#human-safety-su-au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Note

#9 “Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.” with Obi-Wan & Jango & Satine? (... or Obi-Wan/Jango/Satine, I'm not picky)

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Oh, I'm going to make this deeply stupid and AU because I got struck by a plot bunny and I'm taking it out on a prompt.

Satine hates the man named Jango Fett.

They've met before, once or twice. He'd known her father, before the latter's assassination. She'd met Jango when she was a child, before he'd lost his people at Galidraan, before she'd lost her sister to a terrorist group and her father to a blaster shot. She'd thought him gruff but kind, at the time, and very sad.

Now, she just wants him to trip on a pipe and brain himself on one of the many rusted, broken beams around them. She won't strangle him herself, won't turn her back on her oaths and commit violence, but she's not too proud to hope for an accident.

"Pick up the pace, princess."

"I am a Duchess," she snaps, lifting her skirts to step delicately over something that might have been machinery at one point.

The only light they have is from his helmet, and the only reason she hasn't fallen from the fabric catching on some matter or other is that he has a sense for when she gets caught.

He'd suggested that she pull the skirts up to gird her loins, and then found that the numerous layers made it impossible. He'd offered to cut the skirt down to something more manageable, without depriving her of the coverage she still needed in the cold of these darks, dank ruins. He'd then found that the vibroblade did nothing against the skirts.

(She was a pacifist, not stupid. Of course her clothing was reinforced.)

"I don't care," he says back through grit teeth. She's not sure why he hasn't just left her for dead, but she's not going to complain. Much. "Just move."

They've been making their way through the ruins for hours. They still don't know how they got here. They have no way to find out.

They just head up, and hope it gets them somewhere.

(Signs litter the walls, all in a script unfamiliar to them. Archaic, or simply foreign, they don't know.)

"Wait."

She freezes.

Fett moves behind her, light shifting with the noise of his beskar, and then he says, "I'm going to turn out the light for a second. Give us a minute to adjust to the dark after I do. I think I saw something glowing, but I can't tell with the flash on."

She nods, sure that he can see it, and they are engulfed in the dark again.

It's not for long, because the glow that Fett described is real. Faint, far off down the hallway and a pale blue that winks in and out in multiple spots at once, but there.

"We'll need the light to make it there without you getting rust sickness," Fett mutters. He flicks the headlight back on. "Might get some kinda hint out of it, whatever it is."

"You'd risk it?"

"Don't have any other choice," Fett tells her. "Move out, Princess."

----

They reach the blue glow, entering a large, cavernous atrium, just as dark as the rest of the ruins so far, but much less cramped than the previous hallways.

It is mostly floating motes of something, and the something in question makes Satine's skin crawl. She has no idea what it is. She doesn't think Fett does either, but he's a little busy trying to get a scan of the room around them. Satine can just barely see the floor from the blue light, and she steps closer carefully. Part of her screams about deep sea fish and wild space ancients, creatures that use light to hunt, but they've had nothing else yet. No hints.

This place feels ancient. Perhaps the spirits that linger are even older.

"Kryze!"

"I'm fine," she calls back, deliberately refusing to understand the man's worry. She just... reaches out.

And one of the blue lights comes to her.

Fett swears and comes closer, but Satine pulls her hands to her chest, cradling the little light to herself. It's larger than she'd expected, perhaps the size of a Chandrila plum. It's warm, too.

"You're going to get yourself killed," Fett snaps.

"It's friendly," she says. "I think."

"You think," Fett hisses, the noise crackling through the vocoder. He puts a hand on her shoulder. "Listen--"

The lights coalesce. They are, for the moment, blinding, and Satine flinches away.

Fett has a blaster out before Satine can even open her eyes again. She knows the noise better than she'd like. She can identify which blaster it is by the click of the safety alone.

Any Mandalorian her age can.

"Oh dear," an unfamiliar voice says. "I'm afraid that--well, yes, Mando, hello there. I'm afraid that the blaster won't do much to me. I'm already long dead, you understand."

When Satine manages to blink the spots out of her vision, it's to see a glowing, slightly blue-tinged human figure in clothing that is distinctly Jedi, if very... very outdated.

The man--she thinks it's a man, beards usually indicate such--smiles and waves at her. "I apologize for the light show. It's been quite some time since I've had reason to take a solid form."

"I can imagine," Satine says, her voice weak even to her own ears. The man isn't much older than her, or at least wasn't when he... died? Or perhaps he was elderly when he died, and just rolled his age back as this spirit for some reason.

He smiles kindly, and then looks past her shoulder to Fett. He rolls his eyes, and smirks, and says, "Su cuy'gar, Mand'alor."

"I am not Mand'alor," Fett growls out. "I don't hold that title anymore."

"You do in spirit," the figure claims. "None other can say the same, not yet."

Before Fett can argue further, the man smiles pleasantly, and says, "I don't suppose you could remove yourselves from my shrine? Just a few steps back, thank you."

Satine looks down. She notices the raised platform and carved sigils and the stone column she hadn't seen in the earlier darkness, and flushes. She steps back and down, and Fett does the same.

"Now," the figure says. "As I was saying--"

"What are you?" Fett demands. "Ghost of a Jedi?"

"Something like that," the figure allows. "I was not just a Jedi, but... yes, I'm something you could call a ghost. I'd prefer simply a spirit."

"Like the ka'ra," Satine mutters, and grunts in disagreement.

"Those, Duchess, are only Mandalorians."

"Then I suppose it is fitting that I am both," the spirit says, and his form shifts.

Armor. It does not cover all of him--his pelvis and head are distinctly bare--but the shapes are distinctly Mandalorian. The colors aren't quite exact, with the blue glow he carries about him, but she's fairly certain she's seeing blue, green, and black. Reliability, duty, and justice.

Fitting, for a Jedi. The symbol for the Order is on his pauldron, even, and the hilt of his saber hangs easy at his side.

The gasp that comes through Fett's vocoder is harsh. She can't imagine he likes this.

"You--" he cuts himself off, takes a breath audible even past the helmet, and tries again. "There is no way you are Tarre Vizsla."

"No, I'm afraid not."

"So you must be Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The man smiles and tucks his hands into his sleeves, the swinging of the fabric allowing them the glimpse of vambraces beneath. He ducks his head in a shallow nod. "I am indeed."

Satine feels how empty of blood her own face is. She can't imagine Fett is doing much better.

"This is the Kar'ta-yaim be talyc rang," Fett mutters, horrified in a way that Satine feels her own self echoing. "You..."

"Well, we certainly never called it that," Kenobi says, head tilting faintly. "But I imagine that after the siege... Yes, Temple of Bloodied Ash would certainly reflect our final days."

It was one of the few stories that didn't pit Jedi and Mandalorians against each other, in the histories.

It had been the first attempt to coexist, the warriors of the saber and the warriors of iron. None managed to wed the two philosophies the way Kenobi had, but that hadn't mattered. They'd lived together, in peace. The reports had been clear enough, that there hadn't been weapons storage. There hadn't even been real defensive measures, barring the force fields. The Jedi had refused to let war reach this building, even whilst the Sith still raged across the galaxy. The other temples could handle the atrocities afar. The children, the elderly, the infirm, they were all to find a home here. The only weaponry were the sabers and whatever metals the Mando'ade carried in their armor.

Just a place of peace, a home to research, to children, to hospitals, all slaughtered to the last man, and set ablaze after. Nobody had ever tried such an attempt at peace between Mandalore and Jedi since. The location has been lost for longer than anyone remembers, but...

"Why are we here?" Satine asks.

"I wonder," Kenobi says, seeming far too pleased for the revelations of the last minute. He strokes at his beard, and then turns and sweeps an arm across the air. As he does, a whirring noise surrounds them, stuttered and heavy, but growing in power. Bit by bit, the sections of the wall that he'd gestured at begin to glow.

There are lights set into the wall like circuitry, warm and bright. The generators, which much be centuries old, at the least, continue to run.

"They draw energy from the river in the mountain," Kenobi says, before either of them thinks to ask. "Come along, my dears."

Satine hesitates. So does Fett.

Kenobi turns, presumably noting that their footsteps aren't following him. He smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Satine can't remember how old he supposedly was, at his death. His eyes are much older, but...

"I assure you, it's perfectly safe," he tells them. "The building won't hurt you."

"The building?" Fett asks, sounding perhaps a little more dubious than the situation warranted. They were already talking to a figure of legend.

"Yes, the building," Kenobi repeats, indulgent in a way that Satine would have found irritating if aimed at her, but rather approved of like this. "The walls are already straightening out, I feel. And the droids are going to be clearing out the debris soon enough. The rust will be a little difficult to manage, of course, but..."

"What do you mean the walls are going to straighten out?" Satine asks. "And how... this place has been dead for centuries, hasn't it? How did you wake it?"

"Duchess Kryze, I didn't wake the Temple," Kenobi tells her. She doesn't know how he got her name. "You did."

She doesn't know what to say in response. She stays quiet, and waits for him to elaborate.

"Is it because she woke you up?" Fett asks, clearly unwilling to play a waiting game. "You're a... guardian? The keyholder to the power?"

"Mand'alor," Kenobi says, with a smile playing on his lips behind the carefully-groomed beard, "I am the Temple."

What.

He smiles and starts walking backwards, gliding in a way that makes it clear he doesn't need to step, really, because his feet don't stay planted where he puts them. They have to follow, now, or risk losing him. "My consciousness, my very self, is woven into every bit of this building. I have no flesh, not anymore, but while my sense of self stays coherent in the Force... the Temple is my body."

"How?" Satine demands, hurrying to keep up. She tries to ignore the way the flagstones shift and settle ahead of her, still and level by the time she steps forward. She tries to ignore the grinding of metal, as it's pulled into the walls like it's soup instead of stone. She tries to ignore the creaking of the foundation about them, and stays focused on the pleasant smile of one of the only two Mandalorian Jedi in history that maintained the balance.

"Do your history books carry the name of my apprentice?" Kenobi asks.

"Skywalker," Fett says immediately. "And... Tano, I think, before she changed it. She escaped, didn't she?"

"Yes, she was away at the time," Kenobi says, voice distant for but a moment. Somewhere far off among the tunnels, there is a mighty crash. "I'd fought until I couldn't any more. My armor, what I had of it, protected me from the flames. I'd worn a helmet during the siege, and it filtered the smoke, even as I lay dying from other wounds... between that and the Force, I lasted long enough that Anakin found me. The others had all died of smoke inhalation, if they hadn't succumbed to their injuries or the flames themselves by that point."

"The fire didn't reach you?" Fett questions.

"Mm, no, the alcove I was in was all stone, and there wasn't anything flammable enough nearby to reach," Kenobi says, sounding distant again. "In any case, Anakin found me. He was... distraught. Desperate. Not entirely sane, I think, but with what he walked into, I can't find it in myself to fault him."

"Master Kenobi," Satine finds herself saying. "What did he do?"

Kenobi's smile is sad. She'd call it resigned, really. He's lived--sort of--with this situation for centuries now. It makes sense. "He took my mind, my soul in the Force, and 'saved' it in a way that would leave me tied to the world past my death. It was ingenious, but... I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I don't think Anakin realized what he was doing until long after he'd already succeeded at the impossible."

"He cursed you," Fett declares.

Kenobi shrugs. "I think he expected the temple to be cleaned and re-inhabited again soon enough. It wasn't, as you can see. The generators have been gathering power for centuries, but the fire destroyed most of them, and we didn't have anything in reserve with how much we poured into the shields during the battle. I couldn't fix the ruins, and with the horrors that had occurred, nobody was coming back. Anakin said he would, he promised, but... he disappeared. He visited, and he spoke with me, but a few years in he was simply... lost. I had a connection to his ship's signal, and it winked out in the blink of an eye, and never came back."

Oh. Terrifying.

"For all that I am the Temple, now, there are still secrets here that I don't yet understand," Kenobi tells them. "Your arrival, for one thing. The sediment carried up the mountain has slowly buried the temple over the centuries. There isn't a way in, save for two tunnels leading to the river, both of which I know are untouched."

"We just woke up here," Satine admits.

"Yes," Kenobi says. "You did. And part of me knows why."

"...part?" Fett asks.

It's a fair question to ask of a man who happens to have a brain that is also an entire building, somehow.

"Areas are cut off from my awareness," Kenobi admits freely. "Cave-ins and the like, mostly. There are one or two that I think I cut deliberately, due to what lay within."

Also terrifying, thank you.

"But I do believe I know what happened," he says, with that same damnably soft smile. "You two are the leaders of your people, yes? Tradition on one side, and peace on the other."

Satine shares a glance with Fett, and then turns to Kenobi and nods.

"Then I do believe it's simply the right time," he tells them. "You'll need to work together."

"I don't think so," Satine immediately denies.

"The Force works in mysterious ways," Kenobi tells her. "And if it brought you here--and you couldn't have arrived otherwise, I promise you that--then it was for a reason. Two leaders, the same people, with ideologies that I do believe are possible to bring together into, if not mixing, then at least coexistence."

"Impossible," Fett says. "The New Mandalorians are cowards, Kenobi. To share a culture with them--"

"Is as unlikely as Jedi and the old Mandalorians?" Kenobi asks, smiling so very politely that Satine wonders at how they aren't frozen stiff at the sight of it.

The sigil of the Order gleams mockingly from his pauldron.

Kenobi huffs out a breath, just a shadow of a laugh the slightest duck of his head, and then he turns and waves open a door.

Beyond him, sitting clean and pretty and entirely free of dust on its ancient stand, rests the Darksaber.

Satine stares.

She's sure Fett does, too.

"That can't be real," she says, her mouth moving before she can control it. "The Darksaber is lost, but it's popped up in history too recently to have been here since the fires."

"I saw it in Tor Vizsla's hands less than a years ago," Fett confirms. The vocoder cuts emotion from his voice, but not enough. "This place has been locked tight for centuries. The saber can't be here."

"The same could be said of the two of you," Kenobi points out.

It's true.

Satine steps forward, when it becomes clear that Fett won't. She picks up the weapon, holds it like the antique it is, square and unwieldy, but so very, very old that she cannot deny its importance. Weapon or not, it is her people's history.

She lights it.

The blade burns black.

"Turn it off," Fett rasps, and she does.

Satine looks back at him, and then to Kenobi. She turns fully, and steps forward, and holds it out to Fett.

He looks at her, uncomprehending.

"If you'd like to check for yourself," she says, and her voice is too quiet, but she can't help it. Something is happening, something heavy and broken, and she can't ignore the pressure of the future in this moment.

Fett takes the saber. He looks at it in his hands, and she thinks he is shaking.

"Your people need you, Mand'alor," Kenobi says, and there is no room for question. "They also need the Duchess."

"Why you?" Fett asks, voice strained and shattered in a way Satine can't even begin to pick apart.

"It was either me or Tarre, really," Kenobi says, with an idle shrug unfitting of the situation. "And I'm a little more... accessible, shall we say, to those who aren't sensitive to the Force."

Kenobi steps forward and rests an immaterial hand on Fett's shoulder.

"I already failed my people once," Fett says, barely audible.

"And now you shall save them," Kenobi says. His voice is firm. It is as if there is no question, to him, about whether or not Fett will succeed. "You won't be alone, either."

Satine shifts her weight, refusing to meet Kenobi's eyes. Her hands fist in her dress, and her mind races.

"What do you need of me?" Fett manages.

"...Mand'alor?"

"What do you need of me, Master Kenobi?"

Satine looks up.

Fett... Fett removes his helmet, and looks at Kenobi with an expression that is more desperation than deference.

"To cooperate with those who would follow a different creed," Kenobi says, so low it's practically a murmur. His hand, still intangible, reaches out to cup Fett's jaw. Fett leans into it. "To protect those who cannot do so for themselves. Our people are warriors, Mand'alor, but to refuse violence for violence's sake, after the wars that have killed our home and rendered it little more than glass, that is its own bravery."

"Master--"

"Listen to me," Kenobi says, and Fett falls silent. "You will need to protect them. The Duchess may have the funds and the support to bring forth education, agriculture, childcare, and so on, but there are many who would take advantage of that peace. She provides the home for tradespeople, but you are the shield that keeps them safe."

It could be a balance, Satine tries to tell herself. Maybe.

Kenobi seems so certain of it, and Satine may hate violence, but she is far from unaware of the pirates and warlords that nip at their borders.

"The foundlings need homes," Kenobi continues. "The stories need to be told. The culture is fading, Mand'alor. Bring it back."

His eyes flick to Satine, and she looks away.

(Her pressure was only ever on violence. Her advisors had pressed at the erasure of the rest, but if it meant children grew up without the worry of their parents dying in pointless battle, then wasn't it worth bending?)

(Couldn't she look the other way as they tightened restrictions on even symbolic vambraces, if it meant few too-small bodies in the streets?)

(Her planet was a wasteland. What did culture mean in the face of so many dead?)

(She knows Fett doesn't see it that way, but she is the only governing New Mandalorian with any blood on their hands. She knows the weight of violence, of lives taken by her actions.)

(She knows it, and she rejects it knowingly.)

Fett breathes harshly, and Satine closes her eyes.

"I agree to try," she says. "If we can get out of these ruins and back to our people... I will try. I cannot speak for my people on this, but to instate the old Mandalorians as a planetary guard... it may be doable."

"Little steps, my dear," Kenobi says. He looks down at Fett, who's... not well, it seems. "The Mand'alor needs some help, I think. I'm no trained mind healer, but I imagine I can help. More than most, maybe. There are few who know what it is to be a sole survivor."

He smirks, just a little, at the joke that he is not, in fact, a man who survived.

It's not very funny.

"I'll stay," Fett says. "I'll... I'll learn. Master Kenobi, you... Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me."

"As a student?" Kenobi asks, catching on to just the same thing as Satine has. "Not in the Force, surely, but... you truly wish to stay?"

"There are none left alive that I would trust to show me the way," Fett says. Beseeching, he reaches for Kenobi, and his hands pass through. There's a pain in him that Satine can't quite comprehend, and Fett falls to his knees. "Please."

"You need only ask," Kenobi says. "The Duchess will look after our people until the King takes his throne, and then you will rule together."

They'll have to, Satine tells herself, and steps forward. She puts a hand on Fett's shoulder, and pulls him to his feet.

"Where do we begin?" she asks.

#satine kryze #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #ghosts #massacre mention #is this vaguely inspired by GLaDOS and Castle Heterodyne? ...yes #but less murdery overall #star wars #the clone wars #Phoenix Answers Memes #supernatural au #kinda #one shot #death mention #child death mention #horror au #also kinda

212 notes · View notes

kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 3 years

Text

Years END | i

k.namjoon / f.reader

genre: dystopian au, enhanced species au, sci-fi (ish), a dash of magical themes, lunar!child!y/n (it’ll make sense- kinda)

warning(s)!!: toxic family relations/alcoholism/drunk anger(the aunt sucks lol), underground earthquakes, mentions of death, government is sus (duh), jimin is literally a kid, namjoon and his aunt fight a few times, jimin cries (big sad)

w.count: 15.3k (semi-edited / or i kept getting distracted so it’s not perfect lol)

Series | One-shot | Two-Shot | Drabble |

synopsis: in the year 2042, humanity had fled the surface of the earth, taking to underground bunkers due to a global devastational event 22 years ago. a giant tree erupted from inside the moon and sent asteroids and thick, astral branches reaching impossibly from the moon to the earth, anchoring the two celestial bodies together. throwing the world into a chaotic mess of panic, the surface was deemed unlivable and only a select group of international government officials were allowed surface access until a law was passed that visitation above ground was allowed with set laws to abide. namjoon, a young man who lived on the surface when the world ‘ended’, had taken his younger brother who was born and raised underground to see the surface he had only read about in history books. only, when they get there, they meet someone who claimed to live on the surface; and without safety gear no less. was the surface really as dangerous as they were lead to believe?

-22 YEARS PRIOR: 2020-

“Sir! It’s the moon! Something’s happening to the moon!” A man, dressed in a lab coat ran over to a middle-aged man with the thickest specs known to mankind with stress already etched into his forehead. Placing a small tablet on his desk in front of his superior was in a mode of panic.

“What the?” The older man spoke with a high pitch of confusion. A scanner was in front of him with readings of the moon completely off the charts and absolutely abnormal. They were sporadic, chaotic and terrifying. His shot out of his chair, him and his subordinate running to an observation room where they would watch live video footage of the room from a satellite they sent out years ago.

Rushing into the room, they were met with a panicked staff. Rows of computers were where a staff of 10 analysis’s sat, drumming away at their computers and pulling up charts and readings one after another. The screen on the main wall, large and showing different angles of the moon. Something was definitely wrong.

The older man ran to a woman trying to sort through papers and information while bouncing back and forth to her computer.

“What’s happening?!” She turned her confused, shocked face to the man.

“We’re not sure, Sir!” Then, all was still when someone called for them all to look at the TV screen. The moon began to split open.

Crevices deepened, craters opened, rock shook and shifted and soon something was springing from the rock itself. From inside the moon, burst roots. Roots upon roots, looking to be as thick as house and bending and moving at unbelievable ways. Pulling and forcing their way through the surface of the moon, rock and surface were shattered and sent propelling towards the earth like meteors.

Alarms throughout the facility began to blare with sudden, dangerous meteor impact imminent. The room flooded back into a panic as people ran back and forth. Yelling and trying to wrap their head around anything they could so they could at least begin to offer some explanation or even start some hypothesis on what the hell was going on.

The moon was breaking apart right in front of a young man’s eyes. He just stood among the chaos, not moving and staring with wide eyes.

Watching as the moon was soon encircled with roots, somehow green as it held the moon in a cage. All while a single, indescribable tree sat at the very top of the space rock.

That tree- the Moon Tree- was the beginning of a very long END.

-Present Time: 2042-

“Earth’s Near Doom. END as the government dubbed it. 22 years ago a strange phenomenon occurred on the surface of the moon causing roots to suddenly begin to grow and encircle the moon’s surface and soon a forest stemmed from the center. The Luna Lingo- most commonly called The Moon Tree- is the center of the forest of the moon.” Namjoon read to himself as he shut himself in his bunker nearly hours ago, hiding from his aunt who was more insufferable than the air outside.

The destruction of the moon 18 years ago was massive worldwide devastation. Over half the population worldwide perished as the tides changed and became violent and demanding. Storms sprung and ripped nations apart and to add on to the abnormality, the roots of the moon began to inch towards the Earth.

Plunging straight through the atmosphere as fiery vines like vicious snakes, they soon latched themselves into the Asian continents. These roots were called Connectors. Anywhere a Connector was located was almost immediately sectioned off from the rest of the world like a new Area 51 as the governments of the world kept it a completely off-limits area. There were a total of 13 Connectors on the Earth’s surface from the moon.

When the Earth was nearly wiped clean, people willing to do anything they could to save themselves or their families, created bunkers. Underground tunnels and rooms were a child’s biggest imagination when it came to communicating with friends who play superheroes or never wanted to call an end to their play. Never did the children of that generation ever think it would happen when they were all moved permanently below the ground. Bunkers were unstable at first, flimsy and unsafe in regards to anything else in their hasty preparation.

When Namjoon was taken down, he was 6 years old. He grew up with the fear of earthquakes threatening to cave in his new home. He was fearful of panic spreading underground like up above. Anxious that the poor nature of everyone would soon be replaced with the law of ‘survival of the fittest’. He was just a small little boy, but he was intelligent.

Now, bunkers were highly reinforced and easily navigable. Living wasn’t the easiest, but it certainly was a long shot from the struggle of his childhood. He could walk where he wanted and new tunnels and areas were dug and being built every day. Namjoon’s parents were even able to have another child before they died. Giving Namjoon a little brother 10 years ago before they left.

The underground life was almost beautiful- if you use the term loosely. There were wide open spaces for markets, greenhouses, stores, hospitals, and of course homes. The tunnels that lead to each building into a different location were just as you would think. Circular tunnels that were drilled and reinforced with iron walls. In the typical sentimentality of human nature, these tunnels were dubbed Streets or Avenues.

Really, the only difference between life above ground compared to the life below was the lack of sunlight and the impact of weather.

It wasn’t wrong to travel above ground, though most were afraid to even try to venture up again. Too afraid of the sudden turn of events that could possibly harm them, or even kill them. Too afraid that something in the air could get them or their loved ones sick. Scared of the idea of someone contracting some belief that the surface was livable again when most knew they would live and die underground.

Namjoon sat in his small private bunker in his ‘house’ as the long, fluorescent light above head hummed. If he were on the surface and outside, there would be moths bouncing around the light without question. His bed that came out of the wall was big enough to fit him and his younger brother- if he had one of his nightmares.

The room itself wasn’t particularly large. A small bookshelf that stopped at Namjoon’s waist with all sorts of books about the surface and a binder filled with newspaper articles and magazine clippings about the moon that he still added to. Hanging on the wall was his gas mask that is mandatory to where if you ever plan on going above ground. Masks are given out at age 4 and Namjoon now stands at 26 years old. He’s gone through at least 4 masks since his first.

With the masks being mandatory for health related reasons, the unofficial- yet also very much official- bunker government system replaced and gave them to the people for no charge.

A desk that is forged directly from the wall and a small wooden- rather uncomfortable- chair pushed under it. The only way he could comfortably sit in that chair is if he placed a pillow on it first.

Namjoon had a computer on his desk with notebooks and pencils and pens with book markers and paper clips shoved in the only drawer the desk had directly under the desktop. He also had an old style phone mounted to his wall, the white cord of it spiraled and stretchable for distance. It’s only real purpose is when his aunt needed something and wanted to page him without getting up.

Consider it an Aunt Alarm.

Namjoon’s parents died 3 years ago due to a tunnel collapse. Namjoon took on the role of caring for his younger brother- Jimin- who was only 7 at the time. He and Jimin were the closet set of siblings most have seen. Not often seen fighting and Namjoon is easy to bend to Jimin's childish requests; if they are manageable. Jimin attends school but prefers all the knowledge Namjoon has taught him. Jimin was 10 now and well beyond his knowledge in some aspects. Though, he still has a hard time with multiples of 12s; he is only still a 5th grader.

The two boys were forced into the hands of their Aunt Marie. She's originally from England, a foreigner who moved to Korea a long time ago and married Namjoon’s mother’s older brother; or his Uncle. She was an ill-mannered woman to be sure, and her distaste for Namjoon and Jimin was more than apparent. When she became a widow and their Uncle died due to medical reasons, she basically only fed them and made sure Jimin attended school as he should. She put a roof over their head (metaphorically speaking in a bunker-world), but really that was all the ‘parenting’ she did.

She was a bully, or so says Jimin. Which is why when Jimin came home from school, he’d practically quarantined himself in Namjoon’s room to do his homework. Namjoon never minded though, he wanted Jimin to grow up knowledgeable. So, if he ever had something stump him, Namjoon would always try and find the best way to explain it to him.

If he could, Namjoon would take Jimin and go back to the surface. He’s heard stories of how the surface has changed. How since the human’s fled underground, the world above is no longer as beautiful. However, Namjoon would think otherwise.

Rumors that nature has swallowed and taken over seemed like a glory in itself. With spreading forests and wildlife, who knows maybe even new species of life were right under their noses now- or rather above their heads.

Namjoon was stuck in his thoughts about what may or may not be on the surface he just barely remembers as a child when he was brought out of them by the sound of someone punching in the passcode to his bunker room. He installed a lock mechanism months back to try and keep some privacy from his aunt. He did the same with Jimin’s own bunker-room, but mainly for his own safety rather than his privacy as a child right now.

He smiled as he set the book he held in his lap aside, bookmarking the page for later. Only one person actually knew his passcode. He watched as the keypad that sat on his side of the door turned from blue to green.

The door hissed as it slid open to the left.

“Namjoon!” Chirped Jimin as he ran into Namjoon’s room. His bookbag from school resting on his back, looped around his shoulders as the bunker door slid closed and locked once again. The green light on the keypad returns back to blue.

“Hey there, Chim.” A nickname Namjoon picked up from his mother before she died. She would always call Jimin her chirping bird, and for some reason, Chim was born from that. So, when she died with their father, Namjoon took the role of calling him that.

Jimin jumped onto Namjoon’s bed at his side. He shook his bag off as he pulled it around to his front, setting it onto his crossed legs and unzipped it. He pulled out a book from the inside and handed it to his older brother.

“Enchanted Creatures,” Namjoon read. Jimin has always been a dreamer. He never got to see the outside- so all he had were books and what Namjoon told him. He wasn’t fond of the reality of things, hated the darkness people put on the world. So, as a child would, he receded inwards. Namjoon didn’t see a problem with his dreaming ways, so he persuaded and even encouraged the freedom of his innocent mind. However, he never let it get out of hand and always kept Jimin grounded.

“Did you know there are a lot of spirits in the forest,” Jimin sang. He gently pulled the book from Namjoon’s hands and set it onto the bed’s mattress. He opened it, flipping carefully page after page before he stopped at a two-page picture of a forest with all sorts of creatures of myth on it. He pointed to a small girl with two wings. “This is a fairy that can communicate with trees! I bet they can even talk to the Moon Tree.”

Namjoon smiled as he ruffled his younger brother’s messy, blonde hair. He still remembers sneaking Jimin out of the house on his 10th birthday to go and get it bleached from his natural dark hair- like Namjoon’s- and dyed. Even if Jimin was supposed to be grounded that night, it was his birthday. A parent or guardian shouldn’t be allowed to ground a 10-year-old on his birthday.

“I bet they can too, Chim. I bet they can.” Jimin smiled as he continued to rant and rave off with smiles and giggles about all the mythical scenarios that could happen one day. It was a short-lived session of make-believe before Namjoon was reminding Jimin to get his homework done.

With a pout from Jimin about not wanting to do his multiplication tables again, Namjoon was able to turn that pout into a gaping mouth of excited noises when he offered a game of Go-Fish later. Jimin was the standing king and overall champion of Go-Fish. No one knows how he does it- or rather he doesn’t know how cute he is that most people can’t stand to see him lose.

The night progressed the way it always did. With it ending as Namjoon tucked Jimin into his bed in his room and soon returned to his own. Laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling as his arms were folded behind his head.

He could vaguely hear his aunt rummaging around in the kitchen. Clanking around beer bottles and getting drunk again. Namjoon didn’t care, in fact, if she’d end up crashing, it’d work in his favor in the morning if she’s completely out. He was planning on taking Jimin to the surface and showing him- for the first time- what he spent his whole life missing out on seeing. It’s been a while since Namoon had been above ground as well, so no matter the state of it, the world was still his.

He lived up there for a time, part of his childhood was on the surface. He never wanted to detach himself from the surface world like the others around him tended to do.

XXX

When Namjoon woke up it was 8 AM. Treading out into the living room, he saw his good-for-nothing aunt passed out just as he thought. Expecting no less from her, he cleaned up all the bottles that lay around, some empty, some not. Namjoon didn’t want Jimin to see how pathetic she actually was as a guardian. He was too young to be completely aware of it yet. He just needed to keep thinking she was a bully, not a drunkard bully with no self-awareness for her ward.

After cleaning up, he went into Jimin’s room. Seeing his little brother sleeping soundly, he grabbed some clothes from his closet for him. Something Namjoon thought was fitting enough for what he guessed was early spring weather, just still a touch chilly from winter that had certainly passed by now.

A pair of small boots, black jeans and Jimin’s favorite striped long sleeve shirt. Setting it all aside, he gently woke the little boy. Shaking his shoulder, his brother ever the challenge to wake up.

“Hey, Chim. Wake up. Now,” Namjoon suppressed a laugh at the stuck up strands of thick blonde hair and his sleepy, puffy cheeks. His eyes peeled open to look at his elder brother. “We’re going somewhere today. Time to get up now,” Namjoon coaxed, rubbing his back. Jimin rubbed his eyes clumsily, sitting up and stretching his legs under his sheets, yawning all the while.

“Where?” He asked simply and sleepily. Namjoon patted down his wild hair, only for it to spring back up to defy gravity until it was properly brushed.

“It’s a surprise, okay?” Jimin just nodded. “Now, up-up. I’ve got your clothes out and ready so get changed.” Jimin rolled out of bed as Namjoon went back to his room to change himself. A tan, short sleeve shirt, blue-worn out jeans and short ankle boots covered heel to toe in scuff marks. Slapping a beanie on his head and strapped a watch on his wrist, he pocketed his phone and grabbed his mask off his wall. Slinging it around his neck, Jimin knocked on his bunker room door.

“You can come in, Chim!” He called. Jimin punched in the code and stepped inside to see his brother with his mask. His sleepy eyes ignited with excitement, seemingly no longer tired in an instant.

“We’re going up?!”

Namjoon laughed as he nodded. “Yup. Now go get that mask, kid.” Jimin was off, quicker than ever to fetch his mask he’s never had the chance to use before. Jimin always wanted to explore above, now Namjoon was finally giving him the chance to. Namjoon waited for Jimin at the front door of the bunker home before the two met and left their home. Leaving their poor drunk aunt on the couch and hopefully uncomfortable to boot.

Jimin held onto Namjoon’s hand as they walked through the bunker streets. Greeting the kind old lady at the bakery, Jimin was offered a piece of lemon bread he wolfed down. The two came to a wide staircase that was sealed off by a passcode door. This stairwell was the way up and out of the bunkers and almost every adult knew the passcode by now, but not many were eager to use it.

“Jimin, I’ll tell you the password if you promise to never go up without me. Alright?” Jimin nodded, even going so far as to stick out his pinkie in a promise that could never be broken. “Alright, now listen carefully.” Namjoon flipped open the plastic-covered dial pad and punched in a 9 digit code, repeating each number he hit so Jimin could memorize it.

The pad glowed green before the metal doors unlocked. Namjoon let Jimin turn the handle down and push the heavy door open since Namjoon himself had done it numerous times before his parent’s passed and this is Jimin’s first time. The stairway was extraordinary to the new eyes of Jimin.

Lit with LED orbs in the center of the ceiling shoot straight up in a line all the way to the top, the top that Jimin couldn’t even see! The stairs themselves went on for what seemed like miles as the two began to climb them.

Jimin started losing his energy that was stored in his 10-year-old body, so it didn’t take long for Namjoon to take up the role and hike the little kid on his back. All while Jimin was cheering for his brother to keep the strength up to carry himself and Jimin up the stairs. It would’ve been a cute act of sibling praise if Jimin hadn’t kept yelling so close to Namjoon’s ears as well as continuously kicking his legs back and forth. Posing a possible threat of the two of them falling and tumbling right back down the stairs Namjoon put so much effort into climbing.

Nearly 30 minutes later, Namjoon was huffing as Jimin slid down his back onto the landing at the top of the staircase. Namjoon knelt to Jimin, helping him with his mask and how to properly wear it as he then placed his own on. Jimin was bouncing on his toes as he gripped Namjoon’s forearm in both of his small hands. Nervous, yet excited bundled into one small 10-year-old body. He had no idea what to expect, but that made the fact he was actually going to see it all that much more exhilarating.

The metal hissed as it opened up after pressing a fist-sized button. Once open, in front was a world Jimin couldn’t even fathom from the depths of his imagination (that was already very large). Something that was far different from the metal and dirty bunkers he was born and raised in.

Gravel was placed and spread at the metal landing outside the doors to the surface world. Namjoon pushed Jimin’s back lightly, urging him forward to usher him on out before the doors shut again. His boots crunched under the gravel as he peered through the lens of his mask. His muffled breaths turned into muffled laughs.

Jimin was soon running into the knee-length grass and tripping in small holes as he soon was in awe at the grass and weeds as tall as him or taller! Namjoon shouted words of concern after his overly-excited younger brother as he just sighed with a smile. He looked around, taking in the world around him as he thought and noticed how it changed since the last time he saw it.

For a post-apocalyptic event that caused humanity to shift, the earth still looked breathtaking. Nature took over indeed, claiming back its world from humans. Old highways were cracked with worn asphalt as weeds perked through them and grew without restraint. Grass came in troves as flowers of all sorts sprouted, both familiar and unfamiliar breeds.

Jimin ran back to Namjoon’s side when he called for him and he began to lead his younger brother to a place big enough to explore and to give a sense of showing the clueless boy ‘what once was’. What better place than an abandoned mall?

Namjoon used to come here often for the broken down bookstore inside. Whatever books have survived the decay and weather, he gleefully took down into his bunker to read. Fairy tales, fiction, non-fiction, sci-fi, he wanted to read it all. He’d often read a lot of fictional tales to Jimin as well, keeping his innocent imagination alive and well.

When Jimin saw the long, tall building with open, broken walls with vines and moss overtaking them- whether collapsed in rubble or still standing strong- he was giddy to explore. Broken glass from windows and tall weeds stretching all the way to Jimin’s shoulder, brushing his nose and even making him sneeze.

Squeezing their way through the warped doorways, the inside was a mess. Tile floors cracked, rubble and foundation broken with patches of grass peeking through the floor in small-to-wide areas. There were shops left and right and the escalator in the middle of the bottom floor leading to the second seized moving long ago and was now woven in green and all sorts of flowers like a fantastic stairway out of some cheesy romance book.

The roof was spotty and had holes here and there. The skylight that Namjoon once believed was beautiful had shattered, the glass laying in pieces under the brother’s boots as they crunched with each mindful step.

With a pat on his back from Namjoon, Jimin was running off. Looking around as he peeked inside broken windows and swung around support beams. Marveling at all the decayed posters and running around imagining what it used to look like. He caught Namjoon moving up to the second floor, climbing up the escalator as Jimin hopped up and started following him.

“Wait for me!” He yelled as Namjoon rolled his eyes playfully and started running up the stairs, JImin gasping and whining. “Hey! Wait!” He shouted, his voice growling in a hardly scary annoyance that only a 10-year-old could possess. Namjoon laughed as he waited at the top and soon when Jimin caught up, brought him to the bookstore.

Jimin himself wasn’t a big reader in anything other than fairy tales. He liked dreaming instead of learning, that’s what school was in his mind. He could learn at school in class, but on his own, he wanted to read about what wasn’t real. He didn’t mind learning things from Namjoon though, he made it fun.

Jimin ran from aisle to dilapidated aisle, scanning the cobwebbed and fragile books. Opening one up and carefully putting it back anxiously when a piece of a page tore off between his forefinger and thumb. Peeking through a barely held together bookshelf, JImin watched as Namjoon sat in some worn-down chair, nose in a book that was still readable. He smiled.

Wandering around more, he looked outside one of the still intact, yet cracked, windows. He gasped at the widespread garden that pushed out into what looked like an endless forest to the eyes of a child. He jumped on his toes before running to Namjoon, hanging over the back of the chair that threatened to wobble into pieces.

“Let’s go out! Please!” Jimin begged. Truthfully, Namjoon wanted to just sit and read, but today was JImin’s day. He just smiled, breathing behind his gas mask as he shut his book, a puff of dust clouding out of the pages. He put his hand on Jimin’s head, pushing back the hair that was trapped underneath the straps of his mask.

“Sure thing, Chim. Let’s go,” he said, getting up. Jimin was dashing off, far ahead of his brother and back down the escalator as Namjoon warned him to slow down- fearful the child would get his foot snagged on a weed and take an ungraceful tumble. A warning he didn’t feel like listening to as he made it down and rounded to go out of a busted out window into the back where he saw the garden growing beyond the trees.

Jimin, the overly excited little boy who didn’t know the outside world, quickly found himself treading through the overgrown garden. Stepping high in overly dramatic steps as his knees came up to his chest and plunged to crush leaves and grass under him. It wasn’t long before he was marching into the woods, Namjoon not far behind, but far enough to lose his blonde hair behind the overgrown, and frankly annoying weeds and grass.

“Jimin!”

XXX

Jimin was in awe of the woods he ventured into. The trees around him were huge. Roots were breaching the earth’s surface and were arched, weaved and twisted in the most fantastical waves. He’d often see something like them in fairy tale picture books that Namjoon brought back.

He laughed as he would climb, run under and above them and jump from root to root before almost sliding and falling on his rear end. The trees were high as he looked above his head. The leaves were green and blowing through the easy constant breeze that kept him from rolling up the sleeves of his long shirt. Some leaves on small, thinner trees looked brown like they were ready to fall off and coat the ground with more crunches under his boot.

“Ow!” He muttered as he held his arm. Having fallen by tripping over an uprooted tree root he didn’t see, resulted in him cutting his arm on a fallen branch. He hissed as his small body began to tremble, unfamiliar with pain like that. He’s cut himself before, sure every child gets roughed up at some point, but somehow a cut from a tree branch is different from one of a metal sheet like his bunker. “Namjoon!” He called, expecting his brother to come rushing to his wails. But, nothing.

He sat up on his knees, looking around and the bright forested area seemed to dim as he never saw or heard his brother coming to his side. He walked on his knees in the dirt for a moment before staggering to his palms again. He flinched when he heard a rustling to his left, farther back beyond the trees and bushes. He swallowed the tear induced lump in his throat.

“Namjoon!” He cried again, his voice cracking. The mask he wore to protect himself from the outside air made him shorter on his own air. He gasped as he heard more rustling that inflicted fear in his child’s mind. He jumped from his palms and knees as he took off, running. He couldn’t remember which way he came from, but maybe if he ran, he'd just burst out of the woods and into his brother’s protection again. “Joon!” He screamed with tears burning his wide, brown eyes.

Wiping them with his arm, he fumbled much less gracefully in the woods as the sun didn’t reach him quite as well. He was soon gasping again as he tripped over his own feet. Shuffling on fallen leaves and sliding into a skidding fall. Bracing on his left arm, he cried again as the cut on the same arm from the tree branch stung. His left leg and side were sore as he lay on the dirt and leaf-littered ground. His mask askew on his face, but still covering his mouth, he held it to keep it on.

Like any other child, Jimin could only cry now. He curled in on himself as he hugged his legs to his knees and cried. Lamenting for even running ahead of Namjoon at all. Missing and waiting for his brother, he wept. His blonde hair was shaggy and clumped with twigs and leaves from his fall. When he finally noticed the wind stopped blowing and it was silent, he opened his scared eyes again.

The wind always made a constant sound, now it was silent. Jimin, looking for anything, found himself in a small clearing. There were still trees to his left, right, front and back, but the small clearing was almost perfect for a camping area. He had read about camping, but it didn’t seem so fun without his brother with him.

He looked up at a tree that seemed to look almost brighter than the rest around him. Maybe the leaves were different or there were less so the sun could shine on the bark of the trunk better. He gasped when he flew up and out of his fetal position, pushing himself backwards on his back when he saw what was in the tree.

It was a girl. Not much older than Namjoon, he guessed. She was sleeping on an overly grown branch of the tree as roots clawed their way out of the ground over the course of the tree's life. She lay peacefully and without care, it seemed. Jimin touched his gas mask as he saw her without one. Her face open and bare as the sun dancing through the leaves hit her skin. Nothing but a white dress on her and vines wrapped around her ankles and wrists like bracelets. Hair loose and blowing in the breeze that seemed to finally return.

“A fairy?” He breathed to himself. Soon, he stiffened as the girl opened her eyes. She easily moved to look at the little boy on the ground, covered in dirt and grass-stained clothing. And sporting a beaten up gas mask. She looked at him like she knew he’d be there. He almost stopped breathing when she moved to sit up from her tree branch and even work herself down the tree onto the ground. “Pretty,” he told himself before gasping as she came towards him.

“Are you lost, child?” Her voice was nice; that’s what Jimin thought. He soon found himself nodding as he followed her with his head instead of his eyes. Looking up at her as she got closer and then down as she knelt beside him. Her neutral face she wore made him gulp. He didn’t know if she was going to eat him like in Hansel and Gretel or help him like a kindhearted wanderer.

“Um,” he started small through his mask. Her eyebrows arching told him that he needed to speak up next time he talked. The mask can make it harder to hear. “Are you- are you a fairy?” She looked at him and blinked a handful of times to process his words. He grew embarrassed as he shied away then she laughed. Her giggling shook her shoulders as she covered her mouth. Jimin smiled. Somehow when she laughed the sun came back and the woods weren’t so dark anymore.

He smiled because he knew he wasn’t alone or in danger anymore.

“I can be if you want,” she told him.

“If you’re a fairy, you can take me back to my brother. Right?”

“You got separated from your brother?” Jimin nodded. She closed her eyes as the leaves rustles lightly before she stood up, reaching down with soft palms offered to Jimin. “I can take you back to your brother. I know where he is,” she smiled. Jimin hopped up as he clutched her hand and the side of her dress, pressing himself to her side the best a scared, lost little boy could.

She led him through the woods with ease. Precise steps as Jimin wondered how she managed it barefoot in such a dress when it was still chilly out. Especially in the shade of the trees. She avoided hissing snakes, chirping crickets and buzzing cicadas that hadn’t yet died. Jimin didn’t know, but even the tree roots had moved to make a clear path forward as he and the girl moved forward. Soon, Jimin could hear Namjoon calling for him.

“Jimin!” He heard the muffled, yet still powerful yell from his brother behind his mask. Jimin smiled wide as his tight grip on the girl’s hand tightened further. The girl smiled as she picked up her pace and soon the pair was standing at the edge of the woods. He gasped in awe as he was back at the garden at the mall, Namjoon standing in the middle of the tall grass.

“Namjoon!” He cried as he detached himself from the fairy and ran, arms wide to his brother who saw him. Kneeling to catch Jimin’s body, he held his little brother who was lost and now back. Namjoon looked him over, dirty and cut up. Mask still askew, Namjoon fixed it for him. He could see his little brother’s red eyes behind the glass of his mask as he shook his head.

“Don’t go running off like that, you scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin pathetically apologized with a sniffle. “I wanted to climb some trees, but got lost and I didn’t know where to go. Oh, but-” He perked up immediately and turned around, seeing the girl still standing in the shadows of the trees.

It was like the two parties were in separate worlds. The girl- Jimin’s fairy- standing in the shade and shadows as the other two knelt in the sun- at high noon now.

Jimin pointed at her. “A fairy saved me. She was sleeping in a tree and helped me back here!” He cheered. Namjoon looked at her. He couldn’t make out specific details of her face in the darkened shade and distance. He seemed suspicious of her lack of mask and clothes. She practically had nothing, but she didn’t seem to be in pain or suffering like he had been groomed over the last decade to believe someone up on the surface should be.

Namjoon stood as Jimin held his hand by his side. He looked on to the girl who didn’t move, only standing in the wind.

“Thank you for bringing Jimin back,” he shouted to her. She suddenly stepped out of the woods into the sun. She seemed to glow in the light and Namjoon felt his breath leave him. A beautiful woman came walking towards him. Perhaps- maybe she really was a fairy. Jimin smiled at her before she came to stop a few feet from Namjoon’s boots. She looked dressed for mid-summer, not for the chilled air of the coming autumn.

“He got pretty lost,” Namjoon nearly coughed from the small gasp when he heard her voice. “I’m glad I was able to get him back unharmed,” she chuckled. “Well, mostly.” she knelt to Jimin’s level and he giggled at her as she smiled back. “Make sure to wash that cut and get all those splinters out before it gets infected, okay?”

Jimin hopped to his toes all smiles and excitement, never meeting a fairy before- as he still thought of her as one. Tugging on Namjoon’s arm a bit in response.

“My name is Jimin,” he pointed to himself. He then pointed up at Namjoon- an angle that pointed to his chin at best. “This is my big brother, Namjoon.” He smiled widely with his teeth. Chirping in that special sound he had when he giggled.

“You sound like a little bird, Jimin,” you told him.

“Mama used to say that too!” The girl stood back up, looking up at Namjoon.

“You know,” she started, “you don’t need to wear those masks.” Namjoon touched his mask lightly in a reflexive action when it was mentioned. “My air is not poisonous and it won’t hurt you.” Jimin tugged on Namjoon’s arm and the look in his younger brother’s eyes when he looked down at him was one that wanted to take off his mask. Namjoon knew Jimin wanted to take it off. Jimin trusted you- trust easily gained after this mystery girl saved him.

Namjoon knelt down to his brother, holding his shoulder. “Do you really want to take it off?” Jimin looked down, shuffling his boot covered feet.

“I’ll only do it if you do,” he whispered. He didn’t know if Namjoon would get angry if he wanted to or not. He didn’t want to make anyone mad. Namjoon moved and reached behind his brother’s small head. Jimin gasped as he felt one of his straps loosen. Namjoon unbuckled his mask one buckle at a time.

“Hold it for me,” he told him. Jimin pushed his palms to the eyepiece of his mask and held it on without question. Then, he began to unclasp and unbuckle his own mask. “Alright, Chim. You can take it off,” he told him as the two brothers took off their masks. Jimin took a deep breath as he coughed from the heavy intake of air he wasn't accustomed to breathing.

Then he smiled. The air was chilly but comforting. It didn’t smell or taste or even feel anything like the damp, soil-filled air of the bunkers. It was clean and open and pure. Namjoon’s reaction wasn’t too far off, though he wasn’t filled with new experiences.

Namjoon’s eyes teared up as he felt the air of the world he grew up in long ago return to him. It was nostalgic to breathe in the air of his childhood. It felt like the days he swung too high and too fast on a swing set. Or the rush of air he took zooming down a slide. Or even running a race with his friends. It was like he was young again and the air that wasn’t so depressing like underground was lighter and filled with something he couldn’t quite place.

It felt like home. It felt just right to breathe this air.

Namjoon looked at the girl who seemed pleased that the two boys had removed their masks. “What’s your name?” He asked before he really realized he did it.

“My name is Y/n, and I live here on the surface.”

XXX

Namjoon had you running in his head the rest of the day and well into the nighttime. Before he could even begin to ask you about how you live on the surface, or rather even ask anything else about you, you ran back into the woods. Jimin called after you as you ran and disappeared behind the trees, asking for you to stay. He was pretty bummed out that you had left, but when Namjoon told him that fairies can’t stay outside the forest for too long, he perked up.

Jimin didn’t stop talking about his fairy for the rest of the day and when the two brother’s went back underground he was blabbing on and on to the older folk who fawned over him. Namjoon had the pleasure of dealing with his Aunt when the two returned.

She threw a world class tantrum that they left without permission and that she was more on edge because she didn’t have any booze. She complained about the house being a mess- which wasn’t when Namjoon left because he cleaned it. All Namjoon did was calmly tell Jimin to go to his room. Jimin listened, knowing that Namjoon was just going to argue with their Aunt again. Namjoon stopped his Aunt from stopping Jimin, grabbing her arm when she went to grab the younger brother.

The two fought and screamed. His Aunt going on and on about how she didn’t want two boys living in her house and Namjoon fighting back that this bunker wasn’t even hers. It was his mother’s and father's that they left behind to her sons’ when they died, so if anyone should leave it would be her. It was a routine- a shitty one at that. Always a screaming match when she woke up hungover or still just as drunk as when she passed out.

She would only yield when Namjoon left the living room or forced her out of the bunker. He hated that he had to fight in the same home as Jimin. Having such a negative part of the day near daily was bound to be bad on him. Jimin was just a child, negative interactions with their Aunt wasn’t something he needed to deal with.

When Namjoon went into Jimin’s room next, he found him sitting at his desk, scribbling with colored pencils and markers laying across the desk surface. A notebook opened in front of his hunched over body. Namjoon walked in and smiled seeing Jimin engrossed in something he enjoyed. Drawing and coloring was a big hobby of his younger brothers. He was always an artistic boy.

“What’re you drawing over there, bud?” Namjoon walked in, dressed down from earlier. His jeans and shirt exchanged for sweats and a white tee. Jimin had also changed; sporting boys' gym shorts and a grey shirt that says ‘CLASS 4’ on it in scratchy, green marker. A shirt Jimin made way back when his grade school classes had a field day against each other once.

“I’m drawing Y/n!” He moved to grab his notebook, knocking a few markers onto the hard floor with repetitive plastic clinks as they rolled after impact. He showed his brother a scratchy outline of a girl with a white dress with some semi-scribbled trees in the background. He placed his notebook back on his desk as Namjoon picked up the fallen markers. “I’m not done yet though,” he chirped, obviously in a good mood. “I wanna put wings on her, but I never saw them,” he pouted as he began to color in the background with green circular patterns.

“It looks good, I can definitely tell it’s her,” Namjoon complimented. Earning a smile from the little boy, he returned to his task at hand. Namjoon moved to sit on Jimin’s bed, watching his back and shoulders move with each arm stroke of art he put on his paper.

Namjoon sat on his brother's bed as he got lost in his head. He was so curious about you; who were you and did you really live up on the surface like you so claimed? He wanted to know why you were in the woods and how you were able to lead Jimin back out to the mall without previously knowing him or where he was. Why did you truly resemble a fairy when he knew it was impossible because fairies don’t exist. They just don’t… do they? He shook his head as he closed his eyes, sighing because his everyday, stressful underground life felt like it got- ironically- uprooted.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent looking between the ceiling and the blackness of his eyelids, but it was just long enough to vaguely hear Jimin’s vigorous scribbling slow down and occasionally halt before picking back up lazily. Looking at his younger brother, he nearly laughed out loud at seeing his head bob up and down as the poor lad tried his best to stay awake. Namjoon looked at the time; it was late for him.

“Jimin,” Namjoon called, a laugh in his voice. He rolled his lips over his teeth to keep from laughing as his little brother looked over his shoulder, his eyes droopy and hazy with exhaustion. “It’s bedtime, bud,” he chimed as the younger one only nodded, not putting up too much of a fuss. Closing his notebook and pushing his markers and pencils into one, giant, messy pile so they wouldn’t fall off his desk, he jumped from his chair. Hobbling as Namjoon got off his bed, he crawled into it and allowed his older brother to pull the covers over him.

“You think we’ll see Y/n again?” Jimin drawled with a sleepy lisp. Namjoon just pat his head, pushing his bangs back.

“I’m sure we will. Just go to bed now, okay?” Jimin nodded as he was soon sleeping and Namjoon left his room as quietly as possible so as not to wake him back up.

Namjoon only slept for a handful of hours before he was awake again. He sighed as he looked at the before dawn hour of nearly 6 am. Groaning, he pushed his blanket off of him as he rolled out of bed and stretched. Somehow, he felt that any further sleep wouldn’t be in his future. He stood in his room, his bed a mess as he just kept staring at his clock tick closer to the 6th hour of the new day.

It would still be a few hours before Jimin needed to be awake. So, maybe he could go back up before Jimin wakes up.

Scrambling to grab a jacket, he didn’t even change from his sleep sweats and tee as he slipped on some tennis shoes and a cap. Grabbing his gasmask per habit, he rushed out of his room before he was walking through the same mess he’d seen every morning, only this morning he ignored it as he left the house entirely. Grabbing a flashlight on his way out.

The bunker roads and tunnels were quiet with only small murmurs of early risers. Namjoon only nodded to those who gave him a small greeting as he made his way to the surface doors. Going through the first metal, coded door, he scaled the stairs in what felt like record time before he was stepping out into the surface air once again.

He set his gas mask beside the entrance down, not wanting to wear it so he could breathe in the air he remembered and he set off. Using the flashlight he held in his palm, he looked around the remaining dark hours of the morning as he heard the familiar chirping of the morning birds.

Namjoon followed the path back to the mall and then around to the overgrown garden before he was standing in the very spot he first saw you with Jimin. On the edge of the wide woodland area, he took a breath before he was starting to carefully tread inside. The sun began to slowly paint the sky red, pink and orange shades of dawn. He had missed seeing the sky’s colors he realized as he peered at it’s expanse through the gaps between treetops and leaves.

When it was light enough, he clicked off his flashlight and stuffed it into the pocket of his sweats as he kept walking- hiking- through the trees. He had no idea where he was, or where he was going, but he just thought if he kept going he’d somehow run into you again.

He stopped when he noticed he hadn’t been hearing the birds chirping. It wasn’t right for it to be this silent. He looked around at himself, twisting in place, trying to listen for anything rustling around in the early hours, but still nothing. Namjoon was surrounded by dead, forest silence. It made his skin crawl before he was nearly jumping out of his skin from a call behind him.

“Why are you out here?” He whirled around, looking up to see you sitting peacefully on a tree branch. Come to think, Jimin said you were sleeping in a tree when he found you too. Still wearing that white, somehow spotless dress, and no shoes as your toes pointed to the ground as your legs hung over the branch.

“Y/n,” he whispered as you looked around him.

“You seem to be alone today. You didn’t bring your kid brother?”

Namjoon cleared his throat. “No, he was still sleeping when I left.” You examined his face from above as you gently smiled.

“I see you also decided to leave your mask behind. I’m glad you don’t seem to fear my air anymore.” Namjoon watched as you shifted and turned your back to him, beginning to climb down the tree trunk. Moving to swing and hang from the branch you sat on, you swung to a lower branch before you started making your way closer to the ground. As if it was part of his genetics, Namjoon flinched with each swing and had his arms semi-out to at least try and save you if you were to miss and fall to the ground.

When your fit hit the woodland ground, you brushed out your dress of any tree bark, leaves or wrinkles.

There you were again, before his very eyes just as you were yesterday. Stood just below his nose in height, hair in tangles, small cuts freckled around your skin that had faded in time- probably from all that tree climbing- and eyes as bright as he remembered from before. So it wasn’t just a trick of the sunlight yesterday, you truly were a beauty to behold.

“You never answered my question,” you told him. “Why did you come out here again?” He thought he heard a sharp edge to your question beneath your overall inquisitive tone. You wouldn’t be wrong to be suspicious considering he lived underground and wore a gas mask when he met you because he was brought up thinking the outside air was toxic and dangerous to some degree.

“I was curious about,” he paused- would it be creepy to say he was curious about you? Would it be rude or antagonizing because he was told for years that the surface was unlivable? He cleared his throat. “Curious,” he repeated, “about a lot of things. I was hoping you had answers.”

“Are they offensive questions?”

“I don’t think so,” he unsurely quipped. You just turned, offering him the smallest of shrugs as you waved him after you.

“Fine. You will ask and I will answer. However, let’s go to a more open space.” He didn’t argue as he sped to catch up to your side before matching your pace. He couldn’t help but notice how easily you walked through the uneven woodland grounds as his eyes bounced between his feet and everywhere else around him to ensure he wouldn’t trip or run into something. You practically glided through the woods as if you were walking on tile.

He didn’t realize that you were leading him back out of the woods and in front of the abandoned mall he went to with Jimin, and the same place he had seen you for the first time. You continued walking before entering the dilapidated building through a crumbling hole in the wall. You finally stopped your journey as you sat on the broken down, moss and vine covered escalator in one of the sunspots the holes in the ceiling created from the early sun.

Namjoon sat below you a step, his legs staggering beneath him on two separate steps as you kept your knees tucked and feet beside you just one step below your rear. You pushed and pulled at your dress as you tried to fix it appropriately.

Once your fidgeting ended, your sights finally fell back onto the young man and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at the direct eye contact of your impossibly clear eyes. It was like you had moonlight in your irises that reflected off the morning sun.

“Alright,” you started, your voice reverberating off the empty, demolished walls of the mall. “Let’s talk.”

XXX

Namjoon was someone overly fond of all sorts of knowledge. Learning new things and skills was always his preferred pastime, even at his home in his bunker room. He’d reread old textbooks and even go through Jimin’s books to see if they were teaching him things he wasn’t taught at that age just to see how the learning curve had changed since he was young.

When he talked to you, he was enthralled with everything you told him- all the answers you gave him to his questions.

You were telling the absolute truth when you told him and Jimin the other morning that you lived on the surface. You always had. Of course, your memories from age five and below were spotty and then nothing, but you had told Namjoon that you learned of your birth. If you can even call it a birth at all.

You weren’t sure of the details specifically since you obviously had no memories of it since you were just a small infant. You had found a set of files and journals that had documented a lot of what was known and hypothesized about the Moon Tree in the place you used to be held in. Without explanation, when the tree anchors connected to earth and were seized off to the public by the government, within each massive branch's bark was a life.

Moon Children is what they were called once they were soon excavated from within the tree. There were 13 children in total, each taken from their own individual connector branch. Among those thirteen, there was you. The first discovered and removed from the tree in the sky.

From the point of your quote ‘birth’, a file for your life was started and as you grew, the scientist saw exceptional progress with your growth. You were adaptable and skilled for a young child, and by the time you were able to speak, they would document you just sitting outside in the ‘contaminated’ air just talking towards the sky.

You’d get frustrated from talking to potted plants and hated being inside. When you were old enough to pitch fits and escape the rooms you were kept, you would often fight. You’d throw fits and kick your feet to keep the scientist who ‘raised’ you away.

The pictures of them in masks, goggles, gloves, high-duty suits- it all stuck in your brain like a nightmare. They always looked the same, like they walked out of a horror movie. They feared the air- you craved it.

The moment you had the chance, you escaped the facility room you were kept in.

You explained that you didn’t remember much, but the moment you laid eyes on the gigantic piece of space foliage covering so much of the moon’s surface, you knew it was a wave of understanding. You were connected to this tree, you knew that for a fact and you knew you had to leave or else you’d be contained and examined just like the branch you came from.

It was the voice of that branch from the Moon Tree that helped you escape after you crawled into a hole of the wood and hid for three days, escaping when there was a power outage on the evening of the fourth. You had been living in the woods ever since, hearing the voice of the forest and cohabitating with wildlife just to keep the government away from you.

You were different, able to communicate and feel things differently than others, and you could only say it was because of the world ending tree that sprung from inside the moon. That tree was like a parent to you and you didn’t care if it sounded crazy. It was the truth.

You were sure that the children you grew up with were exactly like you, but you were the first and oldest case of such quick recovery from what should have been an impossible case of survival.

“It’s strange,” you told Namjoon as he took in your story. “The moment Jimin saw me, he asked if I was a fairy. I honestly didn’t know the answer, but I wouldn’t say I’m not. I don’t feel human, not like a human should, but I’m not anything extraordinary either.” You glanced at Namjoon, seeing his face flat of expression. It baffled you truthfully.

You expected some sort of curiosity, or twisted sense of disgust of your story. Maybe even disbelief and doubt sewn into his features, but nothing. It was neutral- a blank slate of soaking in the story.

“I’m not expecting you to believe anything I’ve said, but ask me to repeat it and it will be the same story,” you tutted as he just shook his head.

“I watched a giant tree sprout out in space when I was a kid and it forced the entire overpopulous of humanity underground. Honestly, there isn’t anything I don’t believe in anymore.” He paused as he leaned onto his knees, twining his fingers together and pushing them against his lips. “I’m just trying to process,” he murmured. “Whatever the case, I can’t stay. Jimin is going to be up soon and I can’t let him be alone at home.”

“Is it that dangerous underground?” Your question was directed to the entirety of the bunker system his people created to survive. Truthfully, Namjoon would prefer if Jimin wandered around the streets rather than sit in his living room.

“It’s complicated,” he stood as he started going down the viney, metal stairs. Once he hit the landing of the cracked and broken mall floor, he turned and looked back up the escalator where you stil sat, unmoved. “Next time I come back, I’ll bring Jimin. I think he misses his ‘fairy’,” the man teased. He saw a small smile on your lips before you stood and walked up the stairs and eventually away from him as he took off out of the mall.

He ran to the bunker door, grabbing his mask as he opened the door and was soon running down the stairs down below the earth’s surface. The familiar taste of dirt-air and a sticky-chill surrounded him as he came out from the long stairway into the bunker streets.

He passed a few vendors he knew, nodding hello as he made it back to his home. As he stood outside the door to his home, he heard his aunt yelling. He burst into the bunker, seeing her standing in the entrance to the hall, banging on Jimin’s bunker door that remained shut and locked- due to Namjoon’s insistence to never let her in.

He threw his mask aside, not caring where it landed or if it was broken as he walked into the house, the door hissing shut behind him. He shoved his aunt’s shoulder, pushing her away from the door of his younger brother’s door as he stood in front of it now. He scowled at her as she stumbled from his push in her ugly, drunken stupor.

“Stay away from Jimin’s room,” he seethed. “If you’ve got a problem, take it up with me. Leave him alone.” The two began to argue after Namjoon’s initial statement. His aunt goes on about how she’s so miserable and how Namjoon was out on his own. To which he rebutted that she should just leave and go wherever she wants because this wasn’t her home and he was old enough to do what he wanted.

Namjoon wanted this to end quickly because he knew Jimin was behind him in his room listening to it all.

“Just leave!” Namjoon screamed, leaving his aunt stumbling back in drunken awe before she tutted off in attitude. He wasn’t sure where she went, all he knew was that he heard the sound of the front door hissing open and shut before it was silent. He let out a breath he held in his chest as he turned and knocked softly on his brother’s door. “Jimin,” he weakly called.

He wondered if his brother would be angry at him for fighting. Would he be scared of the way Namjoon raised his voice once he had enough. His doubts stalled for a moment when he heard Jimin inside, punching in the keycode to his door with small beeps before the door opened. A small blur dashed out the door as soon as it was open just enough and Namjoon was knocked back a few steps from Jimin plowing into his lower body.

He wrapped his arms around his older brother’s waist, burying his face into his hip, hugging him as tightly and as best as his little body could. Namjoon let a small scoff escape him with a smile as his hands landed on Jimin’s shoulder and head, rubbing them comfortably.

“Sorry about that, bud,” Namjoon apologized as Jimin just shook his head in silence. The two were silent and only moved back and forth for a while before Namjoon was pulling Jimin away and kneeling to get eye-level with him. The little boy’s face was puffy as he sniffed; Namjoon chuckled as he took his face in his palms and squished, eliciting a giggled from the younger. “How about you help me clean up, okay?”

On any other day, Namjoon hated Jimin even giving the quickest of glances to the evidence of his aunt’s drinking, but the damage was already done this morning anyways. Jimin trailed after Namjoon like a little duckling as they picked up crushed cans and tossed bottles. Picking up scraps of paper, tissue and as well as any trash Jimin could crawl to reach.

XXX

It had been a week since Namjoon had been back on the surface. After the confrontation with his aunt, he became even more paranoid than usual to leave Jimin in the bunker alone. His aunt hadn’t been as confrontational the past few days and Namjoon hoped that was because he finally snapped at her. However, part of him thought that she’d be back to stir something up again just for the drama in it eventually.

She had that personality.

Namjoon was in Jimin’s room with him, sitting on his younger brother's bed as usual with a book perched open on his leg as Jimin scribbled down the answers to his homework. Namjoon had long since lost interest in the book he was reading, he’d read it before but his mind was stuck on you.

He wanted to know a lot more and wanted to be up on the surface more too. He wanted to know if it was truly possible to live like he used to before he was forced to live like a mole. The two times he’s been up there without his mask on, he didn’t seem to feel any different afterwards. Although there seemed to be no side effects for short term inhalation of the surface air, he couldn’t rule out the long term chances.

It wasn’t that Namjoon didn’t take your word for it- he did believe you when you told him that the air was harmless. It was just that he had spent so much time underground, groomed to the idea that the surface was toxic. He was used to the thick, murky, moist and metallic-tangy air of the dirt and metal bunkers. One couldn’t blame him for his doubts. And he couldn’t rule out the possibility of you just being immune to anything harmful in the air because of your origins.

“Hey, Namjoon,” Jimin called, calling the man from his thoughts as the elder was starting to already shuffle off the bed to tend to whatever Jimin needed. “I don’t really get this one,” the kid pointed to his notebook and the question he was stuck on.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with.” As Namjoon helped his younger brother with his elementary math, he sighed and wished that math had always stayed this easy.

The two continued the cycle of Namjoon sitting in peace until Jimin called him for help on his homework. Namjoon was explaining something or another about grammar now when Jimin unpromptly brought you up- interrupting his brother’s teaching.

“When can we go see Y/n again?” He asked quietly, as if he was afraid of asking altogether. Namjoon sighed as he put his large hand on Jimin’s head and ruffled around his pink hair that had started to fade after the amount of times he had washed it.

“Soon, okay? For now, we have to focus on finishing this homework.”

“Hnng, okay,” Jimin pouted as he went back to work. Namjoon felt a bit bad for seemingly shutting him down so quickly, but it was true that he had to finish. He was almost done, then if Jimin wanted to keep talking about you, Namjoon would humor him. He still hadn’t told him that he went to see you without him- fearing a tantrum from the 10-year-old.

Once Jimin finished, he was quick to break out his fairy book and crawl onto the bed to sit next to Namjoon, who had put his own book away in favor of Jimin’s attention. Jimin opened the book and began to talk a mile a minute, pointing to all sorts of fantasy genre creatures and plants. He explained the best a kid could to his brother as he spoke with enough confidence to be an expert. Namjoon found it adorable that Jimin was convinced that you were a fairy- he’d die on that hill.

As Jimin yammered on and on, Namjoon had a small idea.

“Hey, Chim,” he gained the boy’s attention as he looked up at his elder. “What about that?” Namjoon pointed to a painting of the moon casting its painted light on a ring of fairies. “Do you want to see that too? The moon, I mean.” Jimin’s heels came off the mattress before coming back down as he kicked his legs in thought. It was obvious he was just playing off his excitement from the smile he tried covered with his hand on his face.

“Well, is the moon pretty?” Jimin asked, trying to ask more questions instead of just blurting out that he did in fact want to see the moon.

Namjoon nodded. He instructed the younger to stay put as Namjoon ran to his room, searched his shelves for a book, before rushing back and flopping back on the bed with the child. He opened the book he had snagged, an encyclopedia of space with pictures included for Jimin’s viewing pleasure. Namjoon tried his best to explain whatever Jimin seemed interested in and just as he knew, the younger brother was soon bouncing on his bed with excitement on seeing the moon.

Namjoon looked across the room at the calendar that hung on Jimin’s metal wall. He huffed as he rolled his eyes, knowing that the pages won’t show the phases of the moon. They had long since stopped including the moon in the calendar because that was no use for them if you couldn’t see the sky in the first place.

When Namjoon tucked Jimin in for the night, he went back to his bunker room and opened the laptop he kept on his desk. A lot had changed and he didn’t often use his computer anymore since he had long since graduated and caring for Jimin had taken up a lot of his time. He had planned on keeping it until Jimin was old enough so he could give it to him instead.

However, searching things up on whatever search engine one preferred was still as easy as it was back in the day. He was delighted to see that the next night the moon would be 93% full. It may not be a complete full moon, but he knew that now was better than waiting- especially since Jimin was far from the patient time of a child.

He pushed himself to lounge back in his desk chair as he tapped his fingers on the top of his desk, craning his neck back to stare at the bland, empty ceiling.

“Tomorrow night it is,” he decided to himself in the solitude of his room.

XXX

The next day passed just as anyone had before it. Only now Namjoon pranced around in a veil of barely noticeable anticipation for the coming evening. He had mapped and planned out how he’d get Jimin out of the bunker without their aunt noticing or kicking up a fuss. He didn’t want that alcoholic to ruin the surprise he’d give to his younger brother.

Jimin had noticed Namjoon's air of pleasure as soon as he came home from school. He immediately took to pestering the eldest, hoping to break his resolve into telling him what had him so giddy, but Namjoon was solid and only kept telling him it was a surprise for later.

Jimin had changed out of his elementary uniform of shorts and collared shirt with a small bowtie clip, swapping them out for red shorts and a white shirt that was just a bit more than stained. Namjoon was in the kitchen taking out one of the many store bought pizzas they had in the freezer when the little man came running in only to try and be slick in trying to get Namjoon to spill the beans.

Namjoon stayed resilient.

After eating, more pestering, more failures of pestering, and cleaning up, Jimin trotted back to his room with Namjoon behind him. Namjoon could practically see the gears turning in the back of Jimin’s head of ways to make Namjoon bend and then break; but when the two entered the privacy of Jimin’s bunker room, Namjoon called him to the bed instead of directing him to his desk like usual to start his homework.

Today started the weekend, so any homework could be harmlessly postponed and looking at the clock along the wall, it started to get close to the hour of twilight.

Jimin climbed onto his bed, sitting excitedly in front of his brother with stars in his eyes. He knew he was finally getting the secret surprise out of his brother and Namjoon knew that Jimin thought it was because he had worn him down.

And he’d let the little boy continue to think he’d won. Why spoil his fun?

“What do you say we take a little trip,” Namjoon silently finished his sentence with his hand, using his index finger to point up at the ceiling and jerked his hand up in gesture. Jimin- being a bright 5th grader- already knew what he was asking and took to his feet on his mattress and started excitedly jumping.

Namjoon calmed him down, grabbing his hands as he jumped only to land on his bum on the mattress as his legs flopped over Namjoon’s lap. His grin threatened to split his face right in two.

“Yes!” Was his overly excited answer to which Namjoon immediately shushed him with a smile of his own. “Yes,” he whispered, still as excited as the first time.

“Then go get something warmer on, it’s chilly at night.”

Jimin bolted off the bed, rolling to plant his heels on the ground and rushed to his closet. Namjoon watched as he threw out a pair of pants and a hoodie he hadn’t worn in a while but thought still fit. From his drawers he tossed out a beanie and began to change quickly- like a madman was holding him at gunpoint.

Namjoon snickered when Jimin almost fell over trying to shove his leg into his pant leg too quickly and his foot snagged around the small, frayed hole in the knee.

When he was done, he ran to his brother, took his hand and started to weakly pull his arm. His torso was pulled back and forth, but he lacked the strength to move his brother any further.

“Okay, okay,” Namjoon gave, “I’m getting up. Stop yanking.”

Namjoon had gone to quickly check if his Aunt was either home or awake wandering around the kitchen, he didn’t find her in the house. It was all quiet. Good. If she were home, he’d have to tiptoe past her with an overly-excited Jimin. With her out- who knows where- the two boys could just waltz out of their home.

Stopping by his room, he just threw on the nearest hoodie he had laying around and a beanie that Jimin demanded he wear to match him. His grey sweats would have to be enough to keep his legs warm. He smiled as he looked at the gas mask on his wall and once again left it behind as he walked out to grab his brother’s hand and leave the house.

He also ran by the kitchen and grabbed a flashlight they kept in one of the few junk drawers they had and flicked it on, making sure it worked before shoving it into his pocket. Thankfully, his pockets were large enough to do so.

The few people still out in the metal, dirt-smelling streets would smile and ask what the boys were doing when it was already getting late for the little boy’s schedule. Namjoon would just lie, telling them Jimin had too much energy so they were walking around to get it all out.

When they got to the door leading up to the surface, Namjoon quickly punched in the code and as the door hissed, he slipped the both of them inside before it fully opened and began to run up the steps, telling Jimin he’d race him as far as he could go- just to get them away from anyone who would see them going up without a mask and at this time of evening and tried to stop them.

Shockingly, this trip up, Jimin managed to scale the long staircase all the way up without Namjoon having to pick him up and carry him on his back. The little boy claimed with a puffed out chest that at school during recess he had been going up and down the stairs to ‘train’ for this very occasion. Demanding praise, Namjoon ruffled his faded hair and let him push the large button to open the surface doors.

When Namjoon said it was going to be chilly, he was right.

It was dusk when the doors slid open and the slight breeze felt like a barrage of bricks being thrown at the boys. It was nothing like the damp-chill that lingers underground. The sweat that had been on them from their trek up the stairs in a seen film cooled almost immediately as Jimin started bouncing from his heels to his toes to try and warm up again.

“You sure you still wanna go, Chim?” Namjoon asked, wondering if he’d be okay with the wide open, cold air.

“I want to!”

“Alright.” Namjoon held out his hand, silently telling his brother to take it. The two walked outside and Jimin smiled in awe at the color changing sky.

It was blended in colors only his imagination could paint. A deep orange blending in with reds and heavy hues of pink that surrounded the dark, red, dusk colored sun. The clouds that spanned the sky were few and stretched like a thin strokes of paint from a cheap, hard-bristled brush and were hued the fainted shades of yellow. The world around the little boy was colored in warm tones and it made him forget about the chill he was slowly getting used to.

They walked around for a bit, just warming their body up to the new temperature when Namjoon noticed Jimin’s insistent staring at the not-so-far-off tree line. If the kid was trying to be inconspicuous, he was very bad at it.

“What’cha looking at?” The boy’s shoulders jumped at being caught as he began to toe at the ground beneath him. Once again poorly hiding his desire. Apparently, the kid found a sudden spike in confidence as he stomped his foot and looked up at Namjoon with determined eyes.

“I wanna go into the woods!” He exclaimed, lifting his free arm to point at the treeline. Namjoon sighed, having known that was coming.

“Chim, it’s already starting to get dark-”

“I know! But, just for a little bit. Please!” He whined, yanking on Namjoon’s arm.

Namjoon let out a defeated sigh as he looked up to the sky, rolling his eyes and ultimately gave in. They had maybe 20 minutes before it was dark enough to break out the flashlight. Jimin happily danced along with his brother as they made their way to the tree.

Namjoon made sure Jimin followed two important rules before they went inside. He had to keep a hold of his hand at all times- no running off on his own again. And when it got too dark they had to leave so they didn’t get lost or somehow hurt. Jimin agreed as they two started walking over roots and falling sticks, crushing leaves and quickly getting out of the way of passing by wildlife.

Jimin was constantly almost tripping over twigs or sticks that snuck their way in his path while he looked up and around in the treetops, neglecting to look down at his feet to watch where he was going.

“Jimin, you need to watch your feet.”

The pout that crossed over the boy’s lips was comical. Namjoon was ready for whatever excuse he was going to push out of them for not doing as he was told.

“But, what if I miss Y/n?”

There it was. Namjoon had already figured out he was looking for you. It happened to be a running theme with you hanging out in the trees every time one of them found you. Or if you found them. When Jimin got lost, he found you in a tree and when Namjoon went looking for you the one time he went up here without Jimin a week ago, you were also hanging out in a tree.

Namjoon tries telling the kid that he can do both, looking at his feet and then taking glances upwards. It wasn’t like they were walking all that quickly through the woods and Namjoon would also help him look up in the treetops just so Jimin could stop tripping. Between their back and forth banter, they failed to notice that instead of finding you, you happened to find them.

“I didn’t think you two had it in you to argue in the middle of the woods,” your voice startled the two to the point of halting their back and forth. Jimin let out a yell, not expecting it and Namjoon’s shoulders jolted as the both of them looked upwards.

Namjoon’s tense shoulders slackened as Jimin yanked excitedly on his arm. There you were in all your glory, sitting comfortably in a tree just as always. You smiled down at the duo before climbing your way down the tree trunk. The moment your bare feet hit the ground, Jimin broke away from Namjoon and dashed; barreling into your lower body and wrapping his arms around your midsection.

Nothing but a fit of gleeful giggles.

“I’ve missed you, Y/n!” The child all but whines as you pet softly at his head, mindful not to pull off the beanie he wore.

“It has been a while, huh?” You chuckle. Really just over a week wasn’t that much time realistically speaking, but to a child who was dead-set on believing you were a fairy? A week may have well been an eternity. Namjoon made his way closer to you as you looked up at him. “What are you guys doing up here so late?”

“We’re going to look at the moon!” Jimin chirped in favor of his older brother. “Namjoon says it doesn't look like the pictures in my fairy tales.”

“That's because it's changed since those were published, Chim” As Jimin grumbled, Namjoon looked back at you. “Know any good seats?”

The smile you wore felt contagious as Namjoon felt himself smiling along with you. From what you told him last time he saw you, it didn’t shock him that moon gazing made your eyes gleam with a veil of fondness. “As a matter of fact, I do.” You gently pulled Jimin’s small arms from around you and stepped back. Instead, you took his hand the moment his bottom lip began to pout. “Let’s go to the tallest tree, okay?”

Jimin nodded as he snatched Namjoon’s hand and squeezed it in his other, hanging between the two of you. When you led them to the largest oak you knew of that would have a clear view of the sky, you let go of Jimin’s hand only to kneel with your back facing him. Urging him to climb on, you grabbed the back of his thighs and told him to loop them around and lock his ankles together- or at least do the best he could not to slip off your back while you climbed.

Namjoon threw a joke about having to climb the tree himself all while rolling his sleeves up and readjusting his beanie so he wouldn’t loose it as his head would be craned up so he could semi-see where he climbed. You snorted at him as you started up. Jimin’s giggles flowed into your ears as you felt his legs squeeze against your sides and his arms tighten around your shoulders. Namjoon wasn’t far behind you, careful not to snag his clothes on any loose bark and only going for branches he knew would support his weight.

He tried to stay to the side of your quickly climbing figure so he wouldn't accidentally catch a glance up your dress. He figured that growing up in the forest and as far from society as you could get, you didn't think about the possibility of him sneaking a peek; he wondered if you’d even get angry if he told you to climb after he began for that very reason. Though, that didn’t stop his cheeks from heating up even in the evening chill.

As the three of you climbed nearer to the top of the tree, the branches were thinning out and bending to every breath of wind, making the two boys’ stomachs tangle in anxiety. Namjoon glanced down past his shoulder and while a fall from this height wouldn’t necessarily kill him unless he landed on his head- it definitely wouldn’t be a pleasant sensation.

“Hey,” Namjoon called, causing you to stop mid reach for another branch as Jimin squeaked, arms tightening again and trying to shift higher on your back when you leaned back to carelessly talk to him. He shouldn’t be surprised, you’ve only climbed trees a thousand times. “Aren’t the branches too thin to climb? We shouldn’t go much higher.”

“Too thin?” Honestly, you didn’t think that was the case. Though, perhaps it was because the tree was aiding you- showing you and guiding you to strong, sturdy branches to keep you climbing. Then again, only you could hear its voice- is that what you could call it. The sound of the tree helping you and keeping you from giving in to gravity. “If you don’t want to climb any more, you could’ve said so before.”

Before he could open his mouth and protest, he felt something coil around his ankles and up his calves, avoiding his knees and resting on the back of his thighs like a makeshift, constricting seat. Looking down, tree branches and vines had curled around his legs and began to move him upwards, the sound of creaking bark under his weight making his stomach twist.

As he rose slowly to your eye level, his hands had long since let go of the bark he clung to and Jimin’s wide eyes mocked the shock on Namjoon’s. You just smiled.

“The tree can take you to the top if you feel better that way.” You spoke so calmly like this was just an everyday, ordinary thing. Never in his life had he seen trees all bent and broken like this- like they were sentient or had free will. Yeah, you mentioned to him before you could communicate in some way with the nature you lived around- but this was not what he was expecting. What's more is that the branches curled around his lower half weren't even uncomfortable.

One would think the wood of the tree would be jagged, painful and just about a dozen future splinters waiting to happen. But, it just felt like ribbons were wrapped around him. It wasn’t painful at all, maybe that’s why it took so much effort to compromise that he wasn’t losing his mind. It as like an optical illusion.

“Can I try that?” Jimin suddenly piped up from on your back. Without a word, you just smiled as more branches began to encroach on your own body, but yours went up your back as well. Securing Jimin safely to you like a human backpack and cradling around his own back to keep him well in place. Then, as a branch-bound trio, you all were elevated to the top of the trees. The leaves were thick, but seemed to window out of your path and before long, the sky was in full view and you all witnessed the tiniest sliver of evening diminish under the vast, dark navy sky.

Stars dotted around like rhinestones, some still working on finding their light and working their way out into full view. Your shadows were cast along the tree leaves by the largest celestial body in the sky that conquers the nighttime- the whole reason the two boys were up on the surface in the first place.

“Wow, look” Jimin cheered, reaching past your shoulder to point at the moon. His eyes sparkled and Namjoon for once wasn’t looking at his younger brother's reaction. He was staring earnestly at the moon, Selene shining with a brilliant soft glow- just like how he remembered in his childhood before he was shoved underground like a mole. He felt nostalgic looking up at her beauty.

The moon was full and bright and you smiled up to what you considered your mother planet. Glancing at the two with you, you were pleased to see them both gazing at it with fondness and excitement. It made you feel giddy seeing them enjoy the sight of it shining in the sky.

“So,” you started, looking over your shoulder to Jimin’s excited face, “what’s your opinion on the moon?”

“It’s pretty! It doesn't look like the picture books, like Joon said, but it’s waaay better!”

The position of the moon this night made it easy to at least catch a glimpse at the irregular growth of the Moon Tree, even from the distance between the planets. It was like a tumor on the space rock, a large, shadowed, beautiful tumor that breached its cage and tethered itself to another planet.

From the way Namjoon spoke, it sounded like most of his people considered the moon a parasite that doomed the earth, but you thought it was the beginning of a new world. A new era where humans got a taste of their own medicine while the planet took itself back.

Though, you weren’t as sure as you wanted to be on your opinions when it came to other people. All you knew was what you learned in the labs you were ‘born’ into and what Namjoon explained that day on the escalator. Sure you’ve read pages of books that hadn’t been worn or molded away into dust, but you weren’t sure what was fact or fiction either.

All you knew was the moon was your sense of calming and that was all that mattered when you came right down to it.

“Way better huh?”

“Yeah! We’re learning about the Moon Tree in my class right now, and the teachers all say it’s a big bad thing. But it looks really pretty, even all the way down here. Nothing that pretty can be bad.” Your eyes soften at his child's innocence.

“Thanks for thinking that.”

Jimin then started on about his school and what he did and learned on a day-to-day basis. You found it fascinating and part of you was curious to see this underground world they lived in, but just the thought of going from wide, open, fresh air into a condensed cage of soil didn’t sit well in your stomach.

Eventually, as the moon crept higher in the sky, shining brighter with each passing moment until it would reach peak shine, you felt Jimin nodding off behind you, struggling to keep his young head up and awake. He was just a kid, and sleep was important to him and his growth, so you began to slowly hum.

The feeling of the humming vibration from you pulled him under and soon his arms were slumped over your shoulders, his head resting forward against the back of yours, sliding into your neck. He breathed easy as he slept.

Namjoon knew he slept like a rock, so he recommended climbing down the tree so he doesn’t slip off your back- even if the tree branches still kept him secured to you. He didn’t want to take the chance.

The branches easily and gently worked its way back down with the three of you, the sky shutting off from sight by the leaves and before long they were setting you and Namjoon softly back onto the soil. As the vines and branches retracted from him, he let some wrap around his hand before pulling back completely and disappearing into the dark forest.

It wasn’t as dark as Namjoon expected, a swarm of fireflies lighting the area up in small, repetitive blips of lime light. He watched you set Jimin down as you soon followed, sitting on the ground against the tree trunk and the sleeping boy’s head on your leg. Namjoon knew he should be taking Jimin and going home, but something in him compelled him to sit beside you and bask in the moment for a little longer- so he did.

You both talked in hushed tones, exchanging more differences about your life styles and educating the other. It felt like you were talking about two different planets by how different it all was, but it was also interesting.

The night went on and next thing Namjoon knew, he was cracking his eyes open to a morning lit, tree cluttered forest. Singing birds waking him instead of his alarm clock. Leaves casting dancing shadows along the dirt and grass instead of the bright, humming light of his bunker.

A weight was on his shoulder as his cheek rested on something. His neck was sore and his back stiff as he sucked in a breath and corrected his head to sit straight and not at an uncomfortable angle. The soreness in his neck making him wince.

Looking with small, tired eyes, you were sleeping beside him, your head on his shoulder and Jimin still on your lap. In fact he was more curled into your stomach by his sifting and moving through the night. He blinked before the realization hit him that he slept up on the surface overnight after sneaking himself and his younger brother out without telling a single person.

“Shit.”

a/n: so i decided that i wasn’t going to bust my ass and write what im only expecting to be another 10k words to this fic before the 12th just for a few notes. the lack of activity is really bumming me out- even if i’m on and off/on hiatus, whenever i do post or tease or hint at something, i still dont hardly get anything. this may be me whining, but nevertheless, here’s part one of Years END.

I started this back in 2019, and it’s been rewritten several times- so here’s hoping i can conclude it with a second part in the not so distance future lol

59 notes · View notes

stevenuniverseanewchapter · 4 years

Text

So i got bored and to try and draw again as I was in a bad funk for a while i shitposted to try and get back into drawing again. @spectrisinks @suau-grey @surogueau @topazillustrates @theeldritchgemsau @repression-au @divided-steven-au @su-homebroken-au @ask-suauwitchanddemons @human-safety-su-au

#friend group #shitpost doodles #Sans Eckhart #sorry for being so quiet it's been hard recently #not comics #disarmed #disarmed au #theeldritchgemau #falsification steven #suau-grey #rougueau #repression #devidedau #homebroken au #human safety au #witches and demonds au

297 notes · View notes

incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years

Text

Comte AU Event

Aight because I have Comte brainworms (is this a surprise to anybody I sure hope not), there’s something I’ve just been thinking about a lot ever since completing one of the story events a month ago:

The cover art being very sexy aside, I naturally did Comte’s story event and I have yet to move on. Namely because of one specific line. (Disclaimer: Keep in mind I don’t mean to say I’m an expert, I just translate for fun--I don’t have the same prowess as an official linguist. That being said starts the circus music let the show go on)

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

This is the line I want to dive into, but before I can really talk about it, we need proper context.

Event spoilers below:

This event is a little different since it’s an AU, so the mansion and its residents don’t exist. (Comte lives in the mansion on his own, but it’s not the same one we know.) Instead Comte, Leo, and Arthur are stand alone suitors who have turned MC into a vampire. Because MC has no clear memory of how and/or why it happened, MC is seeking vengeance against her paired hottie--and fully intends to end their life one way or another.

Aside from how sexy revenge is and how much I love the enemies to lovers trope, Comte’s entire storyline gave me more life than I can humanly convey. Here goes nothing!

So it begins with MC knocking on his door and Comte answers it and literally just stares at her silently like some kind of Furby. MC starts out by saying she’s been trying to narrow down the bastard that ruined her life and her search has finally brought her to his doorstep. She basically demands the truth from him and he just keeps. Staring owlishly (lmao). He eventually relents and tells her that a conversation is much better held inside, and invites her into his home to talk.

She's sus as hell but enters the house, and he asks if she's had blood. This stops her in her tracks, shook, and her monologue drifts to explain a few things. When she woke up years ago, a new vampire, she had instructions to approach the Rouge/Blanc dispensary for what she needed. The staff there told her that everything was paid for, and she continued to receive support from an unnamed benefactor. She asked them for the identity of this person, but they were beholden to customer confidentiality. As such, she's been searching for information to narrow down her target for years until she finally found him tonight.

Despite the years it doesn't mean she's any more comfortable with her new existence. She notes that she still tends to stick to drinking Blanc--only drinking Rouge (in other words, blood) when she has no other choice. When Comte puts the Rouge on the table, she becomes notably unsettled. She's thirsty, but she won't concede to his request that she drink it; she refuses.

(I feel like he can probably tell because he's her sire/because of his experience with vampires). Comte--naturally--refuses to let her go hungry, so he knocks it back and kisses her to get her to drink it. He lets go as soon as she's swallowed it, and doesn't resist when she shoves him off. She rails at him about how awful he is for doing that, he agrees. She asks if he was the one that killed her parents, he confirms with blasé indifference. She's fuming quietly, but she notes that he doesn't really look happy or triumphant about it. What he's saying isn't reaching his eyes; his gaze is distant and sad. And it's confusing her. Isn't he supposed to be the enemy?

She's lost in her thoughts and unresponsive until there's a loud cry from outside the house, the shriek of a nearby owl. She snaps out of her daze to see that she still has his hand in a vice grip from when she shoved him off, and his skin is blanched--she cut off his circulation from the pressure. She releases him, startled, but he says nothing.

She's trying to sort out what's going on, and doesn't have enough information to really piece anything together. She wants to hate him but things aren't making sense. Why did her parents have to die in the first place? Why does he bother keeping her alive at his own expense? Even just now, what he did felt more like an attempt to get her to eat than anything else. Why isn’t he more malicious? This MC is desperate for answers, and she says as much: "What are you hiding…?"

Comte doesn't answer her, just averts his gaze and remains silent. MC decides she won't do anything until she learns the full extent of what happened the night she was turned. Furthermore, she's well aware of Comte’s status being a problem. If she goes too far without proper motive, the aristocracy could come back to bite her in the ass. (The implication here is that she's more concerned about being wrong and living with that regret, rather than any necessity to protect herself. The state of his gaze--the melancholy there--keeps eating at her. Until she knows why, she won't move forward.)

Comte is shocked that she demands to live alongside him in the mansion, but he doesn't take any issue with it. He says the mansion is pointlessly huge for one person anyway--she's welcome to stay. Either way she wins with this arrangement: either she gets the truth or she finds an effective way to destroy him by the end. And so their little cohabitation begins!

After a timeskip, MC recounts how she's been spending her days in the mansion. She's been tidying around the house, both in the hopes of finding evidence and/or in the hopes of repaying all the years of living on his assistance. He doesn't stop her, letting her do as she pleases and keeping his distance.

One day, she's about to step out into town to grab some groceries. Comte approaches at the front door, cautioning her to be safe--there have been many reports of scuffles/dangerous encounters. MC brushes him off, unsurprised he knows what's going on in town. He's very well connected to the aristocracy, and she notes that he's often at dinner gatherings and parties when he's not home. She insists she can't let her guard down, that he can't be trusted; no matter how kind he is to her face.

Another day, he asks her to attend a ball later in the week. He tells her she's under no obligation to stay with him while they're there, just that he wants her to take some time and relax--to have fun. She tries to insist that going to something like that would be more stressful than fun but he won’t hear of any protest, walking away before she can fully reject the outing. (Comte, an idiot, speed-walking out of the room: and that is what we call finessed). She sighs, thinking she'll be nothing but a burden to him given her lack of knowledge about events like that. She doesn't really know the proper etiquette or how to dance, it’s completely out of her depth.

Surprising no one at all Comte buys MC a dress and accessories to match regardless, and when she comes down the staircase leading to the front door he's awestruck. He tells her she's beautiful and she's miffed by the raw sincerity, trying to remind herself that he is eeeeevil. He knows how to talk to women given his status, he's just smooth talking... (She's trying to convince herself, essentially.)

And so they go, and she's a bit of a wallflower. He leaves her alone--doesn't want to bother her--while she sticks close to one wall. Several men ask her to dance, but she politely declines. Her monologue explains that, given what she is and the fact that she’s only living for revenge, she sees no merit in trying to court human men. She sees it as irresponsible and inevitably disastrous, and…

[Given the nature of what I am I just can't. I can't fall in love with a human man. Besides, the only person I really want to dance with is...as much as I hate it, my line of sight keeps drifting to Comte. Suddenly he looks up and meets my gaze, but I hurriedly look away--my heart pounding in my chest. Why. In a room full to the brim with people, why do my eyes keep looking for him. Whatever, time to go cool off for a bit.]

She leaves the ballroom--mortified at herself--to get some fresh air. Not five minutes into trying to figure out whatever the hell is going on with her shitshow of a life, a man appears asking what she’s doing alone. And da da da d a Zelda treasure chest sound effect he whips out a knife covered in blood and tries to stab MC. Naturally, because I’m an idiot, my first thought was:

TW: knife attack

TW: homicides by serial killer

But it turns out our local serial killer remains nameless in this event, so I can point no fingers. MC is panicking about needing to run and frozen in place from the shock, but Comte appears to pull her out of range--knife sinking into his back. He doesn’t react much to the violence as the attacker runs away, yanking out the knife and focused on checking her for any wounds. She’s still reeling from how quickly he reacted, and he reassures her (probably at the sight of her bewildered/worried look) that law enforcement is on alert in the area. They’ll find him, they’ll arrest him.

She tries to ask him why. Why would he protect her like that? His first instinct was to take the hit and ensure her safety first, and it doesn’t make sense. Comte reassures her again, joking that purebloods are sturdy. See? The wound’s already healed c:

[Even though I've been spending all this time trying to get my revenge on him, my heart stopped when he was attacked. As if to reassure me, frozen and speechless, Comte smiles gently. This person.......I can't do it. I can't kill him without meaning, without being sure of the truth.]

"...Comte, I can tell you're a good person. What happened that night, so many years ago?" Because even now, he's still protecting me. "Please...tell me the truth. I want to know."

[I know this isn't the time or place, but if I don't know I can't worry about him with a clear head.]

TW: human trafficking and drugging unconscious

Comte concedes and goes into what happened that night so many years ago. Apparently he was acquainted with her parents long before the incident, and they fell into debt as a result of gambling. He approached their home in the hopes of paying them a visit, checking up on them, only to encounter tragedy. They intended to sell their daughter off and the man they ended up making a deal with more or less slaughtered them all in cold blood. The reason MC doesn’t remember any of this was because her parents drugged her the night it happened. No consciousness, no resistance.

"In that room suffused in the odor of blood and despair, I found you, MC." Her pained, struggling cry is what led him into that room--and seeing how desperately she was fighting to survive, he turned her against all his better judgement. Feeling certain she would hate him forever for the choice he made compounded by her terrible circumstance, he bailed, leaving her instructions and resources to survive on her own.

"Sold off by your own parents, attacked by a serial killer, seconds from death. I thought....I thought telling you about it would only bring you pain, that it would leave you numb from the shock and despair. That's why I kept it from you.”

"...After turning you, I was consumed by regret. I felt certain you would hate me for the choice I made. So I left." [When I don't know what to say, he keeps talking.] "But I was worried about you even so. I tailed you quietly, making sure you were getting along okay. I was fully aware you wanted to kill me for what I'd done. Even so, I wanted to check on you."

And that is where the line comes in.

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

He admits that he fell in love with her after a point. And she’s baffled, considering she’s been looking for every reason to tear him apart--assuming he was the perpetrator when he actually saved her life. She protests immediately, asking how he could possibly feel that way after the level of vitriol and judgement she’s levied against him when he was only trying to help.

"That's not true at all. At heart, you're a very kind young lady. You haven't raised a hand against me all this time. And even when you considered me to be a repulsive presence, you were worried about me."

At this MC is conflicted--because his words are a further extension of his equanimity. He’s well aware that he brought about all the confusion by not being honest, but it’s also clear there was no ill intent involved in that decision. He was concerned; hitting her with that level of misfortune and senseless terror all at once could have been incredibly destructive to her health. (This isn’t to say he made the ‘right’ decision; I don’t think there is any right decision in the face of such a complex situation. Given he takes full responsibility for what happened and does his best to help her, I think that’s a fair response.)

This is essentially where the common rt ends. But because I’m feral for Comte and enjoy talking about him, I’ll finish up the summary and then go on to do my analysis.

After that riveting assault, MC is feeling very lost about how to move forward. Her fury at Comte’s injustice has all but evaporated, which means a complete re-evaluation of how she’s going to move forward from now on. Does she continue with her revenge anyway, still angry for the dishonesty? Or does she try something new?

If you do the premium end that means choosing to forgive Comte and climb him (as he deserves). Therefore I, being an intellectual, chose to ride him into the sunset.

The premium end begins with Comte taking her to another ball because the first one kind of went to shit and he feels bad about it (retraumatization was not in the plan...). And so MC basically does the same thing as the first time, just vibin and taking in the scenery, thinking things over. Comte’s concerned about her not having fun, so he approaches her to ask if she’s feeling okay. He makes it clear that he really doesn’t mind if she dances with someone else--even if he admitted his feelings for her. She doesn’t owe him anything, and he has no intention of imposing on her future.

"Whatever it is you choose to do, I don't mind. I just want you to be happy"

[This person is so, so gentle...His words penetrate deep and settle with warmth over my heart, my chest light.] "Comte I.......I don't want to dance with anyone but you." [I still don't know what to do about the future, but for now I think following what my heart is telling me is the best move]

"!!!....well then, if you insist..."

Comte’s just:

He’s beyond shocked, but accepts her invitation when she confirms it’s what she wants to do. Leading her in all his infinite grace, MC marvels at his ability to dance so elegantly--even with a partner who’s deadweight, like her. She also finds it astounding how easily he makes her forget what they are, how easily she just enjoys the moment; no turmoil, no lingering in the worst of her miseries. She’s just...having fun? For the first time in so very long.

[Comte murmurs in the short distance, clear remorse on his face--as though he can't help it.]

"MC, it's kind of you, honestly. That you'd give me the time of day, that you'd agree to dance with me. But I...I'm the one that turned you. There's no denying or escaping that fact. If it's you, I'm ready to accept any consequence. If you want me gone, you're free to attack me. If you just want to be as far away from me as possible--to live your life in peace and solitude--I will do everything in my power to help you."

[He said it as if he was trying to convince himself. Like he was trying to remember why he couldn't assume more of this single dance together, why he couldn't let hope emerge from this single shared moment.]

[.....I'm not that kind, Comte. I asked because it's you.....Feeling his warmth beneath my hands, I come to a decision.]

There’s a timeskip, and then MC--being the badass that she is--knocks on Comte’s door the night of the crescent moon. He lets her inside more than ready to accept her judgement, whatever it may be. MC asks about his feelings, seeks to confirm that he still loves her before she confesses herself.

"Comte. Comte you said--that you loved me right?"

"Yes that's correct...no matter how much you might hate me, these feelings won't change. I love you."

[Hearing those words again sets my chest on fire. And I decide to tell him my honest feelings.]

"I love you too. But......I've held a misguided grudge against you for so long, is it okay for me to love you now?"

[Can that misunderstanding really be forgiven? Am I allowed to love you? Comte's eyes widen, and the breathtaking gold of his eyes shimmer/waver.]

"...shouldn't that be my line? I mean even despite the circumstances, I still made the choice to turn you :o Can you really forgive me?"

"...If I'm honest, I still have a hard time drinking blood and I'm a little scared of an immortal life. But......I think if I could spend that eternity at your side, I could find the means to smile again. And....the thing is....I also want to see you smile, to make sure you remember how to smile."

".................." [Le Comte stared at me, before extending his hand. And he hugged me so, so tightly.] "MC......."

[In that single word all the raw emotion of ten years can be heard. It was an indescribable sound--one that spoke of an unimaginable, impossible love. This person loves me so very dearly.]

The event ends with them biting each other as proof of their bond, essentially a vow to stay together moving forward. It felt very much like the shared act of biting was a promise of love, how vampires might get married or commit to each other romantically. The summary essentially ends here.

Here’s where the semi-meta comes in, because I literally just can’t stop thinking about the implications of this event.

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

I just...I just don’t even know where to begin with how hard this line hits. Comte’s MS conveys this sentiment powerfully too, but there’s just something about them choosing to emphasize it yet again. The reason Comte falls in love every time has to do with his MC’s strength, her ability to surmount remarkable obstacles with so much poise. She’s deeply in tune with her reality, but no less relentlessly positive. She won’t burden others with her problems, and she’ll do everything in her power to move forward in constructive ways.

Even when every day was a living hell. Both Comte and Leonardo perceive eternity to be something of a curse; an endless sentence. Whether it means suffering boredom, reliving tragedy, or going nigh numb from the loneliness--being an immortal creature isn’t always sunshine and rainbows.

And that’s exactly why I think he fell in love with this MC? I don’t think his feelings would have run half as deep if it was just anyone. He doesn’t strike me as the type to get attached easily. Because if he’s going to have a life partner, he needs someone who's going to be able to roll with whatever life throws their way for conceivable lifetimes. Somebody that loses heart quickly or is easily prone to delusion would suffer eternally, and the last thing he wants is to subject a person to that. MC gives him hope certainly, but she’s also emblematic of a kind of fortitude he both needs on a personal level and she would need to be beside him. It’s interesting because it’s a responsible choice on his part, but also just very befitting of his nature. He’s somebody that staunchly believes in the ability of good to prevail, but he’s also realistic about it. He knows doing the right thing isn’t necessarily easy; he does it because he could never live with himself if he did otherwise.

(Think about Comte’s approach with Jeanne. It meant years of being on the receiving end of hatred he didn’t deserve, but he didn’t mind if it meant Jeanne could find a way to heal. It’s not the most practical or immediate solution, but it is the most restorative option. Comte doesn’t care that he spends years living alongside Jeanne’s outspoken displeasure and even violent outbursts. Why? Because it’s all a means to a greater, better end. If he has to suffer a little discomfort, he’s willing to make that sacrifice. That’s the thing with Comte; intentionality is everything. Comte’s intention is to help. Whether that’s a short or long process, a smooth or rough process, he’s going to do what he can within his means.)

That dynamic is reflected in his respect for this MC who is filled with fury on behalf of all the life that she lost unfairly, her relentless pursuit for the truth of what happened to her. Notice, she’s more interested in truth than retaliation. She refuses to lay an intentionally violent hand on Comte until she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was worthy of being on the receiving end of that retribution. Who does that sound like? If you guessed Comte himself, then you see where I’m going with this. What MC and Comte have in common is that they have a sharp emotional fortitude that they keep under tight, rational control. They will react with sizable passion or hurt or warmth--but their externalized reaction will vary depending on the situation. If it’s a minor annoyance, they have the patience to diffuse and try to alleviate the problem. If it’s on a larger scale or it’s an egregious violation of their personhood, then they up the ante accordingly.

Think about it. MC appears on Comte’s doorstep full of righteous rage and even when he confirms what he’s “done,” she hesitates. Her emotional intelligence is telling her something isn’t aligning properly; something isn’t quite right. She forgoes immediate revenge for proper answers instead. MC and Comte have this kind of balance, where they are more than happy to hear people out--but there is a limit to that propensity. Push them too far? They’ll bust your head. I guess I’m particularly interested in the way Comte seems to yearn for that kind of identification with a partner. Somebody who has similar values: not merciless, but also won’t bend when a situation requires confrontation.

All that being said, there was one more aspect of the story that I was endlessly interested in. I’m going to link the post here, in that it’s tangentially related to this meta; it really made me better able to articulate what I mean to say.

“Never let generosity hold hostages; courtesy is an essential tool, but a cruel master.”

I’m gonna let that sink in for a moment.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, because it’s very rare that I read something once and I’m forced to read it several more times before I begin to understand it. My interpretation of that line is to say that benevolence can showcase your good will to others; it can be a reliable proof of good character, and a way to help someone. But the problem comes when people do conventionally/perceived generous things with the explicit intent of repayment by some measure. While it is only responsible to care for others as they care for you, you shouldn’t make impossible sacrifices with the expectation that the other person is indebted to you--especially if the other party had no ability to consent to that sacrifice.

How does this apply to Comte in this event story? Er, in almost every way humanly (vampirely?) possible, in my view. Comte turns MC into a vampire after seeing her plight, largely because he gets the impression that she was fighting for her life--had impossibly survived against all odds. The situation is complicated though. MC wasn’t fully conscious when it happened, so she doesn’t have a proper understanding of how everything went down. So what does Comte do? If he can’t bear to face her or reveal the truth of how horribly she died, he at least gives her every means to survive and makes sure she’s doing okay since she’s technically an orphan now. He doesn’t interfere with her life, or demand recognition for the life he gave her. He fully understands that she wasn’t able to properly consent to his decision in that split second moment, and even if she had he doesn’t see it as a debt she owes him now. He was able to help save her life for at least a little while longer, and so he did. It was as simple as that. He had the ability, she had the need. That’s the end.

But Comte’s emotional acuity doesn’t just end here. Even when she comes after him to kill him, he doesn’t respond with anger because he knows full well he hasn’t explained. Sure he’s sacrificing their relationship (the ability to get along on half-decent terms) but if it means she can find a reason to live, then so be it. He doesn’t lord that sacrifice over her head by any extension; he’s just sad about it because he thinks she’s a wonderful person, and he doesn’t want to be estranged from her. But in his view, her needs supercede his wants.

He doesn’t force her to do chores around the house during her stay, she does it to keep herself busy and search for the truth about his intentions. He even asks her to take breaks and look after herself first, more concerned with her well-being than the state of the mansion. At the ball, he doesn’t force her to linger around him or dance with him despite inviting her there and giving her the dress/jewelry to attend. He leaves her alone as she wishes, only glancing at her to make sure she’s doing okay. When he takes the hit from the violent stranger--a knife straight to the back--he jokes about being s t r o n k, never once blaming her for the wound he sustains no matter how brief.

He explains that he didn’t tell her the truth because it was incredibly traumatic, and it’s only in the safety of the moment--after years of having conceived of her own selfhood beyond the event--that she’s able to take the weight of what happened without falling apart. The premium end just keeps hammering this shit home. He openly tells her she doesn’t have to dance with him at all, that she doesn’t owe him anything just because he likes her. He’s aware it’s unrequited (he thinks) and he doesn’t go on and on about all the sacrifices he made for her with the expectation she’ll reciprocate. He just did what he wanted to do, nothing more. If she feels the same way by some miracle, that’s amazing! If she doesn’t, as it would be valid if not, that’s fair too; no hard feelings.

She has to be the one to invite him to dance and insist. She’s the one that smiles fondly when he’s telling her that she can choose whatever outcome she pleases, even if it means wanting to live as far as possible from him. There is no guilt trip, no expectation, and no pressure. She has the freedom to leave or stay. It is entirely dependent on her own will. For the first time in a lifetime of loss, her agency is restored to her. That’s huge.

She even admits that she feels bad about being so angry when he really was just trying to help, now that she can understand what he’s doing. And he’s openly shocked to hear it. He had no intention of expecting or asking for an apology. He understands it was his own imposition, both biting her and obscuring the truth, that led to her setting her mind on vengeance.

I’ve probably hit it home harder than necessary, but Comte just feels like the epitome of good will in the best way possible. One can argue he’s a little selfish for keeping the truth from her for so long, but honestly? Given the horrific trauma of her situation--and his personal fear of making her miserable for an eternity when all he wanted was to give her a second chance away from all that hurt--I feel like his reaction was closer to considerate and reasonable. Comte doesn’t sacrifice anything he isn’t unwilling to give, or anything that would cripple him to give. Furthermore, he doesn’t make love out to be a kind of 1:1. He recognizes that while he might know her well, she doesn’t know squat about him. And, as such, he doesn’t expect her to trust his intentions or reciprocate his feelings in any capacity. It’s just a delightful surprise when she does. When he tells her that he loves her that first time, it’s an explanation. Not a guilt trip. He knows she won’t be satisfied years of protecting her simply because “he wanted to” and he promised her the truth, so he tells her. Not only that, in the aftermath he repeatedly reminds her she isn’t bound to him. She commits to him before he relies on any kind of active bond between both of them.

I don’t know, maybe I think too hard about it, but I feel like the older I get the more I see a shortage of this kind of fine-tuned caring about the other person in a relationship. I guess I just enjoy seeing a man give a woman her health and agency without treating her wellness/happiness like it’s a burden to his life? First and foremost Comte really is concerned with her self-actualization before his feelings can have any place in their relationship. And even when he does confess his love, it isn’t a way to force her to feel indebted to him; it’s an attempt to erase any false pretenses. MC loves him, not because she has nowhere else to go, but because he’s proven himself time and again a worthy companion. Always putting her first, always worried about her feelings, paying such close attention that he sees her to the core of who she is despite her iron front--kind, beneath all that hurt. They spend so much of this event really listening to each other despite such difficult circumstances, and it leads to a deep and abiding love against all odds. And I find that incredibly moving...

Oh and, before I forget? Let me circle back for a moment:

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

The best part about this event is that--while Comte says this about MC--this is also precisely the reason MC falls in love with Comte too, even if it’s never stated outright. Because despite how lonely and tired he may be of eternity, no matter how many troubles he’s facing himself, he never stops trying to help and support others (namely MC) in any way he can.

Drops mic

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp jpn spoilers #ikevamp meta #ikevamp au event #comte propaganda #fangdad propaganda #i love him so very dearly #this event just made the feelings come rushing back #can't have five minutes without comte giving me heart palpitations huh #i feel so personally attacked #anywho i hope yall enjoy this wild ride as much as i did #minnie finna peace out and sleep for 70 hrs #**dives into bed beside comte**#rambles #not incorrect quotes

230 notes · View notes