMin’s perspective now, he notices that everything about HoSeok in this moment is different from normal. “Get out of here?” JiMin echoes. Outside is unfamiliar and scary, and he knows that even if he escapes the hospital, he will still have to return some day. “JiMin, I’ll come back for you.” HoSeok leaves without waiting for an answer. Not wanting to say goodbye, JiMin follows him secretly as he’s discharged from the hospital. He stops at the line where the hallway ends up on the ninth floor, watching the bright sunlight filter in through the open door. JiMin turns away, believing that the place to which he needs to return isn’t outside but the ninth floor. “Because… I’m a patient.” The rest of episode 6 follows the events in his 15 May Year 22 entry of The Notes 1, with only minor dialogue changes. HoSeok pulls JiMin out of his hospital bed the night before he is scheduled to return to the psychiatric ward. SeokJin and NamJoon meet them in the elevator, while JungKook, TaeHyung, and YoonGi are waiting for them in the first floor lobby. A nurse finds them and sees through YoonGi’s flimsy excuse that they’re having a birthday party. Throwing snack bags and plastic bottles, they all run toward the exit. (This sequence is likely the one depicted in the Euphoria MV, although in the video it’s staged during the daytime instead of at night.) JiMin unconsciously slows as he nears the invisible boundary in the hallway, but HoSeok’s urging grants him the courage to cross the line. Passing through the door, he draws in a breath of fresh air and feels on the verge of crying.

The beginning of episode 7 follows SeokJin’s preparations to prevent TaeHyung’s incident on 20 May in the same fashion as The Notes 1. He waits at the park on the hill behind TaeHyung’s apartment building until HoSeok escorts TaeHyung home from his night at the police station. With careful timing, SeokJin calls HoSeok after he sees the two part ways and asks him to invite TaeHyung to their beach trip in two days. HoSeok turns around toward TaeHyung’s apartment.

The next sequence provides more details of the confrontation (and notably unfolds a little differently than what is depicted in the I Need U MV). TaeHyung arrives home to a familiar stale odor of mold and stench of alcohol. “Where the hell have you been all night?!” TaeHyung turns to see his father’s bloodshot eyes and his sister standing behind him, face swollen. Defiance surges through him, but the desperation in Eunhye’s eyes roots him to the spot. “TaeHyung, tell Dad you’re sorry and go to your room.” TaeHyung either apologizes, holding his anger in, or tries to go straight to his room. In both paths, Kim SungHoon yells that a beating should set him straight. He seizes TaeHyung by the collar. Something bursts and rages inside him. “What have I done wrong?! You’re the one who needs to get things straight!” His father stammers in shock, “W-what did you say?!” while his sister calls his name in warning. TaeHyung chooses to shake him off or hold still. In the first path, he shoves his father to the floor. “Why are you doing this? How long? How long do we have to keep doing this?!” In the second path, Kim SungHoon snarls that he has a lot of nerve to look him in the eye and strikes his cheek. “Why do I need a beating?” TaeHyung thinks.

The paths converge with Eunhye begging their father to stop. The voice continues thundering in TaeHyung’s head: “Why does my sister need a beating? How long are you going to do this?” “You two are a double dose of pain in my ass today!” Kim SungHoon swings at Eunhye, who has thrown herself between them, and she sways at the rough blow. The injustice of it all stokes TaeHyung’s rage. “What have we done wrong? Why do we have to live in fear like this?” Heart pounding, he notices that the cold bottle he’s somehow picked up grows warmer from the heat of his hand. He roars and charges forward. A shattering sound plays over a black screen, and someone cries, “No—! TaeHyung, stop!” TaeHyung comes to his senses. HoSeok is hugging his midsection, his sister is crying, and his father is nowhere to be seen. He wonders whose blood is on his hand. HoSeok stands there silently, looking like he has a lot to say but holding back. “I’m sorry, HoSeok. I’m okay… So you can go now,” TaeHyung says, calm voice belying his inner turmoil. “I want to cry, to scream, to kick, break, shatter everything. I want to fall apart, but I can’t do any of the things I want.” The world spins as he closes his eyes. Mind blank, TaeHyung craves NamJoon’s presence and wants to talk to him—to tell him that he almost killed his father.

The eighth and final episode, “The Pier,” closely follows the version of 22 May in The Notes 1, with the addition of SeokJin’s perspective providing greater depth to the events. The boys make it to the same beach they visited in high school. The observation platform strikes TaeHyung as familiar. As the sun sets, he remembers this all occurring in a dream, except that SeokJin climbs the platform instead of him. Atop the platform, SeokJin is fearful and full of emotions. Memories flash by of their suffering and loneliness, his failures and desire to give up as the misfortunes repeated. He is relieved that TaeHyung does not follow him. At nightfall, they head to where they’re staying. (In The Notes 1, this location is simply called their lodging, and in The Notes 2 it is referred to as a lodge by the beach that SeokJin reserved under his name. In the game, the room appears like the one in the Run MV party scenes (0’57”, 3’00”, etc.), down to the same string lights and sconces—more on this in the Additional Commentary section below.) As the others dance and laugh, SeokJin realizes that this is the first time they’ve made it this far. “It’s something I hoped so desperately for… and a day I thought would never come. We were all lonely once. We hid our own scars and lived through it alone. But it’s different now. We’re all by each other’s sides. We’ll never be alone again.” Despite these thoughts, he has a nagging feeling because he hasn’t told them the truth. SeokJin is afraid of their reactions, but this will be the only way “to really see them properly.” He announces, “I have something to say.” Only TaeHyung turns to look at him through the chaos.

TaeHyung balls up his prickling hand, wondering if this is about the dream he asked SeokJin about several days earlier. (The location of this conversation is unspecified in The Notes 1, but the game provides a flashback shot of it at the bus stop.) His frustration grows when SeokJin begins to mention high school instead. TaeHyung interrupts sharply, believing that SeokJin is still cowardly avoiding the truth. “Are you talking about when you spied for the principal in high school and told him everything we were up to? Or were you going to mention how, because of that… YoonGi got expelled?!” The mood in the room chills. “I’m sorry.” SeokJin drops his head, while the others look away or stare in surprise. But TaeHyung doesn’t want to be unhappy without knowing why, even if the truth is worse than the nightmare. “Is that all? Or are you hiding more from us?”

The perspective switches back to SeokJin. He guesses that TaeHyung is asking about the dream but can’t reveal that the tragedies he experienced were real, believing that no one else should have to suffer with that knowledge. NamJoon approaches and tries to calm TaeHyung, but TaeHyung pushes him away. “Stay out of this, NamJoon. Why does it matter to you? You’re not my brother.” (In the album Note from Her and as a flashback in The Notes 1, TaeHyung overheard NamJoon talking on the phone while they walked to their lodging. NamJoon was speaking to his parents about his younger brother being old enough to take care of himself, but TaeHyung apparently took this to heart as something about himself. It hurt and angered him deeply.) “TaeHyung, I’m sorry,” SeokJin attempts to plead with him. “Stop it, Kim TaeHyung!” NamJoon warns. TaeHyung demands again that SeokJin explain everything. The interrogation unleashes all the memories of his friends’ tragedies that he has tried to forget. SeokJin feels like his nightmares are going to become reality, and his mind goes blank as TaeHyung and NamJoon continue to argue. “I repeated so many moments of suffering… for you… Why are you doing this to me?! I only wanted to be able to laugh together.” A little flame grows within SeokJin, an indescribable feeling cresting like a wave. This is what his countless attempts have led to? “What’s so great about being together?” Shaking off NamJoon’s arm, TaeHyung yells, “Who are we to one another? We’re all alone in the end!” “Alone…” The thing SeokJin has desperately been holding onto breaks away, and the shaking in his hands now consumes his entire body.

SeokJin hits TaeHyung. He remembers TaeHyung’s sudden jump off the seaside platform—a time he thought he saved them all. “I even kept that from happening—and he says we’re all alone in the end? The hopes I had for all of us to be happy, and for us to face coming days together… It all feels like it was for nothing. I thought I left my repeating misfortunes behind me, but I now see them again, taunting me from just ahead.” This concludes the Epilogue and the <I’M FINE> series. Notably, the glass does not break, suggesting that this loop continues from this event (as it does in The Notes 1) without yet resetting.

Additional Commentary

The only point I want to touch on here is the depiction of the boys’ lodging on 22 May after their beach trip and its potential implications. In The Notes 1, this location is simply called their lodging, and in The Notes 2 it is referred to as a lodge by the beach that SeokJin reserved under his name. In the game, the room appears like the one in the Run MV party scenes (0’57”, 3’00”, etc.), down to the same string lights and sconces.

As a standalone MV set, this location felt (to me) more metaphorical than concrete. It’s introduced after NamJoon opens the door of a train’s shipping container, a little film editing trick as though it’s a world inside—and it does feel like a space away from the real world where the boys are free to let loose, revel in their youth, and be themselves. While it seemed to serve as a more glamorous substitute for NamJoon’s shipping container where they often gathered, this location also appeared to stand in for the location of JungKook and YoonGi’s confrontation (2’24”-2’55”). An altercation between them is heavily implied in SeokJin’s 2 May entry from The Notes 1, but it occurs in YoonGi’s workroom. Since Run is an MV rather than one of the short films, which always present BU events and locations more literally than their song counterparts, it doesn’t seem too unusual that these sets are condensed to one in this video. YoonGi’s workroom isn’t portrayed until Highlight Reel, so we can kind of excuse one of the earliest MVs for artistic license.

However… the inclusion of this location in the game considerably changes the circumstances! Since it is both canon and animated, the creators had the ability to design the settings as they are truly intended to appear (within the general limitations of the game’s engine and visual style). It must have been a very deliberate choice that led to the reuse of the Run MV’s set for the 22 May beach lodging. (For what it’s worth, I have always interpreted SeokJin’s and TaeHyung’s fight in the Japanese MV for Blood Sweat & Tears to represent the fallout of that night, and that is staged in a different set.)

To further complicate matters, a date has been explicitly attached to one of the scenes in Run because it is matched shot-for-shot in the BU Story trailer Map of the Soul—and it is neither 2 or 22 May.

24 July Year 22 is not reached in <I’M FINE>, but in the Notes, this is the date the boys plan to gather at NamJoon’s container to celebrate JungKook’s discharge from the hospital. So far in The Notes 1 and 2 (and various album-accompanying Notes from MotS: Persona and 7), this event has hardly manifested as the celebration it is intended to be. This particular shot maps a little better to the circumstances in Notes 2, as not all of them even show up in Notes 1. But again, this gathering occurs at the container—so what, and where, is this shot really depicting? How is it linked to the beach lodging they visit in some loops on 22 May?

BU has been in development for years now, so I believe there is intentionality behind this location’s depiction in the game, even if it raises more questions than it answers. Perhaps it is foreshadowing a very different version of 24 July in which they return again to the beach lodging. This is my best guess for now, and it’s exciting to think that there are still hints embedded in the older MVs for aspects of the plot that have yet to be fully revealed in The Notes.

What do you think? Did you notice the location parallels if you played the game, and did they inspire any new theories for you?

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As mentioned above, the following “tl;dr” commentary summarizes the parenthetical notes I provided in the summaries in case you want to review them on their own.

Heart’s Distance — tl;dr commentary

In the opening cutscene, TaeHyung’s photograph of his father holding him as a baby looks similar to the one he holds at 1’48” in the HYYH On Stage: Prologue short film.

During the gathering at NamJoon’s container after everyone freed JiMin from the hospital, SeokJin asks, “How long has it been since we’ve all laughed together?” This is a reference to the recurring phrase “we can laugh when we’re together” present throughout the Notes and occasionally this game.

On 19 May, TaeHyung is arrested for vandalism while painting graffiti on the streets. The bus stop depicted in the shot is the same as the one in Highlight Reel.

In the shot in the game illustrating TaeHyung’s choice on 20 May that he “can’t take back,” he approaches his father from behind and the sound of glass occurs on a cut to black. We know from the I Need U MV and Save Me webtoon that he fatally stabs his father.

When SeokJin asks Uncle JunHo for a favor to visit a construction site for practical training, JunHo expresses that SeokJin’s father seems to be interested, too. “Make sure to use this opportunity to take a thorough look around. It’ll all be helpful to you later,” JunHo advises. It’s helpful to know that Assemblyman Kim ChangJun is involved in some shady business with a construction company—this is revealed in The Notes 2.

After the foreman leaves his father’s hospital room, TaeHyung realizes how tense he has been when he loosens his grip and sees little crescents of his fingernails cut into his palms. His wounded palms are a recurring motif.

On 20 May, SeokJin stands at the bus stop and touches the graffiti for which TaeHyung was arrested the previous night. It’s the “I’m Fine” message depicted at the same location in the Highlight Reel.

The story ends with SeokJin losing consciousness after TaeHyung shoved him away and he slammed into something, marking another failed attempt while preventing the homicide. This is not the first time TaeHyung has caused SeokJin grave or mortal injury during his intervention: in the Save Me webtoon, he accidentally stabbed SeokJin with the broken bottle instead of his father.

Nightmare: Epilogue — tl;dr commentary

SeokJin and NamJoon’s conversation when they reunite at the gas station on the night of 11 April begins with 2 familiar phrases: “Oh. SeokJin?” “It’s been a while.” As mentioned in part 1, this sequence parallels their moment at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV.

In episode 3, the scene of JungKook finding YoonGi playing piano at the music shop appears to be a memory of 7 April, although it is not explicitly stated as such. This encounter occurs in The Notes 1 as well as episode 4 of JungKook’s story.

From JungKook’s beating at the hands of thugs to the rooftop, this is how his 11 April entry plays out in The Notes 1, but it ends before his phone conversation with YoonGi.

SeokJin reflects on a time NamJoon told him that JungKook still carried the photo they took at the beach. The photo depicted in the game is the one of the boys on the wall by the sea.

Episode 4 is called “Small Bird,” yet the bird is only referenced in one of the choice’s paths (SeokJin hides behind the piano in YoonGi’s workroom). The title may be more meaningful to players who choose this path or are familiar with the bird from The Notes 1.

The game is even more cryptic than The Notes 1 about JungKook and YoonGi’s apparent altercation on 2 May in his workroom. When the perspective cuts to YoonGi, the mirror has already been shattered. The reason is unspecified, so we are left to wonder if a confrontation unfolded like the one depicted in the Run MV and implied in The Notes 1, or if something else occurred. The “sign” that SeokJin leaves to guide JungKook to the correct motel is also unspecified, but in The Notes 1, it is a bloody tissue because YoonGi fled his workroom with busted lips.

The motel room that YoonGi sets on fire in this loop once again matches the I Need U MV.

JiMin’s escape sequence from the hospital is likely the one depicted in the Euphoria MV, although in the video it’s staged during the daytime instead of at night.

TaeHyung’s confrontation with his father on 20 May unfolds a little differently than what is depicted in the I Need U MV.

Some notes/thoughts on the 22 May post-beach trip lodging are included in the Additional Commentary section above.

TaeHyung has a flashback to several days prior to 22 May when he asked SeokJin about his recurring dreams. The location of this conversation is unspecified in The Notes 1, but it’s depicted at the bus stop in the game.

TaeHyung pushes NamJoon away physically and verbally when he tries to interrupt his interrogation of SeokJin at the lodging. “Stay out of this, NamJoon. Why does it matter to you? You’re not my brother.” In the album Note from Her and as a flashback in The Notes 1, TaeHyung overheard NamJoon talking on the phone while they walked to their lodging. NamJoon was speaking to his parents about his younger brother being old enough to take care of himself, but TaeHyung apparently took this to heart as something about himself. It hurt and angered him deeply.

Notably, the glass does not break at the end of the Epilogue, suggesting that this loop continues from this event (as it does in The Notes 1) without yet resetting.

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This brings us to the end of the BTS Universe Story <I’M FINE> highlights! This series turned out a little different than I originally envisioned, but I hope you found these summaries helpful and worthwhile to read. If you have any questions, important details that you felt I overlooked, or theories of your own that you would like to share, feel free to send me an ask!

For more informational storyline content, please check out the Timeline project, currently in development!

[depressedhatakekakashi]

God Of Storms AU- New Gods

New Gods (Turned from Mortal to God)

Itachi

God of Death (Lost in Battle). Patron of Warriors.

Animal Companion: Crows (gifted to him by Shisui), and Black Cats

Symbol: a broken soldiers helmet with a sword pierced through it.

Birth: during his mortal life, Itachi was a soldier sent out into battle. One day, during a fight, he was struck down by the enemy while protecting his friend who had been injured. Seeing this, Obito decided to elivate Itachi up to God status (with approval from the others) and gave him the position of guardian of fallen warriors.

Lore: there are stories that speak about the God of Death being a kind soul. Someone who will explore the battlefields alongside Shisui, and who considers animals lost in battle the same as humans. Any human who views this as an insult is not welcomed into Itachi's domains, and is instead thrown into the pit of forgotten souls deep below the world.

When he was Mortal, Itachi had a little brother that he loved dearly, and before going into that faithful last battle he promised his little brother than no matter what they would always be together. He never realized just how truthful his words to his younger brother were, and when he met him as an immortal god he was both sad and happy. Sad because his brothers life was cut so short, but happy because now he could keep his promise.

Itachi has a fondness for gardens, and loves to spend time in Ino's favorite garden with her taking care of the flowers and the animals the reside in the garden. At the same time, he adores being with Hana and helping her care for the animals that come through her doors.

Love: Ino and Hana

Sasuke

God of Death (Cruel deaths often by the hand of trusted/loved ones). Patron of the wounded and abuses

Animal Companion:Eagles and Cats

Symbol: A shield with hands splayed out in a protective gesture on it, and his brothers symbol in the bottom.

Birth: When Itachi went off to war, Sasuke was left behind at their home with their caregiver (their parents having died long ago). The caregiver had never been kind to them, but when they were informed of Itachi's fate they turned to Sasuke and told him he would have to find work to support the family now. When Sasuke spoke out that he was only 12 and unable to work, his caregiver began to hurt him, not stopping even when Sasuke pleaded.

The caregiver didn't kill Sasuke, but int he middle of the abuse a crack of lightning broke through the house and forced them back away from the child.

When he opened his eyes again, Sasuke found himself looking up at the kid eyes of the storm god Kakashi, and listening to the only words he wanted to hear at that point.

'would you like to see your brother?'

When he nodded his head, the storm god gathered him into his arms and took him to the realm of god's where he was elevated to a god and brought to Itachi immidiatly after being given the position of guardian of the dead who had been taken from the mortal world by the hands of those who were meant to protect them.

Lore: because he was made a god at such a young mortal age, Sasuke often appears as a 12 year old. The gods do allow him to grow up of course, but when he appears to the souls he is meant to guard, he always does so as a 12 year old. Because so many of them were hurt by adults, Sasuke finds it easier to gain their trust and lead them into his domain when he appears to them as a child.

Sasuke never becomes interested in romantic or sexual affections, even as he grows up in the realm of the gods. His duty is the most.important to him, and while he does have friends he never finds himself falling in love. Even Ino, The goddess of love, is unable to make him fall in love.

Love: none

Hana

Goddess of Animals. Patron of Animal healers.

Animal Companion: the The Haimaru brothers (Dogs)

Symbol: often depicted with animals around her

Birth: found in the wild with her mortal brother, Hana was brought by the forest spirits to Tsume, who upon realizing that the pair had been abandoned by their parents decided to adopt them as her own. Making them into god's, she gave Hana the task of watching over the animals of the world and ensuring that they were taken care of. Healed when they needed to be.

Hana received the Haimaru Brother when Itachi came to her door one day with three cubs tucked away in his arms.

Lore: Hana is known to mortals as the protector of Animals. A fierce god who will punish any who harm animals for cruel reasons, she is known to stay in her home in the woods tending to any injured animal that is brought to her. Sometimes she will join her brother and mother out on their hunts, though she often prefers to watch rather than actually hunt with them. It’s also a good way to get the Haimaru brothers out to play with Akamaru and other animals.

The Haimaru brothers were dogs brought to her by Itachi. Found in the battle field as pups after their mother was killed in the midst of a battle between humans, Itachi brought them to Hana hoping that she could save them because they were weak and dying. She managed to keep them alive, and chose to keep them as her companions after that, a constant reminder of her devotion to animals and her love for Itachi.

Love: Itachi

Kiba

God of the hunt. Patron of the abandoned.

Animal Companion:Akamaru.

Symbol: often depicted as riding on a giant white dogs back (Akamaru), with long claws and

Birth: found in the wild with her mortal brother, Hana was brought by the forest spirits to Tsume, who upon realizing that the pair had been abandoned by their parents decided to adopt them as her own. Making them into god's, she tasked Kiba with watching over those who were abandoned like his sister and him. She also takes him out on hunts with her, and gives him the mantal of ‘god of the hunt’.

Lore: Kiba is known for being a playful god. Someone who likes to spend all of his time outdoors in the wild with animals. He surrounds himself with spirits from the forest, and likes to spend his nights around a camp fire retelling old stories of the gods.

A lucky mortal could find themselves stumbling upon such a scenario, and Kiba would simply invite them to join for the night so long as they are friendly and kind.

Love: Shino

Deidara

God of Destruction, Destructive fire and scorch. Patron of the destructive.

Animal Companion: Spiders and

Symbol: fire and explosions.

Birth: Wanting to prove his artistic ability better than even the gods, Diedra decided to test his limits and create a new form of explosive. In doing so, he blew up his home with himself inside of it. Seeing what had happened, Kakuzu decided to intervien and saved Diedra from a certain death, making him into a god without consulting the others.

Love: None

Hidan

God of Madness. The lost god. Patron of the Chaotic.

Animal Companion: None

Symbol: A scyth with two blades, and a necklace with Kakazu’s golden coins on it.

Birth: A devout follow of Kakazu, Hidan made himself known the the god of greed through his constant prayers and displays of devotion. Unlike other gods, Kakazu wasn’t displeased by a follower who killed for him, and when Hidan found himself on the wrong end of a sword one day, Kakazu stole him from the earth and turned him into a god. There was no doubt in Kakazu’s mind what kind of God Hidan would be, and without constulting any of the others, he gave Hidan the job of being the God of Madness and Chaos.

Love: None

Ibiki

God of Justice and Punishment. Patron of Judges and the wrongfully condemned.

Animal Companion: Lion

Symbol: The Water Lily and the scars on his face.

Birth: The first mortal murdered unjustly, Ibiki was found by Tsunade after his murder and given life as a god because of her anger at his unjust death. Realizing that the mortal world was missing an important concept of fairness and justice, Tsunade and the other gods decided that Ibiki should take up the mantle of God of Justice and Punishment.

Lore: The scars he received from being burned alive stayed with him, and his skin constantly feels like it’s on fire because of the pain he was in when Tsunade made him into a god. The only thing he has found that alleviates the pain, is the rain that’s always falling over Kakashi’s head.

Ibiki is known as a firm God. Granting mortals the knowledge of right and wrong, and the ideas of justice, he becomes enraged when his gifts are misused or abused. Corrupt mortals have been said to meet their end at the end of Ibiki’s blade when they show their true colours, punishing those who have done no wrong or releasing criminals with no punishment.

In all of the stories of him, Ibiki is rarely ever spoken of having a lover. Though he likes to blame that on the fact that Kakashi is known even among mortals for being attached the the mortal that keeps dying on him.

Love: Kakashi

Konan and Yahiko

God and Goddess of the household and Families.

Animal Companion: Cranes

Symbol: Always depicted holding hands with paper cranes flying around them.

Birth: Their village was destroyed by one of Deidra’s ‘artistic examples’ and everyone killed. For weeks the two of them stayed together, just trying to survive and refusing to leave their destroyed village. They were found by Jiraiya one day, and feeling pity for them he decided to speak with the other gods and

Love: Each other.

Gaara

God of Sand, Patron of the deserted.

Animal Companion: Tanuki (Shukaku)

Symbol: The symbol for ‘Love’ carved into his forehead, and the Gourd that he carries on his back.

Birth: Born a mortal to his mother, Karura (a priestess of Baki’s temple), Gaara was made into a god by Baki after he found the child crying in his temple with his mother’s dead body curled protectively around him, stab wounds in her back from. The temple had been attacked by those who did not believe in Baki and wanted to steal what little wealth there was in the tiny temple, and while there they murdered the temple priestess when she refused to step aside and allow them to do as they wished unchallenged.

Lore: After turning Gaara into a god, Baki placed his mother’s spirit into the gourd of sand that he gifted to the child, so that even as a god she would be able to protect him.

Gaara became Guardian of the deserts. The one who cares for the desert plants and the people who venture out into the harsh sands.

Gaara became close with Knakuro and Temari shortly after they met, forming a sibling like bond with both of them. The two of them were the one’s who stood by his side and helped him adjust to his quick growth and new life.

Spends most of his time hanging out with Kankuro and checking in on the settlements in the desert.

Gaara is also close friends with Naruto, the messenger god, and will only leave his domain in the desert if it’s Naruto calling for him.

When he’s a bit older and used to his role, Gaara finds a young mortal boy lost in the desert. Concerned about a child roaming the desert alone, he takes him under his wing and protects him. Ultimately, the boy becomes like a son to Gaara and is made into a god himself, Shinki the god of lost children. Shinki spends most of his days with the desert spirits Araya and Yodo.

Love: N/A

Kabuto

Role: Mortal turned into a god. God of trickery and surgery.

Animal Companion: Black Mamba Snake

Symbol: A staff with two snakes wrapped around it (Think the Caduceus staff) and a blank mask.

Birth/Creation: Kabuto was born a mortal and raised in a temple with his mother Nona. Growing up Kabuto was taught about the god that his mother worshipped, Danzo the god of deception. Ultimately, Kabuto became a god by playing the long game of worshipping Orochimaru, and tricking them into making them into a god to complete a task they wanted done.

Lore:

Born to a temple priestess (Nona) and worshipper of Danzo , the god of deception, Kabuto was raised to follow Danzo from a young age. The temple he was raised in was full of masks, each one depicting a different emotion or face that his mother would tell him stories about. From a young age Kabuto would watch his mother place a mask over her face for worship and remove it when she was done. Except, as he got older he noticed that she removed the mask a lot less.

When he was five years old, Kabuto was given a mask of his very own. It was blank and his mother explained that as he became a trusted worshipper, the God Danzo would grant him designs that display his personality and perseverance. Nona’s mask was painted with medical symbols as well as having round circles around the eyes. She would tell Kabuto that they were to represent the glasses that she wore when she didn’t have the mask on, but as he got older Kabuto came to understand that they really represented the control that Danzo had over his mother, and how she was losing herself to her worship.

When Kabuto was nine years old, he realized his mother had been lost to danzo. Over time he noticed that she was acting differently. It seemed like she recognized him less, and spent more time worshipping Danzo and doing as he pleased. Just before his tenth birthday, Kabuto was faced with the fact that he had lost his mother to her worship when she attempted to take his life, resulting in him having to stab her to save himself.

Although he had lost his mother to Danzo, Kabuto felt he had no where else to turn to. He’d been taught all of his life to worship Danzo and do as he was told, so for a few short months after his mother’s death he continued, struggling with the fact that it had been him who took her life.

Danzo whispered in his ear, blaming him for Nona’s death, and for a while Kabuto believed him. He continued to see his mother’s blood on his hands and heard her saying his name over and over again, no matter what he was doing.

Then another god appeared, offering Kabuto an escape.

Orochimaru, the two faced god, had watched all that had happened and decided to take advantage of the situation. With a few smooth words and sweet promises, he stole a devoted worshipper from Danzo and made him his own. Kabuto became dedicated to Orochimaru. Willing to do anything for them as long as they gave him a purpose in life. A meaning.

For years Kabuto followed Orochimaru blindly. Always worshipping them, sacrificing to them, and doing tasks that they asked him to do. He rarely asked questions, and although he could see that some of the things he was doing were wrong he stopped caring. There was little he could do that was worse than killing his own mother, so he continued.

From age twelve to twenty four Kabuto was dedicated to the two faced god, and then one day he realized that he didn’t have to be.

That he’d been dedicated to someone else for his entire life, and never truly lived for himself. The problem was, Kabuto didn’t know how to live for himself. All he knew was worship, sacrifice and tasks. It’s what made his days go by. What helped him forget about all of the blood that stained his hands.

The only real goal Kabuto could figure out for himself was immortality. Protecting himself from the same fate that his mother had met.

His goal became clear from there. He continued to do what Orochimaru asked, but now he was starting to question things. Asking for reason’s behind his actions and testing just how far he could push the two faced god to give him information. Due to years of devoted work, Kabuto was Orochimaru’s most trusted worshipper and it showed. There was almost no question Orochimaru wouldn’t answer for him. No aid they wouldn’t provide to him to complete a task, if only he asked.

At first Kabuto started small. Asking for weapon’s or support’s that he claimed to need in order to complete the task. If he asked for aid he always ensured that the aid never came out alive, and Orochimaru seemed fine with those results so he continued.

Then, he continued to push. Until finally Orochimaru gave him a task that seemed all but impossible. A task to steal something from Mito, the goddess of the earth and the beginning of everything.

A task that was sure to lead to Kabuto’s death.

Upon that realization, Kabuto made a very simple request for protection. Assurance that he wouldn’t die, because if he died he’d be unable to complete the task.

Orochimaru thought about it and did wonder about Kabuto’s intentions, but ultimately agreed. This was how Kabuto became Immortal, and a god. As soon as Orochimaru gave him immortality, the power of a god seeped into Kabuto’s body and the god of trickery was born.

Kabuto still completed his task, securing the requested item from Mito (which she later retrieved back with the help of Hashirama and Madara) but it was the final thing he ever did for another god. Kabuto’s work as a worshipper was done.

He was finally his own person with his own powers and desires. There was still no meaning to his existence, but Kabuto was willing to work that out now that he’d achieved what he wanted.

Orochimaru stayed angry about the trick for millennia, but was still open to approaching Kabuto if he needed someone good at trickery and disguise to complete a task. Except now the two of them worked as equals. Kabuto could turn down the opportunity to aid Orochimaru or he could choose to accept the task with the expectation of a proper reward.

Kabuto is know among the gods for being gifted with disguise. So good at hiding himself, he is easily able to convince mortals and gods alike that he is who he’s presenting himself as, where as other gods can often feel each others presence and know who it is standing in front of them. The only domains Kabuto has not been able to sneak into are Hashirama’s, Madara’s and Kakashi’s. The first two are because the two gods heightened their cautiousness after Kabuto had stolen from Mito, but Kakashi is a god Kabuto finds difficulty in tricking because he refuses to take things at face value. He’s always questioning, and always overly cautious, and this often leads to Kabuto being unable to get what he wants even if he is able to convince Kakashi that he is who he says he is. Even with the gift of deception he cannot trick Kakashi into trusting him.

Love: TBD