#now hes gone and so is everything significant i had about him

[ashes-in-a-jar]

Going through life with horrible memory is forgetting when people did nice things for you and seeming ungrateful.

It's also being unable to remember quotes from any podcast you love but haven't listened to more than twice

[lesbiansanemi]

New low. Sobbing in the floor of a dark empty apartment

[babyleostuff]

"silent treatment prank" on their s/o | ot13

. . . how long svt can maintain their "silent treatment prank" after their s/o apologize even though they don't know what they did wrong

natalia's note: i don't think any of them would be able to hold out for long (as you'll see). it's a whole another thing when they give you the silent treatment when they're actually angry, but as a prank. never.

❥ seungcheol 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] one minute 

at first he wanted to try out this prank as a way to see you sulk and whine, as he usually does when you give him the silent treatment, and he thought he was being such a genius after he came up with the idea. mhm, yeah - genius my ass. the second he sees your puppy-like expression after he doesn’t reciprocate your hug, it’s over for him. it was clear to him that you thought he was bothered by you, you even apologised for entering his personal space and hugging him. thus not even a minute in, he’s all over you again, kissing you all over your face and apologising (with his noot noot pout) for his silly behaviour because come one - seeing you upset over his stupid prank is the last thing he wants to see. 

❥ jeonghan 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] ten minutes 

as much of a menace as he is, he wouldn’t be able to ignore you for more than ten minutes. first of all - he simply gets bored. that’s it - bored. you’re right next to him, and he can’t talk to you, which is so??? he loves yapping when you’re next to him. second of all - he needs to touch you. yoon jeonghan needs his cuddles and kisses, and how is he supposed to get them if he’s ignoring you? third of all - he might be a bit mean (with love) sometimes, but there is no way he’d ever pull a prank on you which would involve you getting genuinely upset. like - making your partner insecure? mhm, not with hannie. so, he’d kind of try to ignore you for a bit (and failing miserably because he’d answer you half of the time anyways), and so after ten minutes he just gives up.

❥ joshua 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] twenty minutes 

joshua is a bit similar to jeonghan with this (who would have guessed), the only difference is that shua is a bit more perseverant. ignoring you had never come easily to him and it never would be easy for him, but he had to admit that your slightly pouty lip was adorable, and he could practically see your brain trying to figure out what was going on. however, when he saw the first signs of you being actually upset, the entire bubble around this "funny" prank disappeared. no joke was worth your sadness, no matter how cute it made you look. shua quickly realised that the prank itself didn't make much sense and that he would much rather hug you right now than pretend that you weren't there at all.

❥ jun 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] one hour 

he didn’t come up with that prank on his own, he’d never, but a lost bet is a lost bet, and he had to take the punishment. he felt so bad avoiding you, when you asked him about his day, if he was hungry, if he needed some rest, and when you started to ask if he needed space, some time alone, and if he wanted you gone for a while - jun’s heart broke. but he felt like it was too late to take everything back because you looked so sad and upset, and you probably hated him now too, so he couldn't say anything. an hour would be his breaking point - fuck it if you hated him, he needed you, and he needed to apologise, and damn the person who came up with this stupid prank. 

❥ hoshi 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 1.5 minute 

when his friends told him about this prank, and how they pranked their significant others, soonyoung thought it was such a brilliant idea, and he couldn’t wait to try it out on you. as it turned out - it was not brilliant, it fucking sucked. ignoring you, your kiss you always gave him when he came back from work, your questions if everything was okay, was one thing - seeing your upset expression was a whole nother story. you even apologised for being so all over him when he barely entered the apartment, clearly feeling bad, and that would be the end of hoshi’s prank. this man is the simpest simp to ever simp, he cannot stand seeing you sad, especially over something you didn’t even do.

❥ wonwoo 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.2- 0.3 seconds 

when wonwoo heard about this prank he was baffled to say the least - what’s so fun in ignoring your significant other? like, what’s the point? wouldn’t you rather hold them close, and spend some precious quality time together rather than ignoring them? somehow, seungcheol and jeonghan managed to persuade him into giving the prank a chance, and wonwoo decided to say yes just to please his friends and get them off his back. no surprise - wonwoo wouldn’t last a second. he’s physically unable to ignore you, a single quiet “wonwoo?” makes him go “yes, baby?” *cue in attentive eyes and a puppy like expression*. besides, he’d never be able to stand you being upset, knowing he was the reason behind your small pout and eyes lacking their usual spark. (also, ignoring you equals no hugs and kisses, and that’s something wonwoo cannot stand).

❥ woozi 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] fifteen minutes 

does not see a point in this “prank”, thinks it’s very stupid and not fun. the only reason he did it in the first place was to stop hearing the constant nagging of hoshi and seungwkan, and if that was what it took to satisfy them, then whatever. he held out for fifteen minutes just because he was working on a lyrics when you came to his studio, and whereas he ignored your first hello because of the prank, he ignored your next questions just because he got distracted by his work. you were used to your boyfriend spacing out during work so that didn’t really bother you, though he never ignored your “hello” so you got a bit scared that he might’ve been angry with you or whatever. it took only one glance at you for woozi to remember that he ignored you when you came in, and he immediately dropped whatever he was doing to apologise and properly greet you with an extra kiss.

❥ dk 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.001 second 

not happening, never in a million years. come on, do you really expect seokmin out of all people to ignore you on purpose? over his dead body. the thing was - he overheard about the prank during rehearsals and thought it sounded a bit fun? like, he’d get to see you extra pouty, and he loved nothing more when you got cute like that - so the prank had to work, right? no. when he got home later that night, and you greeted him in the hallway with his hoodie draped over your body, rubbing your eyes with the sweater paws because it was way too late for you to be up, all of his intentions of executing the prank went out of the window immediately. later that night, when he held you close to his chest he felt so silly for even thinking that the prank would be a good idea.

❥ mingyu 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 2 minutes 

this man is too big of a yapper and too big of a clingy puppy to ignore you, besides he’s not that big on pranks, especially if it involves you getting upset. just try to imagine mingyu ignoring you, even though you didn’t do anything wrong. you can't, right? that’s the thing - mingyu has to touch you at all times, and he loves nothing more than talking to you, so why on earth would he go around ignoring you, wasting your precious time together on a silly prank? he tried it out just to see how many minutes he’d last, and well - he didn’t hold out for long, definitely not when you dropped your head and left the bedroom, thinking he was annoyed with you. he’d immediately follow you and explain that it was just a stupid prank (in return you’d give him a silent treatment ☺️)

❥ minghao 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] two hours max 

the trophy goes to xu minghao - he’s the strongest of them all, though that doesn't mean it’s any less painful for him. when minghao decides on doing something he commits, he pours his heart and soul into whatever he does, even if it’s just a stupid prank. he wasn’t sure how he even ended up in this situation - him in your bedroom, trying to occupy himself with reading, and you in the living room, probably trying to figure out what you did wrong for your boyfriend to be ignoring you. he would have ended this stupid prank a long time ago if it wasn’t for his pride and stubbornness because now he’d have to admit to coming up with this stupid ass prank, and making you feel bad just for his entertainment (which he was not entertained by). when the clock struck the second hour after he locked himself in the bedroom, he threw away the book and practically ran out to you, an apology speech ready.

❥ seungkwan 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] half an hour 

his stubbornness to admit the defeat of his prank would be the only reason why he’d hold out half an hour, if not for that he’d be running back to you after a minute. seungkwan was sure this prank would be the perfect way to get back at you for your last joke that you pulled on him, but surprise surprise - it wasn’t. he was still going strong when he saw your small pout - he thought the prank was working, and he’d get his revenge, but it wasn’t before he saw how sad you actually got that he started regretting everything. you started avoiding him like fire, you didn’t even dare to look at him, and that’s when seungkwan realised the prank was a bad idea after all, like - he didn’t mean for you to get so upset, he just wanted to make you a bit whiny and pouty for him, but none of that happened. after half an hour he was like “fuck it” because he wasn’t able to stand seeing you sad.

❥ vernon 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] five minutes 

to be honest he just gets bored with the prank. he didn’t come over to your apartment to spend his day off ignoring you, and whoever came up with this “silent treatment prank” is plainly stupid. for one, vernon hates seeing you upset - obviously. like, who would want to ignore their partner just for funsies, and see them upset over something they didn’t do and make them self conscious? besides, it was his day off, and he wouldn’t spend it ignoring you, so after five minutes he was ready to curse out his friends that made him try out this “prank”, and apologise for acting so silly. 

❥ chan  

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.5 seconds 

yeah, no - thank you next. this man, this man is a simp and he’s so in love with you it’s a bit worrying, there is literally nothing that could ever convince him to ignore you, for what - entertainment? because that’s what the prank sounded like, ignoring your significant other for entertainment. there were so many other things you could do together without either of you getting upset, so why not do them? one of his biggest goals in life is to keep you safe, loved, and happy - so he will not indulge in his friends' antics with this stupid ass prank. even the thought of ignoring you on purpose makes him sick, like… why? he would not be able to stand your upset expression, or the thought that you’d get self conscious about yourself. hell. no.

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[kjthenbee]

The more I think about the Nandermo interview scene at the end of S6E3, the more I realize just how significant that entire scene is for Nandor as a character.

These first three episodes have told us multiple times that Nandor is not the person he used to be - he is no longer a purely violent, apathetic, selfish man (though he obviously retains some of those qualities). He's changed - he's softer. And Guillermo is the reason for this change.

We've seen how Nandor used to treat Guillermo early on in the series. I can imagine that when little 19yo Guillermo first came to him, Nandor was dismissive, thinking of him as nothing more than another familiar that he was going to string along for years - and, of course, bright-eyed young Guillermo, who was willing to do whatever it took to become a vampire, wouldn't have cared how he was treated.

But now, 15 some years later, everything is different. Guillermo isn't his familiar anymore. They aren't bound by the power imbalance of that relationship any longer. Guillermo has become someone important to Nandor, possibly more important than anyone has ever been before. No matter how much shit they've gone through, or how much Nandor has fucked things up, Guillermo has always stayed, and he has always cared. Even when he does leave, he never stays gone for long. Nandor has never experienced this type of a relationship with someone before - a relationship with someone who loves and cares for him unconditionally.

In the interview scene, Nandor totally could have messed with Guillermo, could have just... not taken him seriously. He could have done the interview in the main room with all the other vampires and had a laugh about the whole thing, but he didn't. He specifically took Guillermo to a private room to conduct the "interview". And the entire time, he treated it with the utmost sincerity- and you can see it in the way he looks at Guillermo with such attentiveness, such fondness. He lets him talk, and just listens. When Guillermo talks about not having many friends as a child, Nandor sympathizes and tells him that that must have been hard even if he himself does not know what this is like. He smiles with him, and laughs with him.

On top of all of this, Nandor very much could have left Guillermo hypnotized - he could have had his former meek, obedient familiar back by his side. The Nandor from just a couple of seasons ago might have done just that. But now, he's learned. He knows that he can't do that to Guillermo. He can't do that to someone he genuinely loves cares about deeply. The Guillermo that he knows now - confident, competent, and sure of himself - is the Guillermo he loves. Nandor does not want to take that away from him for his own selfish reasons. So, he just lets himself have one thing: Guillermo can sleep under the stairs one last time, then he'll unhypnotize him, and things will be back to the way they were - with them at a distance. But at least Guillermo will be himself.

Soooo yeah. I really hope that this is not just fanservice or whatever and that the writers are actually setting something up between them this time. I want so badly to believe that we might actually get some payoff to this 5 season long will-they-won't-they setup. I mean, seriously - what do the writers have to lose with this being the final season?

I'm trying not to keep my expectations too high just because of how many times we've been burned in the past, but this scene (along with the shed scene where Nandor was still talking like Nixon lmao) have gotten me hopeful again...

So here I am, back in Nandermo hell, one last time...

[pippin-katz]

In Defense Of Edwin

Something that has bothered me is that there's a significant amount of people who talk about Edwin being unaware of Charles' pain as if he's oblivious, or like he did something wrong; that is simply unfair to Edwin.

Charles is happy, friendly, and wonderful. That is his personality. That is not all forced.

People are quick to jump on the line that Charles has been hiding his pain from Edwin, but a line people are ignoring from that argument is: "He's probably been hiding it from himself!"

His behavior indicates that he doesn't talk or think about trauma or negativity unless it's relevant to the situation. I doubt Charles even realized how bad his trauma was until the Devlin Murders. His pain was so repressed that he wasn't "feeling" it anymore.

Charles’ Triggers

While I'm not going to say that Charles did not hide his pain from Edwin at all, I am going to point out that this may have been the first time, in a very long time or ever, that they encountered something this close to home for him.

The only real reason Charles discusses his trauma now is because the Devlin House triggers him, genuinely in a psychological way. It's not just the "crazy dad" that gets to him. There are so many details that fit Charles personally. That whole situation is too fucking much for him.

The song Owner Of A Lonely Heart playing in the background; a song that he says he liked enough to get the cassette tape but that it was smashed by his father.

The controlling and restrictive behaviors of the father on his daughters. The eldest daughter writing about walking on eggshells and looking forward to graduation.

The way that the father kills them; he doesn't shoot them, or poison them, or whatever, he butchers them. His attacks are physically direct. He swings an axe, so his movement is the root of the violence. If it had been a gun, it would've been his finger on the trigger, but the bullets hitting them. Charles was abused by his father through the means of a belt, which is physically direct.

The loop, having to watch it over, and over, and over again with no break, no relief, and not being able to do anything, no matter how many times he sees it happen. Charles' abuse seemed to be regular and constant, no matter what he did. It always ended the same way.

All of that is then exacerbated by the Night Nurse forcing him to reexperience his trauma the very next day. That's a lot of specific details and events that lead to his complete breakdown.

Charles hasn't been consciously choosing to hide all of that pain from Edwin. It had been buried to the point where even he couldn't see it anymore, but the Devlin House uprooted it from his subconscious.

Charles’ Parents

Now, he does hide his habit of checking on his parents from Edwin, but that's not fully about his abuse. Charles misses his family, his life, being alive.

It's worth noting that he only shows Crystal his parents because he's trying to connect with her about not being able to go home. He didn't bring that up on a whim. It was relevant to help Crystal feel understood. She's not special; if someone completely different from her did the exact same thing, Charles would've shown them too.

Now, let's talk about him not telling Edwin. Charles may not have a full comprehension of Edwin's experiences, but he knows he's different from "normal" people. Hiding his parents from him is likely just as much about not wanting to hurt Edwin as it is protecting himself.

Edwin does not show any type of longing for his life. Everything he knew about the world from his time is gone or been changed beyond recognition. He doesn't have a family to miss, not that he was close to them in the first place; even if he did have an emotional connection to them, they've been long dead.

And Edwin seems unbothered, but there’s no way for Charles to know that for certain. Watching his parents weekly would remind Edwin constantly that he does not have anyone. He’s worried about being insensitive; he feels like he would be unintentionally taunting Edwin and rubbing salt into the wound.

Edwin has been dead for over 100 years and spent 70 of those years being torn apart by a demon in Hell; how could he even remember physical sensations other than pain and exhaustion? How could he remember the taste of food while running through Gluttony, watching its inhabitants vomit profusely? He never saw the appeal of romance or sex prior to his death, and then he witnesses the bloody masses of people in Lust; how could he be anything other than repulsed?

Charles tells him that pain is not a contest, but he almost without a doubt compares his own experiences to Edwin's. It's something people with low self-esteem do more than others. He feels guilty, like he’s selfish for being upset; Edwin has it so much worse.

How does being abused by his dad compare to being dragged to Hell? He got hit with a belt; Edwin was ripped apart. Who is he to whine about his life to a boy who has died more times than days Charles has existed?

He may not have had the specific details before, but the knowledge of it being Hell was enough. When you don't put your own needs on your priority list, that's one of the first "justifications" your brain comes up with. They already have enough on their plate, and you don't need to talk about it. You're totally fine! So yes, hiding his parents from Edwin makes sense from his perspective.

But his abuse? Charles doesn't even realize how much pain he's in; how could Edwin have realized?

My point is that Charles wasn't actively choosing to hide all of his pain from Edwin for thirty years, so to blame Edwin for not noticing is like blaming a blind person for picking up a red ball instead of a blue one. He couldn't have noticed; there was nothing for him to notice. Charles wasn't wearing a full mask.

The second Charles shows any indication that something is wrong, Edwin does notice!

Edwin may have trouble with people, but he's not oblivious, and he knows Charles. If he's ever been upset like this before, he would've noticed. He notices Charles' change in behavior after Crystal joined in only a day, and he doesn't deny it when Edwin calls him out.

Edwin also follows up on asking if he needs to talk about his father. Charles brushes him off, but Crystal and Niko show up before Edwin has a chance to press a little more, which I think he would've. I don't think Charles would've opened up, but it would've shown that Edwin is aware that all is not well. He is aware, but on top of being in the dark about it, he's got his own shit he's working out and cases to solve. His attention is divided.

I think it's important to remember this fact that has been driving me mental for months now:

Charles and Edwin’s dynamic during the show is a completely different dynamic than the one they've had for the past thirty years.

The introduction of Crystal, going to Port Townsend, meeting Niko, Monty, fighting Esther, the Cat King, etc. etc. etc. Everything about their relationship gets shaken up from the start of the show. They're both acting differently in all sorts of ways, and some they even acknowledge to each other.

What we saw of them in Port Townsend is not what Charles and Edwin were during those thirty years. It's unfair to pass judgement on something we don't actually know about.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm getting really tired of fics/posts making a commentary about Edwin not noticing being something he has failed at. Does Edwin feel guilty for not realizing it sooner? Absolutely, but please, at least acknowledge that it wasn't his fault if you're sticking to canon. If you want to twist some shit into it to make it more complicated, make it more angsty, go right ahead! I'm absolutely not stopping you!

But canonically, at least I feel after studying these characters under a microscope, Edwin could not have known sooner.

(ko-fi)

[savanir]

DP x DC ficlet

is it even a ficlet anymore, this thing has gotten incredibly out of hand...

So a while back I saw this

and I picked the Green Lantern one and then just kinda wrote a full fic so...

It had been a good party, official yes but despite that still festive enough and with just a bittersweet hint. as all good meaningful parties should be like, unless you’re looking to get absolutely shitfaced.

But hey Rowan deserved a proper sendoff for making it to this point and not dying in the process. Hal is going to miss the old pilot though.

"Hal, I got something for you, before I forget"

"Hm, what is it"

The old man puts a small intricate glass model of a f16 fighter in his hand.

"Back when I started I was given this for good luck and protection"

Rowan presses it down firmly and stands there all official like "may it grant you both as it did for me"

They both stand there for a second before laughing.

“Feel free to shelf the whole luck thing, what’s really important is skill and experience. Still, knowing you, you can definitely use the protection ”

Hal grins, "Thanks, I'll keep close"

"You better, the sentimental value is sky high" Rowan slaps his shoulder with another laugh.

Good lord what a dork.

The old retiring pilot wasn't paying attention, too caught up in everything else but Hal saw the faint and brief green hue coming from his hand.

In a panic he slammed his other hand over top. Completely missing the quietly whispered "protect"

Too busy cussing out his ring in his head, he swears that thing is trying to out him on purpose sometimes.

This time it wasn't the ring though, so it's a good thing it's an inanimate object and can't be upset at how wrong Hal is being right now.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah! Let's get back to the others"

The evening ends uneventfully.

---

It's really only until quite a bit later that things start to happen.

"Green lantern" its batman's business voice.

Both Hal and John look up.

"Jordan" ah shit.

"I'll catch you up later" and he leaves Hal behind, traitor.

"What's up spooky"

"You need to update your file, it is missing critical information, and on that note I wasn’t aware that the lantern suits grant you intangibility now"

"I... what..? It doesn't? What are you talking about spooks"

"Hrn" Batman pulls up a screen and shows him footage of the latest fight, in it you can clearly see something was supposed to hit Hal but went right through him "You're telling me you didn't know or notice this?"

Hal just looks kinda sick. That would have been a bad hit and he just straight up didn't even notice.

Batman just kind of silently looks at him and he must have come to some conclusion because the next thing Hal knows this comes out of his mouth.

"I've already ran your blood through the lab, it's not a sudden emergence of a meta gene so it's either from the lantern corps or you've otherwise externally been affected by something that's causing this"

Hal closes his eyes and internally counts to ten, it doesn't help.

Batman takes his silence to mean he can keep talking. The man is on an unusual roll. Hal would have been ecstatic if he didn't hate the topic quite so much.

"It would have been best if it had something to do with your ring however you seem to be completely unaware and I've also noted that the green of your ring and the green glow that comes with the density shifting are different"

He has examples with corresponding color codes, Hal is so tired.

“let's set a time frame…” Batman pulls up some documents and graph on the screen “seeing as you are unaware of this development I will set the starting point of this potential change as of now to right after the last time you have been known to be hit in a fight and before the first known instance of you being able to density shift, that leaves us with a full month.”

Hal really, really does not want to be here anymore.

“In this month you have not gone off planet so whatever caused this is on Earth” Batman pauses for a moment, “has anything significant happened during that time that springs to mind now?”

“no, nothing significant has happened during that time, frankly it’s been a very pleasant uneventful four weeks in which I finally managed to catch a break and it figures something crazy has apparently happened anyway”

Hal rubs his face with both hands, “but right now I couldn’t tell you what, anyway, does this have to be a bad thing? I for one am very glad that hit didn’t actually land”

“So far only Superman has had the privilege of having sudden emergence of new powers work out for him” Batman huffs, “it would be best to monitor this carefully, if anything springs to mind do not hesitate to inform me, the sooner this is figured out the better”

“awww you do care” Hal is using humor cope, sadly it’s Batman, so it’s not very effective.

“Jordan” now Batman sounds tired, he’s not the one with random surprise density shifting, Hal understand that Spooky’s crippling chronic paranoia must be exhausting but right now he’s the one freaking out considering this is apparently not a meta gene related development, it would have been so much easier if it was, oh and about that, just how and when did Batman get his blood exactly? he would like to know now.

---

sadly he does not get to know now. or anytime soon (or ever). it’s chaos right after, because of course it is.

knocked out of the sky and lying amongst the rubble, if their enemy spots him he’s in bigger shit than he already is, but he can’t fucking move and the next thing he knows he’s invisible.

and there is just nothing enjoyable about it.

Barry doesn’t know that though, “that was something else, just one moment and schwup and you were just gone, some sort of green lantern light bending? he looked right through you, thank god he did too” 

shit shit, “no that was..." it was like he just ceased to exist, movies and books and whatever other media always depicts it as such a cool thing but frankly it was terrifying. And he would prefer things that are terrifying not to happen to him, for obvious reasons, “honestly actually it’s complicated, stealth tech” Grade A bullshit.

“well it’s awesome”

“it was useful just now but not really my style you know” 

Barry slings his arm over Hal’s shoulder and gives him a one armed hug, “everything worked out” Hal can feel some tension flow out of his friend, “well! better get busy cleaning this mess up” and with a blink he’s gone.

Hal does not want to talk about this with Batman, but knowing him, he probably already knows anyway, it would be less of a headache to go to him than have him go to Hal. 

Hal wants to enjoy whatever this is, he really does, but he doesn’t know what caused this, he doesn’t know what triggers the new abilities or whatever they are, he doesn’t know what effects this shit is going to have in the future, he just doesn’t know anything, normally he doesn’t mind not knowing some things, he’s fine leaving the knowing to the people better suited for the more complicated knowing, but he would very much like to know more about this please.

---

Then they face off against an enemy and in the process Hal drains his ring completely and the next hit is going to be bad, so what will happen? Will he somehow go intangible again? Turn invisible and use the confusion to evade and attack?

No

Apparently this time he just gets a glowing green dome shield. Something very normal for him to have and use, if only it came out of his ring that is.

Nobody notices that something is wrong, nobody besides Batman that is.

"That's three new abilities that only appear during life threatening situations"

Hal has actually seriously gone over that month by now, but nothing, no answers. He's physically fine, mentally a little damaged but nothing new there, they all are. Every test he begrudgingly went through answered nothing. He was fine. Whatever was going on actually had nothing to do with him.

And at the same time it had everything to do with him because this is only happening to him.

As usual (by now) he takes out his little glass fighter jet and runs his thumb over the wings. It is soothing strangely enough. Like a stim toy.

"The last thing to try is a thorough examination by someone from the justice league dark"

Hal groans, magic, ok then, "Alright let's get this over with. Who knows maybe I'm just haunted"

It turns out he’s not haunted, this is a good thing... supposedly, Well let’s just say that Hal would have not minded being haunted or something if that meant it could be fixed, or just explained.

It doesn’t really need to be fixed, whatever this is has been very helpful after all, but he would do basically anything for an explanation right about now.

“you are not haunted or otherwise magically compromised, but I do sense faint traces of energy from the infinite realms” Zatanna is a godsent, finally something to work with.

“from the who whats?” Hal is worried, the occult field is definitely not his area of expertise. He's a space cop, not a space demonhunter… oh that would be pretty cool though, with like a hood and twin cyber crossbows, maybe he should incorporate that somehow.

“the infinite realms… have you recently been in touch with any death related realities?”

Well there was that time when he got booted to the death universe and he died and then he was a black lantern but he got better, that’s all very much very behind him.

She better not be about to tell him that stuff still has lingering consequences.

oh god dammit that’s exactly what is going on isn’t it?

"How recently?"

"In the past week?"

"Oh, no" Hal would have known if that was the case, death stuff tends to be hard to ignore.

Zatanna frowns, that's probably not a good sign.

"But you said I'm not compromised right?" Right now what Hal wants to know the most is if this is changing him. Cause it tends to be bad for him when that's the case.

"No this is just lingering traces of something or someone else using their powers near you"

???!!??!?

"What are the infinite realms?" oh hey there Batman, was wondering when you would show up again.

"It's the afterlife, or... more like a collection of all afterlives. The infinite realms is very literal in their naming. It is home to powerful dead entities. As a general rule magic users are discouraged from interacting with it.

"Hrn"

"What did you say happened to you so far Hal?"

"Uhm, density shifting, invisibility and then a green dome-like shield, a lot like my own energy constructs"

"that sounds like pretty standard stuff for a realms being"

"Soooo what, did one leave the afterlife and decide to follow me around or something?"

"I cannot conclusively say, I can only say that you've been close to one using its abilities"

Batman folds his arms over his chest, "We shouldn’t form theories on these findings alone, Zatanna are these realm beings dangerous?"

"Hard to say, they come in all manner of forms, some small and harmless and others on the level of world destroying gods."

Great great great, awesome, well it’s probably safe to say that whatever decided to stick around Hal isn’t small and harmless, cause small and harmless doesn’t sound strong enough to casually turn him intangible or invisible… he could be wrong though.

“I do advise caution, beings from the infinite realms also have the ability to possess someone, they call it overshadowing”

Batman’s lips thin and Hal tenses up, mind control of any kind is always awful.

“I’ll place a ward on you, as a precaution” energy starts to gather in her hands.

Batman moves for the door, “we might need to look into a way to force this being to reveal itself, it would be best if we could convince it to return to their realm”

“Well I mean-” Hal starts, “like I get that, but they have been a great help so far” 

“they are a security risk”

“I’m just saying, I am grateful that they kept me from being confined to the medical wing for who even knows how long, who knows they might just be shy, wouldn’t it be better to convince them to become our ally, like Deadman. instead of telling them to leave. just cause we don’t understand how they work yet doesn’t mean they are bad and should be booted out of our reality”

Batman narrows his eyes at Hal and turns to Zatanna who is finished with placing the ward on Hal, “Zatanna please send me all you have on the infinite realms, I will do my own research” and with that he sweeps out of the room, very dramatic.

“Ass” Hal whispers under his breath.

“He’s worried”

“well he’s being a dick about it, as usual” Hal’s fingers find his little plane once again “... hey do you think they could communicate through one of those oejah boards?”

Zatanna snorts, “it’s Ouija- and please don’t”

---

No information from the JLD has been useful so far in coaxing the realms being to reveal themselves and for the most part things just go on as usual.

“Whoever they are, they followed me when I went off planet and it might just be my imagination but I had a feeling that their stuff was a lot more… potent? out there? I don’t know it was kinda strange, it just felt stronger”

“but they didn’t reveal themselves to you?”

“nope, they must know that I know now too, so they have decided to just… go on as they always have I guess”

“hrn” Batman is leafing through files, because of this whole mess he’s uncovered hidden government organizations targeting occult entities as well as inhumane laws that stand directly opposed to the meta protection acts.

Why is he working with paper regarding this matter? Well it turns out there is a infinite realms being that can possess electronica and it was only because of the protections the JLD had put in place on the Watchtower that the entity didn’t overtake it in its entirety.

Watching Constantine freak out had been mildly entertaining but Zatanna had once again reminded Batman to be very careful, Batman had begrudgingly admitted he had made a slight misstep while digging for answers… in his head, not out loud, god forbid.

“this whole thing is turning out a lot bigger than we thought huh, good thing we are dealing with it now” Hal stretches his arms above his head, “anyway I am going to go grab something to eat”

“the rapport-” Batman doesn’t bother looking at him.

“yeah yeah” Hal doesn’t either while walking out of the room, dismissively flicking his hand, “don’t worry about it spooky”

Hal takes his little plane out on the way to the cafeteria and fiddles with it in his hand, once there he puts it on the table next to Barry before getting himself something to eat.

They catch up, Hal complains (bitches) about Batman, others come and go, Zatanna quickly checks up on the ward she placed which makes Barry raise an eyebrow at Hal, “Ghost protection”

“... no such thing”

Zatanna glares.

Hal can see them both gearing up to start the magic is just science we haven’t fully scienced out yet argument again, “alright! I’m full” he stands up, “if you need me I’ll be writing that rapport, later” and gets the hell out of there.

It’s when he has just reached his preferred spot to work on the boring paperwork stuff when the alarms go off throughout what he can only imagine must probably be the entire Watchtower.

It seems like something triggered all of the JLD’s defenses in one go.

Impressive, but also very worrying.

The rapport is going to have to wait.

People are gathering in the meeting room and Batman is already taking the lead, “status”

“as of a couple minutes ago there was a build up of as of yet unknown energy which then burst in the cafeteria knocking out Flash” Martian Manhunter says, “Zatanna says we are most likely dealing with another being from the infinite realms”

Superman groans, this means he’s out.

It’s a good thing they now have defenses against overshadowing though. Being effectively trapped in a space station (because currently the thing is on lockdown) where literally anyone could suddenly actually be the enemy is the kind of situation a whole slew of horror movies like to be about.

“We will need to be extremely careful while finding and then dealing with this entity”

It has certainly been quite some time since the Watchtower got directly hit like this.

Hal pulls out his little plane.

or, he would, if he still had it.

thoroughly distracted now he suddenly realizes it’s no longer on his person.

Spooky is probably not going to like it if during the infinite realms attacker hunt he takes the opportunity to look around for his missing little fighter jet.

well what he doesn’t know won’t harm him.

His plan of looking for the plane while looking for the ghost is working out well enough.

In fact it is working out so good that he finds both at the same time.

At that point Hal had started wondering if maybe Barry had picked it up for him at the cafeteria before the attack happened and that the little thing was now in the medical wing with him. 

That turned out to clearly not be the case once he found the tiny thing glowing green and floating in the middle of the hallway.

“alright ghosty, that’s really important to me and I would like it back undamaged”

the tiny plane turned to now point directly at him, hmm, yeah that's not creepy at all.

 “... please don’t launch yourself at me” he foolishly says which of course means that’s exactly what it does next.

He uses his ring to construct a net with a pillow inside to catch the tiny jet, completely forgetting that it’s overshadowed and can thus easily just go intangible and right through his creations.

Instead it hits him square in the chest, rather painfully he might add and then just stops glowing and drops, making Hal scramble to not have it fall and shatter in a million tiny pieces on the ground.

immediately all the sensors stop detecting the presence of a realms being and the alarms die down.

Whatever was in the Watchtower has left the building.

or…

Hal looks down at the tiny plane in his hands, his talisman of protection and has a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Hey there little guy, might want to explain yourself?” he says to the tiny jet.

It vibrates in his hands.

“... yeah I figured, shit”

---

“I say just smash the bloody thing and be done with it, preferably that takes care of it once and for all” Constantine glares down at the tiny jet.

Hal is almost halfway over the table to shield the little thing, covering it from Constantine’s sight with his hand, “don’t you dare” he growls.

“it would be best for everyone involved, for all we known you could have gone full liminal what with how long you’ve been carrying the blasted thing around”

Zatanna is going over the little thing with her own magic, “it’s trapped”

“In that case just straight up trying to murder it would be the worst thing to do” Hal glares at Constantine some more. Who clearly doesn’t give a shit, figures, all stressed out about dealing with things from the infinite realms but whenever he feels he has the upper hand he’s more than happy to go full nuclear.

“it would be best if we had a way of figuring out their intentions” Batman looks down at the tiny jet impassively.

“Well, another reason to just carefully release this creature instead” Hal responds.

Zatanna’s magic fades away, “I would say that the fact it’s been protecting Hal for as long as he has it is a positive sign”

“hrn, but now it has gone and knocked Flash out, so what does that say” Batman huffs, “it’s too risky”

“Constantine and I will set up everything we can so it won’t be able to escape or try anything dangerous” Zatanna stops looking at Batman and turns back to the tiny plane, “if it turns out to be malicious we could simply banish it back to the realms, killing it would be rather stupid, we do not know what kind of connections it might have within the realms, we might accidentally anger something far worse with such a rash act”

Constantine groans but accepts Zatanna’s reasoning, Batman nods as well.

It’s only then that Hal moves out of the way.

Any plans of attack or banishment fly right out of the window once the two magic users are done and a young boy manifests from the tiny fighter jet.

Hal pushes Constantine aside to get to the boy’s side.

“Jordan, are you insane! Get back here!” 

“Hey, kid, can you hear me? please open your eyes, slowly, take your time” 

Batman has also moved forward much to Constantine’s frustration. Don't these two morons get that their protections won’t do shit if you just casually stroll into the circle?

Batman is mostly concerned in being able to step in should the boy prove to be a hostile entity anyway, but at the same time… well, that’s a child.

The boy kind of dazedly opens his eyes, looks at Hal and then seems to become aware of his own arms and hands, after opening and closing those a couple times he looks back at Hal and lets out a breath that can only be described as relieved and promptly passes out into him.

Well, Hal figures that settles it then. He doesn’t know shit about looking after a kid, and definitely not one who is probably quite dead, but this one is his, back off Batman.

they all startle rather violently when rings of blinding white light pass over the boy and suddenly the kid in Hal’s arms is a bit warmer and seems to have a sluggish pulse and also his clothes are different and his hair is now black and-

Hal is up and moving towards the medical wing before his mind catches back up with him. He can hear Batman behind him, it seems like Constantine and Zatanna aren’t moving after him as fast.

Well anyway his life is already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Thinking about my desire for a mistaken identity time travel fic where Obito and Sasuke get tossed into the warring states, but bc Sasuke looks like an Izuna clone and Obito for some reason gets the wild hair look back, they keep being mistaken for Madara and Izuna.

Notably, they keep being mistaken for Madara and Izuna as they are in the middle of attempting to beat the ever-loving shit out of eachother.

And because Obito likes causing problems for Madara and Sasuke shrimply does not give a fuck and might even appreciate the fake identity alibi, they do nothing to actually deny the mistaken identity. Obito actually encourages it, usually by loudly agreeing with whoever shouts "omg its Uchiha Madara" as he lights shit on fire.

Anything to cause the real Madara more problem, right? Karma, bitch aa

He actually wants to cut his hair short again but the temptation of getting to continue to ruin Madara's reputation is too good, so he doesnt

ANYWAYS. Thinking about all of the above again w the context of my "Kakashi is related to and bears a resemblance to Tobirama" agenda thats been steadily growing in like. Actually, I think almost every Kakashi fic Ive written so far (oops)

Maybe I want Kakashi in this now. Maybe I'm also thinking about Tenzo, who got the same "oh for some strange reason my hair is longer now" treatment as Obito and with the Mokuton, can now be mistake as Hashirama by those who have never seen him. Or even people who have seen him but logically assume he's wearing a henge.

There's only one known man with the power of Mokuton-- why would the ever believe it wasn't Hashirama (unless they were close enough to the man to truly doubt it on a personal level)

I have no real ideas for an overarching plot, but like. Obito, Sasuke, Kakashi and Tenzo mistaken identity time travel my beloved,,

Kakashi and Tenzo traveled + landed together and Obito and Sasuke did the same so neither group is aware of the other

(Kakashi and Obito eventually figure it out bc of the shared eye connection I think)

But in the mean time they actually keep managing to avoid each other bc they'll hear rumors ab "Uchiha Madara" being spotted in the town over (Obito continues to be very loud about it very on purpose) and then avoid going there, while Sasuke hears the same, figures its Obito, and sprints over to try and bash his face in

Obito finally eventually gets cornered by Kakashi, Tenzo, and Sasuke and gets his shit rocked fr fr send tweet

Sasuke and Kakashi bonding moment(s) where we tackle the uhh. Everything. Of canon. And Sasuke gives Kakashi a crumb of respect back or smthn

Idk but I just want to see Sasuke call him sensei, don't ask me how we'd get there

Meanwhile when they're finally like, exposed or whatever there's just SUCH a mess there to be had

I'm choosing Uchiha Hikaku as my first contact bc I love him dearly and think he serves as good middleground between ranks of importance and relevance

So like. Picture this.

You are Hikaku. You're sent out to investigate some rumors about Madara and Izuna fucking shit up and causing a general mess some ways away. A henge, a slander campaign, the real Madara-sama is sure.

You get there and find 3 people fighting.

(Obito, Kakashi and Tenzo's first interaction. It's tense. They may all come from the final battle, after Obito changed his mind, but there were a lot of things left unsaid and also they all probably just wanna beat the shit out of eachother anyways. Things happen, things are said, a fight is had)

Two of them bear a passing resemblance to Madara and Tobirama respectively, and the 3rd has the look of a Senju to him.

Ok. So, Senju slander campaign? Gone... wrong, he'd assume by the fact that they were all fighting.

You then recognize that the fake Madara has mismatched eyes (!!!! What the fuck !!! Culturally significant thing there !! Was he born like that? Was it a transplant?)

And the fake Tobirama(?) has a whole stolen sharingan he seems to be ACTIVLEY using (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! SOUND THE ALARMS!!!!! BLOODLINE THIEF ALERT !!!!!!!!)

You debate between just watching or entering the fight, but then the fake Tobirama makes some sort of reference to his sharingan eye belonging to the fake Madara's.

All thoughts come to a screeching halt.

Ok. So. Gonna get involved now.

There's a clear side here (Uchiha vs potential Senju) Hikaku can not leave his clanmate to die, and he doesn't yet know how he might have been involved in the slander campaign so it's honestly best to put this guy in his pocket and bring him back to Madara anyways

So Hikaku enters the battle, everyone makes appropriate shocked pikachu faces bc no one noticed him and aw shit it's gonna get more complicated, cool, awesome, great

(Also note; Hikaku became the eventual Uchiha head after Madara's defection so there's also a "oh shit no way" reaction from Obito specifically who knows this information. And also maybe Kakashi who I imagine knows a lot of Konoha's history and politics)

Battle continues, Tenzo uses Mokuton, Hikaku gets appropriately freaked the FUCK out at the idea of another mokuton user

Then Sasuke comes crashing out of nowhere , yay !!!

(Kakashi and Tenzo, who did not know Sasuke was here yet and are only seeing him for the first time, make more surprised pikachu faces)

Sasuke, who... possibly knew Kakashi and Tenzo were around and may have been avoiding them, wanting to signal that for now at least they were all on the same side (against Obito) nods to Kakashi specifically and gives a tense and sort of stilted, "sensei."

SO. HIKAKU IS KIND OF GOING THROUGH IT OVER HERE NOW.

Sasuke is a dead fucking wringer for Izuna in the way that only a direct relation can be. I'm talking they could absoloutley pass for twins kind of relation. Worst of all, they look around the same age (Sasuke is only a few years younger)

Hikaku is no longer fighting with a strange Uchiha against Senju agents he's now fighting with an Uchiha against another Uchiha (who's a dead wringer for his clan heir !!!!) He does not know who to believe or what side to exist on.

(Had this false Izuna called the fake Tobirama sensei? Oh god—)

Things happen, whether they lose or escape I don't know but it ends with an incredibly confused and concerned Hikaku returning to the Uchiha clan compound with tales of bloodline theft, another mokuton user, and horrifically— A possible sibling, lost and raised by the senju in secret.

Yeah. So. Madara won't react well to that. Madara won't react well to that at all.

(Izuna won't either, in the slightest. Does... does he have a twin...? Did he have a twin once, lost too early for their parents to bear to tell them...?)

It's incredibly hard for the Senju to deny any involvement when Hikaku has sharingan perfect memories to share of the fake-Izuna (Sasuke, they had called him Sasuke) standing side by side with a man who resembles Tobirama and another who is very fucking clearly using Mokuton. And that's "very fucking clearly using mokuton" seen by someone who has SEEN mokuton used in battle. Multiple times. He will not mistake it for anything else.

Anyways oops sorry for creating a horrible political scandal and also probably making the Uchiha/Senju wore like 10 times more charged teehee </3

(Obito doesn't give a shit. Sasuke swings violently between caring both too little and too much depending on the hour of the day and how the issue is framed. Kakashi and Tenzo are.... distracted. And undecided. And care about this issue from an "aw shit but Konoha wait no—" view point)

Ummmmm anyways endgame Konoha is made early (but possibly with a bit more blood involved) and Hikaku is made Hokage bc I fucking love Hikaku, yay the end !!!

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable. 

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock. 

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact. 

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade. 

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now. 

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand. 

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada. 

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada. 

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating. 

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task. 

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.” 

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.” 

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!” 

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected. 

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers. 

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.  

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on. 

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper. 

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much. 

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that. 

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing. 

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face. 

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!” 

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock. 

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement. 

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted. 

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.  

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that. 

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face. 

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one. 

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions. 

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him. 

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter. 

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray. 

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes. 

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing? 

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ. 

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.” 

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!” 

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it. 

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood. 

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake. 

She did. 

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.  

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic. 

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul. 

But she was wrong. 

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language. 

Losing. It was all about losing. 

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love. 

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together. 

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.  

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses. 

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.) 

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen. 

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…” 

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip. 

You had gone slack in his arms. 

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple. 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day. 

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other. 

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back. 

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time. 

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap. 

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort. 

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface. 

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass. 

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there. 

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action. 

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again. 

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.  

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you. 

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right. 

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough. 

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision. 

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing? 

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family. 

You had died in his arms. 

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.  

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind. 

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless. 

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?” 

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood. 

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out. 

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!” 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides. 

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake.  “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!” 

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings. 

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name. 

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…” 

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister. 

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively. 

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty. 

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy. 

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart. 

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake. 

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do. 

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails. 

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon. 

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still. 

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng. 

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once. 

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well.  “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children. 

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful. 

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed. 

It would never fly again. 

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.” 

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be. 

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one. 

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain. 

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman. 

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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[jksian]

When the end comes

You loved him with all your heart, held onto the person you knew will never be yours; but, the only regret you had was, you weren't able to tell him about those feelings.

Pairing: best friends brother JK x reader

Genre: ANGSTY, unrequited love

W/c: mid length?

warnings: depressing thoughts and implied suicidal thoughts, character dea*h, workplace harrasment, illness, family drama and step-parent, one sided love from oc' s side, tattoo artist Jk, age gape

A/N- This story is incomplete and I don't intend to continue it, but I'm still posting it because I wanted to share it with you guys and since many of you expressed your desire to read it :⁠-⁠)

It was during the autumn season when he first met you.

Not in a literal sense; but that was the day he thought he finally come to knew you. A side of you, he never thought he would be able to witness.

Just like the sight in front of him right now.

He did not even fathom the idea of seeing you like this. Beautiful eyes which once shined so brightly under the sun; are now closed. Not even a hint of flickering of your eyelashes which you usually do while being extremely nervous.

Now, autumn has returned again; but, despite the comforting warmth of the cozy weather being replaced by the harsh wind blowing away the leaves from the trees, creating the atmosphere unbearably gloomy and dull.

Because the warmth is gone, along with you.

…

15 years ago…

“Why is he coming, now!? Fuck, I have to meet Sam!” Jia was beyond frustrated after knowing that her brother was coming to picked her up from the school.

Both you and Jia had been friends since your childhood. From being scolded by teachers to helping each other in anything and everything and being the ‘crime in partners’ duo, everyone in your school knew you two were inseparable.

She was always been a free-spirited girl. Generous and helpful, she was kind of a friend who stick by your side in bad times. Other than that, there were many good things about her and one of those were, her brother.

Jeon Jungkook.

The first time when you laid your eyes on him, you couldn’t able to remove the image of his glowing face ever since then. He was gorgeous as well as kind. You were smitten by his beauty. He was popular among girls. With a face like that, it was a very common fact, girls often got trapped by his good-looks which wielded them to the world of imagination.

And, you were one of those girls.

You often found yourself daydreaming about him, made silly scenarios in your little head. Your weekly visits to his sister’s house and getting to watch him closely more than any of those girls could, doesn’t help with your increasing amount of fake scenarios growing inside of your mind.

It was a stupid little crush, but you still held onto the possibilities of those cringe worthy romantic stories in your head to manifest it into reality.

Whenever he was around, every time you got a little bit shy but you tried your best to hide it from others.

“Someone clearly isn’t happy to see me.” Your best friend’s brother sing song those words towards his sister, pointing out her scowl which was very much evident on her face upon seeing him. The fact that she was planning on meeting her so-called-date in the name of fake extra classes would be caught red-handed, made her panicked and mad.

“H-hello.” You asked him even though your heart was racing at the speed of 100 mph and your hand was sweating like the Niagara waterfall, you still conjured up some courage to start the conversation.

“Moon? How are you?” He immediately replied with a sweet smile on his face. People often compared his face with the bunny and you can say why. There are some significant similarities.

You got a little bit flustered whenever he used that name. He gave that name to you because you loved the moon. So much so that you escaped from your school with your Jia to watch the night sky.

It was the first time you witnessed the true beauty of the moon. Sitting on the edge of the river near her house, you both admired the shinning moon light spreading on the water as it sparkled.

You both got scolded for your little escaped not just from your parents but your teachers also. From that moment, he gave you the name ‘moon.’

He was in his sophomore year of college, got an scholarship to study in abroad. It was winter at that time when he got back in his own country during holidays. Even though the atmosphere was cold, Jungkook radiated warmth wherever he goes. He was always been the one who shined brightly in whatever he did.

Jia’s endless pleading didn’t helped much in convincing her brother, so she didn’t had any choice but to went back home. Through out the way to her home, she kept on cussing him.

“You go on dates too! Even, you have a girlfriend!” That was the first time you experienced your first heart break. It felt like someone had put a knife into your heart.

“So? Are you the same age as me?” Jungkook reasoned with her but the thing you noticed that, he didn’t denied it. Your friend wasn’t lying.

The brother-sister duo busy their selves in an argument about “Jia should go on a date or not” where you went silent, had a emotional turmoil within you. It was so random, your little heart weren’t prepare for that news.

The thought of your crush loving someone else who was never gonna be you, shattered your heart. That day, you cried your heart out into your pillow at night when no one was around to heard your broken sobs.

…

Thanksgiving came and it was time for celebration. It was the time for eating delicious food, show our gratitude to the universe and spending time with our loved ones.

But, you weren’t particularly enjoying.

Every year, the Jeon’s and your family celebrated most of the occasions together, due to your father and Mr. Jeon being friends apart from your friendship with their daughter. But , this year, one more family joined in. You didn’t mind if it was just another random someone, but it wasn’t someone random.

The food was excellent as always. Mrs. Jeon had always been a great cook. All the food was mouth-watering but still, you found your self concentrating more on the scene unfolding in front of you rather than your food.

Jungkook invited his girlfriend to his house on Thanksgiving. That was the first time you saw the girl, your crush was in love with.

She was beautiful would be an understatement. Long, silky hair which was dyed brown, tall with a sweet personality. Anyone could have said on the first glance at them that, they were made for each other. There were many similarities between them too, like both were studying at the same college, Jungkook being art major and she was in the literature department, both belonged to the same city but never met each other before and the most importantly, both were at the same age.

Where you were four years younger than him, basically same age as his sister.

He probably think of you as his sister. No. Definitely he did.

You were burning with rage when you saw them holding hands. Even though everyone was around them, they didn’t seem to care much. It also seemed like Jungkook’s family liked her so much. They were happy that their son have met someone who made him happy. Both their families were happy about their relationship.

When it was evening, everyone was chattering and laughing inside the house but you were on the balcony, standing alone. You couldn’t help but cry. It was too much for you. You’d been crying for days now, but now that you’ve seen his girlfriend, there was no denying that it was real. Their relationship was real and you didn’t had a chance anymore.

“Moon is watching the moon?” You didn’t noticed when Jungkook came here. You abruptly wiped your tears away from your cheeks. He came closer to you and stand beside you, you took a step away, tried harder to hide your face from him.

When he noticed you hadn’t answered his question, he continued “I picked the right name for you, didn’t I?” he asked again, tried to humor you but you were nowhere near to laugh or even smile at his jokes.

You were standing there silently, not staring at the sky anymore. You lowered your gaze and your head fall downwards, shoulders slumped. He must had sensed that something was wrong with you, that’s why he asked “Hey, are you okay–,”

Before he can finish his sentence, an ugly sob slipped past your mouth, unable to held it back anymore. This time he didn’t held back, he placed his hand on your shoulder and made you look at him. You were insistent on not to face him so he settled with just holding you by your shoulder.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks without any resistance but his hands felt comforting even though he was the one hurting you at that time.

“What happened? Does someone hurt you?” you could sense the concern in his voice, his voice was so soft like he was afraid of hurting you. That made you cry even harder.

“____, please tell me what happened?” This time he was rubbing your arms up and down, a gesture of comfort. He patiently stand there until you calmed down and was ready to talk.

When he saw you finally wiping your tears away, he took a loose strand of your hair and tuck it behind your ear. That little affection felt like someone poked a needle into your heart.

“I like someone.”

You whisper to him , tried your hardest to not burst out crying again. You saw his expression turned into confusion, so you continued “But, He doesn’t like me.”

Again, your eyes were filling with tears. The image of them together encrusted into your mind will always hunt your down for sure.

Jungkook seemed to contemplate on how to respond to you. Then, he asked “How could you know that he doesn’t likes you?”

“Because, he has a girlfriend.”

Jungkook was taken aback by your statement. He looked at you with sympathy in his eyes, like he was sad about the situation you were in.

“I- are you sure? Also, do I know them by any chance?”

You avoided his gaze but nodded to his question. You were afraid that he might know about your secret crush on him. What if, he hates you after knowing that he was the person you likes?

No no, you couldn’t let that happen.

“how old is he?”

“Same age as yours. And, I’m sure that he has a girlfriend. I’ve seen them together the other day. You- you might know him but I don’t know…” You shifted on your feet, fidgeted under his curious gaze. He was staring at you, you felt that even though you were looking at the other direction.

“May I know his nam– ,”

“No.” Before he could ask the question, you dismissed immediately. There’s no way in hell you were gonna tell him that.

After seeing your defensive state, he didn’t push that question onto you anymore.

“Okay. You know, you’re a beautiful girl, right? You’ll find someone better than him in the future who will love you.” His smile was surreal, he was looking at you like you were the only one existed in the world, Eyes so gentle.

He was such a kind person, always helping who was in need, from offering jacket to a random person at a cold night to rescuing you from getting embarrassed in front of thousands of people on your first day of period. Even if you tried to assume that he was being caring only to you, that you’re special to him, you knew it wasn’t true.

You were just a random girl who was happened to be his sister’s friend.

He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to you. Your tears were as stubborn as you were, “If he is my age then, that means he is older than you –,” the realization hit him.

“–___, he didn’t do anything to you right?” his worrisome expression made you think that why does that matter? His brows were pinched as he searched for your eyes.

“N-no, why are you asking that?”

“You should be careful from people, especially older guys. I’m not saying all the older guys are bad, but you haven’t see much of the world yet, so it might be difficult for you to identify who is good. You also haven’t matured enough–,”

“What do you mean by that!?” you got offended by the those words. Matureness doesn’t comes from age, also why was he acting like a seventy years old grandpa?

He got off guard from the sudden change in your tone. Shifted on his feet, he tried to make you understand his prospective, “I mean, many guys in our college targets younger girls like you to take advantage of, and… I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“W-why?” you wiped your nose with his handkerchief as you asked.

“Who wants something bad happens to the people they care about?” his smile was so genuine, the way he looked at you back then, made you feel things you’d never felt for anyone else.

That night you realized that, maybe, your silly little crush on him wasn’t just a crush. It was more than that. Something that might ruin you in the end but, still you let that thing to engulfed you completely.

That night, you found comfort in the person who was the reason behind your heart break.

…

That year, your father got transferred to a different country, so without a doubt, it was the time when you part your ways with your best friend.

It was painful, parting ways with the friend you’ve spend your almost entire life, but what’s more painful, was not able to see your childhood love ever again.

That was the last time you saw Jungkook on your way to the airport, walking hand in hand with his girlfriend.

You didn’t knew back then when someone’s in love, how they looked like. That radiant smile on his face and the glitter in his eyes when he looked at her shined so brightly made you think that, maybe it was the face of a man in love.

But, the sad thing was, you were not the reason behind that smile on his face.

…

8 years ago

Life wouldn’t be anymore shittier.

After you left your country, you tried your hardest to overcome and forget about Jungkook.

You left everything behind and those memories you’d made with some of the closest people there, weren’t leaving your mind even for some moments. Every little thing you did back then, reminded you of them, especially Jungkook.

Still, you managed.

You did graduated from a college and got a job. Everything was going fine until you found out that you had pancreatic cancer.

Doctors said that it wasn’t in it’s last stage yet but after thousands of medications and appointments for half an year, before that day, they declared that you only had 10 months to live only.

Not even an year.

It was so unfair. You had dreams and goals which you still had to achieve but life had other plans for you.

Your health wasn’t well enough to maintain a 9-5 job, but, you still did it because you didn’t wanted to be a burden on your family.

You were twenty-four when you realized your life was going to end soon.

“What is this!? Are you gonna present this in front of the client?” Your boss shouted at you, that bald-faced nuisance who doesn’t even know how to pronounce ‘future’. Yeah, his future was as clear as his empty bald-head.

You’ve submitted the same project for the third time, because he wasn’t ‘satisfied’ with your work, but the truth was, he doesn’t even turned the first page of it to check. Clearly, he was just messing around with you or to be honest, harassing you.

The reason behind it – rejection. You rejected his offer of ‘get a promotion just by spending a night with him’. He was adamant on sleeping with you. His flirty remarks wasn’t very subtle, you knew this pervert would come to this point at sometime.

“Make this again!” he threw the file across the table towards you. It hits you and you cursed under your breath.

“What was that?” he asked, his chimpanzee like face contort with anger once again.

He got a pretty punchable face.

“Have you checked my project, sir?” there was mockery in your voice which his one brain cell wasn’t able to comprehend.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” his brows were pinched together, flared his nose like a fucking dragon.

“I submitted the same project for the third time yet, you didn’t noticed that. Is your ego got hurt so much so that after my rejection, you’re doing this pity things to me now?”

His face goes through seven stages of grief, fear flashed through his eyes but, soon turned into rage. He abruptly stood up from his chair, banging his fist on the table, “What the hell are you talking about!? Have you forgotten your place? Don’t cross the limit, ____. You’re nothing, a good for nothing! You should know that, I’m your senior here, talk to me with respect! Or –,”

“Or what? Are you gonna complain? You know, I’m also going to complain about something…” You said, your tone as calm as ever but eyes hard as a rock.

He knew, what filthy texts he had sent you and obviously, you didn’t deleted them even though he had told you to. You thought, he might explode right at that moment out of anger, “Are you threatening me? Huh? What? Are you gonna complain about me now?”

“Yes, you asshole.”

“Bitch–,” He was going to hit you with a file but before he could do that, your colleagues interrupted and he stopped midway, pretending like nothing happened.

You stormed out of his office, never minding him calling your name continuously. Everyone in your office looked at you like you’d grown two horns on your head. You didn’t gave them any attention and straight up went to the CEO’s office.

He had threatened you countless times about how you were gonna lose your job if you don’t work how he wants you to, accordingly.

But, you had nothing to lose anymore.

After you filed a complain and submitted the resignation letter, you left that company. For good.

On the way to your home, you called your parents and told the you left your job. Your step-mom was more furious than your own dad.

Of course, you knew that would happen but what was the benefit of continuing the job when you won’t be alive anymore.

You hang up the call as soon as you heard her shouting from the other side.

You felt lost. What were you doing all these years?

Barely surviving.

You didn’t even know how it felt to live life. Not surviving, living.

All you did was, earning money with your fragile health to make it stronger but instead, it worsen even more at the end.

Now, you were on the brink of death.

Is it okay to leave everything behind? You thought. It wasn’t like you had much left in your life anyway. Your parents were stressed all the time because of you. Your sister were depressed after knowing about your condition.

Is it too soon to die in this moment? You asked yourself while standing at the edge of the bridge which connected two cities together. Staring at the river below, almost 136 meters high. You kept on staring blankly at the way water flows by, wondering where it might took you if you jump at this instance.

Before, your intrusive thoughts controlled you, your eyes landed on a bird, it’s wing crippled. It kept on chirping and tried to fly, but every time it does, landed on the surface of the barrier.

You slowly shifted closer to it, not wanted to scared it away and held it in your palms gently, “Hey, let me bandage you, okay? You will be able to fly again then!”

Fortunately, you had a small box of fast aid kit with you. Being a full-time patient and a regular visitor to the hospital, you got accustomed with the medical kits and medicines.

You swiftly bandaged the wounded wing carefully while rubbing its back.

“Do you have a name?”

The bird wiggled into your hold a little. You realized how dumb that question was, but you’d always liked talking to animals even though they couldn’t reply back to you or even understood you. All they did was, stare at your face dumbfoundedly, probably judging the crazy women in front of them.

After you were done, you released it from your hold and you saw the bird flying again.

The happiness you felt at that moment was indescribable. It felt like, you were cured from your deathly disease and your death sentence has been halt for a long period of time.

You felt like, you could live your life, just like that bird.

You felt…alive for a moment.

You didn’t knew when you started crying, tears ran down on your cheeks, on their own. You saw the bird fly happily. It wasn’t fully recovered yet, but still, the determination and courage ignited something inside of you.

At that moment, you regain the courage to live your life.

Not surviving anymore but, living your life to its fullest. At least for once.

…

Convincing your family wasn’t easy, especially your step-mother.

You had decided that, you want to spend your last days of your life in your hometown, which meant, you all had to move back to your old country where, once you left everything behind.

“I want to live my life before I die, dad. I want to live and do all those things while I’m still alive… because I don’t want regret it on my last days. Please, let me fulfil all those dreams before I left this earth?”

You father rarely saw you crying since you’d grown up. Not that you often cried in front of people, you always preferred crying silently in the dark of your room, hiding from everyone.

It was surprising to him.

But, the most surprising thing was, when you saw tears in his eyes. Your father was someone who believed that, crying was a sign of weakness.

But, he didn’t showed that to you, hiding his face from you, he said, “Then go, start packing your bags.”

You didn’t believe your own ears, did you heard it right?

You couldn’t contained your excitement as you hugged your father from behind and said, “Thank you.”

Tears breamed from your eyes after realizing that, finally you were going back to your country.

…

The streets still looked almost the same where you had spent your entire childhood, just not as much calm and warm as it used to be.

So many residents were built there now, it was more hectic and crowded. Thankfully, your old house was on sale at that time. The owner whom your father had sold that house to, wanted to sell it and your father bought it.

The walls of that house held so many memories, many untold truths and evidence of your cruel sleepless nights. The whispers of heart break buried in a corner of your room. All those memories came back to your mind and you found yourself day-dreaming about your old crush again.

“Where Jungkook might be right now?”

“What are you thinking about?” your sister came up behind you, noticing your eyes fixed on the direction of his house.

Your sister had graduated at the same year when you guys moved here. You were more than happy that she decided to start her career here and stayed with you, at least for that reason, you were able to spent your last days with her.

She knew about every single thing happened in your life and Jungkook wasn’t exceptional.

“Nothing…”

“Don’t lie. You were thinking about Jungkook, right?”

Oh god. Hearing that name after so many years, felt surreal. It only intensified the longing you were feeling all those years. Your eyes slightly widened but you dismissed immediately.

“No, you idiot. Go and do your work.”

“You don’t? Okay then, if you say so… but you should probably call Jia, she will be so happy to see you again!”

“I’ll call her later but now, my head is aching! Can you please make me some tea?” you pouted at her, gave her those innocent doe eyes. She glared at you in return, with bombastic side eyes, she left the room.

You giggled and heard her cursing back at you. You laughed a little more at that. Your bond with your sister was special. Something very close to your heart. She was the only family you had, according to you.

Your parents got divorced when you were only twelve years old, so figuring out what was going on and adjusting to the situation was difficult for you. Separating from your mother was especially harder, you thought of her as your best friend but…

No one’s gonna stay with you for forever and you learned it the hard way.

Ever since then, so many things changed in your life. Your father married again in the hope that, you and your sister might be able to experience the motherly love from her, but instead you got more pain and suffering.

She was at your throat for every single second, peace was something you used to crave, if not love. You never felt at home. When you found out about your disease, it was a disaster; but still, all she cared about was money.

How thoughtful!

You decided to take your sister’s advice and called your best friend. After eight years, you were again in your hometown. It was so nostalgic that you got emotional.

All the furniture were yet to be settled, your bed wasn’t ready to be used so you took a seat on your window, staring outside.

As you saw the canvas of the evening sky transforms into a masterpiece of hues, a tapestry of twilight unfolds, painted in soft pastels — a symphony of peach, lavender, and whispers of indigo. That moment felt celestial as your heart filled with an unknown warmth and you found yourself embracing your own body into your arms.

You had called her few times in all those years and she did too; but, with time, the busy schedules and hectic day to day life forced both of you to grew apart. The calls kept on reducing in number and, then it stopped altogether.

The call rang for four times before she picked up. For some moments, you were just staring at each other’s faces, network wasn’t working on your favor so it took time to get a clear picture of her face.

“You’re still alive?” was the first thing she asked you, very typical ‘Jia’ like behavior.

“Yeah, I’m still alive. Thank you very much! How are you?” you humored her and you saw her scoffed.

“You tell me, where were you? Huh? NO calls! NO massages!… were you gone underground or something? Oh no, wait! You forgot about me, right?”

She kept on blabbering her nonsense, falsely accusing you, dramatically thrown tantrums at you. You saw her brows pinched together as she glared at you which was supposed to be intimidating.

“Well, I’m in our hometown.”

“…What?!”

She couldn’t believe your words so you turned the camera around and gave her the view of the street where you guys used to run and play.

You saw her eyes widened and mouth gaped at the view, she scrutinized the area a little bit longer and made sure it was indeed her hometown.

“Fuck, bro! why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I wanted to surprise you, but well, looks like you’re not here.”

Her face turned into a sad expression from irritation, mirroring your own face.

You knew you would’ve told her, but you genuinely wanted to gave her a surprise with your arrival, in which failed miserably!

“It’s fine, I’m coming home in a few days.” That comforted you to some extent, knowing that you would be able to meet your best friend after all those years finally, before you die. It certainly gave you some comfort.

No one knew about your condition except your family, not even your best friend. The reason being, you wanted a normal life.

You didn’t wanted those sympathetic looks from others or them doing things for your just because you are gonna die soon.

No, you wanted them to act normal, just like they always did.

You didn’t wanted them to felt some urgency or pressure.

You didn’t wanted them to feel bad or guilty for you.

No, you wanted them to treat you normally, just like they had been with you ever since they met you.

Just a normal life before you die, where you can enjoy every second of your life and live it with others. Was that too much to ask for?

“Come back soon then,” Your smile held a sense of nostalgia and melancholy in it and for a brief second, you thought you saw tears in her eyes.

“By the way, have you informed others?” She changed the subject, probably didn’t wanted to cry at that moment of happiness.

“Yeah, we are going to meet at a club in this evening.”

“That’s great! Have fun then and also… is Jay coming?” she smirked at the camera and arched a brow at you.

Having a crush was different but this guy was on another level. He was head over heels for you. You never understood his obsession or love (what he used to say) for you. He was the same age as Jungkook. It wasn’t like he wasn’t good looking, on the contrary, he was charming. A guy for any girl would fall for. Topper of his class with that cute face of his, he got the whole package.

But, you never felt anything for him. So the first time he confessed to you, you straight up said ‘no’. Maybe it was a bit rude, not that you were denying but You never grasped the concept of leaving someone in ambiguity without providing a clear response, especially when it involved feelings.

“Do you want me to bonk you in the head? Why would he come to our reunion party? Come on…he isn’t even belong to our friend circle!” You said in disbelief and she rolled her eyes a little more.

“Dude, he was obsessing over you for such a long time! I’m sure he might be into you after all these year– ,”

“Jia–, you know how I feel about this–,” Yeah, she does. She knew everything, “Can we please drop it?”

She dropped the topic after your pleading. You always got irritated whenever she acted this way, teasing you by someone’s name who had a crush on you, constantly encouraged you to start dating one of them. You being you, never listened to her.

You both talked about things in general after that and then hang up.

Yeah, it was good. If not telling anyone about your sickness helped you live the way you wanted to, then, it’s okay.

As soon as you hang up the call, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. You breathed in and out as you tried to endure it. Probably because you hadn’t took your medications yet. That’s why it was happening. You’d accustomed with all this by that time, so it wasn’t any thing new to you.

You were fine.

…

The city you lived in looked different but still, there was a familiarity in it.

Sidewalks hum with activity as people strolled, laughter echoed from cafes, and the distant sounds of traffic created a vibrant urban symphony. The evening air carried a blend of aromas from food vendors, filled your noses trills and made your stomach grumbled.

You met with your school friends at the club 15 minutes away from your house as planned. Coming to a club doesn’t made sense to you, because you weren’t able to drink alcohol, but.. well… you were there because of your… friends.

You sat on a stool which were lined the polished counter, where patrons sipped drinks and shared laughter. You watched your friends danced across the crowded dance floor, lost in their own world.

You saw Kai from your friends group, approaching you, came straight at the direction where you were seated. You quickly reverted your eyes to somewhere, acted like you hadn’t even noticed him just now, like any other introvert, focusing on your drink in your hand.

“Hey, ____! Long time no see.” Yeah, it would be longer if he weren’t just interrupted your peaceful time there.

He was grinning ear to ear like he just found some treasure. You adjusted yourself to looked at him, “Yeah, Hey! How are you?”

“Oh fine, just living the busy life of a busy man. You say, what you’re been up to these days?” oh, nothing special, just waiting to be embraced by death and, oh! Also trying to have a peaceful time which now has been disrupted. You hoped you’d be able to say that on his face but… oh, well… manners!

“Nothing special –,” He pulled a stool beside you and hopped on it, “You say?”

You watched him settling beside you comfortably. You internally rolled your eyes when you realized he probably wasn’t going anywhere soon.

He started talking about his life which you didn’t mind any attention to, you were busy finding loopholes to escaped the man in front of you. You eyes darted frantically everywhere around the club to found any of your friends, anyone, but the crowd made it harder to spot any of them.

He offered you a tequila which you politely refused. Then, he continued insisting on buying you a drink, his words laced with determination, the alcohol in his system clearly kicked out at that moment. The background buzz of the bar heightened as he tried to charm you into accepting, created a moment of tension which wasn’t a good kind.

Despite your clear signal of disinterest, he remained persistent. It ultimately left you annoyed than ever. The last time, your refusal was harsh, words came out of your mouth was rude but the situation particularly made it harder for you to be calm, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a drink? It would be great if leave me alone.”

He took that to his heart, it seemed, because the look he gave you was similar to Chihuahua dogs when angry. You never got what this boy’s problem was, even any other boy who tried to pursued you before.

Why boys don’t know when to stop and have no shame? Universal question. The whole world wanted to know the answer, included yourself.

“Why the attitude? I’m just trying to be friendly! Damn, seems like you don’t deserve that–,” He scoffed, “you’ve become more hot, not gonna lie; but, that hard-to-get bitchy attitude is still there.”

The audacity he had!

You raised an eyebrow but maintained your composure. “Friendly doesn’t usually come with comments like that. It’s about mutual respect,” You retorted.

He leaned against the counter, undeterred. “Come on, no need to be so serious. I’m just being honest here. You were always good looking and now, you looks irresistible, but the attitude…”

You sighed, contemplated on if you walked out of there or slap him across his face, “Honesty is appreciated when it’s respectful. Your comments are crossing the line.”

Unfazed, he chuckled, “I just call it like I see it. No harm meant.”

“Well, it’s causing harm. I value my personal space and expect to be treated with respect,” You stated firmly.

He scoffed again, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to loosen up a bit. Not every compliment is an attack.”

As his audacity reached new heights with an attempt to grab your arm, frustration surged within you. You were on the verge of snapping back, but just in the nick of time, a familiar voice called your name, halting your impending outburst.

“Hey, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

You turned your face to your left and saw Jungkook standing there, a n knowing smile on his face which he usually made when he got annoyed or angry.

Relieved and equally surprised to hear his familiar voice, you redirected your attention, grateful for the interruption regardless.

You stared at him with wide eyes, still thinking that if he was real or not. He glanced at the guy who had attempted to grab your arm, his smile faded into a more serious expression. “Is everything okay here?" Jungkook asked, his tone carried a subtle warning.

The guy got tensed, visibly uncomfortable under Jungkook’s scrutiny, stammered, “Just a misunderstanding, man.”

Jungkook’s demeanor remained stern as he replied, “Best not to misunderstand personal boundaries. She’s not interested.”

His hand was on your shoulder in a comforting manner. With that, Jungkook subtly positioned himself between you and the guy, creating a clear physical barrier. The unwelcome intruder, perhaps sensed the shift in dynamics, made a hasty exit. His protective side kicked out.…

…Like any other big brother might had.

Being the protective big brother he was, Jungkook had a younger sister, so dealing with guys hitting on her became a familiar scenario for him. He had accumulated experience in handling such situations.

Yeah, he still saw you like his little sister.

“Jungkook…” Words came out breathy form your mouth like you still hadn’t believe him standing there. The feeling you had buried in a corner of your heart years ago resurfaced once again, the bittersweet warmth you used to feel whenever you saw him bloomed inside of your heart.

Jungkook’s gaze held a mix of familiarity and affection, and you found myself lost in the moment, the years melting away.

“Hey –,” He said softly as he stand in front of you, “Are you okay?”

When he smiled at you, you realized his smile was still the same, radiated warmth and playfulness. That boyish innocence was still there but with a mix of mature allure that time. That doe-like, expressive eyes that held a certain depth, his gaze was both inviting and enigmatic, in which you found yourself drowned.

There were significant changes in his appearance though, like the tattoos on his arm and those piercings on his eyebrows, ears and even his lips. You stared at him absentmindedly before he spoke, “Moon? I asked if you’re okay?” That name again!

“Yeah, right… I’m okay. Thank you, Jungkook.”

He smiled at your response as he said, “I didn’t knew you were in the town.”

“Yeah, no one does actually. I wanted to surprise Jia, but she is out of the country so…’

“Right, she is.” Then silence settled between you two. Before it could got more awkward, Jungkook said, “So…how is life going?” as he took the seat on which Kai was settled before.

How were you gonna answer that? Your life… you felt like it was never yours. You moved out of the country because of your father, you got a college degree so you could help your family financially, then you diagnosed with a disease which eventually going to kill you so you didn’t had much time left.

But, in all of these, what you did for yourselves? When was the time you actually lived your life?

You didn’t had an answer to that tbh.

“Nothing special. My dad got retired so we thought about coming back to our country.” You answered, swirling the glass of virgin mojito in your hand. “and, what about you?”

“Me?” He asked, his doe eyes staring wide at you, chucking a little, he replied, “Came back to my home after realizing, I’m not gonna get a job there any time soon, not bad though–,” He glanced over your shoulder as you saw something flickered in his eyes, “ –Then thought about starting my own business, now I got my own tattoo shop.”

You saw him frequently glancing over your shoulder, as if someone was behind you whome was trying to see.

“Oh! That’s awesome!”

He didn’t replied and kept staring at a particular direction behind you. When you attempted to look behind, he stopped you by grabbing your arm. “Yeah, it is.”

He let out a laugh which clearly indicated his nervousness. “Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Is someone behind me?”

“Yeah… it’s just my ex.”

He said that casually as if he wasn’t just trying to desperately snatch a glance at her. You didn’t understand, his ex?

You remember his girlfriend. What was her name again?

Nina? Nanny? Ah, no. Yes!

Nancy. She was his girlfriend whom he invited to the thanksgiving party. As far as you knew, they were still dating according to Jia even though she confessed that to you a long time ago.

“Umm– Jungkook? I need more context to understand what you’re talking about. So, fill me in what I’m missing out?” You squinted at him dramatically and he laughed a little at your ministration.

That same smile which was enough to make your heart flutter and skip a beat.

“It’s nothing, just that…” He paused midway and glanced over your head again before continuing, “We broke things up a few months ago. Decided to go separate ways because we didn’t work out eventually?”

There was a question mark at the end, you wondered why was that for. Was he not know why they broke up? That’s sounds silly. Maybe, he was confused after they broke things up and thought that he made a mistake there? He might still wanted to be with her?

Before your train of thought escalate even further, He tapped you on your shoulder and brought you back to the reality, “Earth to ___,” You saw him smiling at you, “What are you thinking?”

You were wearing off shoulders, so, the naked touch of his fingers upon your skin kindled a transient flame, imprinting an indelible mark of his presence that will linger unwelcomed for the next few days.

“N-nothing, what were you saying again?” shaking the dizziness from witnessing the stars in his eyes, you asked. It’s normal for a human being like you, feeling dizzy after touched by someone made of stars. Gotta be grounded, you aren’t allowed to touch the stars, you reminded yourself.

“I asked, if you want to dance with me. Would you?” He asked as he extended his hand for you. You knew, you shouldn’t touch the stars but the shining flow of it made you blinded to the upcoming consequences of your actions.

You should knew well, why he was asking for a dance. His ex was still behind you so the only reason would be to – made her jealous, still you reciprocated.

You warned him about your lack of knowledge in dancing, nonetheless, he pulled you to the dance floor.

Placed your hands on his shoulder and his on your waist, he instructed you to move. As soon as, you two stepped on the dance floor, the song changed to a melodic one from a upbeat song.

Apocalypse by cigarettes after sex started playing in the background and you found yourself staring at the men in front of you for a second before you broke the eye contact.

Even thought you turned you face to the other side you could feel his eyes on you, making your mind go blank.

He pulled you closer, bodies Pressed together as both of you started to move in sync with the music. His breath hit the side of your face, making your breath hitched after knowing the close proximity between you two.

“____,” He called, your name sounded pretty from his lips, “Look at me.”

It sounded like a demand but his tone suggested other wise. Tender and delicate, as his soft lips brushed against your hairline, made you gulped the lump forming in your throat.

You did look him in the eyes. His gaze, held galaxies within, each flicker echoing the poetry of an undiscovered universe, in which you found yourself lost.

“You’re doing good. Just don’t think too much and let your body move according to the rhythm –,” He said, his gaze focused on your face, closer than before. The ambient lighting casted a soft glow, accentuating his delicate features, his words gave you courage, an unfamiliar sense of comfort and his face made you thought that you had someone you could rely on.

In that shared gaze, time momentarily freezes and you found yourself falling for him, again.

“Aish…I sounded like some know-it-all, I think? don’t mind it, please.” There was nervousness in his voice, fleeting glances searched for reassurance to make sure you didn’t found that offensive.

You didn’t help but realized how thoughtful and considerate a person could be that he was worrying about something so small. It wasn’t even sounded offensive to you, it was just a suggestion, guidance to someone who doesn’t know the ‘D’ of dancing.

Like a delicate melody played on uncertain notes—a sincere expression that made his words all the more genuine and endearing and you found that oddly charming.

You couldn’t help but smiled at him, “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind at all, but… I might get offended if you don’t tell me the truth right now.” You teased, slightly grinding at him.

He pinched his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Are you. . . Somehow trying to make your ex jealous? Because if you are, I think it’s working.”

His eyes widened a bit, clearly wasn’t expecting something like that. He, again, glanced over to the girl who was still standing at the same spot for ten minutes, observing every move you two made.

“I– No–, I mean not exactly,” He looked at you with a hint of guilt in his eyes, giving you an apologetic smile, “Well, not gonna lie. I did tried to make her kinda jealous – but it wasn’t the entire reason why I asked you for a dance.” You found a hint of panic in his eyes, again looking like he didn’t wanted to offend by any means, which you found enduring. Why does he cared so much? You thought.

You couldn’t help but saw this little things in people, especially the people you held close to your heart.

“Then, why did you asked?”

“Because, I wanted to.” He said casually, as if he didn’t just made you skipped your heart beat a little faster. You shifted your gaze to the other side, feeling weird emotions about the person you wouldn’t felt. Nonetheless, you chuckled a little bit.

“You would have told me earlier, then I might have put more effort.”

“So, you aren’t putting effort yet?” He giggled, eyes gleamed under the light.

“No – I didn’t mean that, but, now we have a mission in our hands, so we better win it!”

He made a look of knowing, realized what you were implying. He let out a chuckle, shook his head at you adorably and gripped your hand a bit firmly, pulling you a little bit closer as if there were any gap in between.

Your chest flashed against his, the burning heat of your cheeks might be visible by then, you felt his thumb rubbing slowly at your waist where he was holding you. That small gesture was supposed to be comforting but it only made your cheeks grew a shade brighter.

You thanked the dimly lights of the club.

The evening went by just the two of you holding each other close as you swung your bodies to the unfamiliar melodies. This time, there was no barrier in between you two, like, ‘he see me as his sister’ or ‘he has a girlfriend.’

…

Sometimes, It was hard for you to understand Jia.

That one time when she asked if she could borrow your white gown on her birthday. Of course you gave that to her. It was her birthday party in the evening, so you didn’t grasp the fact why she wanted to wore something …old, when she had a new dress waiting for her in her wardrobe.

But, then switched her dress to that very new black dress in the middle of that party. When you asked her, she refused to gave you an explanation, which baffled you and left you confused.

Even though you didn’t liked her odd behavior that night, you let that slipped.

“Taehyung is looking at your direction –,” one of the girls from your class whispered in your ears as she giggled like a typical teen girl next to you.

All of your friends were sitting at the cafeteria, munching on your food. It was a typical boring day at school until your eyes landed on Jungkook. He was in the senior year and also the captain of school soccer team.

When you were busy drooling over him, your friends started making their own theories.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him staring at ___ quite often.” Other girl from your same table passed a comment.

Kim Taehyung was in the soccer team as well but a year older than Jungkook, but they were like brothers, the ‘IT’ best friend duo. It was quite usual for you to saw Taehyung whenever Jungkook was around. He was with him almost all the time.

But, you never noticed him staring at you. You thought they were making silly scenarios in their little head in hope of some Juicy gossip until you noticed, Kim Taehyung staring at your direction.

“Stop, guys! He is probably looking at somewhere else or looking for someone? Who knows!” You shrugged them off, not wanted to participate in their nonsense.

The men, they were talking about was the ‘sweetheart’ of your high school, every other girl was smitten by him, so it was a bit difficult for you to accept that he might had a crush on you.

“___, you are dangerously oblivious.” Then they laughed as if they just discovered the funniest joke of the century, their laughter echoed through out the cafeteria except from you and Jia.

It was easy to assume someone’s weight just by looking at the structure of their body until you had to carry them.

“Fuck! He is heavy dude!” Jia cursed under her breath, unable to hide the suffering of carrying Jimin all the way up to the 5th floor to Jungkook’s apartment.

“He doesn’t seem like–,” You were about to trip and fall, but adjusted yourself quickly. “yeah, he is heavy.”

The knock on his door wasn’t too loud as you made sure not to woke any neighbors up 2 in the morning.

You heard a groan along with some footsteps before the door swung open in front of you and you wished that you wouldn’t saw what you’d saw.

There was Jungkook, naked and standing in his full glory. Thank God, he had a sweat pant on.

You immediately looked down out of respect and…well, shyness? Because the way your cheeks heat up was embarrassing. You were flustered and you hoped, no one noticed.

Jungkook made a surprised gasped and scrunched his brows out of confusion, “What are you guys doing here at this hour? I- wait, is that jimin?”

“Yes!! Now help us, dummy.” Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s arm but not before shooting a glare at his sister’s direction, gave her a look of ‘you better shut the fuck up.’

He took jimin from you two and carried him like his weight was nothing, held him like a feather. Before the three of you could reach out to the sofa, you saw Taehyung came out of another room.

“What’s going on in the middle of the night?” His deep voice was an octave lower, clearly he was in his dreamland. With a scowl, he rubbed his eyes and looked at his very drunk friend, “Wait – Is that jimi– Is he dead?” He dramatically gasped.

“No. But, tell me, are you two…gay?” She asked them quietly, made it more dramatic by her expressions. Her mischievous eyes shifted to Taehyung from Jungkook, then again on Jungkook.

Taehyung gave a glare at her direction, no words left from his mouth. The poor guy just woke up at the middle of the night and accused of fucking Jungkook. You held your laughter back, didn’t wanted to make it more chaotic than it already was.

“No– I mean you look like you just had a rough night and–,”

“Jia, will you shut up?” Jungkook’s voice was stern, as if he was holding himself back. His sister knew how to get on his nerves, for sure.

Ignoring the fact that she was about to bring scolded by her elder brother, she took the responsibility and filled him up with the information.

“We were at this bar and we saw Jimin there…lying on a couch. The owner was searching for his friends but, since they weren’t there, we took him here.” She chirped, feigning innocence as if she didn’t just called her brother gay.

Jia decided to met you at this famous bar, again you went along with the idea even though you knew the fact that, you won’t be able to drink anything.

At least you liked the ambience of the bar, until you found a very drunk blonde haired guy laying on a couch, almost knocked out. The owner was literally about to kick him out if it weren’t for you and Jia arrived at the right time.

“He was supposed to join us.” Taehyung shook his head in disappointment, letting out a huff, he walked over to Jimin who was finally knocked out on Jungkook’s couch. Following Taehyung’s lead, you sit beside Jimin, scrutinizing his face for any discomfort he might had.

Your gaze briefly flickered towards Jungkook, caught him staring at you, before he quickly averted his eyes towards Taehyung. You knew, it wasn’t anything you might had thought of, but the way your stomach flipped over wasn’t something normal.

“What you guys were even doing?” Jia asked exaggeratedly, squinted her eyes at both men in front of her suspiciously.

Yes, Jungkook and Taehyung was like brothers since they were in high school, probably saw shits of each other which might had never been seen by anyone, their bromance was top-notch but that doesn’t allow people to question about their sexuality. You knew, Jia was just joking and probably pulling her brother’s leg off and besides, Jungkook has a girlfriend. Or so, had.

They might broke up, but the possibility of him having feelings for her was strong, because of the dance you two had that night at the club. No person who doesn’t had any feelings for their ex would did such thing to just made them jealous. He doesn’t said that, he doesn’t had to, it was all clear in his eyes or so you noticed.

[littlejuicebox]

The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

-----

If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay. 

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality. 

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully. 

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin. 

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face. 

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige. 

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance. 

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell. 

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf. 

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him. 

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring. 

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last. 

[antimonyandthyme]

Wouldn't it be crazy...if carcar in the situational prompt list no. 60... one/both of them being hit with truth spell/serum

They’ve all been through it. Oscar isn’t special, or any more special than the nineteen other people who share a track with him. On the cusp of breaking into Formula 1, every one of them had someone who sat them down, acted all nice, like a friend they hadn’t seen in years, then pried them open to get a glimpse of anything rotten. Oscar’s just thankful it was Mark. Someone who Oscar knew cared for him, for real, and this way he could look past the interrogation and assign it some form of kindness. In true form, Mark had gone about it in the most awkward way possible, as only someone who hated doing the questioning as much as he hated doing the answering could, and that at least hadn’t made Oscar’s skin crawl.

Hey, uh, kid. Is there anything you think I should know? Uh, romantic, or otherwise?

Even then, he’d been defensive. His past life wasn’t for sale, newly minted F1 driver or not. The girl he dated for longer than he should have, the guy he kissed in maybe too public of a place. Even in the face of Mark’s sincerity, he’d been torn between honesty and mortification.

He doesn’t know why the memory’s popping up right now. It’s Vegas, and so many things happen in Vegas that outside of the race, not a single other thing bears significance anymore. Oscar doesn’t question it when she gestures him over, or when she points to a deck of cards, laid out on a low table like a trap. Something in the air here shakes out his sensibilities, loosens his tongue.

“Will you tell me who will win?” He pauses, backtracks. She might not even know who he is. There are no cameras around. “I could place a bet if you help me.”

“You aren’t a gambling man.” Her voice is strong, rich like an anchorwoman, completely unlike how he’d expected her to sound. “And anyway, you’ll live it out, tomorrow.”

Oh. So she does know.

The furrow between his eyebrows he cancels out with a bland smile. He gets the impression he should leave.

“I could tell you other things.”

“What other things?” It’s good to keep his mind distracted on the eve of a race. He’s always said that. Has he always said that? Well. He’s saying it now.

She draws a card. “The Fool.”

“Not a good start,” Oscar says. “I think I’m gonna—”

“Inexperience and improvisation,” she says. Her teeth are wondrously bright, straight like gravestones lined up in a row. “Not bad, all things considering.”

All things considering, being how this season is going? What does she know.

“I’ve read this somewhere before,” Oscar says. If it’s a fight she wants.

“The Suit of Swords,” she continues, as if she hasn’t heard him. “A logical mind and a spoken word.”

“You have a preplanned deck, for anyone who walks pass.”

“The Tower. Misery, distress. Unseen catastrophe.”

Oscar grits his teeth. “And then you use the same cards, in the same order, for every person. You’re purposely vague.”

“The Three of Wands. Stepping outside of comfort. Persevering.”

“Everything you say can apply to anyone,” Oscar says. This is as combative as he gets. “It’s all a trick.”

“Ah,” she says, and for a second, Oscar thinks he’s broken through, that she’ll snap at him, shoo him away. “But the Seven of Swords, reversed. A turning point. Starting anew.”

“I’m leaving,” Oscar says. Getting distracted on the eve of a race is folly. He’s always said that. Said that to Carlos, only a month or so ago.

“Only one remedy, for someone as recalcitrant as yourself.”

“I’m leaving,” Oscar says again, tongue like cotton. His feet stay right where they are.

She presses the last card into his hands. That video that had gotten viral years ago, the one where you could hand literally any item off to someone who was speaking on the phone. A shoe, a burger, a baby. This feels weightier than a baby. Oscar’s fingers open and close around the card, a wind-up doll dancing along to someone else's tune.

“Norris is winning tomorrow,” she says.

“Oh, fuck off.”

--

They both went into it with the exact same intentions: to come out of it perfectly intact. It was such a foolish notion from the beginning that they were unwilling to allow any heartbreak over it. So stubbornly, wholeheartedly, they worked their damnedest to come out of it perfectly intact.

If he can look past the way his heart wobbles in his chest whenever Carlos so much as looks his way, Oscar will say it’s been a success. He goes to bed, wakes up, races, while forgetting the intimate press of Carlos’s lips against his. They have a renegotiated new normal, the distance between them adjusted to a boring meter. Just close enough so as not to appear frosty, but far away enough that their shoulders can’t possibly accidentally bump.

“Oscar,” George greets cordially. “Feeling good about today?”

“Like hell I am,” Oscar says, with all the earnestness of a puppy still learning how to use its paws.

Multiple calculations flicker across George’s face. Like how much he actually wants to get into it, and how best to weave his way out of it.

“Chin up,” George says, then turns to Alex.

Oscar rolls his eyes. Catches himself doing it, and makes a concerted effort to pull his eyeballs back down into place. It isn’t like him to be so careless with expression. People act like honesty’s a virtue, then jump back like it could scald the moment it pops up in conversation. He sidles away, and finds himself waving at the crowd, a painless armlength from Carlos.

He suddenly, fervently, hates night races. He’s exhausted. It must be why. When Carlos opens his mouth, says something entirely cordial and normal, like How are you, Oscar’s tongue wriggles itself and lets loose.

“I miss you,” he says. The words are out before Oscar can clap a hand over his mouth. “I feel like shit and I miss you.”

“Right,” Carlos says. Still waving at the crowd, but with his shoulders pushed all the way up to his ears. “And I’m Cleopatra.”

“You’re more beautiful than—aw fuck.” He actually bites his tongue. To stop himself from talking. He needs to stop talking.

“Oscar,” Carlos says. He looks a second away from bolting, except there’s not much place to go, being on a moving bus. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Recalcitrance,” Oscar recites. “And an inability to be honest. Fuck. Fuckkkkk.”

“I’m serious, Oscar. If this is some mind game, you can drop it, yeah? We’re both adults. We can be adults about this.”

“I can’t,” Oscar says pleadingly. “I can’t stop thinking about you and I can’t stop wishing it could be different even though I know I was the one who—”

“Enough,” Carlos says, more hurt than Oscar’s ever heard him. This is what honesty does? Oscar should have burned those cards in front of that woman. “You can’t do this now, it’s not fair. After all you said before, you don’t remember that?”

“I lied, I’ve been lying,” Oscar says. “But I can’t now, apparently, you have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to believe anything,” Carlos says. “I don’t need you fucking up my race.”

“Lando’s going to win,” Oscar says miserably.

“You’re an asshole,” Carlos says, then goes to shoulder his way into some other group, and return to waving at the fans, leaving Oscar now a very painful one, two, three, four, five meters away.

--

Lando—wins? Then gets his win stripped away because of some penalty, moving Max up into first, Oscar into second, and Carlos into third.

She’s right, but only on a technicality. Oscar doesn’t want to give her that. And anyway, second place is pretty damn euphoric. He also gets to spray Carlos with champagne. Soak Carlos with it. Pretend the crinkles on Carlos’s face are for him.

He’s not thinking about his lack of filter when there’s a mic shoved up into his face.

“Obviously, I feel for Lando. It’s never a nice experience when you think you have something, but you don’t.”

Behind him, Carlos is waiting to give his interview. In front of him, the reporter’s face is suitably sympathetic.

“I mean, obviously, sometimes. It’s not even your fault. But sometimes—it is?”

“Right,” she says. “About the penalty, right?”

“Uh huh, the penalty. Sometimes it’s totally your fault. When you push people away.”

“You mean off the track?”

“Yeah, off the track,” Oscar nods fervently. He needs to buy this lady a bottle of wine, bless her. “But Lando will recover, the team will come back stronger.”

“Are you happy with your podium today?”

“Of course,” Oscar says. “I’m happy Carlos was up there with me. He deserves it. I’m happy he’s getting these podiums with Ferrari, so they can see—”

What they’ve given away, what they’ve pushed away.

Carlos is suddenly closer, behind him. Hand on Oscar’s lower back, subtle enough that no one else can see. Chiding, but gentle.

“—see him celebrate with this team.” Safer, but no less true. “I’m. Uh, very happy.”

“Right,” she says. “Just one more thing.”

“Ay,” Carlos says, in that lovely, good-natured way of his. “Is my turn now, no?”

“Of course,” she laughs, utterly charmed. “Oscar, thank you for your time.”

Carlos’s hand on his hip feels almost protective, the way he nudges Oscar away from the pen. Go, go. Button it up. You’re not for sale. Go.

--

Carlos examines the card under the neon glow of the strip. The waxy paper’s almost see through when he holds it up. You stare too long and in the end, you find you’re just looking directly at the lights, hurting your eyes. Unsurprisingly, when Oscar took him to where the woman had her little table set up, she wasn’t there.

“I think you got sold some snake oil.”

“I didn’t buy anything,” Oscar says.

“But you’re being made to pay,” Carlos says, grinning. “I’ve never heard you like that before. I’m happy for Carlos, just like that! To the media too. Impressive.”

“Go on,” Oscar says. “Kick a guy when he’s down.”

“Sorry,” Carlos says, sounding like he means it. Oscar’s heart does that pathetic quiver before it rightens itself. Carlos is always so quick to retract his claws, the moment he thinks he’s drawn blood. “It’s just, you know, kinda nice, having you like this. You’re never like this.”

“You could.” Oscar swallows. Prays that he has it in him to be brave. “Ask me anything now. I wouldn’t be able to lie.”

Carlos looks at him, before looking down at his feet. “That’s cheating, no?”

“For you?”

“No,” Carlos says. “For you. You’re cheating, like this.”

Ah. If Carlos had been anyone else, maybe he could have just asked and spared them both the trouble. Something like, Hey, hey. Be honest. Do you have feelings for me? Instead, Carlos hands the card back. Unwilling to go for the jugular. Classic Carlos.

Oscar wants so much to take his hand.

He clears his throat. “Do you remember. Uh. Before you started in F1. Did you ever have to. Like. Go through all of your past with anyone? Tell them who you dated and stuff?”

“Ah,” Carlos says. “Eh. Well. My Dad mostly already knew everything.”

“I think Mark wanted the ground to swallow him up, asking me.”

Carlos giggles. “I bet you were very embarrassing.”

“I, uh. Wasn’t very honest with him.”

“Good,” Carlos says.

“Good?” Oscar says, like some lost puppy.

“Yes, good,” Carlos says seriously. “It’s not for anyone else.”

Oscar waits for Carlos to ask, even while knowing Carlos never would. Not like that. Ball’s in Oscar’s court, as they’d say. For when he finally works through his recalcitrance and inability to be honest. I don’t want to reveal you to the world. Risk you in the slightest, Oscar wants to tell Carlos. That’s why I said all that I said. That’s why.

The card’s not strong enough for that. Not when Carlos, who’s equally as stubborn, refuses to invoke its magic. He’s protective like that, Carlos. Oscar offers him a wobbly smile, an olive branch. All that he can give right now. Generous that he is, Carlos allows the distance between them to shrink to something almost friendly, almost enough to bump shoulders.

--

Just for the fun of it, Oscar goes back, a couple of hours before he’s due at the airport.

She’s there now, of course.

“I don’t need this anymore,” he says, placing the card back onto her table.

She tuts at him like she’s disappointed, but shuffles the card back into her deck anyway.

“Also, Lando didn’t win.”

“Boy,” she says. “Do you think I actually watch Formula 1? Run along now. Do this your own way.”

“I will,” he says. “Thanks, I guess?”

She laughs. Grins at him in a way that’s both sinister and encouraging. Were her teeth always gleaming gold? “Your flight’s going to be late,” she says.

“Oh, fuck off.”

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Prince Katsuki Bakugo x Female Reader

Please support me by leaving a like or comment to let me know what you liked most about the chapter and what you expect to come in the next one!

You are now reading Part 2 of Promise! Enjoy my lovelies <3 Lemme know what your feelings were on this chapter!

Part 1 here Part 3 here

When you were six, you held a fake wedding by the swings with a kid you met at the park. You never saw your childhood “spouse" again after that day. Today you received a letter summoning you to a foreign country...where your wedding to the heir to the throne fifteen years ago is seen as valid.

Turns out, he's lying to you? Wait...WHAT?

If someone had told you two days ago that you would be sitting in a limousine, about to go meet a random Prince who is your supposed 'spouse' that you haven't met in fifteen years, you'd have packed your bags and moved to the other side of the world.

Well, that’s where you are right now.

The luxurious interior of the limousine felt surreal, the soft leather seats and tinted windows contrasting the whirlwind of confusion and disbelief swirling inside your mind. You glanced out the window at the passing cityscape, trying to process everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours.

It had started with that knock on your door, the letter from Prince Bakugo, and your incredulous conversation with Momo. Somehow, you had gone from laughing off the absurdity of it all to sitting here, en route to a world you never imagined would be yours.

You still couldn’t wrap your head around it. The playground wedding and childhood games all felt like another lifetime.

Yet, here you were, being whisked away to meet the man who, according to his letter, had been waiting for you all these years.

The limousine slowed as it approached a grand estate, the gates opening smoothly as the vehicle entered. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.

The driver, a stern-looking man in a perfectly pressed uniform, pulled up to the entrance and stepped out to open your door.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the limousine, your eyes widening at the sight before you. The castle was magnificent, with towering spires and intricate stonework that looked like something out of a fairy tale.

As you stood there, taking in the grandeur, the massive wooden doors of the castle opened. A man with red, spiky hair stepped out, his expression serious yet somehow familiar. It was the same man who had brought the letter to your door, Kirishima, was it?

"Princess," he said, bowing slightly. "Please follow me."

You nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, and followed him inside. The castle's interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with vaulted ceilings, grand chandeliers, and tapestries depicting scenes of historical significance.

Kirishima led you through a series of hallways until you reached grand double doors. He paused and turned to you.

"The Prince is inside. He’s been looking forward to meeting you again."

Your heart raced as he opened the doors, revealing a spacious room bathed in sunlight. Standing at the far end, looking out of a large window, was Prince Bakugo. He turned as you entered, his intense gaze locking onto yours.

He was taller now, more mature, but there was no mistaking the boy you had once known. His hair was still as spiky as ever, the ash blond color ever so conspicuous, numerous scars on his hands, no doubt from all the battles he'd been through.

Sharp crimson eyes bore into your softer ones, it was like he was reading your soul just from the eye contact. Something like that made your heart skip a beat.

"It's been a long time." Oh, that was the one thing you had hoped he wouldn't say. Had he forgotten your name? Was this all a mistake?

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, it has."

He took a step towards you, his expression softening. "I know this is a lot to take in."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "I never thought... I mean, I didn’t realize any of this was real."

He smirked slightly. "It's real. Y/N, you need to know why you're here." His feet shuffled. He seemed almost... nervous?

You felt a strange sense of panic wash over you. "Okay," you said softly. "Let’s talk."

Bakugo took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to explain. "Look, Y/N, there's something you need to know. That playground wedding we had... it isn't seen as valid by my people."

Your eyes widened, confusion and anger bubbling up inside you. "Then why did you tell me it was? Why did you bring me here?"

He ran a hand through his spiky hair, clearly frustrated. "Because my parents are planning to marry me off to some girl I haven't even met. Another Princess, some fuckin' extra named Uraraka."

You ignored the language that departed from his mouth, too focused on the more unbelievable part of the situation. He lied to you.

Youfelt a rush of emotions—anger, confusion, and a strange sense of betrayal. "So, you lied to me?"

Bakugo winced at the accusation. "Yeah, I lied. Not like I had a damn choice. My parents have been breathing down my neck about this for months. They think it's time I settled down and did my duty as a prince. But I don't want to marry someone I don't even know."

"And you think dragging me into this mess is the solution?" you snapped, feeling a surge of anger. "How could you do this to me?"

"You're the only one I could think of," he admitted, his voice softer now. "We have history, Y/N. I thought that if I could convince them that we're already married, they’d back off."

You shook your head, trying to make sense of everything. "This is insane. You can't just use me as a pawn in your game. This isn't fair to me, Katsuki." you seethed, crossing your arms and looking around the room. Anywhere but his face.

"I know it's not fair," he said, his tone desperate. "But I need your help. Just for a while, please. Pretend to be my fiancée until I can figure out a way to get out of this arranged marriage."

You looked at him, torn between the anger you felt and the vulnerability you saw in his eyes. "I don't know. This is a lot to ask and it was so suddenly."

"I know it is," he replied, stepping closer to you. "But I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. I need you, Y/N. Please."

You shook your head, no. "What am I getting from this?"

"Anything. Anything you want. Gold, a new house, trips to anywhere in the world. Anything." he breathed out to you, his hands cupped your cheeks and searched your eyes for a positive reaction.

You felt powerful. Having a Prince, no. The Prince of Japan at your beck-and-call was a feeling of ultimate power and you basked in it.

"Fine. But on one condition."

Your eyes widened as you stepped foot into what would be your new room. This place was humongous. The walls were lined with ornate wallpaper, and the bed, situated in the center of the room, was draped with luxurious black and red silk.

Sunlight poured in through the tall, arched windows, illuminating the room in a warm, golden glow. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting sparkling light over the room.

"Wow," you breathed, taking in the grandeur. "This is… incredible."

Bakugo stood by the doorway, watching you with a mix of relief and determination. "I told you I'd make it worth your while."

You turned to face him, trying to keep your emotions in check. "Alright, Katsuki. I'll play along. But remember our deal. You owe me, big time."

He nodded, his expression now a cocky smirk. "I didn't forget."

With that, he left you to settle into your new quarters, the door closing softly behind him. You took a moment to explore the room, your fingers trailing over the luxurious fabrics and polished surfaces. It felt surreal to be in such a place, caught up in a situation you never could have imagined.

As you unpacked your things, your mind wandered back to the events of the past few days. It had all happened so quickly—one moment, you were living your ordinary life, and the next, you were thrust into a world of royalty.

After a while, there was a knock on the door. You opened it to find a woman in a maid's uniform standing there, a warm smile on her face.

"Good afternoon, Princess!" she said with a slight bow. "The name's Mina, your personal maid. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. It's nice to meetcha!" She stuck her hand out and shook yours with vigor. It was weird seeing a maid act so friendly. She was definitely a girl's girl.

"Thank you, Mina," you replied, trying to match her happy tone. "I'm still getting used to all of this."

She nodded understandingly. "If you need help with anything, from getting settled to understanding the daily schedule, I'm here to assist you!"

"Right..." you trailed off, and she changed the subject, noticing the awkwardness.

You spent the next hour getting to know Mina and learning about the castle's routines and protocols. Despite the overwhelming circumstances, her funny demeanor and helpfulness put you at ease.

That evening, as you prepared for dinner, you found yourself standing in front of a full-body mirror with your phone's flash turned on, trying to get a good picture for your Instagram page.

Mina barged into the room, causing you to yelp and drop your phone in the process. "Whoopsy daisy," she chuckled.

"We need something perfect for tonight's banquet," she said, her eyes alight with excitement. "It has to be just right, especially with all the nobles and dignitaries attending. Especially if we're considering the fact that the other Princes of Japan are gonna be there!" she squealed.

Mina's eyes lit up as she pulled a gown from the rack. "This one," she mumbled, holding it up. The dress was a stunning shade of crimson, a shade that matched Katsuki's eyes, you thought.

"Other Princes of Japan?" you asked as she prepared a bath for you, adding a few drops of a coconut-scented mix, something that would be perfect for catching everyone's nose.

"Yeah. Princes Midoriya and Todoroki?" she asked, and you stared at her with puzzlement. "Really? Have you been living under a rock?!"

You chuckled. "I guess."

"Alrighty, I'll fill you in as we get you ready." She nodded and helped you into the bathtub.

After some time, Mina stepped back, taking a good look at you. Your hair bounced as you turned to look at her with a shy smile. "Pretty as a princess!" she cooed at you, like a mother to her child on their first day of school.

"Okay! This way!"

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the dining hall. The grand room was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware. "Good luck, girly," she hummed behind you, and you immediately felt her step back, allowing you to enter.

Two ginormous thrones stood firm and tall at the head of the room. On the bigger one sat a male, Katsuki's father, you presumed. His soft gaze immediately locked onto you as you entered. His hair was a homely brown, something that reminded you a lot of your mother's brownies.

Next to him sat a woman. She looked extremely young; for a second, you almost mistook her for Katsuki's sister. Her eyes looked worn, now a shade of bromine. It made you wonder if Katsuki's eyes would take on the same shade when he grew older. Her hair was spiky and untamed, just like her son's. Upon meeting eye contact with her, she immediately beamed brightly at you.

"Your Highnesses," you bowed, almost perfectly for someone new to royal life. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, and you stood up straight, head held high as you met his gaze.

"Ah, you must be the girl we've heard so much about," the man smiled, crow's feet at his tired eyes. "King Masaru. This lovely lady is my wife, Queen Mitsuki." He looked at her lovingly, and she laced their hands together. How cute.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at the sudden attention. "It's an honor meeting you both, Your Highnesses. I never knew that he spoke about me."

"Damn right I do," a new voice pitched in from the background, and you spun on your heel, noticing the familiar ash-blond hair pop into the room.

"Katsuki Bakugo, you brat! How dare you barge into the throne room without knocking!" his mother stood up and walked up to the two of you, smacking Katsuki upside the head.

You looked at the two in shock. Did she really just...?

"YOU DAMN HAG!" Katsuki screeched. "I'M A PRINCE AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT." He stomped his foot like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

"OH, YOU THINK THAT YOU'VE GROWN OUT OF YOUR SHOES, YOUNG MAN?" She grabbed onto one of his ears and pulled it hard until he whined and mumbled out an apology. You looked back to the King and watched as he chuckled with an amused look on his face. It must be a normal occurrence around here.

"Damn hag," Katsuki grumbled, coming to stand at your side and wrapping a hand around your waist. "Ya look nice," he mumbled into your ear, and the Queen looked at the two of you with raised eyebrows.

The King and Queen exchanged a glance but were cut off by a knight entering the room. "Your Majesties." He bowed. Wait, you'd recognize that voice. Kirishima?

"Dinner is ready, and your guests have been seated." And sure enough, there stood the redhead, bowing lowly before leaving the room.

"Thank you, Eijiro. We'll be there." The king nodded and stood up, his wife immediately at his side, locking her left arm onto his extended one. "Come on, you lovebirds. The most important people are here to approve you, Y/N." She smiled warmly at you.

As you walked towards the grand dining room, the soft clinking of heels echoed in the marble hallway.

The opulent decor and lavish surroundings only added to the surreal feeling of the evening. Katsuki's hand was still securely around your waist, a gesture that both reassured and anchored you in this unfamiliar world.

The grand double doors of the dining hall loomed ahead, flanked by two imposing guards in ornate uniforms. They stood at attention, their faces stern and expressionless. As you approached, one of the guards stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Announcing Their Majesties, King Masaru and Queen Mitsuki, along with His Royal Highness, Prince Katsuki," he intoned, his voice carrying through the hall.

Great. Just great.

Your heart sank a little as the guard finished his announcement, omitting your name entirely. How embarrassing.

The nobles and dignitaries who had turned to acknowledge the royal family now looked at you with mild confusion. You could feel their judgmental eyes boring into you.

Katsuki's grip on your waist tightened slightly. You glanced up at him and saw a flash of irritation in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he leaned down and whispered something to the guard. You couldn't make out the words, but the effect was immediate.

The guard's face paled, his posture stiffening as he realized his mistake. "My apologies," he stammered.

"Announcing Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N."

The correction hung in the air, and for a moment, the room was silent.

Then, as if on cue, the nobles and dignitaries bowed deeply, their earlier confusion replaced with acknowledgment.

Katsuki's intense gaze remained on the guard for a moment longer before he turned back to you, his expression softening.

"Let's go," he murmured, guiding you further into the room.

You felt a rush of gratitude and relief, appreciating Katsuki's insistence on your proper recognition. Looking up at him, you gave him a small smile. "Thank you," you whispered.

Katsuki's parents, seated at the head of the table, exchanged a glance that spoke of approval and satisfaction.

He pulled out a chair for you next to his, and you took your place, feeling the eyes of the other guests upon you.

The grand dining table was a sight to behold, laden with exquisite dishes and adorned with elegant floral arrangements. The room buzzed with small conversations, and as you settled into your seat next to Katsuki, you felt a bit of the earlier anxiety melt away.

Suddenly, a woman stood up, her warm brown eyes glaring down at you, making you feel uncomfortable. She used her fork and cup to avert the attention of everyone at the table to her.

"I was wondering if you were still interested in marrying Prince Bakugo to my daughter, Princess Uraraka."

Wait... What?

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[pippin-katz]

Why Did Charles Keep Asking About Edwin's Conversation With The Cat King?

I was reading a fic where Edwin agrees to the Cat King's initial offer, but because time passes differently in whatever room that is, he's gone for six weeks even though it was a couple hours for him, and it got me thinking. I worked out why Charles was so pushy about that conversation.

Charles and Edwin have been together for 30 years. The way they act gives me the feeling that they spent very little time apart, and wherever one went, the other went too. In the fic, Edwin's inner monologue refers to it as "shared memories"; they experience everything together.

But now, there's this.

Edwin disappeared for hours on Charles' side of things. He had this conversation with a magical being, a stranger that sets off warning bells in Charles' head. He came back with a magical bracelet that trapped him in Port Townsend, that he couldn't remove, and something about his behavior was off.

Charles is not stupid or oblivious. He reads Edwin like a book, albeit with blurry text. He knows something is not quite right, but doesn't know what. And he knows it's because of whatever happened in the few hours that he wasn't with him.

For what is likely the first time in 30 years, Edwin has experienced/done something significant without him. Charles is in the dark; he wasn't there to see or hear what happened for himself. All he has to go on is what Edwin tells him, and he gets the immediate feeling that he's not saying everything.

When talking about it in front of Crystal, he just asks if he said anything else, but once they're alone in their office, he's direct.

Charles is absolutely (and correctly) sure that Edwin hasn't told him the real/full truth about his meeting with the Cat King, and tells him as much.

The way he asks feels... calm? Crystal's not there, they're alone, they're in their safe space, why wouldn't Edwin tell him? He probably thinks he would, but obviously, he doesn't. He lets a detail slip that confuses and concerns him even more; the Cat King whispering in his ear. That confirms very close proximity between them, something that's potentially dangerous and something he knows Edwin doesn't particularly like, and Charles is just... lost, uncomfortable, and frustrated.

Can you imagine how maddening that must have been? To not know what really happened? To only have vague descriptions of the events from his friend? To see and know that something is wrong with him, but being unable to truly help because he's clueless as to what the actual problem is?

It's highly likely that this is the first time Charles has ever encountered this.

As Edwin says, he's "fixated" on this. It's like there's a page missing in his copy of the script of events. He's never had to worry about it before; he was always there with him. Edwin says it's not a big deal, but Charles can't make that call himself. It's not that he doesn't trust Edwin; it's his protectiveness of him. He wants to see and assess the situation for himself. He wants to be positive there's no danger, that it meets his standards. He needs to know everything about where Edwin is, what he's doing, who he's with, at all times, so he can be ready to protect him.

As Jayden put it, Charles has given himself the mantle of Edwin's guardian. Edwin dedicates all his time and energy into helping others, to the point of neglecting himself. In response, Charles dedicates himself to Edwin. If he won't take care of himself, if no one else is going to help him, Charles will. As he says in Hell when he's rescuing Edwin, "Someone's gotta do it."

(ko-fi)

[indigovigilance]

Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley

Acknowledging that what we know so far about the Book of Life from various characters is highly suspect, I'm going to posit to you that Beelzebub is actually the true authority on the Book of Life, and that they bookend Season 2 with very important (and hopefully accurate) information about the Book of Life. With that in mind, let's take Beezlebub's S2E1 description and see how it fits with other canon evidence:

But what does it mean to have never existed in the Good Omens universe? For that, let us look to Satan.

From in-show canon, we know that Adam was able to retroactively change Satan's status as his father to not his father:

Adam altered reality, although Crowley, Aziraphale, the other celestials, and even Adam himself remember those events from a timeline that supposedly has been erased:

But Crowley nonetheless confirms that this is reality now. Satan was never Adam's father.

Additionally, though not technically in-show canon, we know from Notorious NRG that once Satan became Lucifer, this erased Lucifer from existence in the GO universe:

And Crowley's monologue in the bar drives it home; even though Lucifer no longer exists, Crowley still remembers him, and some key events that they were involved in together.

But a more dramatic portrayal of erasure is found in our favorite Good Omens himbo, Jimbo. In the trial of Gabriel, the Metatron makes direct allusion to the fact that Gabriel will no longer be Gabriel after his demotion:

Not "your memory of your time as the supreme archangel will be erased," no, it's:

Your memory of your time as Gabriel will be erased.

Whether he means to or not, Aziraphale reinforces this characterization of memory-loss-as-new-identity:

This can be taken simply as a safety measure, but Jimbo doesn't understand it that way and we see throughout the remainder of the season that Aziraphale is very consistent about calling his unexpected guest "Jim," even correcting Crowley when they're speaking privately and it wouldn't blow his cover to call him Gabriel:

But the final word on memory and identity, especially as they pertain to Jimbriel, again comes from our Lord of the Flies, Beelzebub:

All your you is your memories.

Altogether we see that there is significant in-show canon to support a theory that memory is inextricably linked with identity, and that when memory is removed, identity is so drastically changed that the name of the entity must also change... and the person who existed before, with that former name, exists no longer; it is as if they never had.

(But, as we see in the case of Gabriel, they can be restored.)

I told you in the title that this post was about the Book of Life: it is. Everything discussed here about memory and identity must necessarily characterize how the Book of Life operates, at least with respect to erasure. When someone is erased, they don't vanish, but they are so changed it is as if a new person has taken the place of the old, the way Jim took the place of Gabriel, until he got his memories back. But we can surmise that when someone is erased from the Book of Life, their memories aren't conveniently stored in a TARDIS/Ru Paul fly for later recovery. The memories may not be gone, but I'm going to guess that they would be extremely difficult (or impossible) to retrieve.

What this means for Crowley:

I think we need to give this scene a lot more credit for telling us how this universe works. Surface level, it reads as "you don't understand my trauma, and how I've been changed by it." Which is a very valid interpretation. But we can dig deeper and see that, given everything else we know about celestial beings losing their memories, names, and identities, Crowley is alluding to something far more horrific than just the scars left by flaming swords and halo-grenades.

These are the scars of a lobotomy. Something was taken from him, and he is aware of it.

He knows that his memory has been tampered with. Various people (Furfur, Saraqael) tell him that they recognize him, and of things they've done together. He has no recollection of them, but instead of getting agitated, he brushes it off and ignores it. This lack of questions from the guy who questions everything tells us that he already has the answers; not the memories, but the knowledge of why he doesn't have them.

Furthermore, when he's trying to get Jim to remember the something bad and Jim says it hurts, Crowley says:

I know. Do it anyway.

How does Crowley know that it hurts, to try to recall memories that have been taken out of your head?

Because he's been through it.

He has tried to remember, and some memories, like working on the Horsehead Nebula with Saraqael or monkeying around with Furfur, weren't worth the pain. Or perhaps it was pain on top of pain to remember what he had lost.

It is an especial testament to the cruelty of Heaven that he remembers going into battle, but not the bonds he formed with his friends. He remembers a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulfur, but not the work he did on the Horsehead Nebula, a thing that brought him joy.

And now, the person he loves most in the world, his only refuge from the terror of his empty nightmares, from his malignant and creeping sense of unease that something is missing, has gone back to that place where his identity was so horribly violated that he lost his name.

How will our hero cope?

If you liked this meta, you will almost certainly like my meta on Continuity Errors.

For my thoughts on who Crowley may have been before the fall, go here.

For my thoughts on how this pertains to Metatron, go here.

As I continue to produce metas related to this theory, you'll be able to find them all here.

[bbygirl-aemond]

I can't believe they had Alicent give Aegon up after everything she put him through. I hate it here

i know a lot of people are very angry about this and maybe it's just that i find anger to be an exhausting and unproductive emotion generally but i'm not really mad about it in the same way? i know rhaenyra says the "son for a son" line, which makes sense for how rhaenyra is viewing things, but i saw parallels with helaena's choice in how it wasn't really a choice. helaena and jaehaera are, at this point, the only ones alicent can save. and even then, accepting this is no easy task for alicent.

i'm not a huge fan of the "alicent only put aegon on the throne because viserys said so" thing, so let's set that aside and just focus on what has happened this season, since aegon's coronation, that could have brought alicent to this point.

first, aemond has gone off the rails and alicent strongly suspects that he is the one who burned aegon. this has majorly weakened the green's position; their most important player is not reliable and they've lost one of their four dragons. this has also created a sense of danger in the red keep, especially in light of aemond's burning of sharp point. aemond has demonstrated a pattern of hurting easy targets when he feels angry and alicent has reason to fear for aegon's life, but also for hers and helaena's and even jaehaera's.

second, remember that orwyle and larys are rehabilitating aegon in secret to avoid aemond coming after him to finish the job. we as the audience know that aegon has woken up, and is walking around again, and is making progress. alicent does not know this. for all she knows, he's barely woken up and will probably live but is not really making progress in his recovery. i'm not saying that alicent wants to mercy kill him, because she does first try to find a way to spare his life, but from her perspective aegon is still very much out of the picture when it comes to the war efforts.

lastly, rhaenyra has added three dragons to her cause. this is the most significant thing and is something i think most people who are upset aren't giving enough weight to. seasmoke and silverwing are both large adult dragons, and vermithor is a massive dragon who rivals vhagar. alicent is here to surrender to rhaenyra because at this point she very understandably does not see a possibility where she and her family win.

all of these things happened after alicent crowned aegon and are things she could not have anticipated. so alicent is looking ahead at two futures. both of them are futures in which her son does not sit the throne because rhaenyra has won. in the first future, the one that would come to pass if alicent does nothing, rhaenyra uses her dragon power to take the throne by force. thousands of soldiers and smallfolk die, and aemond probably kills aegon before rhaenyra can even get to him, and alicent's whole family dies, and rhaenyra gets her throne anyways. in the second future, the one alicent is trying to make a reality, rhaenyra is let into king's landing and assumes the throne. the soldiers and smallfolk are largely spared, and alicent is able to save the female members of her family.

alicent did not choose to throw aegon under the bus after years of forcing him to assume the throne. she put him on the throne, yes, but now she and her family are basically guaranteed to lose in her eyes after the events of this season, so she is trying to salvage what she can. and even still, even knowing that there is no true way to spare aegon, she wants to. the part where she tries to justify keeping aegon alive is the pure denial of a mother who does not want to accept that there is no way to get her son out of this alive. she is faced with the same false choice helaena was: save your daughter, or save no one. of course she makes the same choice. of course she saves the only one she can still save.