#“Your kid almost dying is probably easier to handle when you’re thousands of miles away.”

[clipboard-buckley118]

I need the 911 writers to learn that not all parents need a redemption arc

[angelaiswriting]

The Assistant (6 of ?) | Vladimir Ranskahov x reader

[original picture: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings:

(eventual) Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

Anatoly Ranskahov x OC (Paulina)

probably other pairings in the future

✏️ Requested by @kellydixon01  : Y/N–hacker, big mouth, even bigger attitude–is the new addition to Fisk’s team. Sent to help the Ranskahovs, she immediately gets on Vladimir’s nerves. But as time passes, they start to take a liking to each other, even if none of them is willing to admit their feelings. Yet.

✏️ A/N: we’re finally inside Y/N’s mind in this chapter! Btw I hope this story doesn’t suck and that it makes sense.

✏️ Warnings: mention + talks of murder, death in general, probably angst (but isn’t this story a pile of angst?) and I think that’s it. Tell me if anything triggers you and I’ll add it.

✏️ Word-count: 4,200 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR YOU 💛

📚 To read the previous chapters, click on the MASTERLIST link in my bio (unfortunately I can’t put links here if I want my post to come up in search results. I apologize.)

CHAPTER SIX: TRUST ISSUES

“What the fuck?”

Y/N’s choked scream came as a surprise. On one thing, Vladimir Ranskahov had been right: she had never seen a corpse and now that she stood just meters from four, she couldn’t help the trembling in her legs.

When the men turned around, diverting their attention from the four criminals at their feet, they saw she had left the security of the car. Surprisingly enough, she had been the first to react and as she stared at them with eyes full of shock and fear, Vladimir was the second.

His brain was working a thousand miles an hour and as his fingers tightened around the grip of his gun, he thought he could shoot her down. A bullet between the eyes and all would be over with. But the more he stared, the more his rational mind fought that urge, and the more his anger boiled and screamed throughout his whole body.

How was it that the first–and hopefully last–time they brought her along, they almost got played like some kids? She comes, she does her juju with the phone signal and Dobos is ready to try his luck and overthrow him.

Before his rational mind had the time to realize it, he had her pinned against the side of the car, the hot muzzle of his gun just a breath away from kissing her temple.

And suddenly, all was calm once again. His mind had stopped racing, his blood had stopped boiling, his breath had evened out. His hold was gentle on the gun, the coarse surface of its grip a soothing caress against his cold palm. There wasn’t the sudden surge of adrenaline he got during a fight, nor the buzzing enthusiasm of anticipation coursing through his muscles. There was calm. He was calm, for the world had gone silent and all he could hear was the soft whisper of her breath against his chin.

“Do you have anything to do with this?” The tone of his voice burned harder than the still warm muzzle of his gun near her skin, but she didn’t dare move away. Nor speak up.

“Let her go.”

Anatoly had finally entered her peripheral vision and even though his presence calmed her enough to distract her from her churning fear, she couldn’t but stare in Vladimir’s gaze of steel. “No,” she eventually whispered, wishing she had just stayed in the car–that she had just stayed at Wesley’s side, for she knew, no matter how much she disliked him, that he’d protect her somehow.

“You knock out phones and then they come and Dobos has new men. Money he gives us is fake. Why shouldn’t I shoot you?”

“You have already made up your mind about me, even though I told you I’m here to help. Why are you asking, then?”

“Because you spy on people,” he casually answered. “And I do not trust you.”

“I guess you either shoot people in the head or you trust them, then. You don’t give anyone the benefit of the doubt. But if you’re waiting for me to confess you that I somehow knew of their trick, you’ll be left waiting forever, even long after you’ve killed me.”

“No one will kill anyone tonight,” Anatoly intervened, tearing the gun from his brother’s grasp. “Why you have to be so paranoid, I truly do not know,” he added as he pushed Vladimir backward. “What we must do now is dash back to garage before police come here.”

*

Y/N couldn’t understand Vladimir and still, at the same time, she could. She had spent the majority of her life not knowing who to trust, or if trusting that person was going to make her end up in trouble, and at the same time she had never stopped hoping she could stop, just for one minute, and give the people that stood in front of her the benefit of the doubt.

To give a chance had always felt stupid–and dangerous. It had always made her whole body shiver in fear and anticipation, her muscles ready for the jump of her life in case things went downhill. But she had tried, and so far Fisk and Wesley had yet to fail her.

But now, as she stood in a corner of the garage as the Russians argued together, she felt small and insignificant under Vladimir’s accusatory glare. That and the silent treatment he had reserved her in the car scared her more than a gun pointed at her head.

Silent was… terrifying. It was the unknown slowly but surely transforming itself into a ghostly body of its own and she could almost feel its icy breath trace the line of her spine.

Vladimir Ranskahov was predictable when he screamed, for he would never attack as long as his mind was busy yelling at somebody. She had learned that long before she had actually met him, his past had been an open book once she had found her way in, and it had been easier to read than Anatoly’s. When his anger got the best of him, he was the only one at risk of dying as the scorching emotion burned him alive. But when he went silent and his body got as still as a predator stilled before it lunged at its prey–that was the moment you should be scared, the moment you should pray your fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and self-preservation brought you to safety.

Vladimir was easy to read when he let events take the best of him, for then he was still a man. But when his survival instinct surfaced and he couldn’t even feel the wound on his arm left behind by a flying bullet, the same wound Sergei was now sewing up, that was when he turned into the animal that got out of Utkin.

She wasn’t sure whether he knew it or not, or if maybe it had just turned into an instinctual behavior when he felt like his life was at risk, but he still knew how to use it in his favor. That version of him scared him more than the sight of those four men left dead on the pavement, back at the piers.

Had she gone through what Vladimir had been forced to live, she wouldn’t trust herself either.

But she was here and she was willing to help–willing to put her own life in the spotlight of the unknown and of the risks it threatened her with–and she couldn’t but feel like the stupid kid that had hoped too much when hope had never entered her house.

And as she eavesdropped those criminals talk and reason together, she wished she had been honest from the start–at her own risk. She spoke Russian and therefore understood every ill and every nice word they had ever said about her, the things they said during their Russian-only meetings, the insults they threw at Wesley and Fisk when they thought she didn’t understand shit. It had all been a game so far and she had always thought she was the cat and they the mice, when it had always been the other way around. She had learned the meaning of Vladimir’s tattoos and had always laughed at them, but now that he had her life in his hands–now that she had been foolish enough to move into the apartment across from his–she wished there was still time for sincerity.

“Y/N, come here!”

But now, as her body obeyed Anatoly’s order before her brain had the time to process it, she knew her confession could only do more harm than good–and it didn’t matter that she had nothing to do with the Hungarian and his plans. Nor that she was deliberately ignoring Fisk’s orders to give him inside info on the Russians so that he could control them better.

And with each step she took, she could feel herself shrink and get smaller, almost as if she could disappear so as not to face Vladimir’s wrath. He was her biggest fear, but as the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.

She had most likely overestimated herself.

Sergei was applying the last stitches, but Vlad never flinched, not even once. It was almost as though he couldn’t feel it, almost as though he were still in beast-mode. She had never wished she had Wesley at her side as much as she wished for it now.

“Why did you want us to change place for meeting?” Aslan’s voice wasn’t as threatening: it was calm, soft, and even though she suspected he was anything but, she was still thankful.

“Because you’ve always been stupid enough to give your clients the upper hand.” It was almost an out-of-body experience, or as close as she could get to one: part of her wanted to cower away as her self-defense mechanism finally kicked in, and another part of her welcomed it as her muscles started to slowly relax.

It didn’t matter that she had done her best to focus on Aslan’s face because she had kept Vladimir in her peripheral vision and her mind had been more focused on him than on his man. And so, when he tightened his jaw, she didn’t miss the movement.

“We never give anyone upper hand,” he growled.

She sighed, half in exhaustion and half in contentment, for he was slowly slipping back into his angry self, burying the beast deep inside his mind once again. It didn’t mean complete safety–to think that meant you were only a fool–, but it also didn’t mean immediate death, either. It was a dangerous yet comfortable middle ground that Y/N knew how to handle–sort of.

“We keep eye on them,” Anatoly agreed, forcing her to sit on the chair in front of his brother, who was sat on the desk Sergei often used as his accounting office.

“But you still trust their choices too blindly. What would have happened if tonight’s meeting had been held where those people wanted to?”

“I don’t know, you tell us, spy.”

Vladimir was stubborn. She thought she had known it before she had started to work with him, but being in his presence had proved her wrong. He had turned out to be more inflexible than anyone she had ever met–and she was used to working with Wesley, who was only happy if and when things were done his way. Working with him should have been the right training to be able to manage Vladimir Ranskahov, but either it wasn’t the case or they weren’t as similar in their stubbornness as she had previously thought.

“The guy could have had more men.”

“They cannot bring ‘more men’,” Vladimir mocked her, yanking his shirt out of Anatoly’s grasp. “It’s deal.”

“Yeah, like paying you with Monopoly cash, apparently.”

“It had never happened. Maybe it was you who tried to work with vengry and play us.”

She scoffed. “I work for you, and therefore for Wesley and therefore for Fisk. Fisk is the one who signs my checks, not your cheating friends. Why would I side with them to trick you and risk getting shot and then dumped into the Hudson? I thought you were stupid, but I swear to God, you’re on another level! If you stopped being this paranoid for one second, you’d realize I just made you a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Volya, zamolchi,” Anatoly threatened. He wasn’t in the mood to play the peacemaker, not tonight, not after the flop with Dobos. He just wanted to go home, fuck Paulina into tomorrow, and then spend the next day sleeping to avoid coming to work and deal with his brother.

He was tired, but neither Vladimir nor Y/N seemed to realize how close to combustion he was.

“And you,” he pointed at her, “no more insults.”

“You all still doubting my loyalty after me trying to help you is an insult, me stating the truth is not. If your brother would just get his head out of his butt and use his brain for something that’s not murder, for once, he’d see I’m not the spy he thinks I am.”

And she wasn’t going against Fisk’s direct orders just to be called a liar and be stepped onto by some criminals.

“I don’t doubt you,” Tolya sighed. Aslan had quietly distanced himself from them and was now checking the rest of Dobos’ money with Sergei, both sitting in a cab. “You tried to help and Hungarians did shit. It was just coincidence.”

“Of course it was not!”

There was a fight, then: Anatoly had to stop himself from attacking his brother and Vladimir had to do the same. Y/N simply estranged herself from the scene and with the fact that they had switched back to Russian, she was able to cut their voices out of her mind without much of a problem.

She understood paranoia–she really did–, but she didn’t understand when someone just wanted to be an ass. And she wasn’t in the mood to put up with it, not now that the surge of fear-induced adrenaline had died down and all she could see before her eyes were the corpses of four criminals lying on the pavement.

It had all happened so quickly that she had barely had the time to register what the heck was going on. One second Vladimir was checking the money in front of her and the next, dollar bills were flying in the air as the Russians shot the Hungarians down. They had been quick and she hadn’t exactly understood how Tolya, Sergei and Aslan had known they had to open fire that their guns had already shot.

It didn’t matter. Only Dobos had the luck to fire a blind shot, grazing Vladimir’s arm, before he went down like a trunk. Even above the sound of the echoing shots at the pier and now, above the Ranskahovs’ heated argument, she could hear Miklos Dobos’ body thudding against the asphalt. She didn’t know how, she didn’t even want to know why, but that was the sound her brain had put on a loop as all she could see was the perfectly centered hole in the man’s forehead.

She didn’t know who had gunned him down, but she knew that if Vladimir got pissed enough with her, that was how she was going to go down–a bleeding hole in the middle of her forehead, brains splattered everywhere as she fell down to the floor.

Dead. Lifeless.

This wasn’t the first time she feared for her life, but it was definitely the first where she felt like she was so close to the end of her life and to meet the Creator.

Fuck.

She had been so dumb. Moving in next to a criminal? What had she been thinking? Now that she found herself in the company of murderers–not that they hadn’t already been before, it was just that now she had seen them at work–that unplanned decision suddenly didn’t feel like a good one anymore.

If Vladimir decided that he really didn’t trust her and that he was tired of her, he could… He lived mere feet from her: he just had to cross the hallway to…

She couldn’t think it. She couldn’t form that thought in her mind.

And yet, it was an easy one. Death was easy. You go down and you leave this world and it all happens in a fraction of a second. All the rest is just torture–or torturous wait. All she needed was an unexpected millisecond to leave this world for good. And all Vladimir needed was the previous millisecond, before he opened the door of his apartment and drilled her body with bullets.

Y/N had thought that working with Wesley had been torture. Do this and do that and dodge his advances and play deaf when he told her anything that could be interpreted as sexual. And it wasn’t just that, it wasn’t just that all he wanted to do was fuck her and that he didn’t waste any occasion to remind her that. It was that he wanted her to do things a certain way, even when there were way easier and faster ways to do it, and when he was pissed, he got prissy and intolerable and she had to tiptoe her way around him.

Working with actual criminals had felt like a nice change in the wind’s direction back then, when Fisk had first proposed it–or rather told her she was going to do it without giving her the chance to say anything. It had felt like freedom in a way: no more Fisk, no more Wesley, no more suits and high heels and tight buns because there wouldn’t be another Wesley that wanted her to dress that way.

She found herself hoping the Russians would ask her to dress more formally now, to come to work with freshly manicured nails and spot-on make-up. It would have been easier. And yet, she had come to work with the knowledge of all the research she had conducted on the Ranskahovs, with slightly less information about Sergei Yurchenko, who she felt was almost as important as the other two kingpins… and with her lies. She had come with white lies: she had to inform Fisk of anything that could even remotely be useful and she had to keep a close eye on the Russians–headstrong and therefore dangerous Vladimir in particular.

Technically, Vladimir was right: she was indeed there to spy. But she had done no such thing. The first couple of days it had been because she wanted to get to know them–she hadn’t succeeded. The next days it had been because she was trying to help them with the shipment–she hadn’t succeeded. Then it had been because Vladimir doubted her too much, while Anatoly seemed to at least be okay with her presence as long as she didn’t annoy him, and the other Russians were just either uninterested or they chatted a bit before they went back to work.

There technically was nothing to report–or this was the excuse she brought up when Wesley bugged her for intel. There wasn’t an exact reason why she kept her mouth shut when it came to spying on the Russians, but all she could think of was that her silence meant more time away from her usual office, job, and colleague.

“Vladimir will accompany you home.” Anatoly’s words felt like a punch to the stomach, one that left her breathless–and one that brought her back to reality.

She moved on her chair, the muscles in her back suddenly tense and heavy. Was that how she was going to die? In a kingpin’s car?

Vladimir didn’t say a word: there was no way he could escape his brother–and he was tired. So tired he felt like going to bed and sleep for a century, willingly embracing nightmares and spasming muscles as he waded his way through a memory lane he could not elude. So, he groaned as he jumped down from Sergei’s desk with the grace of an elephant.

He didn’t wait for her: he headed towards the exit, suit jacket thrown over his left shoulder as he retrieved a packet of cigarettes from one of its pockets.

“If he does anything, you call me, da?” Anatoly softly ordered her, but Y/N didn’t turn even when he put his hand on her shoulder. “At any hour.”

“Will he kill me?” She didn’t really want to know, but at the same time, she did.

“No.”

“Why doesn’t he trust me?”

“You didn’t give him reason why he should.” The man shrugged his shoulders, his gaze fixed on her face.

“Why do you trust me, then?”

“I don’t exactly trust you either,” he confessed. “But you haven’t given me reason why I should accuse you of anything, so I’m good, for now. You don’t trust us either.” There was a smirk then, one that proved her there was more to him than what his tattoos could say.

“You are unpredictable and I never know what to expect,” she stated, and that confession seemed to cost her more than she’d ever thought.

*

The ride in Vladimir’s car was weighed down by a tense silence. She didn’t dare ask him to put out his cigarette, just as he didn’t care to ask her if him smoking was alright with her.

(It wasn’t.)

The radio was turned off and just as with his cigarette, she didn’t dare ask if she could turn it on. This was his territory and she was afraid of what he might do.

But the late-night traffic was thick that day and they both thought back at the Hungarians they had abandoned by the Hudson. The police had probably found them already, Y/N thought, not knowing Anatoly’s men had already taken care of them.

“Why did you move in next to me?”

Vladimir’s voice was tense, rougher than usual–probably because of the smoke or the anger, she didn’t really know. It took her a couple of seconds to convince herself to turn her head to look at him: he was staring ahead, his right hand gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles had turned white, almost as though the tattooed barb wire of his trips to jail had robbed them of their color. His jaw was clenched and she could see the sudden leaps of muscle underneath the skin when he gritted his teeth.

She opened her mouth, left it hanging like a fish out of water, and closed it again with a sigh. “It seemed like a good idea back then,” she answered then, gaze traveling back down his arm, skirting over the blood stain on his otherwise immaculate shirt.

“You should have not done that.”

“I guess I got it now.”

He remained silent for a while, until he finished his cigarette and threw the butt out of the open window. “My brother says I should give you chance,” he said. “‘Benefit of doubt,’ as you called it.”

She nodded, eyes lifting up from his barbed knuckles to the side of his face. For a second she was about to stretch her arm out and touch the scar that ran down from his right eyebrow to his cheek, but she tightened her fists in her lap and kept still.

“But my trust comes with price.”

“What do you want?”

He turned to stare at her then, and it scared her both because he wasn’t minding the street and because his eyes had turned to steel, to rock-hard hatred. “I want to know if you’re spying. I know you are.”

Y/N swallowed, and the movement was slow and thick and almost painful as she tried to swallow down her own fear, too. She was stronger than this. She had put up with Wesley and with Fisk–and with her family–and she was not going to give Vladimir Ranskahov the power of making her feel minuscule and insignificant, so small he could step on her and put her out the way she had watched him put out endless cigarettes, back at the garage.

But she had lied enough and there was no reason why she should continue, not now that he knew. He had always known, she had never deluded herself into thinking Vladimir was some stupid ass that could be tricked without much effort–he wasn’t like James, whom she played like a doll.

“I should be,” she found herself correcting him. “But I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

What was the reason? Was there a reason? She didn’t know.

“Why not?” he insisted. He parked in his usual lot, but the engine was still roaring under the hood of his expensive car.

Was that-? No, it couldn’t be his BMW.

“I like it, at the garage. No one bothers me. You’re stubborn and we fight a lot, I know, but I’d rather be locked up in a room with you than with Wesley.”

How had he found out she had moved here?

“If I find out you spy, I kill you.”

Was he waiting inside?

“Okay.” Her hand was trembling on the door handle, but it wasn’t out of fear nor was it because of Vladimir.

He followed her gaze, eyed the white BMW she was staring at, and eventually shrugged one shoulder as he opened his door.

Y/N’s feet weighed like lead as she walked to the elevator with Vlad at her side.

What did he want?

“Don’t come up now,” she said just before the doors to the elevator opened. “Wait a few minutes before you go up.”

“I take no orders from you.”

She stopped him with a hand in the middle of his chest, right on his sternum, and under the thin cotton of his shirt, his warm skin and hard muscles, she felt the faint thudding of his heart.

“I think Wesley is upstairs.” And she really didn’t want him to realize she lived right across from Vladimir Ranskahov.

How was this? Hopefully okay... As always, feedback, requests and suggestions are welcome and appreciated :) Thank you for reading  💛 I feel like I’m not doing this story justice, but hopefully it’s just bc of the swamp my life is these days.

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask. Same goes for ‘Bratva’)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi

Bratva (people not on the lists but that might still be interested): @sweetvengeancee @theranskahovs @brobachev 

[vanaera]

Missed Calls

Synopsis | Namjoon realizes everything is amiss right after you dropped the greatest plot twist in his life. Now terribly confused about what he’s supposed to do, he starts to just avoid everything that may connect him to you. Luckily, you’ll never get tired to remind him he’s missing something important: he doesn’t have to be alone and that...he doesn’t have to watch your face on TV screens anymore when he can have all of you for himself in a single call.

Genre | Fluff with humor and a tinny bit of angst

Wordcount |3,776

A/N | This is a sequel to Unread Messages (I’m tagging you @spiicyari as per your request!) This will be another drabble series of mine, so expect random updates on this one too! (I will edit a header for this once I finally have a free time). Majority of this fic is inspired by the recent events in my life. Enjoy reading!

               Namjoon wakes up in his dark bedroom with the heavy silence pressed against his chest. He doesn’t need his glasses to see the pitch-black screen of his phone by his side, unlit with zero notifications. He turns to the other side of the bed, tearing his eyes from the said gadget. The unfamiliarity of the black screen being just black for too long taunts him to open it and just ask you if everything was a desperate mirage of his mind or not. It’s strange, too surreal, too good to be true that his Sun that talked with him through his every struggle is the same person as the Y/N he’s been dying to at least greet with a “hi”. And Namjoon knows anything that is too good can only exist in fantasies and dreams, such as him and Y/N finally, actually talking to each other.

                He closes his eyes and buries himself deeper in his sheets, with hopes that it can also drown the thoughts surrounding you and the factual probability of you actually writing a song about him. Needless to say, he woke up too soon for the hours to lift the heavy bags off his eyes along with a sudden urge to consume two mugs of caffeine to get him through another tiring day.

//

               “I didn’t imagine you’ll be this fucking handsome, god, I should have fixed myself.”

               “Namjoon?”

               “Huh?” Namjoon sits straight up, papers and pen dropping onto the floor and before he can kneel down to pick them up, he nudges his phone off his desk. Jimin saves it for him just in time.

               “Jesus Christ hyung, what’s with you recently?” Jimin hands him his phone, forehead furrowed in concern.“You look like you just woke up from death.”

               “Wow, thanks for the compliment,” Namjoon mutters, eyes fleeting to the notification bar of his cell. Still blank and black as always. He tucks it in his pocket. “I always look horrible, no need to point it out.”

               “I didn’t mean it like that,” Jimin seats himself across him, chin jut out against his crossed arms. “You’ve been too…disoriented lately. I mean you’re always disoriented but this week was really different. You even walked into a pole yesterday. What’s wrong?”

               “It’s nothing, just…woke up from the wrong side of the bed.” Yeah, probably he did, Namjoon thinks.

               “Alright, if you say so,” his friend turns to the front just the moment their Philosophy professor enters the room.

               Namjoon heaves a sigh. It’s not that he didn’t trust Jimin with his problems; the kid has been with him through thick and thin (even when he’s literally thinning out last year because of his schedule and Jimin religiously have to get into his thick skull that he has to eat). It’s just… Once you’re presence has become tangible to another, it becomes easier for them to map out who you are which also makes it easier for them to nitpick each part of you. And Namjoon can’t let his friends see him as a burden. That’s why he prefers talking them with you. Everything is easy for him – relaying his embarrassing stories and exploding outbursts through a digital screen with no condescending eyes to judge him; entrusting his secrets to a person on the other end of the world which is completely detached from his own; baring himself open to an unknown face he can just hit up with a message without being that vulnerable in front of another person.

                But now, you have a face in his mind, a face too familiar, a face everyone knows, and he doesn’t know if he can look at you the same way as before. How can he? He didn’t imagine the girl he loved in his own little fantasy will be actually you, the first female friend he had a platonic relationship. You even said so when you first exchanged names!

SunnyY/N  8:30 PM

Platonic relationships are so underrated.

MonJoon 8:31 PM

Yeah, I second that!

MonJoon 8:32 PM

I’m Joon btw. What can I call you?

SunnyY/N 8:34 PM

Just Sun! ☀ ☀ ☀

               “Just Sun?” Hell yeah, you’re the Sun to every fan like him, Jimin, and everyone else that loves you and your craft. Thinking about it, everything you made up perfectly coincide with everything Y/N does. You travelling around with “your parents” and Y/N’s promotions overseas also start the same time frame. You being hella busy “with your folks that you can’t even touch your phone” is in the same schedule as Y/N’s concert tour. You being unable to meet up when you’re in Korea just in time when Y/N is currently in Korea for an encore concert. You spamming the convo space about your loneliness the same day Y/N received tremendous backlash on the release of No More You. 

              Fuck it, Namjoon slumps his head against his desk. A loser like him is a million miles away from a star like you. You’re able to reach thousands of other better people out there so why settle on a plain joe like him? How did he manage to actually make friends with you? But most importantly, why did you let him be?

               “Namjoon, care to tell what’s so interesting with your notebook?”

               Fuck. Why now?

//

               “Y/N, seriously get off the phone, you’re going on live in two minutes.”

               “Wait manager Kang, just a minute,” you pulled your cerise lips in a tight smile before looking back at your phone, fingers somewhat numb from the minutes spent on it pressed against the screen.  

               Kang Solmi just turns away, already used to your antics. You’ve always been stuck to your phone since she handled you two years ago and until now, she can’t understand your fascination in the illuminated screen that have kept you up all night and all day.

               Well, it was different in other days, you usually tell her. “Just a message I have to check,” “Just one more look!” and “This person is important to me” - all of these already worn out on your tongue but you wouldn’t choose otherwise. You can’t open to her that you’ve been craving a normalcy in your life and this online friend of yours happened to give you just that. You can’t just blurt out too that you’ve been telling a stranger about things you’ve promised to keep exclusive only for the company, much less things you didn’t disclose even to your family and friends. And most importantly, you can’t tell her that stranger has been your muse for one year now that you can’t even control the rapid thrumming of your heart whenever you wake up to his “good morning, hoe.” For god’s sake, it doesn’t even sound romantic!

               But all of the things you can’t do, you can’t drag the screen down enough to change the things you sent in your convo space with MonJoon. It’s still frozen to the last message you sent him.

 SunnyY/N 1:04 AM

But I can’t wait that long, what if I say I want to meet you now?

               Shit, you must have freaked him out. You haven’t met him personally in the first place and you already scared him off. You bite your lip and scrunch your face in annoyance. “Why did I have to be drunk that day? Out of all days – and his birthday too! Why, why, why?! What did I even tell him that in the first place?!”        

 //

                 “Hey, Namjoon, You’re idol’s performing live.”

               Namjoon passes by  Seokjin, eyes immediately looking at the mini television they bought with hard-earned money to see the very reason of his sleepless nights singing her heart out to My Only Friend.

                The TV they bought was to satisfy Seokjin’s need for Netflix and his need to watch you on a larger screen without the possibility of him shattering it into shards. Well now, he could actually hear a resounding crack on his chest. It’s not real - you’re both born to be in different worlds, it’s just your imagination. “Yeah, okay,” Namjoon shrugged, legs fast as he heads for his bedroom.

               “’Yeah, okay?’” Seokjin looks at him perplexed, tone incredulous making him stop midway. “What have you eaten? You’re usually salivating just the moment your eyes land on her.”

               “I do not!”

               “You do!” Seokin presses, expecting to see the weird expressions his friend will put on his face.

               However, he didn’t expect to see the man huff in annoyance with an indignant scowl on his face. Namjoon only looks this scary when he’s really annoyed. Seokjin immediately drops the act and turns off the TV to follow his friend’s trudging.

               “Hey, what’s wrong, Joon? Sorry I was just teasing you.”

               Namjoon only turns on his back mumbling, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

               However, unlike Jimin, Namjoon knows Seokjin doesn’t entertain any bullshits.

               “Seriously, just tell me what’s bothering you. You look like a zombie these days, you almost finished our stack of coffee, and you’re being moody as hell like a 14-year old pubescent girl. What’s really up with you these days?”

               Namjoon looks away. He can’t just tell Seokjin the one he’s watching on the screen a few seconds ago was the same person he’s been going on and on to their friends as “Namjoon’s online girlfriend.” His friend will laugh his ass off and that’s the least he wanted to have in his shitty day before he goes for the night to tutor some brats.

               In his silence, Seokjin keeps his intense stare on him before he sticks out his index towards him. Namjoon waits, feeling his lungs squeezing -

               “Don’t tell me…you’re in a fight with your online girlfriend!”

               Oh right, Seokjin may not tolerate bullshits but it’s fine if he’s the one who gets to do so.

               “Damn you.”

               Namjoon closes his door, a relieved sigh escaping from his lips as  he hears Seokjin’s laughter echoing behind him along with the sound of the TV turning on to show a different artist taking the stage.

               Well, he can’t blame Seokjin from making that conclusion when it’s true he’s been like this when he’s going through arguments with you online.  The first one was last year when he insensitively sent you “you’re lucky you get the hell out of school because of your parents” in his sleepy haze while writing excruciating six essays he has to pass the next day. He immediately knew he fucked up when you didn’t reply for the next two days even though he knew you read his last message. Cue then the next three days he’s been quite snappy and sulky before Seokjin demanded him to get his shit straight and make an apology message for you. It was easily resolved. You forgave him and you went back to the same lively internet friend of his. 

              The second fight you had was still fresh in his mind. It was eight months ago when you asked him “Why are you letting yourself become an underdog to them?” in the middle of his rant about the bullshit of Yoomi, the bossy bitch classmate of his in Arts who thinks what she comes up with should always be followed by everyone. It offended him way more than anyone has thrown insult at him - probably the most offensive remark he received from someone - and it really hurt that it came from you, the person he regarded the only one who can really really understand him. The cold silence ensued for only two days before you immediately messaged him “sorry, it was really an asshole move on my part,” and though Namjoon finds it hard to easily forgive anyone who does him wrong, it was that day he realized how he can easily soften up to you and unknowingly let you settle yourself back in your special place in his mundane-as-ever life.

               But this time – this time, it’s different. He’s not even dealing with any cold war with you through the screen, but the moment he taps the icon of Send Me, he just finds himself stuck frozen with tingles running down his spine. You don’t message him after the bombing video call that threw him off his every expectation of the actual you behind the screen and – and it’s already been a week. Are you mad at him? Did you regret what you did? Or did you suddenly want to disentangle yourself from the mess of his life? Namjoon doesn’t know but at this moment he wants to cry. And so he does, sobs muffled by his clenched fist as he seeks comfort in his bed. He knows he’s gonna break down sooner or later and he’d rather do it now before he goes off to teach some spoiled brats later to fill his sad piggy bank for his MonStudio.

 //

                 Another week passes with Send Me still silent on the other side. Namjoon doesn’t have the guts to check it from time to time recently, afraid he’ll send something that will worsen the situation. And though that helps him to put his personal turmoil at bay, it doesn’t help him with the disarray of thoughts and pent up feelings filling the expanse of his inner calmness to the brim. You’ve been his support system for two years now and Namjoon knows it’s partly his fault why he’s like this when he’s the one who put you in the pedestal as the only one person that can really understand him. But he can’t help it when you really do as what his title on you says. 

              You helped him get through heavy workloads with constant checkups you slipped while staying awake with him until he finished all his requirements.

SunnyY/N (2:35 AM)

Hey, you still up?

SunnyY/N (3:45 AM)

Don’t you dare sleep on me, let’s finish this!

SunnyY/N (4:01 AM)

We’ve done it, hoe! Now pass it! I’m gonna catch a shut-eye now. ;DDD

               You gave him advice how to start reaching out from his introvert shell little by little just so he can make life easier for him

SunnyY/N (7:31 PM)

You don’t have to become an extrovert! Just step out a little in the open, I promise it will work.

SunyY/N (1:20 AM)

Don’t hate yourself too much. You know you can’t have everything under control, right?

SunnyY/N (3:56 PM)

I’m gonna send my love to you in hopes you’ll love yourself a little more each day, hoe. Here’s some ♥ ♥ ♥ from me :D

               And when he feels like giving up, you’re always there to push him back in his game.

SunnyY/N (12:37 AM)

Hey, you have to continue this. You have to shift to Music after this!

SunnyY/N (11:58 PM)

Joon, you know you have to endure this. Mon Studio, remember?

SunnyY/N (2:21 AM)

I’ll come to your studio someday and make great songs with you, so just hang on, okay?

               And now that you’ve been quite absent in his life, Namjoon knows he may easily just...burst, give up - lose control on the things he tries to keep at bay, especially now when he doesn’t need to have everyone know how much of a sorry loser he was.

               “Namjoon?”

               Namjoon’s eyes shot open at the recognition of Johnny’s voice on the other line. What the hell does their block’s president have to tellhim at fucking eleven o’clock in the fucking night?

               “Hey Namjoon, do you hear me? I have a favor to ask you about the upcoming event in the uni.”

               What the fuck, it’s already eleven o’clock and they’re calling me about school? Why did I even answer –

                And then he hears the goddamn voice of Yoomi. “Namjoon, do you actually know what you will do?”

               “Huh, what?”

               “Don’t pretend you haven’t seen it. You ‘seen’ the reminder I sent on Messenger thirty minutes ago.”

               Oh shit. The reminder Namjoon tapped on but didn’t actually read because the wonky internet suddenly caused the app to crash. Goddamn it, why does he and Seokjin have to forget to call the network –

               “Hey Namjoon, you there? Speak up!”

               Namjoon scrambles for his glasses, feet almost tripping on one another as he stands up. “Wait, wait, I’m getting up. I’m sorry I didn’t see the reminder; my net was shitty. Anyway, what is it that I have to do?”

               “So basically, we had each group assigned to make their own tagline they’ll post in their Facebook update for the event, but we’re unsatisfied with what they made up so we’re gonna ask you to redo them instead – “

               Wait, what? So this is the extra unnecessary event the block presidents planned? It’s not even graded, why do they have to stress on it too much? And why the hell should he redo the other’s work?!

               “It wouldn’t be too much on you, right?” Yoomi rattles on, “given that you score perfect in most of our essays in class, hmm?”

               Namjoon could already hear the warning bells of “this is bullshit” ringing by his ears and he could already imagine you scream “fucking hell no, bitch!” along with him to this whole bullshit scenario. But instead of voicing out his denial of the task suddenly thrust into him without his say in the matter, he finds his throat clogged up, unable to let the words be heard in the simple line connection. The cloudy haze in his sleep-deprived mind is also not helping in the situation. “Uhhm, uhh-“

               “You don’t understand, Namjoon? You don’t understand? You just have to do this and then-“

               He can’t deal with this right now. He presses the red icon of end call and puts the number in his phone’s blacklist. He knows it’s unnecessary but the panic in his veins doesn’t subside. It wasn’t until he pressed “leave the groupchat” where that damned task was messaged in was he finally able to sit down and breathe properly. His fingers are shaking, head suddenly pounding with long-withheld aggravation to these assholes who always have to disregard his consent in these activities – 

               “Why are you letting yourself become an underdog to them?”

               Namjoon couldn’t take it anymore. He has to reach you.

               Tapping the icon of Send Me, he presses the profile pic with your username to go into your convo space. He’s about to type everything that’s happening now but then – but then there’s missed calls and messages you sent earlier…this day?

SunnyY/n (5:26 PM)

Hey, Joon, I’m sorry I’ve been off the radar for two weeks. I’ve been thinking about the things I should say to you so as what happened the last time we talked wouldn’t turn that shitty but I guess I won’t be able to do so. I’m already shitty enough so I’m sorry you have to bear with me.

SunnyY/N (5:27 PM)

I’m sorry for shocking you that way. I didn’t intend to shake you out of your wits which probably scared you off from messaging me again.

SunnyY/N (5:30 PM)

I’m sorry again. I’ll be calling you until you pick up and I apologize this may come off irritating, but I just have to really talk with you again face to face.

            A notification now pops up.

SunnyY/N is requesting for a video call. Accept? Decline?

           Namjoon has never given out a reply so fast in his life.

           The screen changes to the same room he has seen in the last call. But today, there’s no bottle in the vicinity, and Y/N – you are looking at him straight in the camera, face bare and eyes clear of any tears.

           “Jo-Joon.”

               At the sound of your voice, Namjoon knows it’s time to let out the things he’s been withholding for too long. It’s his turn to cry now and as the tears run down his cheeks, you immediately do what only you can do to him – keeping him grounded. You let him rant out the things he’s been enduring all on his own – one of the spoiled brat he tutors stood him up in the library they’re supposed to meet, the scholarship he feels he’s about to fuck up with his recent unsatisfactory grades, and the shitty call of Johnny and Yoomi which is just so unfair on his part. He doesn’t mention his problem with you but you know it’s already implied when he looks at you beneath his lashes in sequences before he continues his words. It unsettles you that he has to have his guard up in front of you when you’ve been open to him for a very long time now. Anyway, you’d rather have him finally within your reach than have him completely disappearing for the worst two weeks of your life.

               “I-I’m sorry for looking like this,” he sniffs, fingers frantically wiping his wet cheeks. “I probably look like the typical pitiful underdog, I just-“

               “Joon, listen to me.” And Namjoon does. “You’re not an underdog, okay? You’re just doing your best at the moment, you always do. And these things – they’re just obstacles, okay? We’re gonna get through all of them, remember? You told me so in that long textpost of yours in Tumblr! Do you want me to go there and make a Namjoon protection squad?” you roll up your pale yellow sweater to show some “biceps” you wished you were actually working on, and this makes Namjoon laugh a little. You smile wider. He’s been defending you far too long, it’s your turn to have his back now. “‘Cause everyone’s been indirectly attacking you; I need to defend my hoe!”

               “No need, I’m – I’m gonna be fine,” Namjoon shakes off, his form calming down from his sobs. You always know how to make him smile again right after another breakdown. Letting his eyes meet yours from the screen, he still feels everything is a dream conjured by his wild imagination. It’s still too good to be true that the person he watches from afar now watches him and only him in the middle of the night. He simply can’t wrap his head around the actual possibility of everything that’s happening is actually real.

               You must have caught on his prolonged stare. “Are you – are you still weirded out this…is actually me?” You murmur but Namjoon still hears it. How can he not, when your voice was all that connected him to you when he hasn’t found out you’re actually SunnyY/N.

               “I’m not weirded out. I-I’m still shocked.”

               “With-with my bare face? I know I look horrible without make-up on and look-“

               “You still look as pretty as I’ve ever known you.” And this shuts you up.

               Namjoon takes in the image of you flushed and cheeks tinged in pink, the color making its way to his own blushing face. He can’t believe you’re actually blushing because of him. He’s still shy looking at you so closely so he casts his gaze down. “I-I don’t know if this is actually a dream or not – I-I don’t even know how to properly talk with you again- ‘cause I mean I’m your fan, and before you called me, you were just a fan, like me. By the way, I’m still fascinated how you just fangirled with me over you.”

               Your chuckles resounding from the other line makes Namjoon think he’s in cloud 9. “I swear I actually enjoyed doing that with you. One of my best stress-relievers.”  

               “Fangirling over yourself?”

               “Hell yeah.”

               “Okay, noted.”

               “But anyway, Namjoon, the friendship I formed with you with SunnyY/N is real and I hope you won’t change how you treated me through that convo space now that you know who I really am. I – I missed the normalcy I once had before my career suddenly put me in a place hard for me to personally reach anyone and – and I didn’t expect an online friend would give that comfort to me.”

               Namjoon smiles. “Of course. I’m just shaken up, I just have to get used to talking to my idols face to face.” You chortled at that along with him. “I wouldn’t want to be suddenly hoe-less just because I’m shocked you were actually the only person who gets me in so many ways.”

               “Promise me, you’ll be there for me just like how we used to for two years?” You put up your pinky in line with the camera.

               “Promise me you’ll tell me anything beforehand before you surprise the hell out of me again.” Namjoon also puts out his pinky leveled with yours.

               With a chuckle of “Promise!” just like how you type your promises in the convo space, the warmth Namjoon feels as he presses his pinky against the screen to meet yours felt too real.

               “Also, promise me that you won’t snitch my account to random people. I don’t wanna get hacked.” And at that, Namjoon giggles along with you.

               “Promise.”

                Everything still feels like a dream. But your warm smile and comforting presence on the other side makes it hard for Namjoon to turn his back away from this one hell of an opportunity fate has given him.

                It’s really good that this is real. He knows he has to bask longer in his side of paradise along with his sun.

Post A/N | Follow up! I’ve been working on requests recently so expect some of them to drop within the following weeks. Thank you for all your support! :D

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. No reposts, modifications, and translations of content is allowed without direct permission.

[megacarapa]

What are your thoughts on the recent manga developements? Like the climax of the vs stanley arc and the suika mini arc etc, idk ive just been loving the recent chapters and wanna hear more talk about it and your rants so far have been really entertaining ^^

ANON FCGB;;;😳

WELL i did make an entire playlist based off those 3 suika chapters so i guess you could say i’ve been enjoying the current arc gfgfh. ok here are my VERY extended thoughts on the last 10ish chapters under the cut (manga spoilers obv) (LUCY DON’T READ THIS ONE FR) (also cw for like.. discussion of diseases and stuff tho i dont go too much into detail, i’m not an actual doctor obviously dfgdfg)

this ended up being way longer than i expected so i tried breaking it into a few sections and adding images to make it easier on the eyes, i’ve really loved the south america arc as a whole but these last few chapters have been especially amazing

vs stanley climax

first of all, i gotta love how you called it the "vs stanley fight", and i mean, you're technically right since he is the antagonist of this arc, but it's interesting how they never have a direct faceoff with stanley, it's more like stanley and his troops attacking super one sidedly in a way the kos can't really fight against, so they use communication between their different teams to trap stanley & co in a situation they can't run away from and win in the long term

i love that dr stone "fights" are most often won strategically rather than in a straight up 1v1 brawl, in fact those more standard fights are most often used as a way to keep the enemy at bay until senku & co can figure out a way to actually win, also it's just really cool that the team that delivered the final blow was thousands of miles away from where the actual fight was taking place, or even hundreds of thousands if you count whyman as the "person who delivered the final blow"

stanley theorizes at the end that the kos will probably keep his statue as a hostage to make xeno work for them on the rocket if he wants stanley back (lmao gay), but considering their track record of letting past enemies join the crew, i have a feeling we’ll have both xeno and stanley (and the rest of the americans) back rather than just xeno

the only antagonist so far that hasn't been redeemed is ibara, who is just being kept as a stone statue somewhere, but you could tell that would be the case based on his design alone, he just screams *irredeemable villain*

xeno and stanley, while antagonists, are also clearly designed to be likeable characters, so i don't see them getting the same treatment

the only problem would be keeping a constant watch over xeno to make sure he doesn't do any Side Projects™ and develop firearms again, but it could also be that xeno was actually convinced of senku’s philosophy in their last talk before the beam hit, so maybe he will be willing to help even without having stanley be a hostage, but i guess we’ll just wait and see

as a side note, whyman periodically sending the petrification command was basically a chekhov's gun now that i think about it, so it makes sense in a meta way that a second worldwide petrification would happen, why establish it if it wont come into play later in the story? i actually felt kinda dumb for not seeing it coming fgdfg

aftermath/suika chapters

the first strategy they had for defeating stanley was a good one, but it wouldn't really make for good storytelling if it just Worked and they won just like that, it would be pretty anticlimactic after running from him for almost 20 chapters, so it makes sense then that what they had to go with in the end was the same strategy, but on a much bigger scale

suika being the one to be depetrified first and have to save everyone is also a good choice both thematically and to make sure the victory isn't too easy

having someone like senku or chrome who understands the platinum method to make revival fluid and then have it done in less than a day, or having suika simply find some extra revival fluid lying around like she was initially planning would, again, be anticlimactic, it would've lacked impact after everything they've been through

these 3 chapters also nicely bring back the theme of science not being exclusive to the “pros”, everyone can use it as long as they have the proper steps to follow, the most impressive example before this was the corn city crew managing to make a diamond by following senku’s instructions despite not having any scientists on board (and before that, gen and the villagers making a telescope)

and now suika is even more impressive, being a literal child and all, even though she wasn't able to understand the more complex methods, there was still a way for her to succeed, all she needed was to be patient and diligently go at it step by step, i adore these 3 chapters and i love suika so much now it's insane

suika being the one to get revived serves another purpose as well...

honestly, already around 188/189 i was starting to get really worried about how the story would handle the emotional aftermath

shonen jump manga has a tendency to just gloss over the psychological consequences of traumatic events (one moment i remember finding really frustrating was in bnha, when kirishima gets really fucked up during the overhaul arc but the next time we see him he’s just joking around about looking like a mummy because of all his bandages🙄), so i was worried they wouldn't treat the aftermath of an event like this with the gravity it deserves, (i think LITERALLY DYING could be considered a traumatic event but i'm no psychologist🤔)

suika’s time alone shows a nice contrast to senku, while senku is definitely not emotionless, during his time alone before taiju was revived he is still very cool and collected, not showing any emotional weakness like the king of repression he is

suika is a whole different story, she’s a kid, she doesn't repress her emotions like senku does, so during her time alone she is scared and lonely, especially at the beginning, we see her breaking down into tears multiple times, imagining her friends statues talking to her, hugging kohaku’s statue for comfort etc

this really provided the emotional catharsis i was hoping for, through suika, the audience is genuinely able to feel the gravity of what has happened

i do wish more of the older characters could be allowed to show emotional weakness like this, but i guess having suika serve as a proxy for everyone works well enough

on that note, senku was alone for only 6 months and even then its implied in treasure island that he may have a problem with loneliness

suika on the other hand was alone for YEARS, i can only imagine how that affected her mental state, tho honestly i can't say i expect the story to delve into something like that too deeply (or at all) since this is a shonen manga after all.. 

immortality

i’ve seen some people interpreting hyoga’s resurrection in 197 as “they can revive somebody that died from an injury, but people will still die eventually due to old age”, but i don’t think that's really the case, people don’t just die from “old age” by itself, they die because their body slowly degrades over time, which makes it harder to fight against numerous diseases, one of which will eventually get you and kill you

but dr stone (aka the combination of medusa+revival fluid) can nullify that degradation and bring your body back into a healthy state, we’ve already seen this with kaseki on treasure island where senku explains that dr stone healed his arthritis, a disease which probably would have lead to his natural death sooner or later

while we already know kaseki was in better shape than most people his age, it’s still surprising to see an old man like him jumping around so energetically, thats how much the restoration improved his health

we also know it healed mirai who was brain dead before being revived, so i think it's a pretty safe bet that it can heal other brain related diseases such as alzheimers

if so, then dr stone can heal injuries, diseases and even death as we’ve seen with hyoga, i think it’s pretty accurate of senku to say that humanity has gained immortality with it

honestly this development has been a long time coming, the idea of dr stone being able to bring back the dead was introduced as early as the first arc when tsukasa killed senku but taiyuzu were able to bring him back, but it really does seem like such an out there concept so i’m interested to see how they will base it in science... (and also how they will handle the whole… moral dilemma of immortality but i ain't ready to even attempt to think abt any of that)

my favourite theory that has sprung up from this is that if people really can live forever thanks to dr stone, it could be that whyman is actually a normal human who has been continually petrifying and reviving themself to live for 3700 years

wat will happen nixt?

back when 196 came out it kinda dawned on me just how much the crew has been set back in the progress they've made so far that it was giving me anxiety for real gfgdfg

seven years have passed, and in that time a lot of the tools they've made must have degraded, along with that, everyone they've revived so far has been turned to stone once again, there was nobody to upkeep the wheat fields and sundial and basically everything they've left in japan, and after all this time even the perseus must be in bad shape and in need of repair, as chrome suggests

how long will it take them to repair the ship? to repair all the tools they've lost? their original plan was to go around the world building cities where they can get all the materials to work on that rocket they’ll be making eventually, they already kinda started up corn city, but that has been out of commission for a while now, they were planning to build superalloy city in south america and have barely started on that

so they need to keep building these cities but also need to go back and revive everyone if they don't want their progress to go to waste, how will they go about this?? will they just tackle it one by one or split into teams, so one team can stay behind and work on superalloy city and the other can go back and revive everyone? who knows?? ryusui certainly made it sound way easier than how i've been imagining it dfgdfg

other than that, i gotta wonder are the kingdom of science really the only humans left on earth now that there's been a second worldwide petrification, or has some other group revived somewhere during the timeskip, OR maybe there might be another group out there who also devised the revival formula and was able to escape the 2nd petrification, which would then give them 7 more years to develop while senku n co are just stuck in stone 🤔 dr stone has always had some human antagonist so i wonder who’s next now that xeno and stanley have been dealt with

honestly my favourite arc has always been age of exploration precisely because it doesn't have any human threat and the characters are just left to craft and work on rebuilding society without the pressure of a looming war or a crazy american hunting them down, so honestly i'm hoping we will get another arc like that now, i think the crew definitely deserves it dnjd

random bonus ramblings

-using poop and shells to create nitric acid and it being a process that would take a long time is something that has already been mentioned multiple times in the series, so it’s really cool to see it actually utilized in the story rather than being random throwaway info

makes you wonder what other seemingly throwaway lines could actually be foreshadowing...

😬😬😬

-since joel managed to fix a medusa im very excited for him to be revived so we can learn how he did it and how the petrification works in the first place!! (and for joel and kaseki to finally meet in general)

-drst has a habit of introducing a character in one arc and having them be Just kinda There for some time until they finally have their time to shine in a later arc, examples being minami and of course yuzuriha, so i'm wondering if the same will happen later on with some of the americans, charlotte seems like a good contender for this (the girl that suika saved in 185, i gotta wonder how she felt having to shoot down the people who saved her life)

-on that note i feel like matsukaze also still hasn’t had his time to shine or contribute in any unique way yet (other than exposition gdvdj)

-i was also really liking dr brody as a character so i was kinda disappointed that he just blindly decided to kill everyone in corn city instead of talking and trying to come to an agreement w them like he has been up till then (though i guess it was necessary for the plot🙄), interested to see what they do with him as well

-i wanna see stanxeno on screen makeout sesh 🙄!

-will senku not losing his petrification cracks be explained? if he still has them, will xeno, stanley, luna etc still have theirs too? (honestly i hope so, i don’t wanna have to stare at xeno’s big shiny forehead for the rest of the series gsdhgfd)

ok i feel like i've finally exhausted all the numerous thoughts i had sdfdfd thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble on for so long and congratulations if you've managed to make it til the end <3

in conclusion