#I want to see the gang in pirate clothes

[kyluff]

— ↺ Jealously

✎ luffy x reader !

✦ summary ➠ you start feeling a little jealous after a certain incident

✦ warnings ➠ nsfw, flashing, swearing

— The fight with Crocodile and Baroque Works was finally over, it felt like the brawl lasted years. But now, the Straw Hat pirates could get all the rest they so desperately needed. In return for helping the kingdom, the pirates were allowed to eat as much as their heart desired. They were also invited to enjoy the palaces royal bath.

You now sat in that very bath with Nami and Vivi. It was a beautiful place, to say the least. Everything was dressed in shiny gold, glistening as the mist from the warm water filled the room. You were in the women’s side of course, but you thought if this side was this grand then the men’s area must be just as nice. This made you think of your boyfriend, Luffy. He was just on the other side of that wall, you guessed he was fooling around like he usually would.

As you admired the bath, Nami and Vivi chatted about what the world could hold for them; how the world has so many secrets that are just waiting to be found out.

“Y/n, could you get my back?” Vivi asked sweetly, her long blue hair was slightly darker due to the water. She chose to have a towel wrapped around her figure rather than being fully naked. You too chose to have a towel on.

“Of course, your highness.” You joked as you made your way towards her to take a seat on the stool behind her. You gathered the sponge that was soaked in soapy water, gently but firmly scrubbing the blue haired princess.

“Don’t call me that!” It was light hearted but it did hold some truth, she truly felt like you guys were friends now and she was grateful for all that you have done.

“Her highness is angry!” Nami added in, laughing along with you as you both ganged up on Vivi. She caved in too, she couldn’t hold in her giggles any longer. It was nice just to enjoy each others presence after all the fighting.

A comfortable silence overcame the room, all three of you smiling. Until suddenly, Nami’s smile dropped as she stood up. This made you and Vivi turn your heads in that direction, what you saw surprised you. All of the guys were now on your side of the bath, peering at you over the wall.

You clutched the towel tightly, ensuring none of your body would be exposed. “What are you doing, you freaks?!” You and Vivi screeched together, this is the girls side, you idiots, you thought.

“Peeking on us.” Nami walked closer to the group, she too had a towel on. “All right pervs, I expect each of you to pay $3000 for this!” Nami declared as she let the cloth fall to the ground, letting the men see all of her.

You were shocked, not only because she just showed them her naked body, but also because your boyfriend was part of that group that saw her. oh.

They all toppled backwards, many noses oozing out blood from the sight they just saw.

Something bubbled deep inside of you, jealousy. You don’t know why you felt this way, it’s not like Luffy asked to be flashed, it’s not like he wanted that to happen. You told yourself that, but you still felt the same as before, jealous.

Nami and Vivi left the bath and so did the men that were laid out on the floor. But you stayed, you decided to wash yourself with the sponge you were using earlier on Vivi, you need time to yourself to think and calm down from the previous event. He saw another girl naked, and it was one of your closest friends.

As you rubbed the sponge along your bare legs, you yelped when you felt a hand touch your shoulder. “Wha-”

“It’s me Y/n!” He smiled and used that tone he always did, a energetic one. He was acting the same as always, like he didn’t just see Nami in the nude. That makes you irritated slightly.

“Oh, hey Luffy.” You brushed his hand off your shoulder, resuming the wash on your legs.

“What’s wrong?” His furrowed with worry, he kneeled in front of you where you sat on the stool. He took note of the coolness in your tone, how you barely looked at him as you spoke. Usually you’d have a soft smile on your face, usually you’d be eager to talk to him. But now you were different.

“Nothing, just busy. I didn’t get a chance to properly wash myself fully. You can go.” You said nothing was wrong but that was a lie. You really just wanted to be alone in your thoughts right now. You would rather Luffy not be here because you were afraid you’d lash out at him for no real reason, you didn’t want to hurt him.

“No, I wanna spend time with you.” He was still kneeling down, now leaning closer to your body. “I’ve been sleeping for 3 days!”

“Ya well, that’s what happens when your bleeding out and have poison in your system.” You turned away from him, making more room between the both of you. Now you were just being mean.

“Y/nnn, tell me what’s wrong.” He whined, looking at you with those big eyes, they looked so desperate to know your answer. Those eyes make you weak, they make you cave every time he wants something.

“It’s just…” He still held intense eye contact, listening intently. “Earlier, you know when Nami.. did what she did. You saw her body, you saw her breasts and her hips and her.. you saw everything!”

“Oh.” Is all he says, he looks zoned out. Is he mad at you? Does he think your feelings are stupid. You look away, starting to feel embarrassed. But his hand on your chin brings you back to his eyes. “Is that what you’re mad about?”

You nodded while still in his grip. He pulled you in, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. You couldn’t help but reciprocate, even if you were still a little jealous.

“You don’t have to feel jealous, Y/n.” He whispered between kisses. “Because you’re my girlfriend, not Nami. You’re the only one I want to see naked. I want to see you naked right now, actually.”

You pulled away from the kiss, blinking a few times at his statement. You weren’t feeling much jealousy anymore, mostly just lust. You grabbed the top of your towel, where the piece of clothing wrapped around itself to keep your body concealed. You tugged on it, making it fall off your body and drop to the ground at your ankles.

“Pretty.” He reached out both hands to grope at your boobs, squishing them between his fists once or twice. “These are the only pair of boobs I think about, prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.”

He went down to lay kisses all over them, sucking when he got to your nipple. He’s always had a thing for you chest, he would spend all day kissing them, licking them, laying on them if he had a choice.

He smiled up at you, laying one last kiss to your nipple before lowering to align himself with your heat. He spread your legs apart further to allow room for his head, snuggling up close to your pussy.

“This is the best pussy out there.” He used his fingers to split your lips apart, face diving in. He started by licking on your clit, he knew you loved when he did that. And it was proved by how your hand slipped in his dark hair, pulling on the roots of it. You shoved his face in harder, wanting to feel more of him.

“Luffy!” You moaned out, curling your toes. He sucked on your clit next, making you lose your breath.

He starting sucking harder, licking more aggressively, wanting you to reach your orgasm quickly. You panted, feeling sparks starting to form in your lower half. Your legs shook and shut around Luffy’s head, trapping him in.

He slid out of your thighs, licking his lips clean from your juices.

“You have the only pair of boobs for me, you have the only pussy for me, you’re the only one for me, Y/n. K?” He kissed your cheek and grabbed your towel to drape around you again. He took your hand and pulled you along behind him, leading you away and out of the royal bath.

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 1) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: eventual smut (minors dni!), trigun!au action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, death, gore, guns, injuries, destruction, mentions of knives, weapons, violence, creepy monsters and creatures, ptsd, moral ambiguities, dark topics tbh, smoking, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, platonic (but not really) nakedness, reader is operating on a short fuse bc I believe u have to be built different for this universe, their communication is abt to be as poor as the plant life 💀 Seungcheol kinda his own warning imho, biggest apology to chan, and we all love seok sm bc he sings abt total slaughter 🙇🏻‍♀️ WC: 19.5k of 32.7k | Part 2 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I feel like the boys may seem ooc but I had a lot of fun putting this together 😌 Thank you Summer and Isa for hosting this collab and your utmost patience in me finally writing my piece! I hope everyone enjoys this and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!!

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin. 

The cities' great militaries. Bounty hunters. Bandits on the roads. Criminals escaping death row. Prowling pirate gangs. His twin brother. You. 

Though you reckoned your "want" for him was a bit… different from others. Well, at least you hope so, goddamn it. 

You shiver. 

At first, you wanted him just like the mass majority would one day as well — dead. The deed swiftly carried out with a silver pistol aimed at his temple.

Besides, your blood-thirst began before the destruction of July. Unlike most, who angrily shake their fists at the gaping crater on the fifth moon in the spirit of pure vengeance. Yes, the tragic incident of the great city that upped the bounty dangling over his head like a noose to a sixty billion double dollars reward. But Little Ivywood was the first of many places that would end up reduced to ruins after Lee Seokmin set foot there.

Wiped off the map. Wiped from history. Wiped from existence. But never forgotten. Especially not by the small town's only known survivor — you.

Your earliest memories contain little about the events that led up to being left on the doorstep of Little Ivywood's unofficial orphanage. How could they when you were just a baby? One swaddled in a ratty cloth weighted down by a rusted pistol. There was just one simple hint to your past — scribbled nearly illegible on a torn piece of paper dotted with blood — and could only be what the nuns had to assume was your name.

At least that's how Sister Meryl relayed the tale whenever asked, her hands clasped tightly together in praise and gratitude to the Saint that delivered you to them unharmed. The irony, considering Sister Lucia always looks like she'll faint just like the day she opened the convent's side door. It wasn't an easy sight to see or recall, the image of a wailing infant mouthing on the empty muzzle of a gun.

Neither versions of your origin story could be that far off thanks to the scar marring your left hand and the gun held tightly in your right. You've had both for as long as you can remember. And as you grew and changed, so did they.

The scar shrunk and faded through the years, seemingly forgotten amongst a myriad of other markings littered across your skin. Over time, the pistol's rusted parts were repaired or replaced and soon, its shine and character returned. Restored to its former glory while forging a new beginning ahead with a different owner.

But there were two things that stayed constant throughout your years at the orphanage. The first was your birth name. Not even the nuns, who generally loved bestowing scriptural monikers as if they were granting rich titles to unnamed orphans, tried to change yours. The second was a person who you still refuse to call by his baptismal name — Chan.

He helped you, became an assistant of sorts. Originally just some snot-nosed, beanpole of a fellow orphan you didn't really pay much attention to. A scared kid who cried way too loudly even after you'd even taken the time to demonstrate that the gun was safe after he'd been the one continuously pestering to see it. Very much to Sister Constance's chagrin, since it all went down in the middle of confessional time.

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

Lucky, because by acquiring bravery, Chan could discover his innate talent for gunsmithing. Lanky, noodle arms transformed into well-formed, sinewy muscles. The soft baby skin of his hands roughened with callouses as he whittled away near the convent's underground furnace. He'd spend hours down there, returning with sweat, grime, and charcoal smudged all over his skin after melting together the random metal objects found by digging beneath the basement's unfinished floor.

The Sisters disliked dirt and grime all over the children and tracked through the doors. But it was hard to keep clean out in the middle of a sandy desert. Complaints dwindled thanks to the fellow orphans who would stop their mischief to watch Chan work. And as time passed, his shoulders broadened further, his voice began to deepen, his dark hair grew longer, and those brown eyes started to sparkle with something different from simple, fleeting passion — it was a dream.

The excitable boy would tell you all about it under the stars. Late into the nights when you searched for what had to be remnants of Earthen materials from the Big Fall, he'd chatter on and on.

"Once we're actual adults," — free from the guardianship requirement provided from the orphanage — "we're gonna leave Lil Ivywood behind and explore the great wastelands of Gunsmoke!"

You snort at the ridiculousness of such an idea. "And how do you think we'll survive?"

"Easy-peasy, I'm gonna build a bunch of guns and we're gonna end up so rich. And famous!"

"Yeah, sure. Throw a couple double dollars at the worms, I'm sure they'll let us pass with no problem."

Not one to be deterred by your eternal sarcasm, Chan shakes his head."Nah, that's where you come in. Didn't think I'd let you freeload, right?"

He stands and stretches both of his arms straight out, the ones your roommate had started to gush over. Hands clasped together like Sister Meryl's always do before prayer time and then extending both pointer fingers into a mock handgun, out into the distant sand dunes one rarely dares to stray.

"You gotta be a sharpshooter to not let my hard work go to waste!"

You lazily take aim next to him, handling the freshly restored pistol with uncharacteristic gentleness. While it might officially be yours, it's also Chan's baby.

"Mm-hm, me and my killer skills."

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

It was such a pipe dream and yet; it didn't seem utterly impossible. There were little moments you let yourself imagine it, too — just until the suns peep their heads above the horizon. There was no way you could defend yourself — let alone another person — from the dangers of the desert or it would've been something you'd attempted years ago.

But when Chan spoke of his plans under the glow of the orbiting full moons, confidently mapping an adventure through an area he's never been to or seen before, and dreamed — he easily pulled you under his spell too. It was contagious, exciting, addicting, and most of all — it could really be… possible.

An armory of grade-A weapons. The bank account overflowing with double dollars. Endless boxes of bullets and the refined skills to shoot them; you were the force to be reckoned with and a protector of those who couldn't do it for themselves.

"Do you think… we could really succeed?" you ask one night, running a finger along the familiar engravings on your gun's grip panel.

Chan's grin was as shiny as the circular metal shell he was carving into. You refuse to look his way because of how infectious it could be. Plus, the main reason it was so stinking bright was due to this being the first time you verbally entertained his ideas.

"Oh-ho-ho, doubt my capabilities?"

"Obviously."

If offended — he was not — by the instant agreement, there was no sign of it. Instead, he focused back onto his handicraft, knowing you would eventually spill your true thoughts if he was patient.

There was no rush tonight after all. A star-filled expanse of black blanketed across the sky — one he hoped would never change to blue.

"More like… it's just going to be so risky!"

"And that's why you'll be the —"

"But I've never even held a gun before!" You spot Chan pointedly direct the corner of his gaze to where your hands rest, causing you to flinch them away from the weapon and wave around haphazardly as your cheeks heat. "I mean, like, to shoot! Sister Lucia always says it'd be too dangerous."

"Sister Lucia thinks water that doesn't flow directly out of the holy grail is dangerous."

"Technically, that's true."

"Oh god, she's got you thinkin' the same, too!"

"But she'd probably rather swear by the Saint than ever let me get any bullets…" The thought alone of the devout nun saying the Savior's name in vain makes both of you smirk but yours falls just as quick as it came. "And we're going to need those if we ever want to leave Little Ivywood."

"Well —"

"And I… I'd have to kill things! People, too. I don't know if I can do that, I —"

" — Think fast!"

It's his turn to interrupt, chipper voice ever optimistic as he tosses the finished trinket your way. Thankfully, your reflexes work fast enough to catch it nimbly in time. The oval is hot to the touch after hovering over searing flames and despite its small size, weighs down your right palm as you glance over its etchings.

Satisfied, Chan takes that as his cue to walk toward the nook that shields you from the roaring heat of the furnace. Squatting down so he's eye-level with your knees, he brushes back his tangled mess of hair with one hand and taps knowingly at the barrel of the pistol with the other.

"There's no reason to kill anyone or anything."

"But this can hurt people… I could hurt people."

"You've had this ever since you were a baby and never harmed anyone with it."

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

"Doesn't need to be. If you smacked someone with it, they'd surely feel that hit." He snickers, tone bordering on the edge of cockiness. "I would know, considering the sturdy and valuable materials used for repairs."

You roll your eyes and mutter, "Show-off," but it lacks true malice behind it.

"And even so," Chan takes one of his hands and pats the back of your free one, unintentionally right over the spot where your scar lies. "You've hurt no one before. Not even me, who annoys you the most!"

"About time you finally realized how merciful I am."

He says your name in earnest, remaining uncharacteristically serious and lays your intertwined hands on top of the gun before squeezing tightly. "Both this and you don't have to kill a single thing or person — ever — if that's not what you want to do. You can aim for non-vital points, shoot up in the air… Bullets or no bullets, just the sight of a weapon alone can be enough of a deterrent for most."

Chewing hesitantly on your lower lip, you let his words sink in and he continues.

"The fact you're aware of the hundreds of risks when handling a weapon like this means you'll be even more cautious when using it. I trust you, so trust in yourself."

Warmth spreads from your interlocked hands and through your entire body like you're wrapped in another one of his sweet hugs, culminating into tears threatening to spill past your lash line. Chan believed in you and though you'd never admit it aloud, it meant the world to you.

"When did you grow up so much?" you tease, letting out an exhale you didn't realize was being held.

"Aw, c'mon! I've been taller than you for months now!"

"Keep dreamin' if it makes you feel better."

Though Chan sasses back by sticking his tongue out, he lets you ruffle his sweaty bangs despite receiving a slightly bruised forehead in return because you forget about the new gift in your hand. Plotting an escape, he stands and pulls you up with him, joined by your clasped hands.

"We should probably head back. Sister Constance's likely gonna ask us to check the Plant before morning mass and you don't want her to catch you dozing off again."

"Last I recall, you were the one she caught napping!"

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

Quick as lightning, he nudges you with enough strength to catch you off guard and destabilize your balance. Then he tears away, calling over his shoulder, "Snooze and ya lose!"

"Ugh, this is exactly why — you never play fair!"

Regathering your bearings at record speed, you dash right after Chan. The boy's raucous laughter echoes in your own lungs and you swear the stars twinkle brighter in the nighttime sky. You overtake him right before reaching the convent's door — the same one you were left on — and clutch at his arm before he can reach past to open it.

"Hey… thanks."

He grins all goofy. Chan's well aware you mean much more than that, but he opts to flick your forehead rather than give you grief over it. "Yeah, yeah. I do so much for you, you know?"

"Mm-hm."

"So it's about time to finally pick a name I can carve onto that bad boy. If you don't, I'll put mine there." He nods to your gun excitedly, then points to the oval. "Oh, and I'll make a chain for that soon. Did you decide what you'll put inside?"

"Questions, questions, demands, demands." You wave him off and open the door with a yawn. "I'll think of one. And yeah, you know that Earthen gadget we found? Gonna cut out those papers and put them in there before sleeping."

Once while digging for materials, you had stumbled across a square object that wasn't completely destroyed, unlike many others. After a few experiments of messing with the random knobs and buttons, you determined it could mimic whatever was directly in front of the clear coated lenses. And later — much to your amusement and amazement — it printed out the image on thick, shiny squares.

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

You'd luckily put the last few sheets left in the machine to good use. Experimenting with the surrounding scenery that blurrily featured some of Ivywood's buildings, then one of Chan, and finally wrangled a frame that captured both of you together.

"Do you think you'll be able to stabilize it?"

Your tentative question makes him look toward the large, bulbous structure that houses the Plant. The power source Little Ivywood depended upon.

He sports a cheery grin. "Won't know 'til I've tried!"

"Ever considered too much confidence might be a bad thing?"

"If you're jealous, just say so. But with you by my side, there's nothing we can't accomplish together!" He bounces excitedly on his heels. "Besides, I forgot to mention…" Beckoning you with a hand to come closer, you lean in, curious. "I've become quite the master at bargaining. There won't be a single worm who'll refuse a double dollar from the great Chan!"

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

"You're the worst. Like to ever exist."

"The absolute best, you mean 'cause there'll be no reason for you to waste any bullets or fear cutting a single lifespan short!"

"Goodnight, Chan."

"You mean 'thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Chan!' but whatever! You can make it up to me tomorrow!"

But tomorrow never came.

Or rather — daybreak arrived in the unrecognizable form of rapid gunfire and screams of terror. The buildings rattled, trembled, and shook from the onslaught just like the people cowering in fear within them.

The dust stirred up in the chapel's hall after a wall unexpectedly collapsed causes you to cough. Amidst the chaos and panic, you spare a glance over your shoulder to see Sister Meryl, who strides confidently to the altar.

She stands with poise and purpose in front of the marbled stone. Steadfast and unwavering in strength because of her faith alone, even as the grand statue of the Saint starts crumbling down with the ceiling tiles falling around it.

It's a visual you're not likely to forget, carved deep into your memory before you flee with the rest. Sister Lucia is flustered as usual, ushering everyone as fast as she can near the grand oak doors that lead out to where additional shouting can be heard and only more pandemonium must await outside.

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

"That would be ten demerits any other day," Sister Constance voice abruptly snaps, "fortunately for you, now is not the time for such things."

It's astonishing how even at this moment, the nun remains on high alert for 'troublemakers'. Her sharp-nailed fingers latch around your wrist as she breezes by — much too similar to when you've been dragged off to detention. And as if that's what's happening, your heels plant firmly in the ground and obstinately tug her back a step.

"What about Sister Meryl? We can't just leave!"

"If you knew what was good for you, you'll obediently obey me. But if you knew that, you'd recognize faithfulness will guide her and the rest of us to safety."

"Nothing guarantees —"

"Those who do not devote themselves truthfully will never understand. Should the Saint deem Sister Meryl's sacrifice to be in vain, then she has failed not only the Holy Bishop and our sacred bonds, but you — one she unnecessarily dotes on — as well."

You want to argue and protest as Sister Constance yanks you forward. But the faint tremors you feel despite the tight grip of her hand and the tensed jawline of the woman whose stoic face is normally unbreakable makes you pause.

She's shaken. She's unsure. She's wavering.

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

The shock of it all is as startling as the pale sunlight blinding your eyes when the chapel's heavy doors finally get thrown open. Grains of sand swirl through Little Ivywood, diluting the usual brightness of the glowing orbs in the sky and their powerful rays.

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

That's the least of your worries, though. Blood stains the soil where shrapnel grazed tender flesh. Fellow orphans scream and cry out from their wounds as they struggle to get away from the captors attempting to drag them to the center of town.

With a chill, you alarmingly realize who they're trying to escape from. Women in black and white robes don a wild, crazed look on their faces. The ones who have raised and cared for parentless children throughout many years and tended to every need they could within their means.

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

Sister Constance turns and you jump. Both at the horrors of the present and a reminder of how many times a quick movement of hers led to the sharp pain of a switch or ruler tearing into skin. An eerie sound of laughter rings out and your blood runs cold, eyes darting left and right for the source.

And then through the dust particles, looms the sinister silhouette of a figure in a long trench coat flapping in the wind. Spiked hair sticks straight up, retaining its menacing style despite the powerful wind gusts and emphasizing an already impressive height. You gulp, swearing there's a flash of metal followed by a fanged smirk that glints dangerously as Sister Constance tugs you closer to the terrifying shadow beast shrouded by sand swirling in the air.

A declaration of your given name — stern and cold. "Know that your purpose is being fulfilled, that you are serving the great —"

And then comes a shout of your name, this time from someone desperate and panicked. You're yanked forward and then suddenly catapulted backward, grunting at the impact of your body slamming against someone else's.

"You need to go! You need to get out of here!"

"Chan?!"

He clings to you, shifting so his back is to the nun only a few paces past the corner he dashed around for safety and to stall for time. Throwing a cautious look over his shoulder before whispering urgently, "Go! And don't look back!"

"What about you?"

"Don't mind me." The smooth leather of a satchel presses against your palm. "Get movin'!"

"But —"

"Seriously," the boy shoves you forward with a not-so-gentle push. You gape at the audacity and he waves his hand, like he's shooing away a pesky flying worm. Rude. "Please! I'll be right behind you but —"

An eruption of nearby gunfire and a series of high-pitched shing!-like noises interrupt him. He glances again over his shoulder. You cautiously step forward and his head whips back to let out a hiss.

"Chan, what's —"

"Need to grab a few more things, see if any other idiots need help. Just… just get out of town, wait for me by the rocks if it'll make you feel better." He smiles, though it doesn't make those brown eyes of his sparkle like usual. "It'll… it'll all be okay."

You're uncertain and scared. But something about Chan's speaking powers have always made you believe in the impossible. So, you nod resolutely while taking the bag from him and warn, "Promise you'll be safe."

"You hate those kinds of things."

It's true. To you, promises were only made to be broken. And yet…

"… And somehow you've changed my mind before."

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

"Fine, just go. Please! And don't look back!"

Acquiescing to his pleas, you sprint toward where he pointed. Sitting like giant sentinels lays an outcrop of boulders bordering the western edge of Little Ivywood. The desert is only two paces away, expanding outward into a desolate plain filled with the undulating slopes of dunes. Picking a sizable rock to hide behind, you keep watch for Chan, cringing at the distant sound of gunshots still rapidly being fired.

What was that? What did you see? And what did you almost get dragged into?

What was going on?

Boom!

It's an ear-shattering noise that causes even the great stones around you to tremble from the explosion. A flare of light so bright leaves you no choice but to look away to protect your eyes, ducking behind the rocks as a shield.

When you recover after it dissipates to see what just happened — Little Ivywood is no more.

It's gone.

"No…"

The tiny town reduced to only rubble and ash. What once were rows of square buildings stacked on top of each other to divert the view of a relatively flat lay of the land are now parallel to its surroundings.

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

You don't think twice about running toward the wreckage. Chan is there. Chan has to be there!

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

Broken piles of the shoddy architecture littering the landscape prevents you from traversing too far. Bile rises in your throat as you desperately scan for a sign — any sign — for Chan. For survivors. For anyone. Even the air is still, no longer rippling with irritable heat waves and heavy gusts of wind because the blast was strong enough to ward off nature itself and the incoming sandstorm.

For now.

And during the futile search, that's when you spot him. On his knees with his back to you, slouched over in the only clear space amidst the destruction. The tattered fabric of a cerise garment hangs off the man's broad shoulders and pools around his body like a puddle of blood. Reddish-brown bangs tinged with black hang limply as his chin curls further and further into his chest.

I don't understand, you vent to yourself after a couple ungraceful vaults and stumbling through the debris to get closer. This bastard got what he wanted, did what he wanted, and won! So, why is he acting like that? Who destroyed his town? His people?

Finally, you're a couple steps behind him. Thankful, at the very least, for whatever weird state this man is in because it grants you the opportunity to approach and press the cold steel of your pistol to the side of his temple.

"Don't. Move."

You hope it comes out as the threatening command you intend it to be. There's a tense beat of silence as you wait for his next move until you realize he's doing exactly what you demanded.

Then he chuckles. A choked out, watery sort of sound. Your hands start shaking even as they press the barrel harsher against his head.

"Go ahead and shoot."

"Answer me first." Your voice becomes as unsteady as the quakes in your body and you rasp out, "Why… why'd you do it?"

His head lifts and you flinch, but he takes no further action besides staring blankly ahead at the ruins. "I wish I could tell you but… I've been asking myself the same question."

"I — you…! You wreak hell and havoc upon a whole innocent town and… and you don't even know why?!"

"Pathetic, isn't it?" The man laughs again, without a shred of humor. A gloved hand reaches up to wrap around the weapon and you momentarily falter at the force of him leaning into it. The weight pushing it closer into his skull seems hard enough to leave a nasty imprint, as if that should be a main concern right now. "I'd simply like to know how I did it."

"I —"

"Not loaded," he sighs and drops his hand, twisting around to actually get a proper look at whoever was holding him at gunpoint.

You're taken aback by the intensity of death radiating in those dark brown irises that casually observe you through amber-colored, cracked lenses. Your arms fall down, dumbfounded at the stranger's unflinching behavior, the pistol bumping into your thigh. He lets out a "tsk" and then pulls something out of his pocket.

In his opposite palm, clad in a fingerless glove unlike the left, rests a conical golden object. Though you've never seen one in real life before, you think you know what it is. The shape matches the hollow outlines when Chan disassembled the chambers of your gun.

"A cartridge," he says and you blink. "A bullet," he clarifies upon noticing your confusion. Then the man smiles encouragingly. "Go on. Take it."

You're incredulous. "You're okay with handing that over to me?"

"It's what you want, right?" There's a wistful look on his face. "This place… it was your home."

"No," you're quick to refute, shocked at such an automatic response. Then admitting, "I don't even know what a home is."

Innocent town, my ass, is what you derisively admit inward and snort at yourself.

The convent itself was far from comforting. The other orphans with their bright grins when Saint Meryl sang lullabies on the nights you couldn't sleep — those were the kinds of things that made it bearable.

Guilt.

"I — I —"

It overwhelms your senses. Rattling up your entire nervous system and settling a cruel, cruel weight in your chest. You hunch over, chest heaving, and throat burning. There's a thump as your gun falls to the ground, its silvery sharp edges becoming distorted, warped, and blurred through a film of unshed tears in your widened eyes.

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

The man rises to his full height, brushing off his clothes before crouching down. A sturdy hand grips your shoulder and dutifully encourages your gasping upper body into an upright position. Gently, ever so fragile, he bops your forehead with his and you subconsciously lean against the unexpected support.

He's near enough to ground you to something solid. But distant enough for two strangers whose first meeting is one amidst a crumbling town's travesty. With his close presence comes the scent of gun smoke, though not as bitterly pungent and putrid as you recall from before. It's subtle and smokey, reminiscent of the fire that Chan once proudly stoked in his makeshift forge.

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

"All lives are equally precious, one shouldn't be sacrificed for another."

"… How can… how can you say that so… easily?"

The death-come-over look in his eyes changes to something faraway. Like he's seeing something beyond the destruction surrounding both of you. Those amber lenses don't have to be cracked to draw attention to the fracturing despair radiating behind them.

Then, he shakes his head and shrugs. "Because you should live even when those dear to you are gone. This world is made of love and peace, after all."

Your crying abruptly pauses with the natural effort it takes to let out a scoff. Ignoring your utter scorn and disbelief, the man's gaze drifts to the pistol still on the ground. The tip of a steel-toed boot kicks it up into the air with a flourish, single-handedly catching it to inspect the weapon with practiced ease.

"Live because there's a reason you survived, even if you loathe every second of it. You'll feel like you don't deserve it. But persevere because you should. Because that's what they would've wanted and you keep them alive by living yourself. A burden? Maybe. Why spend such a cursed blessing only dwelling in regret when you can do so much more?"

He offers the gun back, its handle extended in your direction.

"If nothing else, live for yourself most importantly. Help show the world the love and peace it deserves. Even if it couldn't afford to gift it to you. That's what life is all about. The ticket to the future is always blank!" Pausing, he shrugs with a regret-filled smile on his face. "At least that's what I was taught… and what I think."

"… Awfully full of optimism for some dude who wiped out a full town and doesn't even know why."

"Name's Seokmin," he returns, now sporting a cheeky grin as you cautiously reach out for the pistol. Only to be outsmarted with a literal 'sleight-of-hand' and meeting the warmth of fingers and a gloved palm instead of the expectation of hard, cold, and familiar steel.

"Huh?"

"Lee Seokmin, to be precise! And it's a pleasure to meet 'cha! Erm, despite the… terrible circumstances." Seokmin jiggles the gun in front of you with his other hand, almost taunting you to reach for it again.

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

"A shame. But not everyone cares to name things, 'specially if they don't hold any value." He finally tosses it back and you barely manage to catch it in time with a scowl.

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

He visibly perks up at that even further, a radiant smile showcasing two pointy fangs. "You've heard of it?"

"Well," you scratch your cheek, "the, uh, sisters gave a girl that name because of her hair."

There's an uncomfortable pause as the dreadful realization you'll never see those brilliant ruby locks bounce because of her excitement again settles back into your stomach. You swallow, eyes roaming the stranger in front of you for a distraction.

"Um… you must really like the color… red."

Seokmin glances down at the tatters of his scarlet clothes and shrugs. "I guess. Though the one I saw was red, I've heard they come in different colors."

"You've seen a plant? Like a plant plant? A real one! You know — that grows out of the ground and transforms and all that? It doesn't, well…"

Vegetation was a rarely discussed concept. The only thing you knew came out of the poorly written history books in the dusty library's darkest corner. In the desert outskirts, you had a better chance of finding ancient Earth technology that might still be intact to share its plethora of knowledge about the old world humans left behind than hope to find whatever resources the big cities had access to.

"Mm, yeah, a long time ago. But say," he jovially waves the cartridge from before and it glints in the setting rays of the suns. "Would you care to hear this man's story before shooting him?"

And of course, you listened. What other choice did you have, you who lost everything at once? But even back then, something small and precious was planted in the barren depths of your heart. That was just the beginning. It would continue to grow, watered and tended to under the sunny smile of Lee Seokmin — the destroyer of cities and a very wanted man across the planet.

You leave that tiny bit out during the recitation of your past to the inquisitive pastor. Though something you'll regrettably find out later is he's already got you all figured out.

Bastard.

"… So, that's how I met the infamous Lee Seokmin and didn't end up killing him," you declare with a flourish and take a satisfied gulp of cheap beer picked up from some abandoned mart along the way out of Little Jersey.

Draining another bottle dry, you toss away the metal cap, close one eye, and peer through the narrow bottleneck like it's a telescope — albeit a very poor one.

Through the distorted glass stretch endless sand dunes as far as the eye can see. Stars glitter and sparkle amid the glow of the full moons in orbit, temporarily dimmed by a puff of the roguish's man's cigarette that wafts through the inky darkness.

You wonder if he'd be willing to share one.

"A shame," Seungcheol grumbles and offers a white stick from his pocket.

You take it eagerly only to see it's nothing but — a lollipop. The hard candy's become a strange gooey consistency thanks to melting in the desert heat all day and partially re-solidifying during the nighttime's chilly air.

It's stale too.

Fucker.

You let out a disdainful sniff but nod in agreement to his statement. "It is. But he promised me something. Then his bounty increased from a meager six million to sixty billion double dollars after destroying July, putting a hole in the moon, and all that. So… following him around has paid off."

"I guess," he shrugs, "guess I don't really care 'bout yer lil meet-cute story."

You gape at the audacity. "You're the one who fuckin' asked!"

"Well… figured we could bond, ya know? Orphans 'n all that cozy, feel-good shit."

"You know, not a single thing I've said thus far coud be classified as 'cute'."

"Uh-huh."

"And I never took you to be a sentimental fool."

"Hey, now —"

You hold up a hand. "'Thou shall not bear false witness'."

"As if ya even know what that means," Seungcheol retorts and flicks the ashy cigarette stub in your direction, the cross around his neck ironically reflecting in the moonlight. "Was gonna say, if anythin', I put the mental in sentimental, sweet'art."

Well, you certainly wouldn't argue with that point. "…What I do know is that you're doing this all. For him."

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

"Well… yeah. But he's only part of a bigger picture for you."

"… 'S none o' yer business, ya know? Best to know less."

Your eyes roll. "Sure. That's why you nearly got hit by our car 'cause you wore a suit into the desert and didn't bring a drop of water. All while hauling that stupid, big-ass cross around! And then you insist on joining us — try to scam us! — but hey," you put your hands up, "none of my business."

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

"Hella shady, man... Hella. fuckin'. shady." You're shocked you can see the man's eyes roll in a begrudging defeat behind his black sunglasses — at night, no less — but you nudge him. "C'mon, just tell me! I bet it has to do with Hopeland, something… or someone back at that orphanage."

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

"Only the ones that are equally just as annoying!"

"Tch, woman." Seungcheol messes up the back of his black hair, mouth opening as he cracks his jaw. There's a pregnant pause. "… 'Han was… he was different. Ya wouldn't get it."

"Try me. Evidently you weren't listening very well, were you?" No surprise there. You retrieve the locket that takes refuge beneath your top, a familiar oval swinging from its long chain between the two of you. "Believe it or not, I do get it."

His eyes fixate on it like a pendulum, darting to your face, and then up to the sky. A crooked smile quirks up the corner of his mouth and he lets out a resigned sigh. "Ya really love 'im, don'tcha?"

You feel a funny sensation.

Akin to getting caught in a horde of flying worms and trying to squash down as many as you can. Your answer is hushed and Seungcheol snickers. Unbeknownst to the two of you that an additional pair of ears — assumed to be asleep — also catches your whispered reply.

"So, how much ya gonna pay for confessin'?" the pastor goads and lets out a startled yelp when you try to smash the hand-held bank he totes around that's shaped like a cathedral.

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

"Stare any longer and you'll no longer be needin' Sirocco." An amused snicker follows the relaxed drawl. "Bullets're 'bout to start flyin' outta those eyes 'stead of that gun o' yers."

You scowl at the dumb man seated next to you. "It's not like subtlety has ever been a strong suit of yours. But could you at least pay better attention to your surroundings?" A meager amount of golden liquid sloshes against the sides of the glass you pointedly wave around. "Or are you already too drunk to forget where we are?"

"Ain't no lightweight," Seungcheol brags with his fourth pint of the night in hand and a rapacious grin cockily tilting the empty lollipop stick in the corner of his mouth upward. "Can't say the same for the rest, though. Whiskey's stronger than a punch to the gut."

"… You would know. I'm sure it might just taste like water to some by now."

While it might initially elate most visitors to order as many rounds of the only available beverage on the menu as possible, the reality of the situation was much more grim. As if he can read your mind, the man clad in black, gray, and muted silvers flippantly reminds you of why your so-called merry band of travelers are even here.

"Needle Noggin said 'e fixed the Plant up just fine 'n dandy, so here's hopin' we get some clean bathwater t'night."

At those words, your gaze instinctively shoots back to where it focused earlier. Seungcheol snorts and drains his glass with a satisfactory sigh before poking more fun at you.

"Gonna put a hole through his head at this point."

"Not like that's anything new."

"Yeah, but rather than constantly laserin' holes through his skull, ya should be tryna convince him to fill yers up, instead. 'N not referrin' to that empty space behind yer forehead."

"I know exactly what you mean, you perverted freak."

That cracks Seungcheol up. "'N here I was thinkin' ya was gonna end up a nun servin' the Eye of Joshua!"

By now, you're well-accustomed to the hedonistic ways of the man who still keeps a leather band with a cross on it strapped across his Adam's apple, sewn into the cuffs of his black suit, and carries the hulking shape of one on his weary shoulders.

Unfazed, you fire back, "If they even let someone like you into the blessed and holy ranks, then any whore off the streets would be welcome to join."

It's a series of light-hearted jabs you both take in stride. The truth is much darker and deeper, but tonight serves as a tiny snapshot away from the normal weariness of day-to-day survival in Gunsmoke. Right now, you celebrate alongside the residents of Tonim what peace could really look like in the future.

Except you're on edge.

For a reason that's silly compared to the usual adrenaline rush of tracking down Plants nearing red status and defending the area, all the while trying to prevent the inevitable destruction and chaos to follow. Still, it's why you beckon the bartender over for another refill as a positively "tickled-pink" Seungcheol not-so-silently judges.

"Now who's staring?"

"'Kay, but's not with unbridled lust and — " He's cut off by a sharp kick to the side of his shin delivered by one of your heavy combat boots. "And feelin's," gets wheezed out before the pastor falls silent at your nasty scowl paired with Wonwoo's timely arrival.

The saloon owner and de facto authority in town approaches the two of you cautiously. It's no secret who you are, who you're with. What you do and the things that follow when you do what you do. And yet what you've done has saved the town and given its people — especially the younger folk — something that some of them have never experienced before.

Hope.

And that seems to be good enough proof for Wonwoo. Rumors may just be rumors, after all. None of you are like the reports relayed in a tinny voice through the virtually enhanced radios that are non-plant-powered — aka illustriously dubbed by their inventor as VERnons.

"… the Bloody Rain… follows… Lee… Humanoid Typhoon… armed… dangerous. Punisher… cross… machine gun… two unknown… likely… agents…. Bernardelli Insurance…"

The VERnon sitting behind the counter splutters out bits and pieces of information. He side-eyes the device awkwardly and starts fumbling with the buttons, trying to mumble over the static and monotonous voice.

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

The bartender's well-intentioned efforts are fruitless which is to be expected. Only the creator, and those he personally taught, could truly modify the invention as pleased. A part of you hoped to find evidence Hansol had traveled this far but alas, he was probably still searching through the seven major cities for his beloved Milly before attempting to wander through the treacherous wastelands.

A brown, short-haired darling sneaks awe-filled glances at the two of you from the corner where a group of women around your age gather to chat. Seungcheol's the first to catch onto the admiring starry-eyed gaze and winks. Chuckling when a pudgy hand clings tighter to one of the lady's long skirt, using the fabric as a demure little shield against his effortless charisma.

You catch the tail-end of the interaction with the ghost of a smile. If there's one thing that can definitely soften Seungcheol's rough edges, it's children. You can't blame him, reminded of cheery voices and energetic footsteps pounding after your own through the convent's hallways.

The attractive woman wonders what's drawing the younger girl's attention and leans down to whisper in her ear. Gesturing in your direction, you watch as she nods encouragingly and offers a gentle smile, pushing the tiny brunette forward who readily toddles over. The gaps still waiting for pearly white teeth to grow in that shy smile on the little girl's face are endearingly winsome.

"'Lo, Wonu."

The bespectacled man starts, eyes wide as he peers over the counter and just manages to glimpse the top of her mousy brown tufts. "Is that you, Lina? You're not supposed to be here."

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

She huffs indignantly at the two men, hands on her hips. "I've once stayed up 'til four in the morning, mister!"

"Oh, Lina…"

"Besides, how can anyone of good standing sleep properly when there's heroes in town?"

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

You scoff at your comrade's words. "As if you've ever seen one."

"I do beg your pardon," Wonwoo scrambles to excuse the child's enthusiasm. "Looks like another talk is due with, uh, Sheryl."

"You're just jealous, Wonu. Sherry says they're heroes."

A chubby finger points at you and Seungcheol and the bartender clicks his tongue — partially in reproach and the other half out of embarrassment. The two of you hardly pay any attention to his reaction, seeming to not mind her boldness at all.

"That's right, sweet'art. And don'tchu forget now." In fact, a certain cross-wearing man revels in it. He rummages deep in his pocket and pulls out a lollipop with a flourish. "'N here's a lil magic gift for ya, princess."

You're one step faster, snatching it and unwrapping the candy with a quick inspection. At least it looks fresh and clean. Seungcheol snorts. Ignoring him, you crouch down and hand it to Lina with a gentle smile.

"Remember to be careful with what you take from strangers."

"I know! But you're heroes… and heroes are always good people! You would never hurt me!" Those blue-green eyes are certainly dazzling as she stares into yours, reminiscent of the clean water now filling the town's reservoir. "You're very pretty."

"That might be the highest compliment I've ever received."

"Pretty people don't hurt anyone either! Sherry's super pretty and she's the gentlest I know!"

A very pretty pastor himself snickers for multiple reasons. Meanwhile, Wonwoo laments with a tired sigh, "Dunno what that crazy woman's been teaching her, I swear…"

"You're not supposed to talk about people you like like that, Wonu!" Lina gives them both the stink eye but returns her attention to focus solely on you — Tonim's loveliest savior in her teal-eyed view. "Will I grow up to be as pretty as you?"

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

"I…" She gnaws on her lip, as if it does anything to hide how much her pleased grin glows. "I wanna be a hero, too!"

"Don't see why you wouldn't become one." To you, she already is — in all her innocent radiance and glory.

"Gotta grow big 'n strong first, missy."

"I am strong!"

"Don't doubt it. But wait 'til yer at least twice my age 'fore ya go swingin' at thugs."

She wrinkles her nose. "I'll be in the grave like Grammy if I wait that long, old man!"

Seungcheol guffaws at her unexpected remark and you hear the bartender beg, "Lina, please!" But you focus on all the brilliance in front of you — from precious unkempt locks to blue eyes full of fire and finally to the worn out, dust-covered shoes.

"Hopefully you'll never need a reason to be the hero, though. It's our duty to keep that from happening."

There's too much hidden meaning and brutal experience in your words for her to fully understand. The lull gives a certain pastor an opportunity to sidle back into the conversation, ready to get up to no good as always.

"Ya wanna meet the hero of all heroes, darlin'?"

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

"Go 'head 'n give 'er yer second key," he coaxes quietly with a shit-eating smirk.

"I swear!"

"C'mon… never like keepin' such a sweet gal waitin'!"

After a minute's hesitation, you begrudgingly agree and take it out.

"Thank ya. Now, got a lil mission for ya, Miss Hero-in-the-Makin'."

"Really?!"

Barely able to conceal her exuberance, she reverently takes the key like it's actual gold and not simply plated. Seungcheol ruffles her hair affectionately.

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

"Mhm, yeah! The one that looks like the night sky?"

"Yeah, give 'im it. Make sure to say it's from this pretty lady."

"Choi!"

"Talk to 'im too 'cause he'll love that. He's a real hero, y'know? Truest of 'em all."

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

Lina scurries off and you turn back to the counter with a sour glare directed at Seungcheol. "What was that all about?"

"Dunno, cute?"

"I'm really sorry about that all," Wonwoo apologetically interrupts with the offer of another refill which is readily accepted. "She… she's very excitable."

"No need for apologizin', man."

"Yeah, she's adorable. Is she yours?"

The bespectacled bartender stutters, almost dropping the glass he's handing to you. "That's, uh, that's my sister!"

"Ah, makes sense! Didn't mean to assume."

He flushes and turns away. But not without mumbling something about it being okay and your comrade groans.

"Reminder — ya get too drunk, 'm not dealin' with ya ass."

"Great, I don't want you near my ass."

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Seungcheol downs another shot and you're quick to follow his lead once Wonwoo hands over another refill per your shared request. However, this time, the stoic man surprisingly lingers and awkwardly fiddles with his wire-rimmed frames, doing his very best to not let his eyes wander your scantily clad figure as your head tilts back to swallow the burning alcohol.

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

"So, uh, who are you, really?"

"Curious, eh?" You lean comfortably onto the counter, braced by your forearms and an alluring smile on your face for the handsome saloon owner. His gaze drifts down to your scar-covered hands which also happen to be placed conveniently underneath your breasts.

You'd once said the best disguise and toughest armor was none at all. And why not flaunt your assets — literally — and put them to good use. The desert is hot anyways!

Seungcheol and Seungkwan both called bullshit. Mingyu applauded you and waved his "I respect women's rights, wrongs, and all the above no matter what!" flag. Seokmin — already used to your behavior and attire — had nothing else to say other than his normal quips of, "As long as you're comfortable".

"Well, a-a beautiful woman like yourself has to have everyone wondering."

And you laughed in the face of your haters every time it worked.

"Just a bounty hunter."

Wonwoo nods at the casual answer, recalling the holster strapped around the plush of your thigh beneath short denim shorts. "Where from?"

"Well… around. My hometown was destroyed so…"

"Oh? Same here."

"Ah, camaraderie." You jab a thumb menacingly in the direction of the purple-cloaked figure and the life of tonight's celebration, currently animatedly chattering to Lina. "That's why I'm turning him in."

"He's…?"

"Yup, Lee Seokmin. Yes," you confirm with a smirk at the way Wonwoo's eyes bug out behind his glasses, "that one — the infamous humanoid typhoon. Don't worry, he won't hurt anything or anyone here."

"He's… uh, he's not quite what I expected."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You must be pretty badass to reign him in. Heard he's giving what's left of the July regime officers a run for their double dollars."

"For sure. But it's thanks to the other two drunkards, really. Believe it or not, they're Bernardelli insurance agents. Raven-haired one's Seungkwan and the tall one is Mingyu. They're helping to monitor that whopping bounty of mine and prevent any more disasters from happening. Heard I might get a bump in value if I bring him in alive."

"Oh, well, it looks like it's working. And he seems… willing? To come with you?"

"The irony. Always been quite blasé about facing his doom."

"He's really a Plant engineer, too?"

"Of sorts," you huff at his visible confusion but wave your empty glass. "Can I get another?"

He's more than happy to accommodate and returns with two, sliding one over to Seungcheol with a cautious look at the person who seems the closest to you. "And this is…?"

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

"A surprising addition to the mix, yeah. But everyone needs to, like, pray sometimes." And under your breath, low enough so only a certain man can hear, "no matter how sketchy they are."

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

The one in question quirks a thick eyebrow. "Ya lookin' to get hitched, boy?"

"M-maybe."

And Seungcheol feels wholly compelled to bless him silently from the bottom of his blackened heart with full sincerity, seeing as how the bespectacled man timidly peeks your way before his gaze darts elsewhere. "Sorry lad, charge 'bout a thousand double dollars minimum."

While the solitary bartender crashes back into the sad reality of capitalism, you jab your elbow into the pastor's ribcage. "Fuckin' scammer."

"Only the best of the best! Ya know, sixty billion's still on the table — 'n it better be callin' my name."

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

"We have 'im." And he points back to where hoots and hollers erupt from the center table of the saloon.

Lina's returned to the woman she was with earlier — presumably her beloved Sherry — but that doesn't mean Seokmin's alone. There's so much disdain in your side-eye, spotting the busty violet-haired sweetheart his arm wraps around. After all, he's the worst kind of ladykiller.

And by that, you mean he absolutely sucks at flirting and can't get or keep a partner to save his life. Yet you're constantly stuck witnessing women, men, and attractive people of all kinds throw themselves at the good-looking man until he opens his mouth and they're put off by his clear lack of suaveness or strange little idiosyncrasies.

"Stop with the stupid bet, it's not happening. Nobody's going to be winning a thing."

"It's called usin' the damn 'magination, darlin'!"

"Which means you need to get better hobbies. You've corrupted my friends!"

"Hah! Them fools were already too invested in this 'fore I ever came along."

"Fill me up again?"

Intent on ignoring Seungcheol, you belatedly realize how aggressive your request comes across. You're also eager for something to help soothe ache in your chest. It comes and goes like a bad toothache — manageable enough to forget about the pain until it returns tenfold.

Thankfully, Wonwoo meekly complies with the back tips of his ears tinged red and Seungcheol barely manages to hide his extreme amount of mirth for the situation behind another glass. In the dim lighting, at certain angles, and with another shot of whiskey settling into your system, you conclude that the handsome saloon owner could certainly pass as Seokmin's brother and vice versa.

But you know the truth.

Familiar with the one who's all too identical to the infamous gunslinger, yet entirely different altogether. Irritation flares in your gut, prickling harsh enough that even the burn of alcohol fails to drown it out.

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

Tipsiness is a great excuse to bump purposely into him as you get off the stool. It's only thanks to his genetically enhanced metabolism that the pastor's able to stay upright. He grumbles something that's likely insulting, but standing upright causes you to realize you drank way too much. Everything spins or sways, including your body as you stumble up the stairs.

Somehow, you safely make it to the second level. Above the saloon is a hallway of small bedrooms that Wonwoo generously loans out to routine drunkards or stray travelers. It takes a few minutes of fumbling around but you finally find the lock that matches the first of its paired key and tumble face-first into (thankfully clean) bedsheets.

A hazy mix of drifting in and out of consciousness follows. It's not until the door clicks and there's an ominous creak of floorboards followed by a noticeable presence creeping up at your side that fully rouses you from the feverish dreams of gunfire, explosions, and loss that still plague your mind to this day.

You roll over, intending to assume both an offensive and defensive position against the nighttime visitor, but a hand lands on your shoulder before you can. Still sluggish, there's no way you could ever hope to outmatch the humanoid typhoon, even at your best.

"Hey, you."

It takes a bit for your eyes to adjust to the darkness after hearing his voice — and then there he is. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Seokmin greets you with a fond, megawatt grin. The thumb of his cybernetic prosthesis gently traces little circles over your bare skin. There's a faint hum and glow from its advanced tech mechanics, paired with moonbeams from the window, casting off an ethereal radiance.

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

"But of course, isn't that why you sent such a cute little cherub my way?"

Ah, Lina. You unwittingly smile, remembering how joyful she was to accomplish her mission.

Then your eyes close, nose wrinkling at the copious stench of mixed perfumes and alcohol he brought in and refusing to acknowledge what he says.

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

"… That preacher's a fuckin' tattler. And a liar. And a total scammer. Don't fall for him, Seok."

"Now, what makes you think Seungcheol told me, hm?" He leans down almost nose-to-nose, enough to make yours scrunch even more at the buzzing feeling of how near he is. Your eyes open to squint at him and he winks. "Silly boy tried to mess with god again and max out his intake. Spoiler alert, he failed. Mingyu dragged him back to his room."

"You're the only one I know who can call Choi a 'silly boy'."

"'Cause that's what he is."

"And you need to stop acting like my babysitter!"

You shift away from his gorgeous face and he leans back to give you space, sporting a smug grin. "Then who would take care of you, mayfly?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Be nice to me and maybe I won't keep count on how many glasses you down next time," he teases. "But since I'm so kind and forgiving, would you like a nice, warm, relaxing bath?"

Well, it did sound wonderful. TMI, but cleanliness was a luxury when traveling the desert. Even more so when the places you arrived at had Plant issues. Luckily, Seokmin was more than capable of fixing them but even then, circumstances varied. Especially around the one known across Gunsmoke as mankind's first localized human disaster.

"Only if you get one, too."

It slips from your mouth without a thought. But you might as well have told Seokmin you'd gotten him a box full of doughnuts with how delightedly he clasps his hands together.

"As you wish, m'lady!"

And he treats you like one, scooping you up into his arms in a princess-style carry. At least tonight you're more willing to let him do as he wishes, especially when he discards the perfume-infused outerwear. Whiskey, sleepiness, and the smooth material of his undershirt keep you pliant and cuddly well after he'd snatched you off the bed.

Seokmin's already ten times stronger than even a human like Mingyu and his prosthesis only helps take further advantage of that fact. He easily deposits you on the edge of the tub. Normal routine would require untying the tight laces on your combat boots but since you'd kicked them off prior to resting, he skips to the next step.

Deft fingers make quick work unbuttoning your shorts, the prosthetic digits of his left hand then moving to loosen the straps that keep your top on. His other hand holds them together in a pseudo-knot to keep the material in place.

Honoring a sense of modesty, you suppose — even though you've seen each other unclothed before. But you melt into the secure press of his palm paired with the support of his chest against your back as he leans over to turn on the water.

"Let me know if it's a good temperature."

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

"Okay, okay," he relents. Amicably even.

Seokmin never enjoys butting heads like Seungcheol constantly does. Although another "mayfly," gets tacked on to the end of his playful yield in a mischievous tone because if there is one thing, it's that he can never tease you enough.

Brown eyes quietly trace the ink and scars that mark your skin, some disappearing or completely hidden beneath the parts that are covered. Finally, they land on the silver chain around your neck, only a breadth away from the tip of his fingers that suddenly twitch at how soft you feel beneath the calloused roughness of his own skin.

You let out a little sigh and it shakes him from his reverie, noticing the tub's filled up past your calves. Guiding one of your hands to where the locket lies beneath your clothes covering your chest, he stands. "Call me if you need anything or just want help getting out, m'lady."

"'Kay."

You're already stripping bare but Seokmin breezes out the door before you can blink. You sigh again and slip into the hot water, enjoying a soak to ease the heaviness you feel.

It's hard to understand this emotional turmoil. Knowing that you don't enjoy feeling this way, you make a false promise to not drink ever again, staying submerged in the water until your fingers wrinkle.

Maybe you fell asleep, maybe you didn't. There's a bathrobe laid on the sink when you're ready to get out that you don't remember from before but who knows. Who cares? It's cozy and you haven't felt this clean in a while.

"All yours," you lazily declare, stepping into the bedroom.

Seokmin perks up from where he casually sits cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with Geranium. A dopey smile lights up his face, gaze moving from the hefty nickel revolver and zoning in on you.

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats quieter, more to himself, "all mine…" But when you unconsciously shiver, his eyes flash and brows furrow. "C'mere, I warmed the bed up for you."

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

"Yep, so don't miss me too much, my dear mayfly!"

He accompanies it with a saucy wink and saunters into the bathroom, humming. You find yourself in a bit of a daze, head and cheeks holding onto the heat of the steam from your bath (and more). You change into a light tank and cotton shorts before sitting back down. As promised, where Seokmin rested was indeed warm and smells of faint gun smoke that always brings back memories.

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

"La de da de dai~," echoes from the bathroom. "Genocide…"

Splash.

"La de da de duh," splash, splash, splash, "an ocean… of blood."

"Let's begin… the killing time."

Seokmin possessed a lovely melodic voice no matter how nonsensical or gruesome the words he sang. Your eyes close with relaxation as he continues into a different tune. Though the lyrics are definitely more hopeful this time, there's a heavy sense of underlying desolation despite the rapid, upbeat tone.

"So…" splash, "on the first evening," splash, "a pebble from somewhere out of nowhere drops upon the dreaming world…"

You think back to how he silently cried when he thought no one was looking after a young stowaway on the sandsteamer broke into the same nostalgic song. Your heart aches in empathy for the woman whose heroic sacrifice saved humankind but left behind irreparable damage to twins she adored.

Rem Saverem.

She was to Seokmin as what Saint Meryl was to you. But your fondness for the nun who dared to favor one random orphan above the other equally ordinary ones with an unprecedented amount of kindness paled in comparison to the devotion Seokmin exhibited for Rem. Her kindness, hope, and love for and of life didn't simply become Seokmin's philosophies — they were a true part of every fiber, woven into his very being.

He was peculiar. Hardheaded — or in Seungkwan's affectionate term: a hardass — when it came to nonviolence. A true pacifist. Even when enemies held him at gunpoint, allies turned their backs on him, and his choice to always save was at the very cost of his well being… Seokmin would choose to tear himself apart limb by limb before ever causing damage or letting harm come to another.

And even if he always chose the world and those living in it first before anything else, that's what you loved the most about him.

"What's got you making that face?"

You're quick to school whatever expression it might be. Your tongue feels fuzzy. You purse your lips as he lumbers closer, freshly dressed in a comfy white long-sleeved shirt and black sweats.

"What face?"

"You know, the one where something's weighing on your mind."

The bed frame dips and squeaks when he flops down to snuggle against you. Still-damp, reddish-brown bangs lay across your shoulder and dampen your skin. The chilled press of the gold hoop in his left earlobe raises bumps wherever it touches as he endearingly nuzzles you.

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

Nevertheless, you take the unused towel around his neck and vigorously rub at his head. No complaints or protests defending his honor come from Seokmin. Just the usual little trills of contentment escape as he leans into your touch. Once you're satisfied the job's done well, he plucks the towel from your hands and you fix him with a stern look.

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

He curls in on his lanky frame, enough so to find room to plop his head pitifully onto your thighs and nuzzle the bare skin with his nose. "Not if you won't answer me first."

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

"Oh, really? Dreaming about how cool, dashing, handsome, and awesome I am?"

"… Yeah. I like you."

He chuckles, closing his eyes. More so at the feeling of your fingers idly playing with his strands of hair than seriously taking what you say. "I like you, too!"

"No, I mean," you jostle him harshly as you shift anxiously, tugging a little too hard at his roots. "Something's wrong with me."

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

"Goddamnit, Seok… that was like hours ago! But… what if… what if I'm in love with you?"

Your fingers retract like you've been caught red-handed stealing Mingyu's pudding and a millisecond later, Seokmin's head flies off your lap as he sits up to stare incredulously at you and can only gasp out one word, "What?"

It comes out more like a statement than a question. You've seen all kinds of emotions appear in those clear brown eyes of his. Emptiness. Excitement. Happiness. Fear. Loneliness. Mysteriousness. Pain. But now, you can hardly make sense of what turmoil is swimming in those murky depths.

"There's no way," he shakes his head — laughter high and brittle. "Fake", is what Seungcheol occasionally points out whenever he spies the gunslinger's smile. You've never believed him until now. "You're drunk."

Seokmin's been hurt before and you know that. It's why you wish for him to be nothing but happy, that there's some truth to the joy he constantly tries to radiate. Hoping some parts are really healing, that he's giving time to let the bloody wounds coagulate — if even just a little.

"It's me. I mean, I'm the one that's drunk," he reiterates, shaking his head.

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

"Like I'm making some sort of mistake. Like I'm wrong about this. About us."

And still under the influence of the too-damn-strong alcohol.

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, do you?" he fires back rather harshly, "'cause you're still wearing that thing and —"

You wince as his voice breaks off, palm instinctively flying to where the locket rests. "What the hell does that have to do with anything right now? I thought we were over this! Years ago!"

"Maybe you were since you continue to stubbornly follow me everywhere!"

"I'm not the only one!"

"Yeah, 'cause no one ever listens to me!"

"I always listen to you, Seok. Even if the words that come out of your mouth don't match how you actually feel —"

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

Seokmin's chest heaves, wide eyes taking in how you immediately freeze. That look, oh, that look on your face could kill him and his body moves on auto-pilot to stand, directing his gaze to stare daggers into the floorboards. Begging them to rip off like a bandaid and shield him from your wrath.

The wood beneath his feet groans, shaking ever the slightest.

"You're right. How dare I?"

"Wait, mayfly… I —" he switches gears with a plea of your given name.

"And obviously, you have no fuckin' idea how I feel." Now it's your turn to let out a disingenuous chuckle, fake humor cracking under the pressure of sadness it's struggling to mask. "You think all I'm after is revenge more than the actual thought even crosses my mind. You put on this show that nothing bothers you, make assumptions that no one can keep up with you, that you can do it all on your own."

"No, that's not… that's not what I meant! You know how dangerous —"

You stumble ungracefully off the bed, flinching away when Seokmin's words break off as he automatically reaches out. For you. To support and for support.

Yet, it hurts all the more.

"But what do I even know? How can I, when you keep everyone at arm's length? It's like… it's like I don't even know who you are! Like you're someone else, someone I'll never get to understand…"

To others, it might not make sense, possibly the dumbest thing you could say — especially with the state you're in. But you know Seokmin, a fact he's subconsciously taken comfort in.

But you also know Seokmin. Which means you know the exact place to hit him where it hurts the most.

And suddenly, those words you say propel him back into a moment from the past, body free-falling in the sky.

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

Begging that exact phrase and being demanded of the same accusation. All from the one who's falling with him. Whose face mirrors his own, but couldn't be more different in that crucial and devastating moment.

His brother. His twin. His other half who was once his everything — now a total stranger from the person he thought he knew.

A fifty-year-old reunion that should've been a reconciliation, turned into a doomsday.

And for you, the once simple toothache pain is now overwhelming your full body and you refuse to let him see how it's dampened your cheeks. Especially when you hear the pained whisper of the name that escapes his mouth when you're the one that triggered those awful memories. Staggering to the door, you yank it open and he instinctually takes a step forward.

Don't leave me.

You hear the unspoken plea as clearly as if spoken aloud.

"Don't follow me," is what you hiss out instead, and just like when you first met, Seokmin obeys.

When Seungkwan makes room arrangements — if there is enough money to spare when needed and the options are available — he books everyone their own private space. More often than not though, he and Mingyu share a room and so do you and Seokmin.

Out of everyone in the group, you're the only one who is used to putting up with Seokmin's idiosyncrasies and the constant white noise of the cybernetic prosthetics's technology. You've rarely paid mind to having your own space unless Seokmin gets in one of those rare 150-year-old moods and wants some time by himself. Rare in nature, because he doesn't enjoy being left alone with his thoughts that threaten to consume him.

But he'll have to make due tonight. For the first time, you're extremely grateful for Seungkwan's pro-activeness.

You lock the door, crawl into a fresh cold bed, and wet a new pillow — one that lacks the comforting scent of gun smoke — with unshed tears.

For all his short-tempered and sassy mannerisms, Seungkwan is quite the worrywart. When the suns have peeked past the horizon and you're not already downstairs bullying Seungcheol, he's immediately knocking at your door and inquiring about your well-being. You assure him you're just hungover and he reluctantly leaves you be, likely picking up on how terrible you really do sound.

By high noon, Mingyu raps on the door next. He even sweetly offers to share his prized pudding in the hopes that you'll peek your head out. Though you appreciate it, you send him away, too — after reassuring the sensitive man you'll feel better after some rest.

Seungcheol doesn't miss the chance to be annoying times ten. He doesn't indulge in the effort of knocking, opting to make the floorboards squeal by pacing back and forth in front of the door. All the while, muttering this and that about "yer boy's like a pathetic dog and blah, blah, blah" until getting very kindly told to "fuck off!" and dragged back downstairs by a certain raven-haired insurance agent.

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

Once and then twice after you'd left and he'd figured out which room was yours. Then two more visits throughout the following day. He doesn't exactly make his presence known — but you know he knows you know he's out there.

If not by the distinct gait you've picked up on listening for after all this time, then by the hesitant thuds of combat boots lingering outside your door. Lost technology whirring with the action it takes to make a fist with his left hand, raising it up to the door and then back down again in self-inflicted defeat.

You refuse to see anyone, choosing to pity yourself first. Wallowing in your feelings and then sleeping as much of the heartache — and more so the hangover — away.

When the moons are visible in accordance to their nightly orbit, you get up to fuss with the mini VERnon in the room's corner. Nothing but static greets you. At the very least, the white noise is better than complete silence. By the time it's morning, you slowly awaken to the virtually enhanced radio trying to catch onto a faint signal. Enough to report the latest news in snippets with its mechanical voice.

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

Your eyes fly open. Now is not the time to be wasting away. Donning a clean set of attire similar to what you wore into town — and with Sirocco strapped comfortingly to your thigh — you descend downstairs.

"Good morning!" Mingyu cheerfully greets with a delighted shout of your name and eagerly waves you over to sit next to him, waving around a promised cup of pudding. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm, thanks. Sorry about that, whiskey here sure is strong."

"'S one helluva killer," Seungcheol sulks across from you, still sporting a massive headache and looking worse than that one time Seungkwan hit him with the car.

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

"Since I can equally acknowledge both my strengths and weaknesses, that makes me infinitely stronger than you'll ever be."

Seungkwan wordlessly hands you a bowl and you graciously accept it. Next to the pastor sits Seokmin, unnaturally quiet. You don't even spare him a glance even though brown eyes burn into the side of your face until you glare his way.

The stack of doughnuts on the plate in front of him remain untouched — minus the smudged icing on one that was likely from Seungcheol trying to swipe it. Evidently, Seokmin was in low spirits if he didn't want to consume his favorite desserts. But, he is still prideful enough to prevent anyone else from snatching the prized delicacy.

How typical.

An awkwardness ensues, charged with an underlying current of tension. A vein forms in Seungkwan's forehead from his blood pressure rising.

Its pulse matches the twitch in the corner of his fake smile as he attempts to make conversation, to which Mingyu — oblivious and happy-go-lucky as ever, bless his heart — replies enthusiastically. Seungcheol stares listlessly into space, twirling a lollipop around and around with his tongue. Next to him is a soul acting like a thunderstorm's personally pouring over him. Seokmin starts pitifully poking at his grand doughnut pile while you ferociously tear into a piece of bread like it's the last supper before swallowing.

"Soonyoung's coming."

Your unexpected, but welcomed, interruption ironically pauses Seungkwan's second diatribe about Hansol's calamitous ingenuity. If possible, the apprehension in the room intensifies tenfold.

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. "How'd you hear?"

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

"Something about the Beast and Tonim came through. Not for sure but…"

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

"True, 'Gyu. 'N if Soonyoungie's gonna be there, ya know what that likely means…"

You nod in understanding at Seungcheol's implication. "The Crimsonnail."

Seokmin's jaw clenches at the name but it's the disgruntled pastor who continues speaking after a hearty and loud gulp of water. "'Course the Eye of Joshua's gonna send their best two. Soonyoungie's Hoon's eyes 'n ears for these kinda things."

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

Your noncommittal remark receives Seungcheol's scathing glower. "Bet."

"It wouldn't be the first time," you shrug.

"There haven't been any notable disturbances and the ground's been stable. So hopefully their only goal is to simply antagonize us further."

Antagonize.

A funny word for such a twisted coin game between a hunter and the hunted. You can't and don't blame the younger Bernardelli agent — only you were privy to most of the true horrors Seokmin dealt with behind the scenes, Seungcheol a close second. And because of that, you were usually the one at his side before an encounter with Jihoon and the ever lingering threat and terror of said man's monstrous power.

But today, you get up from the table without so much as a glance in his direction. Only a parting command of "Let's regroup near the entrance at high noon," while Seungkwan and Mingyu exchange looks of minor distress.

The black-haired man in his hangover blues obnoxiously blows a raspberry as you leave.

Later, there are two solid knocks on the door as you get ready. You know who it is before the door swings open after your agreeable hum to enter. Many may be intimidated at the sight of the silver weapon in your gloved hands. Seungkwan and Mingyu make up half of the quartet who aren't.

They take a seat on the bed as you purse your lips at the reflection in the dusty mirror. Then you fuss with the strap for your gun. Satisfyingly re-securing it around your thigh before throwing a carmine trench coat over tight kevlar that covers almost every inch of skin possible.

"Surprised you didn't dye everything else black during a fit of rage."

Your lips curl upwards. "How on Gunsmoke would I manage that?"

"With the way you're acting, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…' or so the saying goes."

"Really, 'Kwan?"

"I'm an avid supporter of women's rights and especially their wrongs."

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

"Thanks, Mingyu. Should've given my color scheme a little more consideration."

"But then you wouldn't have achieved such an infamous moniker. I mean, okay. Maybe the black plague killed tons of Earthlings eons ago but it doesn't have the same ring as 'Sirocco, the bloody rain that follows after the humanoid typhoon'…"

Seungkwan allegedly graduated at the top of his class, leave it to him to spew out all kinds of random facts that you know nothing about. You huff and adjust the brim of the large hat atop your head.

"All that does is make me cringe."

"Uh-huh, so what's making him act like that?"

"Who's acting like what?"

"Fine, keep playing dumb. Did you reject Seokmin or something?"

Mingyu gasps. Dramatically. Hands on cheeks and mouth open in a wide 'o' shape, puppy-dog eyes glistening with despair.

"There's no way!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, nothing happened so don't think you're gonna wheedle out of me whether you're going to win that stupid bet you two have going with Choi."

"Eh, don't worry. I've been out of the running for a while now, unfortunately."

"The hell did you even throw for?"

He shoots you a deadpan look. "Guess who's aged eighty years watching the two of you dance around each other like dumbasses? Could've sworn you'd be married with a toma farm or a dozen little children by now."

"It's your own damn fault for falling victim to that pastor's salacious schemes. And it's not even remotely like that, so…"

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

You stomp your foot, frustration boiling over. "Ugh, I'm never drinking again!"

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

"I mean Choi did bet you'd confess and you know… get intimate afterwards… if you were drunk so…"

"Oh, so that's why he was so damn pushy last night."

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

It's a well-known fact that Seungcheol would rather stoke the flames of hell than ever needlessly dabble with holy water as one might be expected to with his chosen career.

"But judging by both of your moods, evidently nothing happened." The raven-haired man really has the gall to look disappointed that no one won yet pleased Seungcheol didn't, and the gall to point out the obvious. "Anyways, what did you bet on, Mingyu?"

"Don't recall!"

"Figures." Seungkwan's face falls flat against his palm with a groan before dragging it wearily down his face. "Whatever, it's not like it's that serious. Seriously," he adds on, feeling the burn of your perpetual glower. "Don't let it weigh on your mind. We need you fully focused."

"And when have I ever been less than what's expected of me?" You hold up a hand. "Wait! Don't answer. But really, worry more about that idiot."

"Aw, see? You still care!"

"… About that sixty billion bounty, Mingyu? Yeah."

"Sure you do."

"And truthfully, I was talking about Choi, 'Kwan."

"Well, both of them always get into those zany headspaces!"

You shrug at the tall man's truthfulness. "They're both holding a lot of trauma and baggage."

"And you aren't?" Seungkwan snorts with sarcasm dripping from the dig.

"At least mine's manageable. And… hasn't threatened your lives yet."

"As far as we know."

"In fact, I think I've saved your 'so-very-untraumatized' lives more often than not. Stay with me and you'll both be okay."

They good-naturedly give you individual looks of disdain. Perfectly in sync when you accompany that last statement with a devilish smirk and a twirl that flares out your tail coat with a flourish. By no means are they incapable. Clumsy Mingyu can adeptly wield his massive concussion gun when it counts, of course, and Seungkwan stealthily hides several derringer 'throwaway' pistols under his white cloak that he can fire with deadly precision.

Nonetheless, they loyally flank to your side when Tonim's bell tower signifies the hour of high noon has struck. Seungcheol meets the three of you outside the door of the saloon, smoking a cigarette and one arm lazily draped over the Punisher — a terrifying machine gun mockingly designed in the burdening shape of a merciful cross.

You spot Seokmin up ahead. He's standing on the low border wall near the town's entrance, perched next to a pillar for back support with the heel of his boot propped up behind him. Decked out in the usual galaxy ensemble, purple fabric cut off at shoulder-length of the top left sleeve to allow free range of movement for his prosthesis. His hair's slightly gelled up for a more intimidating and dramatic flair and it almost makes you giggle.

But there's that stern gaze focused on the horizon, likely able to see far out into the distance through those amber lenses the human eye can't quite decipher. Despite such a hardened resolve, his head tilts slightly up toward the blue sky with a faint smile on his lips — an honoring appreciation for the beauty and wonder of life despite its inevitable horrors.

Seungcheol clicks his tongue to get your attention while Seungkwan and Mingyu keep walking ahead. "Spiky Hair thinks he's really gonna do it?"

"Won't stop until he's tried every last resort."

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

"This damned situation 'cause of ya know who."

"Dokyeom. DK."

"Nah, nah. There's the asinine version, eh?"

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

He slaps his knee. "Ah, aye… good one! But nah, 's really stupid one, Deathly, uh, er…?"

"… Deadly Knives?"

"Pfft, yeah, 's that one. So, we gotta try 'n stop one genocidal brother from sweepin' out the whole human race 'n tryna convince greedy humans not to keep exploitin' 'em with the other. Back 'n forth again 'n again. I swear…'s only ever gonna be impossible."

"What makes you think it can't happen?"

He looks at you like you're stupid. Maybe you are. But what does that make him? "Both sides — humans versus DK — think they're right 'n too proud to think otherwise."

"So you don't think they'll settle for a compromise. Or at least try to see the other's viewpoint?"

"Hell naw. Ain't no compromisin' when both think they're justified in what they're doin'."

"Well, regardless — you joined a good cause, Choi. World could use a little more peace and love, don't you think?"

He grunts. "Lookit who's corrupted yer ideologies. Don'tcha know what destroyed Earth?"

"And do you know what saved humans? Kindness. Hope. Empathy. Compassion. Change. Making and being the difference. The good kind."

A long time ago, maybe in a different twist of fate, you might've staunchly agreed with Seungcheol. But despite it all, you've been somewhat changed — or like the pastor said, call it a corruption of sorts — by Seokmin's unwavering sense of positivity and kindness no matter how bleak the future.

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

Seungcheol shakes his head as if he's not gearing up, ready and raring to go as he stomps forward to join a fellow 'brother-in-arms'. The thought inwardly makes you smile with affection until you remember you're actually, in fact, mad at Seokmin.

A dust cloud stirs up on the horizon, steadily growing closer to where you stand.

"You're so full of goddamn self-flagellation."

The individual where all your ire is centered on jolts, doing a double-take at your sudden but familiar presence by his side approaching. Or maybe it was the mere fact you were talking to him again. A warm expression overtakes his facial features at the sense of calm that automatically relaxes the tension in his muscles as he looks down at you.

"Well then, hello to you too. Feeling better, mayfly?"

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

"Yeah, yeah." You wave away his nagging and step up on the wall to stand next to him. "Don't worry, I won't be making a mistake like that again."

"… Mistake?"

There's an edge to his tone. Searching. Sometimes you hate how perceptive Seokmin can be. Though he actively acts oblivious and carefree, it's usually a ploy to lower other's guard.

You wonder how long he's known.

So, you sigh. "I'm talking about drinking, of course. And… I wish I could say I forgot even if… I haven't. But it's fine, I know where I stand."

The latter part of your sentence trails off. It's true though. You do know — thankful you can even be next to Seokmin. You might not be with him but at the very least, your place will always be somewhere by his side. Affectionate flings may be sought elsewhere. But they're always temporary. In your heart of hearts, you know you're irreplaceable to him.

And that's going to have to be good enough for you.

The man in question scratches the back of his head. "It's not… it's not like that. I know I fucked up."

"Stop." You grip at his prosthetic, knowing despite how sensitive the sensors are, they won't be able to pick up how you slightly tremble. "It's okay. Really."

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

"Mayfly," Seokmin murmurs. "Look at me."

With the slightest hesitation, your gaze finally rises from its focal point centered on his boots and the stones beneath to meet dark brown eyes. The ache in the gunslinger's chest eases just a little. It's been far too long — a day, in actuality — since he's got to lose himself among the vibrant hues of your irises and he squeezes your free hand in gratitude.

"It's not okay, I want to talk to you. Sober. But…"

"I get it. Now's not the time for a heart-to-heart, especially not in front of your brother's henchmen."

You laugh, for real this time. The sight is breathtaking; it makes Seokmin's eyes crinkle, a fond smile to accompany his affection as he leans in closer to you to whisper a sweet, "Thank you."

Three sets of eyes try to make it very not obvious that they're very obviously totally not watching the overdue interaction with bated breath.

"Oh golly good, they've made up!"

"'Course they would."

"It's about time, I couldn't take the tension anymore."

"Don'tcha think it'll get worse once they start canoodlin'?"

"Good lord," Seungkwan groans, "perish the thought."

"What's wrong with a little love? Yay for love!"

"Well, I don't think they've made it that far yet. But we're getting there. Baby steps."

It would be a good cause for celebration, a resumption of last night's festivities. Unfortunately, the merry moment is cut short with a screech of brakes, signaling the arrival of Jihoon, DK's most elite performer in his unmerry band of henchmen.

Next to the feared Crimsonnail's suitcase sits Soonyoung the Beast. Silver strands peek out behind the unsettling, bug-like circular mask hiding his face. He casually waves, acting like the unnerving discovery behind the innocent, abandoned child — who went by Hoshi — was simply a facade initially put on around your group and not such a grand revelation.

Having sorted that out in the stomach of a giant flying worm serving as a hive mind for Gunsmoke's legion of its original inhabitants and swearing not to let your guard down again, all five of you remain on high alert.

Jihoon's steel-colored eyes flicker to Seungcheol. "Hello there, Undertaker. Or… should I say Judas?"

"Howdy dandy to ya too, ya son of a bitch," the pastor snarls, spitting his cigarette in their direction. Cursing under his breath when the distance and uselessness of the fizzling stub doesn't blow up the engine like he wishes it would.

"Now, now. You don't want to make me mad, do you?"

"Kinda wanna piss ya off as much as ya piss me off, yeah."

"Surely you know what —"

"He means nothing by it." You'd quickly abandoned your post next to Seokmin to place a hand on Seungcheol's taut shoulder. Boldly facing the blonde man's haughty expression with one that's hopefully placating enough on behalf of your comrade. "He's just grumpy because he's still hungover."

"Well, well… if it isn't the humanoid typhoon's little blood shower."

Ugh, you inwardly grimace, why the fuck does everyone have such unflattering nicknames for me?

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

"… Seems it," Jihoon sniffs and cocks his head. "Similar to the dilemma I have with this persistent bug."

Soonyoung chortles, neck contorting at an unnatural angle to peer at the driver. "You love me."

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

Seokmin's question comes sharp and pointed like a dagger, a far cry from his usual demeanor. His tone remains detached. Aloof. Vaguely accusatory. Unlike your harried action to cover for Seungcheol, you don't dare divert attention away from the gunslinger who stalks forward after elegantly hopping down from his perch. Despite an outwardly calm demeanor, there's an underlying urgency in his gait that's threatening to snap.

"For amusement. A show, if you will."

"One that's not even orchestrated by Joshua's freakish cult powers!"

Out of all the males surrounding you, you're not sure exactly who growls at the Beast's mere mention of the devil-like figurehead — in fact, it could've been all of them — but there's one noise that rings out above the din of it all.

Click!

You don't need super-hearing to pick up that telltale sound. Not when every person over the age of eighteen in Tonim has a cocked gun trained on each member of your ragtag gang.

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

"One too fuckin' many," you answer Seungkwan with a petulant hiss and reluctantly mimic him by putting your hands up in the air.

Jihoon cackles. "And when will you fools ever learn?"

"'S my question, actually," the pastor nonchalantly calls over his shoulder, directed at the town's ringleader. "Didn't know ya had it in ya, boy."

You didn't think Wonwoo had it in him either, to be honest. But that's not something you were going to mention aloud with the shaky hold the bespectacled man has on the firearm waveringly aimed at his target — the one whose head is worth a 60 billion double dollars bounty, dead or alive.

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

There's a faint twitch in one of Seokmin's eyebrows. Seungcheol rolls his eyes, sarcastically muttering under his breath an addition of location names, "Voldoor, Inepril, December, Lewiston…" and Mingyu joins in on the fun with a cheerful, "New Miami!"

Seungkwan watches warily and your jaw clenches. You can feel your teeth grind together in annoyance as Wonwoo's smarmy sneer grows smugger.

"And now, Tonim Town. What?" he jeers, seizing the chance to use the man's silence as a way to ridicule him. "Don't recognize what you've laid waste to? Must I bring up the big ones to jog your memory a little, like the city of July and Augusta or the hole in the fifth moon?"

"Why you —"

Enragement propels you a step forward, but the barrel swinging your way halts your next move mid-step. The sullen look on Wonwoo's face surprisingly holds no malice. He looks saddened, if anything, but you can't bring yourself to feel too much sympathy with the rifle he's now pointed toward you.

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

Seokmin's voice is hardly more than a whisper yet it rings out loud and clear amid the tense silence and stillness. "I said, you forgot one. There's not a name of any place or person I'd ever forget. I'm well aware of the ones you're talking about… and more. However, there's somewhere I won't ever forget that no one will ever know existed."

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

Wonwoo seems so taken aback and the pause unwittingly allows your eyes to drift over to meet Seokmin's brown ones. There are so many emotions conveyed in the sidelong glance — a mixture of regret-filled feelings yet ever so soft — and it lasts a second too long to snap the befuddled aggressor out of his reverie.

"Oh… I see." He pushes up his glasses, the lenses glinting in the pale sunlight like a typical anime villain. The long gun lowers to the ground the same time as he throws back his head to let out a bitter laugh. "So that's how it is! All you do is take and take and take, Lee. Destroy, destroy, destroy; again and again and again!"

"Aye, ole chap's gone off his rocker."

"You've made an ally out of a would-be, should-be enemy and think other victims with their pain and grief don't exist?!"

"Wow," Seungkwan wrinkles his nose in disgust, "yeah… he's gone completely insane."

Mingyu hums in agreement. "A little unhinged! Off the rocks! Unstable even! When can I knock him out?"

You'd love to give the gentle giant the go-ahead. Really. But even so…

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

The townspeople's uncertainty and hesitance tells you all you need to know, especially when Wonwoo's hysteria leaves them even more perplexed. After years of handling a gun like a second arm, you can spot inexperience and fear of handling a dangerous weapon the second someone is near one. You lower your arms and step forward once more, confidence growing when he makes no move to threaten you further.

"You don't want this."

The corner of his mouth quirks upward, a rueful smile. "You know, I thought we really did share some camaraderie."

"We do."

"Yet you gallivant around with a monster like that?"

"He's not a monster."

"I should've known better, really, when the VERnons said you're the sirocco that follows after the humanoid typhoon. Heroes, my ass! I don't get it, how could you do that to others after what happened to you?"

To us?

It remains unspoken yet you can hear the intent of the accusingly barbed question. Two survivors of a wrecked hometown. Shared camaraderie hadn't been a lie. Even now as you meet the flickering fire in Wonwoo's eyes with a blazing flame in your own, all you can see is a reflection of your past and what you could've turned into in a possible future.

A cold gleam returns to his gaze as he takes your silence as defiance. Or maybe even shamelessness. "How could you turn a blind eye to such a bloody warpath of destruction when you know too well of the tragedy that's left behind?!"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"… Excuse me?"

"That's what all of you are doing right now," you declare loudly and some of Tonim's residents whose conscience stings have the decency to avert their eyes. Awareness of their actions seem to weigh down on them, guns lowering ever the slightest and the awkwardness encourages Seungkwan to speak up.

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

"But yer actions're gonna be the very cause of the destruction yer tryin' so damn hard to prevent."

"Because you took a bribe!"

There's a stilted, horrified, and collective gasp, so you try to remedy Mingyu's exclamation.

"It's because you let your malice sway you. Tell me, Jeon. What all did you lose?"

"My whole town. Then my parents. Almost my life and nearly Lina's too. My lover…"

"And your sense of self. Plus, the new life you've created here — and those things? Almost lost because of your own accord. Why would you destroy the few good things you're granted?"

Wonwoo's eyebrows scrunch as his face tenses. Your heart goes out to him despite everything, hoping to get your point across as you continue speaking.

"That doesn't negate the losses. The grief. The pain. It never goes away but… you can choose to clean out the wound, put some salve on it, and bandage it or let it fester and infect your body 'til it rots even your soul."

You can hear the shift in the sand as Seokmin approaches to stand next to you. He regards Wonwoo with a kind smile and the understanding, crescent-shaped squint of his eyes is like a punch to the other man's gut.

"…. I —"

" — It's your choice, Jeon. What did they offer you? Money? There are so many bets on July's militia lying about the payout. I mean, c'mon, there's no way a ruined city would have the funds."

"Yer Plant's no longer in red status, so ya won't need to barter no more."

"I'll throw in a better deal — let us go and I'll have Choi marry you and Sherry, free of charge."

His cheeks flush and you inwardly gloat, instincts right on the money. Seungcheol's jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted, and the townsfolk exchange a few knowing snickers.

"If it's protection you need, we can figure that out too," Seokmin recovers and offers in a low voice. "And if Do — er, Knives — or his gang approached you with a deal, just know that they never hold up their end of the bargain."

"You're lucky you threatened us first. DK's side is a little too slash-happy and trigger-loving to resort to verbal methods. They're the ones you'd want to go after anyways, you see, this man and Knives are twins if you don't look close enough, they're eerily similar at the strangest moments. So the real story is that it's all just spiraled out of control."

"You mean…"

"I won't deny responsibility." Seokmin admits sternly. "It's true that I've wreaked devastation to many towns. Failed to save the people I swore to protect."

"But DK keeps forcing his hand to get Seok to join his genocidal cause. And every time he refuses to do so, his brother throws a tantrum and well, knives go flying everywhere. Literally."

"He's a little…" The gunslinger searches for the right word — and finding that there is none — cringes. "Dramatic."

You stare at him, aghast. "He cut your arm off!"

Wonwoo pales, swallows, and then grimaces, daring to ask, "So… I've had it wrong the whole time?"

"I guess not entirely." You shrug, also guilty as charged years ago. "And obviously not the first."

"And certainly not the last," Seungkwan pipes up.

The bespectacled man looks down at the ground. "I don't… I don't know… Do I even deserve this kind of treatment? This… mercy?"

"No."

With such a blunt answer, Seokmin's quick to protest with an admonishment of your name while Seungkwan and Mingyu suppress smiles at your straightforwardness. Seungcheol freely chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

And Wonwoo's face falls as remorse hits all over again.

"But," you smirk, "what have I told you?"

"Oh, ah… why destroy the few good things life grants me?"

"Good. You were listening. We might get along just fine, after all." You send him a teasing wink. "Camaraderie and all that be damned."

A sheepish look overtakes the man's previously hardened features. And suddenly he's laughing with his head thrown back like earlier, but this time it's with an unrestrained amount of joy. Relief. Hope.

"The ticket to the future is always blank, Wonwoo." Seokmin extends a hand and the other man takes it, the small grin on his face turning into a full-blown smile.

"Guns down, Tonim town. The rest of you, come on out! Let's celebrate!" He calls out to everyone, gesturing for your group to follow. "Drinks are on me to make up for this whole mess. I'm sorry for getting you all involved."

You turn around toward Seokmin, elation written all over your face that he readily mirrors. Just as you're about to grab his hand as he reaches out at the same time, there's a slow, loud handclap that sets off mental warning sirens blaring all over again.

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

The velvety voice is deceivingly sweet. But beneath the dulcet tones lies a raw and wicked strength. It rings out clearly, even more so when the jubilant mood abruptly dies down as a new figure approaches.

"Aw, c'mon Joshie! Just when it was gettin' good!" Soonyoung whines and you belatedly realize you forgot all about the real enemies at the entrance gate, thinking they had grown bored and left.

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

The Beast huffs at Jihoon's surly attitude, more than likely pouting beneath his mask. "Was really lookin' forward to those free drinks…"

"We don't need drinks and we don't need you, Josh."

If there's one commonality between the adversary and your group, it's the shared disdain for the elegant-looking man dressed in all black fabrics with shiny leather buckles, and slicked-back locks to match.

"Hm. But I think you do."

Chilling ochre-colored eyes couldn't be bothered to look at you, drifting past you and Seokmin like you were nothing more than the grains of sand littering every surface on Gunsmoke. And like a marionette, your head automatically swivels to follow his line of sight, blood draining from your face when you realize what he's looking at.

Lina.

She breaks away from holding onto Sheryl's hand after they emerge from the saloon, bounding toward her brother with excitement all over her face. The arm that isn't supporting his firearm extends gallantly outward, ready to welcome her with a hug as he strolls to meet her halfway.

They're smiling at one another with so much adoration after the intensity from earlier. If you weren't fucking terrified, you'd wish Dokyeom was also there to see how pure a sibling relationship and affection should be.

Instead, your stomach lurches, and Seokmin hisses beside you. With your back turned, you can't see Joshua but you're sure he's smirking when Wonwoo's frame stiffens, body jerking as it moves beyond his control.

Hastily, he's cocking the rifle with expert ease and assuming the perfect position to fire it, something he previously displayed no knowledge on before. Wide eyes have no choice but to peer down the scope and he chokes at how it's unforgivingly aimed directly at his little sister.

She skids to a halt, ten paces away. Hesitant. Wary. Puzzled.

"… Wonu?"

It all plays out in slow motion as you reach for Sirocco, simultaneously screaming out to your friends to alert them and provide cover. Frantic panic swirls in the air like a sandstorm at the turn of events, but even more fear generates when the townspeople can do nothing but helplessly succumb to their limbs moving on their own too.

Despite every single effort and all of his muscles straining not to do it, Wonwoo's pointer finger on the trigger pulls back. It doesn't matter how much he struggles to fight for control, his body refuses to listen. Tears flow from his eyes even though he can't speak, can't yell, can't beg for forgiveness — the vehement sense of horror is the only thing able to overpower Joshua's terrifying control, leaking out a salty excess.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Three gunshots ring out at the same time. You fire right before Wonwoo does and Seokmin follows two seconds later. Not because his reaction time is slower. But because he could see and calculate where the bullet's headed after you changed its trajectory by shooting at Wonwoo's barrel.

It doesn't end there.

Seokmin is a half-step closer to Lina and can move at an inhumane speed, diving into a tuck-and-roll to reach her moments before the residents have no choice but to open fire too.

You know he's fast enough to dodge bullets at close range, but the staggered distance spread out among all of those present in the town's square works little for that insane advantage. Instead, the skilled combatant focuses all his attention on shielding Lina beneath the loose flaps of his impenetrable trench coat. She clings tightly to his leg, whimpering.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Continuing to mutter reassurances, he pats her fluffy brown hair with an unshaking cybernetic palm while the other rapidly points his revolver upwards to deflect a bullet that might've been lucky enough to shatter the bridge of his glasses. Then doing the same to one at five o'clock on his right. He angles his body this way and that as if a puppeteer is yanking the strings connected to his limbs to the perverse beat of an unheard tune. The few he misses land harmlessly against the thick kevlar material you're all wearing.

Meanwhile, your steady hand supports the familiar weight of Sirocco. Muscle memory aids you with cocking the gun as you run. Aiming at the closest group of people near them and then — bang!, bang!, bang! — snipe off the barrels on their guns in rapid succession, rendering them useless.

From behind, something flies past your face and nicks the top of your ear — one of the few places unprotected by bulletproof material — causing you to hiss. Scowling over your shoulder, you squint in the direction it came from.

While a complete bastard, Seungcheol is also the most resourceful ray of hope in a shootout like this. The Punisher's automatic artillery relentlessly fires shot after shot, destroying old and weather-beaten guns like they're empty, crushable soda cans. It's faster too. The trigger-happy pastor twirls it around maniacally, taking only the slightest care to not actually kill anyone.

You're a hundred percent sure it's because of Joshua's disturbing power that allows him to reanimate corpses rather than Seokmin's "Thou shalt not kill" lecture and pacifist philosophies that keeps the supposed 'god-fearing' man from snuffing out anyone's life this time around. Despite the bullets whizzing around, you know he'll fare alright with that healing serum of his — just as long as he doesn't overdose on it.

Mingyu rushes over to stand back-to-back with the pastor, x-shaped claws firing out of his 'stun-gun' and immobilizing many of his targets with ease. You can't help but grimace though, wondering if they'll sustain more brain damage from Joshua's nefarious telepathy or a well-meaning concussion that leaves them unconscious and no longer posing a threat. A solid steel object flies past the brown-haired man's head, knocking down the mind-controlled person who was trying to sneak up on him using a blind spot.

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

An empty derringer lays at said blockhead's feet and Mingyu kicks it away with a childlike glee. A brand-new loaded pistol is already in Seungkwan's right hand even as he throws away the one in his left toward someone approaching Seungcheol. The young man's never empty-handed for long because with another flashy twirl from out of his cloak and a new handgun is cocked, aimed, and fired.

Despite the distance and conditions, all three work together like clockwork. Different shaped and sized cogs all interconnected to succeed without causing too much harm. And you know you must play your part as well, turning your attention back to the few townsfolk that remain.

"Seokmin, switch!"

It's not like he needs the heads-up. The way you'd both been inching closer to each other every time your gun's fired already issued the forewarning. It's like a subtle tango performed by two fierce allies surrounded by deadly enemies. If you didn't know better, it's similar to an intricate sword dance.

But you knew how dangerous it was to play with knives.

The swift transfer of Lina's warm little body into your arms is a welcome comfort. Seokmin sends you a dazzling smile, one full of confidence at a successful swap.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you coo and your gloved thumb wipes away one of the tear trails cutting through the dirt smudges on her face. "You are so, so, so brave and I'm so, so, so proud of you."

"He," she sniffles, "my… my… br-brother. W-Wonu!"

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you turn her to face the other way. "Everything's going to fine. I promise. Now, run to Seungcheol. He'll keep you safe while the rest of us finish this."

Seungkwan and Mingyu had effectively disarmed everyone on their end and now worked on dragging the town's unconscious residents inside the saloon and attending to any wounds. The pastor stood guard near the entrance with his Punisher staked firmly into the sandy ground. Although empty of ammunition, the machine gun still served a purpose as a great defender with its imposing cross shape.

With the target assuredly safe — out of sight, out of mind — the control Joshua has over those remaining falters and starts to lose its effect. In the brief lull, Seokmin dashes ahead to deliver a flying kick that helpfully unsheathes the dagger hidden in the sole of his boots, demolishing one more firearm in someone's grip before it can be used again.

Bang!

Bang!

And with Sirocco's precision, the last two are destroyed as well. You match your comrade's grin and turn triumphantly to where the instigators still stand at the entrance.

There would be no casualties today. You and your comrades would make sure of that.

Joshua, stoic as ever, surveys the aftermath with an air of unbothered gracefulness. Jihoon fumes next to him. Panic spikes when Soonyoung can't be spotted at first until you spy him curled up in the car's front seat — asleep.

You fist bump Seokmin in high spirits. Then fearlessly meet a pair of deep orange eyes devoid of any emotion or warmth, a shift occurs in your smile. Confidence and satisfaction hone the corners of your mouth into a daring smirk and something about the bold taunt causes a rare flicker of humor to cross Joshua's lips. Whether it's scornful pity or simple mockery, you don't have time to figure it out because Jihoon snaps.

Nails.

Several of them fly through the air and their wielder's formidable namesake comes from the daunting color that makes the multitude of piercers look like thin streaks of blood against the pale blue sky. The spikes as long as spears are all fired from Jihoon's large suitcase-turned-crossbow that aims just shy of your left side.

Those steel eyes of his are as sharp as their color. The malice within them feels suffocating, so strong and heavy that it sucks all the breath straight out of your lungs. Only the pain from a nail grazing your cheek is enough to pull your attention away from drowning in the unnerving emotion and you put a hand up to the laceration to soothe the sting.

Wetness oozes from your skin, an unsettling feeling of sliminess accompanying the touch. Puzzled, your fingers retract and you ponder the sheer amount of red viscoelastic fluid coating them. There's so much of it pooling that droplets fall to the sand below while others dribble down past your wrist and under your sleeve, the stain blending right in with the fabric of your coat.

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

"Do you regret being the only one left to live?"

Drip.

Faces you know and voices you cannot recall overlap and echo. Unfamiliar frowning expressions and intonations you remember as once gentle now ridicule, belittle, and find every crack in your well-made armor. Insidious whispers weave inside, entangling themselves within the fragile support structures of your mind and very soul. They point and cackle to one another at such a sorry sight, only for you to realize you're angrily jabbing a pointer finger at your worthless reflection with those cursory words coming straight out of your own mouth.

Drip.

Your head turns robotically, like an early prototype of the lost technology Earthlings created. This time it's Sheryl who's the victim, helplessly well within the trajectory line of Jihoon's rage. Every muscle aches, weighed down by exhaustion. Your shoulder burns. Yet you still somehow find the strength within you to rush toward her, especially hearing Lina's desperate wail as she's held back by a grimacing Seungcheol.

Drip.

Like a comet, Seokmin blazes past. He skids to a stop, effectively shielding the woman right before impact. You're too slow to move. In fact, it feels like an out-of-body experience. As if you're nothing but a hologram inside the floating ship — an artificial intelligence projection with no other choice but to witness the horrors and observe tangible objects scuttle towards their inevitable doom without interference. You're left with no choice but to simply watch as the nails are propelled through the air with the intent to strike.

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

The nails impale Seokmin without mercy. Strike after strike, they pierce straight through the material of his coat designed to repel only bullets and plunge deep within the muscles beneath his skin. One after the other. So many of them stick out of the man's backside like the skeletal bone formation for wings. He slumps to his knees, falling on top of a bewildered but unharmed Sheryl. When he only lays still with no further action, you're struck with the dreadful knowledge that he may never move again and it fills you with an unfathomable maelstrom of raw grief and anger.

Drip.

Suddenly, you're no longer drowning in invisible quicksand and can move freely again. There's zero hesitation in your now fluid movements — not even when the blond-haired man poises his crossbow directly at you this time. Pulling out the spare gun hidden near your hip, you blast the airborne spikes flying towards you without hesitation.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

More fall than you shoot. The anger, pain, and grief you wield is enough to tear them apart like they're nothing but worm larvae helplessly caught in a sandstorm. You stalk forward through the crimson ire that relentlessly strikes down, clearing a path that's littered with broken, twisted, and dented nails before resolutely aiming point-blank at Jihoon's forehead.

Click.

More people are screaming and the spiteful cacophony in your mind resumes. But your ears feel like they're filled with cotton and this time you're stuck underwater. Your chest rises and falls, trying and failing to collect yourself.

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

"Goddamn it! Get ahold o'yerself, woman!"

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

The dissonance reminds you of the wound from before. But this time it feels like a sting, as if someone slapped you — albeit rather gently. Numb, you halt in place and cautiously raise your hand back to your surprisingly unmarred face. But rather than skin, you grasp onto something solid. Something familiar. Something kind. Something loving. Something safe. Something warm. Something that's yours — always has been and always will be.

Someone.

And then… you open your eyes — and find yourself staring directly into Seokmin's sparkling brown ones.

"Y-you're dead," you manage to choke out in disbelief and his eyes incredulously crinkle into half-moons at the statement to hide the tears brimming in them.

The soothing hand caressing your cheek moves to wrap around the barrel of the gun you're pressing to his forehead and he smiles disarmingly. As if what you just said was the funniest thing ever.

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[limited-hero]

Can we see all the references you've made for the characters in your au??? I adore the ones I've seen but I'd like to see all of them. I'd also like to ask your process and ideas behind the designs!

I adore your art style sm. ✨️✨️

This is the whole gang! (except for some exceptions) I can't say much about their designs, since it contains heavy spoilers for some of them! But here's a quick run down! Minish: he's wearing the Roc's cape as a hoodie instead! His design is pretty simple tbh Past: I didn't want to make him a typical bunny like everyone else does. In Limited hero, he'll be a full grown man with rabbit features! Warrior: He was pretty simple as well. I wanted to keep his blue scarf, as well as the guard look. Ravio: I wanted him to have a merchant kind of look, mixed together with Japanese inspired clothing and some patterns resembling a bunny! Twilight: I wanted him to look like a goat-herder! Turning into a wolf so often had a side effect on his body, and he's slowly turning back to human, with some wolf-like features still remaining Wild: His clothing was inspired by a cosplayer named @/polarcadia He has burn marks from head to toe, from burning himself on the gloom. Time: He's wearing the fierce deity armor, equipped with several bottles with fairies in them, and a chain-ball looking tool to catch fairies with. Sky: He's wearing the clothing of the guardians from the silent realm Zelda: She's wearing an phantom inspired armor Wind: He's wearing a pirate inspired outfit, with tattoos all over his body resembling the waves and the red lions neck patterns. He's carrying Tetras sword and has a glass eye on his left eye Thank you so much for the question! I hope i could answer it! (The designs might change at any point!)

[humornaut]

An Analysis of Foreshadowing in Omori's Prologue

Hey everyone!

With the Omori manga's first chapter's release, one thing has been made clear: They are FLYING through the game. Unless they are doing something weird, the entire prologue segment has been moved to right after the Aubrey fight, a move I can only believe has been made so that the real world characters appear in the first chapter. I won't be making any judgements until I see how it all fits together (and maybe I won't make many judgments in general, I don't really consider myself a judgmental person for better or for worse), but it did get me thinking about how well Omori's prologue works in general! So today, I'd like to take some time to talk about that!

The Sidequests

The first things I want to mention are the side quests! I've mentioned it before (or maybe I haven't, I don't remember everything I've said), but nearly all the side quests in Headspace are symbolic on a meta level. A lot of people dismiss this as boring repetitiveness (perhaps true), but the vast majority of the side quests are about finding a lost item or individual. This is, of course, echoing the larger Headspace plot of Basil going missing. However, there is something about this concept that I'd like to point out using one of the sidequests!

In the quest "Whereabouts of Duckie Jr.", you are tasked with determining the whereabouts of Duckie Jr! Crazy, I know. Remember how I said that most of the sidequests are reminiscent of the quest to find Basil? Like 2 seconds ago? Well, this one is good for actually illuminating what is going on with that questline overall! Duckie Jr. and his family are references to a famous optical illusion in which a person can see either a duck or a bunny. Take a look at the house that the family lives in:

They live in a present! Now take a look at this!

"SUNNY won't leave the box, so KEL put a food bowl inside. I guess this box will be SUNNY and MEWO's new home."

So that's interesting! Add in the distant demeanor of Duckie Jr's father, as well as Mari's statements about Duckie having his head in the clouds and comparing Duckie to Omori, it becomes clear that Duckie in this situation is a reference to Sunny, not Basil. What does this mean? Well, it means that we should rethink the Headspace quest all together! The quest to find Basil is much more a quest for Sunny to re-find himself.

Now this (as well as the quest for the character Daisy that I have mentioned previously) is interesting, but it isn't exactly foreshadowing. For that, I would like to draw your attention to the sidequest Stick in the Mud.

In this quest, you must go around Cattail fields to find Mr. Scarecrows three crow friends, and have them return to him. In order to do this, you have to use Hero when interacting with the three crows.

I personally believe that this is a bit of foreshadowing to the Sunny route. Hero's maturity is necessary to bringing Sunny, Kel, and Aubrey back together and bringing them to Basil. I also choose to see Mr. Scarecrow as an analogue for Basil rather than Sunny due to the coloring of Mr. Scarecrow's sprite (Blond hair, blue eyes, green clothes), and Hero doesn't actually bring Basil specifically to anyone (heck, Hero doesn't actually ever talk to Basil in the real world segments of the game)

I also want to make clear: I'm not trying to imply that this is symbolism on the part of Sunny's mind, like a lot of the things that I talk about on this account, rather that this is a bit of meta storytelling foreshadowing how the real world plot will turn out. This will go for everything else that I talk about here as well.

Captain of the Space Pirates

Now that we've talked about the sidequests, I'd like to draw your attention to the main questline of Otherworld. As a reminder, once the gang gets into Otherworld, we are introduced to Captain Spaceboy, who is bedridden and depressed following his break-up with Sweetheart. In order to solve this problem, we have to go through the junkyard to find his mixtape. We aren't the only ones looking for it, and while there, we meet Rosa, a Sweetheart super-fan.

We get the mixtape back, bring it to Spaceboy, at which point Kel plays it, triggering Spaceboy to start his boss fight.

The argument for this all being one large bit of foreshadowing goes like this:

Spaceboy would be Basil (purely from a narrative perspective, not in any kind of character-sense). We go to the junkyard and dig through the trash to find the mixtape, just like we eventually get the photo album by digging through Aubrey's trash. Rosa in this case represents Aubrey, attempting to take care of the mixtape due to her personal connection to the item, revealing that Spaceboy is the one that threw it out in the first place, echoing how in the real world, Aubrey takes care of the photo album for four years due to what it means to her, despite how Basil (from her perspective) destroyed it originally.

We bring the mixtape back to Spaceboy, and just as Kel is the one that kicks off going through the photo album with Basil, he is the one that rushes to put the mixtape into the boombox, triggering the memories that set off Spaceboy, causing the fight.

Admittedly, things get a little cloudy here, as the fight between Sunny and Basil isn't directly caused by the photo album. You could even say that the Spaceboy fight represents the fight with Omori (or even both the Basil fight AND the Omori fight) due to Omori's fight being due to Sunny's mind reacting to memories of the past, better mirroring the Spaceboy fight. But hey! Spaceboy's hair turns green and his eyes turn red so who can say. :P

Then, after the fight, we get a few things! We get an eyepatch (goes without saying), a train pass (representing how Sunny will be moving after the conclusion of the game), and a sno-cone ticket (yeah I don't think this one represents anything).

And, just like the Sunny route, the prologue ends with an early look at Memory Lane, and the dream ends, with Sunny waking up.

There's probably a lot more I could talk about regarding Omori's prologue, so I might update this later! I hope you enjoyed reading this! Within the game, I feel like the prologue is one of the strongest bits of Headspace, and I've always wanted to talk about how I believe it foreshadows the rest of the game! This is a topic that I'd love to hear more people's opinion on!

[strangelittlestories]

Here in the end times, it feels like everyone got a little weird.

That'll happen, you know? In a city of bondage rooftop pirates, predatory psychic business suits, and tacticool kindness cults; in a world where the sun's gone all high contrast, low brightness; in a time where isolation is a synonym for safety ... let's just say the 'Overton Window of Normality' has shifted.

Yep, when the light broke, we all got a bit strange.

All except for Simon, that is.

Simon is perfectly normal. Simon is swell. Simon still stops by Nero's for a coffee in the mornings and the Coffee Mafia *serve him* (I think just out of confusion).

Simon goes into his co-working space three days a week. Sometimes he works on his screenplay. Other times he goes through long-dead databases and de-duplicates records. If you ask him why, he'll just say that he gets tired of working from home all the time and needs a change of scenery.

Simon keeps a spreadsheet to track the good places for salvage in London-in-Darkness. He has different tabs for foodstuffs, fuel, clothes, makeshift weaponry, and a dozen other useful categories. He sorts them according to quality, abundance, known predators, level of contrast corruption, and convenience for his commute. Ask him to show you his v-lookups sometime.

If you haunt the high buildings like I do, then you'll see him sometimes, scuttling about in his scruffy converse, jeans and hoodie. If he sees you see him, he'll wave.

It's not that the various predators, gangs and high-contrast memetic hazards avoid him, exactly. They continue their usual routes; their patterns of search, destroy and throw-a-wobbly. But somehow they just ... miss him. He'll be overlooked or have a miraculous lucky escape. Occasionally, he'll get captured for a few days and spend the time working on his yoga routine, before the next localised burst of spectrum distortion gives him a chance to scarper.

You might be tempted, if you run across him, to join Simon.

You might hear him say things like: "Why don't we pool our resources" or "Let's catch up sometime" or "I've set up a mini golf course in the Tate Modern, if you fancy it" or "Do you want to listen to some Bruno Mars? I think I have one of the last unscratched CDs."

I urge you: do not listen to him.

He means you no ill will. Simon is *normal* and *nice*.

But nice is not kind. Normal is not benevolent. And sometimes, people overlook that the world will hurt those less lucky than them without really thinking about it. And it is *normal* to protect yourself in that way. It is *nice* to gloss over difficult things.

Simon lives a live that is orthogonal to the rest of us. His plane of existence is ever so slightly out of sync.

Yours isn't.

He is a last unchanging remnant of a world that was.

You aren't.

If you meet him, you will want to follow him. His is a world of order and predictability, of self-care days and flexi-time, of secret film screenings and hidden menus in bougie coffee shops. You will be enchanted by the way he talks about getting plenty of natural light, the way he complains about his commute, and how he still tips twelve percent.

But I beg you: do not heed his Simon song. For it is the song of Bruno Mars and you will be dashed on the funk rocks.

Don't go with him, the world that keeps him safe does not exist anymore.

And when I see Simon scuttling through the streets with a new friend, I am sometimes glad that it is gone.

[saturninemartial]

Hi I'm back again with more mushy future zosan business. This is post-zosan marriage, about a decade in the future; Loof is the pirate king, but the gang has stayed together to make sure everyone achieves their dreams (and also bc they're family).

They're sailing past a smallish island with no plans to stop, until they see worryingly big plumes of smoke, too big for bonfires or cooking fires, so they divert course for a possible rescue. When they land, they find a village that's just been decimated by some outside force. It's a somber moment as they're surrounded by bodies and crumbled buildings, as whatever invaders laid waste to this mostly-defenseless society.

The gang searches for clues as to who could have done this, any weapons left behind, really anything distinct that Robin could research and help them exact revenge for these helpless people. While digging around, Usopp finds something—or someone: a baby, hidden away for safety, not far from her deceased mother, who was obviously hoping for someone to find the infant. It makes everyone even more angry and sorrowful, wanting revenge for this baby.

They take the baby onboard and let Chopper check her over for injury and general health. Zosan both immediately take to the baby (several nakama point out that they both have a protective/nurturing instinct), and it's pretty much left up to them to figure out what to do with the baby. And, um, here's a little scene about it from the fic I'm gonna write:

(Spoiler alert: they end up keeping the baby as their own.)

In this scene, they then have a conversation about what to name her; and Sanji immediately tosses out naming her after a dead family member (so no Kuina, Sora, or even Tera) bc according to him, that's a lot of weight and expectation put on a child, and she should be able to live free of expectations and do as she pleases. They end up naming her something that Zoro liked from his childhood/from Wano (so basically a Japanese name). The next morning, at breakfast, Sanji announces their decision to keep the baby with, "Introducing the newest member of the Straw Hat Pirates: Roronoa Firstname!" And everyone cheers bc tbh they've all been loving on this baby and love being aunts and uncles (and also still have revenge in their hearts).

The crew has a little "break" planned soon at Syrup, so Usopp can spend some time with the wife, and everyone gets some time to chill: and Dr. Kaya is overjoyed to see the baby and buys all kinds of supplies and clothes and books to help.

(The Straw Hats do end up figuring out the perpetrators of the attack, and exact revenge on them for their youngest member.)

(I don't have much figured out about this baby/child OC except that she has peach-colored hair. I also like Spanish-speaking Sanji bc of Taz and his accent, so Sanji calls her duraznita or duraznaja—little peach—bc of her hair. 🥰)

[zluty-spendlik]

WAKFU REDESIGN AND REWRITE SERIES – PART 1

Evangelyne

Evangelyne used to be my favorite character growing up, which kind of sucks since she’s one of the flattest characters considering how much screentime she has.

Even when I was a little kid and watched this show I found it annoying how she was constantly drooled over by the guys and these days its pretty obvious she’s a very stereotypical not-like-the-other-girls girl, created solely to be Percedal’s (the literal incarnation of the expected target audience) love interest.

SHE EVEN HAS THE WHOLE „I let my hair down and now am so much prettier“ ARC HAPPEN FRICKING TWICE IN THE SPAN OF. WHAT- 5 EPISODES???

Evangelyne is a misogynistic character on so many levels, the only Eva-centric episodes we get are either ones she needs saving in (like Vampyro or the pirate one), or when she has a love arc with Percedal (the whole Rubilaxia shtick, or the tree of Life episode).

Honestly the only bearable scenes where she shows up are those where she interacts with Amalia and even those get twisted into weird sexist tropes: Evangelyne critisizing Amalia for buying too much clothes, or overall cringing at Amalia’s „too girly“ behaviour.

Even when they have a touching conversation after freeing Amalia’s father from the Tree of Life, Amalia immediatelly brings up Percedal and fails the Bechdel test.

I won’t even touch the Cleophée (or Cleome in english) trainwreck  the writers pulled in season 2 or the whole pregnant-damsel-in-distress thing she had going on in season 3- I didn’t watch season 3 and 4 mostly because I got so mad after the misogyny happening in the first episode and I didnt want to ruin my already fragile excitement over the series.

But don’t get me wrong – Even tho Wakfu has a lot of potential for growth, I still love the series dearly, and would love to give the characters justice. It is important to note that I am not a professional writer and Im mostly doing this for my own indulgence, so please feel free to throw constructive critisism towards me.

Character rewrite

We don’t know much about Evangelyne’s backstory, or rather her story before she meets Amalia – And in my head as a kid, I always assumed she was an orphaned kid basically living on the street with Cleophée, until someone (presumably Armand, since he has a long-term crush on her and Amalia hated her at first) took pity on her and took her to the palace (once I figure out Cleophées design Ill explain what happens with her).

Fast forward a couple years, Eva is officially Amalia’s bodyguard, yadayadayada.

Important thing is, that this shapes Evangelyne’s personality and self-perception –

I have divided my potential Eva Arc into 3.5 Categories:

Self-protection and perservation

Eva knows how dangerous the world can be (streets) and how serious her job is, but she’s only seventeen. She takes her job way too seriously, in the sense that she doesnt trust anybody they meet (which is especially shown when they meet the Tofu gang). She doesn’t want anyone but Amalia close and deep down, she’s scared of other people.

She is horrible at teamwork, which only frustrates her and everyone around her. She fails to see the affection Amalia has for her, because her entire self is just a bodyguard.

She doesn’t know who she is without that.

Depression

Dally’s sacrifce absolutely traumatizes Eva, both in the canon and my version. It doesnt need to be seen as romantic tho (we’ll get to that). On top of that AMALIA BRIEFLY DIES AND COMES BACK. Can you HEAR Evangelyne’s entire purpose crumbling down?

In her head, two people just died because of her.

Besides, Percedal sacrifices himself because he cares for her. Not as a „coworker“ or a teammate, but as a friend and Evangelyne cannot fathom that sort of service and relationship.

And even though she failed, her friends are there to support her.  Eva learns compassion.

Self-destruction

However, she now feels she has to „make up“ for her lack of compassion and her failings as a bodyguard. Long story short, she completely flips to the other extreme, basically throwing herself in any sort of danger to protect her friends  (hence when she hears Dally, she immediatelly goes to Rubilaxia). In the show this is less extreme but portrayed as her real and true personality: more reckless and adventureous – but i think the writers just wanted Eva to finally have something in common with Dally (which, btw, uncool), but I’d like this to be portrayed as a bad thing.

Eva fails to see that she’s hurting herself and fails to recognize herself as a person rather than basically a human shield. This arc climaxes in the Cleophée episode and Eva learns that compassion is not transactional, or something to be earned.

Her true self

Evangelyne's final form! We dont know much about Eva's hobbies other than her job and fighting skills, HOWEVER Dally mentions Eva taught him tracking at one point and tbh Evangelyne being a ranger or just studying nature fits her pretty well imo! She is also canonically artistic (as confirmed by the journal she keeps).

I take issue with Evangelyne always being seen as the “mom of the group”. Yes, she's smart and responsible and caring, but that's her job, she's an older sister, less of a mother figure and more of an equal to the others in the gang.

Design

In s1, Id like her to wear a lot of armour with chainmail directly on her skin (haha get it because trust issues), and with a mostly green colour palette, cause, Sadida kingdom yk.

In her s2 look, she throws away most of her armour and self perservation instincts and since her personality completely flips, so does her colour palette - red! The first aid kit is gone and she wears an ascot now (a torn bit from Dally's cape lol).

And finally, i made her a furry I gave her some gadget shoes from Cleophée, helping her move faster, I put some of the armour back and made her hair longer. Her colour palette now consists not only green, but also the "Yugo blue", which i plan on incorporating in everyone's final design :D

AND FINALLY, AN ART DUMP

[dstryvampres]

okay so...one shot inspired by song "my oh my" (by aqua) (or just a pirate au) with neil lewis?

I do not write pirates well(I have no knowledge of them sorry anon) so I'm so so sorry that this is not very well written or long !! forgive me pleasee. this is more dnd based than realistic.

Pairing: knight!Neil Lewis x pirate!reader

Warnings: no smut this time sorry gang, mentions of violence, sword fighting, Neil is so so so ooc

Word Count: 911

Neil fucking Lewis, if there was ever a man you hated it was him. It was him and his stupid little band of knights that seemed hellbent on following you and your crew around the continent to stop you from stealing anything. This would’ve been fine for anybody else, a lowly rogue or a petty assassin. You had a name to uphold, a ship to upkeep, and a crew to feed.

“So, we meet once again,” Neil grins, atop of his steed on the port you were just about to dock.

“How the fuck did you find me Lewis?” you hiss, looking down at him from the deck of your ship.

“Followed my heart,” Neil sighed dramatically, covering his heart with his hand.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” it’s an empty threat, you and Neil have been playing this game for years if either have you wanted you could’ve a long time ago.

“I’d like to see you try,” Neil teases, before turning around a riding away.

You hear a snicker behind you. One of your own men is laughing at you? When you get your hands on that conniving bastard– There’s more than one. Fuck. Your whole crew? You turn around, trying to shoot each member of your crew a hostile look. Like you havent raised and nurtured every single one of them, like you didn’t give them the clothes on their back, and the food on their plates.

“When are you two just going to fuck?” your right-hand man chuckles, walking up and slapping a hand on your shoulder.

What? God, you don’t have time to deal with this.

“Dock the boat, someone! Anyone! Then we try to pillage this town and leave, I don’t care if Lewis is here!” You shout, waving off the hand on your shoulder and walking off.

What does your crew even know about a good old fashioned rivalry? It’s like no one can appreciate when two people just hate eachother any more. Technically you’re a little sexually pent up, it’s hard to get any action as a constantly thwarted pirate, but that doesn’t play much into your relationship with Neil. Nope, not one bit. Just because the knight is attractive doesn’t mean you want to have anything more than a passionate rivalry with him. Sometimes you think of Neil when you get off at night, but everyone feels that way about their rival. Totally…

Before you were able to start questioning yourself on this relationship the ship was docked, and you had to lead your crew into raiding the seaside village you just docked in. You motioned and yelled for everyone to go and get off the ship, the slam of feet landing onto the dock and the running into the town mixed with the slash of swords being grabbed. Soon enough you too were running up the dock, sword in hand. 

You wouldn’t be doing any of the dirty business, merely just watching over your crew and directing your side of the chaos. Neil and his men were waiting out somewhere near, so you had to be alert to where he could be. It’s hard to see anything between the chaos in the town; homes being lit on fire, the clashing of swords with one another and possibly civilians, groans of pain, and you shouting out instructions. Through all of this it would’ve been nearly impossible for the average man to react to the slash of Neil’s blade towards you, but you managed to dodge his attack. Retrieving your own sword and retaliating.

“You’re much sharper than I thought,” Neil teases, offering a cocky smile.

“We’ve fought almost everyday for the past two years, why are you so surprised?” you bite back, aiming for his leg with your next slash. Only to be blocked by Neil’s own sword.

“Thought I did,” Neil ducks down to avoid another slash from you, “more damage last time.”

“You barely scratched me,” you say, it’s cocky despite the fact that Neil is pushing you back onto the dock with his own moves.

“I swore you keeled over,” Neil swings his own sword over his head, which you can barely block with your own force.

Neil starts to falter, allowing you to push back enough so that you and Neil are essentially face to face, breathing each other in. Only thing between you two being the metal of your own swords. Here, when you’re breathing down eachother’s necks, in the midst of battle, is the time when it starts to dawn on you that Neil is probably the only person you know who can fully understand you and your own personal struggles.

“You’re beautiful,” Neil whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. Maybe he never meant for you to hear that at all, you just did.

Those words alone almost make you lose your stance against Neil, but if you fall now you fall back into the depths of the sea. You push back against him, none of you moving from your oddly close positions in front of one another. The cycle continues as you get back onto solid land with Neil, both of you falling to the floor heaving. Neil is so far from you, but he’s always right where you are. Somehow he get every part about you, but he fucking hates you. There’s a part of you that hopes that one day you can fling yourself and Neil to the bottom of the ocean.

Taglist: @paradiseprincesss @luluartpop @xanaxiii @galactict3a

[kidnappedbycartoons]

I'm bored, so it's time to talk about Zutara. Again. I already talked about their connection while in the catacombs.

But what about after that?In the beginning of book 3, they are apart for the most part. Something interesting to me is that right after Zuko helps Azula defeat the gaang, he's on his way back to the Fire Nation and Mai comes to talk to him. She asks him if he's cold, to which Zuko begins to open up a bit. He tells her that he has a lot on his mind, he wonders what has changed, he wonders how he has changed. Now, we have never seen Zuko open up like this before. Actually, no, scratch that. We did see Zuko open up like this before when he was in the catacombs with Katara. And how did she respond to this? With warmth, with understanding, with compassion. But how does his canon love interest respond to this? She yawns, tells him to stop worrying, is sarcastic, and then kisses him. Do you not see the difference?

In the following episodes, the gang is hiding in the Fire Nation. I just want to point out these episodes because, I'm not saying that it was her talk with Zuko that influenced a part of this, but it is very interesting to see how involved Katara gets with the Fire Nation. She is excited to wear their clothes, she participates in the dance, she helps out the people in the village by donning a disguise heavily associated with their culture, etc. I just want to point this out, because a common criticism about them as a couple is that Katara would want nothing to do with the Fire Nation due to her trauma and it's like...baby, did you watch the show?

Now, when Zuko tries to join the gaang, obviously he's turned down. What's interesting is that, out of all of them, Katara is the one most against it. Which makes sense, she feels personally betrayed by him. She even admits that after their conversation in the catacombs, she felt sorry for him and trusted him. We all remember that conversation she had with him at the end of the Western Air Temple episode. This Katara and Catacombs Katara are different. If Zuko said that he wanted to join the gaang at the end of book two, I'm almost positive he would not have gotten this threat from Katara. We all saw that episode. We saw how they connected. We saw how they opened up to each other. No, he would not have gotten that threat from Katara. The reason why she is like this towards him is because she feels personally betrayed after she trusted him and opened up to him while they were in the catacombs. The pirates, the necklace, chasing down the Avatar, those have nothing to do with this. It is because of what happened in those catacombs.

Interestingly enough, for someone that doesn't trust him that well, she definitely has no problem letting her brother and the Avatar go off with him on missions alone. And each time they came back, they were fine. With these little adventures, she was slowly starting to see a new side of Zuko. Another thing, which should be apparent in the GIF above this paragraph. In the Southern Raiders episode, when Zuko is falling from the sky, who is it that reaches out to catch him? Katara. The one that trust him the least out of the group. The one that feels personally betrayed by him. The one that threatened to end his life. She is the one that reaches out to catch him. And it's in her character, I cannot see her willingly letting somebody fall to their death. But, I just want it very interesting that out of all those people on Appa, it was her that reached out for him.

I'm not going to talk about the whole episode here. I could do a whole breakdown of that. But I just wanted to bring up these moments here. It's the little things.

[a-killer-obsession]

Some thoughts on the female crewmembers of the Kid Pirates? How do they interact with a big balls guy like Kid? 😅 I mean I see him threating women more disrespectful with a lot of ass grabbing 🤪

I honestly think Kid treats the ladies the exact same way he treats the men. In saying that: the kid pirates need a HR for sexual harassment from kid. He probably gets smacked a lot.

I do have a lot of personal headcanons though for what the girls are like! Behold:

☠️Kid Pirate Female Headcanons☠️

SFW under the cut 😊

Also including what I think their weapons would be!

Dive

I can never decide if she's a kid, or if she's just a short adult. The heels and fishnets make me lean towards adult, but then again her rolemodels for her fashion is the other kid pirates so she might not even realise how provocative those clothing items are. Either way, shes a fucking gremlin. Anger issues to boot but also so very happy go lucky, her mood can flip like a coin. We've seen how excited she gets for battle, I think she love love loves fighting. Shes a nuisance but everyone loves her. Has a massive stuffed animal collection (regardless of what her age really is)

Weapon: teeth

Hobbies: getting into mischief, swimming

House

Little old lady who is sick of everyone's shit. And by old I mean like, late fourties, early fifties perhaps. Ship doctor, but in a witch doctor sort of way. Big fan of dr kureha for sure! Has that same flippant, usually drunk on the job sort of personality. Everyone loves her though, shes the matriarch of the crew, and the commanders always ask her for advice. I headcanon she's related to Heat, perhaps his aunty. I like to think it was her that stitched up his Glasgow smile. She probably didn't want to be a pirate, but as the oldest she probably knew better than everyone what a shit show their home island was. Perhaps after all that gang violence maybe Heat is the only family she has left, so she naturally followed him out to sea.

Weapon: stays out of fights, but keeps a pistol on her just in case

Hobbies: collecting vintage medical journals, witchcraft

Hip

Most casual of the girls. Quiet, little bit stoic, bit of a tomboy, probably goes by she/they. Prefers to hang with the more masculine men on the crew, cos she'll gag if she has to listen to Quincy talk about makeup. I actually headcanon she's related to Killer, given they're both tan and blonde, and from the same island (probably, at least I headcanon all the kid pirates sailed out together), maybe cousins even. Strongest and the best fighter of the girls, everyone uses her like guard dog when they wanna go out. As the guard dog shes usually the one to smack Kid when he gets too handsy with one of the girls. He's a little scared of her tbh.

Weapons: the wiki says she apparently has two swords, i think dual weilding short blades would suit her

Hobbies: electric guitar, fishing (she likes the quiet time to think)

Hop

Bad bitch alert!! She's hot and she knows it! Bit of a stuck up bitch but she has her soft side. Gets along best with Wire. Considered the most stylish on the crew because somehow she makes even plain clothes look good, and everyone always wants her fashion and hair advice. I sort of imagine her to be like Nami, very obsessed with money and shopping, and a big time lesbian. Keeps her nails long and sharp as shit, and has a very impressive collection of knives. Her and Hip are very scary when they work together.

Weapon: wiki says she has a sword. I imagine her having a really delicate, slim sword, like a rapier

Hobbies: designing clothes, collecting vintage jewelry (she has very sticky fingers)

Quincy

Super ditsy tbh, really not suited to being a pirate but shes doing her best, its better than staying in the south blue anyway. Everyone makes fun of her cos she has a big obvious crush on kid, she's convinced shes gonna be queen of the pirates. Kid thinks its cute but shes not really his type, he doesnt mind her fawning though. Turns absolutely psychopathic if someone threatens her sweet kiddo! A real girl's girl, she loves anything cute and pink and fluffy, like just so very stereotypically girlypop

Weapon: usually kept away from fights, but like in Wavelengths I'd like to see her use that big chain of beads around her waist like a weapon

Hobbies: makeup and nails, fawning over kid and drawing bad fanart of her and him kissing (yes everyone thinks its concerning, but in an sweet way)

Emma

The quintessential 2010s tumblr scene girl. She reads A LOT of fantasy romance, draws fanart of her favourite book series, she would be a warrior cats girlie for sure. Bit of a scaredy cat and cries when she yells, but shes not afraid to pick up a sword if she has to if its to protect her friends. Really energetic personality though, she's easy to get along with, and she seems to know a little something about everything. Gets along best with Heat.

Weapon: rifle or similar, something long range and slim

Hobbies: reading & drawing

[sanjisblackasswife]

Do you still accept nsfw asks? If so how about a short story where sanji and the gang find an abandoned island and stop to resupply and while there they find a ship wreck where someone is clearly living there and sanji walks up on a woman bathing in a waterfall while he's foraging for food. She's the only survivor of a pirate crew and has been stuck on the island for 2 years. Sge would be so happy to be found she forgets she's nude and tackle hugs sanji. The only reward she has for him is herself of course 😉 would he accept her reward and have fun before bringing her back to the crew?

Definitely an nsfw story with male receiving and then female receiving all the fun stuff, oral and fingering and penitration, all the funs lol

A/N: ..wow. Lemme go on ahead and see if I can make this come to life. (This is a dope summary though btw I love it lmao)

Also I decided to make most of this in Sanji’s POV because why not lol

“Waves of Love” Sanji x (Black)! Fem Reader (NSFW) Sanji POV

CW: Love at First Sight (?), Oral Sex, Fingering, Cum Eating, Tongue Sucking, Lots of Kissing, Thigh Riding, Vaginal Sex, Semi Public(?), Finger Sucking, Reader is a bit of a Bimbo(?), She has Piercings, Touch Starved, Very Subby and has a Breeding Kink

-

Sanji POV

We landed on this somewhat large island, it looked no different from any other we stopped at before, however it looked more like a jungle. It was beautiful none the less and the weather was perfect. We all seen some delicious fruit and Usopp had already managed to catch a few good fish. Everybody all agreed to spend the day looking for stuff to bring back I wanted Nami to come with me, but she and Chopper decided to stay on the ship!

“Oh shit.” I stopped my tracks and seen the other side of the island and there was a huge ship, so we weren’t alone!?

I was walking a small path I found in between some bushes and trees, i didn’t really think to know where it could lead. Enemies maybe? I don’t really care that much I could just kick their ass if needed.

I walked over with caution, but I felt no presence of anybody. As a matter of fact inspecting closer at the ship it was ruined. The ship was old and looked like a few marines aimed at it. If anybody was here they have to have been either long gone or still here hiding.

I decided to go back to find Luffy. He’d probably want to look around and see it and possibly warn him if someone is also on this island, but i began to hear what could be a waterfall, it was faint but the more I followed the sounds of loud splashing water the more I—

Sanji pushed his way out of the shrubbery to see from a distance a woman waist deep in the beautiful secluded area. A towel and some clothing was left beside some rocks. Sanji was enamored, she was a real woman! Naked! Cleaning herself! Her body was curved in all the right places, her skin was a beautiful dark brown, her hair was big and curly, she had scars around her body, but she looked stunning none the less. He held his mouth trying not to bleed and scream out of excitement and scaring the woman but instead he hid behind a tree and watched her.

This goddess…she..was nothing like I’ve seen before. I know I shouldn’t stare at a woman bathing, but I couldn’t look away she looked like a majestic angel!

How come I didn’t sense her? Is she alone? Was that her ship? She must have crew members around since that boat was so big.

“Hm?” The woman looked out, to see a tall blonde man behind a large tree. In that moment she would have felt exposed! Embarrassed! Even a little upset for noticing someone watching, but instead she smiled wide. Her face was unrecognizable to Sanji, but the woman slowly approach closer to the shallow prt of the water and waved. “Hey! Come here!”

I froze. She seen me! Fuck! I probably should leave, but I couldn’t do such a thing to a woman! What if she needs help? Maybe she can—-

Shit she is even more beautiful the closer she walks over. She was holding her chest, her body was something I wish to engrave in my mind for the rest of my life! Her smile was gorgeous and shining as if it were gold. The water reflected off of her wet body I felt myself move towards her to get a closer look.

I think I met my soulmate.

“Oh!” She gasped at me, and ran over towards me…

Wait

A NAKED WOMAN IS RUNNING TOWARDS ME—

“Oh my goodness I can’t believe there is someone here! I can’t believe it! A real person!” She was strong as hell swinging me back and fourth, her wet body stained my clothes and she sounded so …happy to see me?

“Oh—h-hello!” I tried so hard to keep my eyes on her face, but her curls were covering most of her face anyways. She smiled so sweetly it nearly made my heart melt. “Um…are you—“

“Oh sorry! Im Y/N! It’s been so long since I’ve seen a person let alone a guy before! What’s your name?!”

“Oh I—I’m Sanji—-“

She kept talking and it became more and more difficult to pay attention to her talking. Her breast kept moving with each word and I couldn’t help to almost faint seeing that she had nipple piercings and a belly piercing!!! The young lady had a lot of energy so she spoke with her hands a lot . How could a woman like this be here alone on an island?

IS THIS THE ALL BLUE?!

“So Mr. Sanji…I actually stole that ship from a crew a couple years ago, but some Marines found me not too long after and attacked. I barely made it out of there, but I been hiding here hoping to possibly find a new pair of people to get me to leave but the ones that have came don’t even manage to stay for too long or they just sail right past….are you with a crew? Or…oh crap are you a marine?!”

She seemed to be so unfazed with being naked in front of me, it was cute, but it made me worry a little bit—

What if a PERVERT FOUND HER AND TOOK ADVANTAGE OF MISS, Y/N?!

“I am apart of a pirate crew actually. We landed here this morning to grab some supplies, but it seemed so empty…so you’re all alone?”

“Yeah! So there’s more of you?! Oh please can I come with you guys?! I promise I just need a way to get off this island and I’ll be out of your hair! I’ll do anything!”

She grabbed my shirt tugging on it with pleading eyes. They managed to peak through her curls, her lips were so plump and slightly parted as she looked up at me. I clenched my fist not wanting to touch her, but I just couldn’t fight the feeling because she was so close I could feel her breath in my chin. I can’t believe she has been here for 2 years on her own. She looked healthy, and well fed.

“Of course you can! We have plenty of food and even some new clothes for you to wear! We’d be more than happy to have you on board! Here—“

I took off my shirt and jacket for her to wear, she seemed to have only underwear by her towel and I couldn’t let her meet the rest of the crew naked of course. I handed her my clothing and she blushes at me.

“Once we get back I’ll cook you something too. A beautiful girl such as yourself shouldn’t be here at all. I’m actually impressed how you managed to take care of yourself. You look amazing.”

Y/N mentally drooled at the sight of seeing another male shirtless. His body was completely different from what she was expecting. It was almost something foreign to her after so long on her own. She was so grateful for his kindness she knew she had to repay him somehow.

“W-wait!” She gripped my clothing before placing it by her own, “Your friends…you sure they will be okay with me coming on right?…i haven’t had much luck with friendly people…are they nice like you?”

I smile, “They’re very nice—well there is one grumpy swordsman that can be a fool—, but don’t worry I’ll kick his ass if he is rude to you, my love.”

She bites her bottom lip a little as if she were thinking about it, I hope she agrees to come. She looks back up at me and speaks softly,

“Can I give you something in return before we go? As a thank you?”

I gave her a questioning look, before I could decline she grabbed my neck and kissed me.

Fuck her lips were so soft!

Her kisses were a bit firm, and unsteady granted she didn’t have much practice after two years, but Sanji held her close by her waist. Y/N pulled back standing on her tippy toes and gazed at his lips. It was only for a moment when she pulled him back for a hungrier kiss. Her tongue slipped in his mouth moaning inside, the urgency she had felt in her body showed with action as she began to unbuckle his slacks.

“Oh! Wait wait—Y/N!” I held her shaky hands nearly panting after dropping my cigarette, “You DONT have to repay me I—“

“But I want to! I need to! You’ve been so kind and I thought maybe you’d appreciate that, Mr. Sanji. Please…come here.”

She was so needy, I wouldn’t dare try and take advantage of her in this situation, but she grabbed my hand and took me beside the waterfall where her clothes were and let me lean beside a large rock, she kneeled in front of me and I immediately felt my pants get tight. She looked too fucking sexy on her knees like this.

Maybe…I can indulge in this moment just once?

Y/N pulled Sanji’s bottoms down now eye to eye with his semi-hard cock. Licking her lips in anticipation she motions him to sit on the smooth flat surface of the rock and lean back. She pushes her hair back to reveal her eyes, and it shocks Sanji, both eyes were different colors and her left eye was scared. It never took away from her beauty however.

“You’re gorgeous.” Sanji uttered in awe before she went down on him. She blushed.

His cock was heavy on her tongue giving it one loud and long slurp before pushing it as far as she could in her mouth. Her cold tongue swirled and flicked around his shaft and tip so much Sanji already felt a pressure below his stomach to cum. Somehow she noticed from his constant twitching and his moans she popped of his cock and smiled, “it’s okay. You can cum in my mouth.”

Her voice sounded so innocent and pure compared to how fucking hot she looked sucking my dick. Fuck— she didn’t even stop sucking after I came. I probably should keep my voice down, but she felt way too painfully good I damn near passed out from overstimulation. She sighed pulling away, a long string of my cum and her drool fell from the rim of her swollen lips. She had a tired gaze, I couldn’t stop breathing heavily looking right at her still lustful eyes.

I cupped her cheek and she sat up straight, when I kissed her the mixture of our bodily fluids swished inside our mouth, the taste was so addictive I couldn’t help but to start sucking on her wet tongue.

“Was that good? Was I Good?”

Her pleads to be praised was so fucking cute I patted her head and kissed her forehead softly, letting her know she did amazing. But she didn’t seemed to want to stop, and I’m glad because I didn’t want to either.

The temperature of my face and chest got hot, this woman must have had some kind of curse and planted it inside me because I feel like I’m burning up inside I had a craving and it was that I had to be inside her. I need her right now.

I had her close to my chest and kissed her lips again, they were like magnates I just couldn’t stop myself from pulling away no matter how sloppy it became. My hand roamed from her neck down to her pierced breast. From the moment I seen her I had an itch to fondle her perky nipples, I needed to feel the cool metal and her sensitive skin under my fingers. She must have enjoyed it a lot from how much she started to moan out.

“More please. Rub more!” Her whines were like music to my ears, she placed her hand on my to guide how she liked to be gropped and I did as so pressing firmly with her hand. I kept the pace with urgency as I moved my lips down to her neck for a moment to leave a mark. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, for when we get back they’ll see our bruises of when we made love but I didn’t care I wanted this as bad as she did.

I sat back down to place her on my thigh, she was already so gooey and wet from just me touching her breast, if I wasn’t mistaken she may have already came from that alone. She was panting and already couldn’t help herself as she began to grind her wet slit on my thigh. Fuck, I never had a woman do this before but the neediest and desire she had on her face focusing to cum on me made me want her even more.

“Touch me again, Mr. Sanji.” Her voice was breaking down as she was reaching her high, I wasted no time rubbing her slippery clit in messy circles pushing the back of her head back to my mouth to kiss her, she whined continuously pressing her hands on my chest. Her dull nails tried clawing at my skin, which made me want to feel that sensation on my back when I fuck her.

I needed to fuck her.

She needed me to fuck her.

And I was going to do it.

I helped her move her hips faster on my thigh, I felt her clench harder crying into my ear now holding the back of my nape. “San…Ji!”

She stilled her movements after a moment and began to pepper my neck in kisses biting a little. She was so damn cute being so appreciative. She deserved it. She deserved to get fucked right. I picked her up and laid her on the towel by the water. It was no other noises besides the sounds of birds chirping and our panting. I never had sex with a woman outside before, but it now be my new favorite thing if it’s with her.

She looked breath taking, she was rubbing her thighs together looking up at me with those pretty eyes I couldn’t stop looking at, her face was hot, and her curls barely were covering her face, I already seen a bit of my hickies left on her neck, I just needed to leave at least one on her breast—maybe two if she can last that long.

“Mr. Sanji…can you…fuck me…while I suck your fingers?”

Fuck she is direct.

I couldn’t say no to her, I had to. She needed this, I open her messy wet legs, I slowly massage her slit with my index and middle finger before swirling her clit to make her arch her back, her mouth agape. I used the opportunity to shove my fingers in her pretty little mouth. She sucked on them as desired and I began my attack on her nipples.

“Mmmmmm!” She moaned beside my ear, her legs began to twitch and vibrate beside me as my tongue moved all over her tits. They were so comfortable to squeeze my face in. It was something I couldn’t try to replicate with any pillow I could ever buy. She was so fucking sensitive too. Not having another man’s touch her for so long. I knew I could get her to cum a thousand times if I tried.

My cock was aching, it was so tediously rutting against her clit, she must have felt it too because she began to buck her hips for more friction. I finally managed to leave my two marks on her breast and sat back up. She whined in disappointment when I pulled my fingers away. So cute.

I slapped my cock on her fat pussy—fuck everything about her made me so hot in the face I couldn’t hold back. I immediately peppered her with kisses when I slammed half of my Dick inside her as an apology.

“Fuck you’re so tight, baby..” I groaned in her ear. I didn’t move as she said she haven’t had sex in so long and never touched herself in between then and now so I talked her through it as I slowly began to bottom out inside her. “Good girl, baby—good fucking girl ‘m ganna stretch you out real good okay?”

“Y-yes Mr. Sanji!”

Her fluffy skin felt so good under mine, I held her close making sure she felt all of me, I began to pick up the pace and the wet slapping noises of her insides made me nearly lose it she felt too fucking good and tight.

“So good! Mmm!” Her voice sung like a melody repeating my name over and over again in broken syllables as my Dick kept going in and out, I needed to see her so I pulled away from her neck, and her eyes rolled back, mouth open slightly holding the back of her legs to give me more room to go deeper inside her. I don’t think she’s felt this good in a long time.

I felt my hair stick to my face with sweat, my hands also pressing down on the back of her sweet thick thighs as the jiggled Everytime I pushed my way inside her. She began to scream out and I knew if she kept it up one of them may find us back here or that dumbass swordsman May stumble upon us so I licked my fingers and shoved them back in her mouth. She looked so good sucking on them anyways.

I felt her clench inside me as a signal she was about to cum. As much as i didn’t want it to end I began to think about how long we have been out here and how at any moment one of my crew mates may catch us.

I threw her ankles over my shoulder and pulled her by her hips to snap against mine. I was as deep as i could get and it made me want to cum quickly so I began thrashing my cock further inside her sweet walls.

Her whole body was moving at a rhythm, she started to bite my fingers a little. It didn’t hurt that much but it was cute, she bites a lot when she is about to cum.

Her eyes shot open as she pulled out my fingers and pressed my body against hers, she was so fucking flexible I was putting her in a matting press and didn’t even realize it.

“Cum in me please! Please please please I need it!”

Shit. I completely forgot I wasn’t using a condom. Everything was happening so fast but…I was okay with it. I don’t know but I may genuinely be in love with this woman ……I can’t stop myself from moaning in her ear,

“I love you, Y/N!”

It was almost as if she felt the same way because she held on to me tighter I couldn’t breathe almost. I didn’t care I just needed to fill her up and that’s exactly what I did.

I slowed down the pace, our breathing was in sync as I did my last few sloppy thrust, I moved her hair to get a better look at her flustered face and planted open mouth kisses on her making her giggle.

“I didn’t expect us to do that.” I laughed weakly feeing her legs rub my sides. She laughed to and pecked my nose.

“I’m glad we did. Because I love you.”

My heart skipped a beat. She sounded so careless by saying that. She really mean it?

“Really?”

“I do Mr.Sanji…I think…I don’t know—I may have fell in love with you the moment I seen you…”

“You—you also believe in love at first sight?”

She nodded and shrugged, “I mean duh. It’s real isn’t it?”

I kissed her lips once more and got her to show that pretty smile. I couldn’t let her go after that.

We cleaned each other up in the lake and I got her dressed. It was beginning to get late so I carried her in my back on the way to the ship. We got to know each other a little more since the walk was a bit long and I told her about us.

“So Luffy is Your Captain? And he’s made of rubber no way!!”

“Haha Yeah, he can be an idiot so don’t worry if he is a—-“

“Oh is that them?!”

She pointed outwards and I smiled seeing them all carry back boxes of items they found on the island.

“Yeah, you ready to meet them, my love?”

“Yes, please!”

When I took her and greeted her to the crew, they all welcomed her with open arms. She proved herself worth the trouble of adding since she actually was an amazing fighter. And I was glad. I fed her and let her sleep in my room for the night, but I believed she may be staying there permanently.

She was mine now after all.

——-

“Alternative Ending”??

[follows-the-bees]

The choice of what Ed is lying on here fascinates me.

His old gang, the Hornigold gang, are shown in western style: both the outfits and camera angles used. I talk about that here.

During this time, Ed has shuffled on the Kraken persona, like a security robe, keeping him safe from outside forces. But here, he is down to a t-shirt, letting himself feel emotions about the wedding cake toppers, yet still trying to drown it in alcohol.

But what I want to talk about is the choice of the animal fur carpet he's laying on. He threw away most of Stede's soft things, and they have been on countless raids. I'm not 100% sure where this rug is from (I looked and didn't see it in Stede's cabin), and honestly it doesn't match Stede's style.

But you know what it does match? The Wild West. And that style is emphasized with the simple clothes, the wooden plank floors, and the candle. If you saw that photo out of context, would you guess this is a pirate show?

Bringing back this western style shows how much Ed has had to retreat to his old ways with his old crew, and that is done visually in this one shot. We see the more pirate outfits, the ropes, leathers, and the kohl makeup during the raids, but in his own private space, Ed doesn't have those, he has the western theme. This simple choice shows us exactly his mindset (and foreshadows his choice of Hornigold during the grav(e)y basket scene.

Also, is that gunpowder he's decorating the bride topper with? Using alcohol and gun powder as a sorta paint? Or just kohl makeup. I have questions.

[bouncingbluebeast]

Howdy professor! You got any Halloween plans or costume ideas?

"Hmm! A difficult prospect, to be sure. But I had been pondering potential ideas about what makes a good costume for a fat body covered in blue fur.

One of the consequences of superhero work is that you're never quite sure which are your 'costumes' and which are your 'day clothes'.

Mixing it up with something I don't normally wear would probably be refreshing, though..."

Hank thinks for a moment, then calls out of his room,

"Cupkurt? Bobka? Tirami-Simon? Jel-Logan?"

Four heads peek out from the doorway in order of being called, like some comical mystery gang scoping a scene. Hank takes off his goggles and turns to them.

"Jubilee's Halloween Party; do any of you know what you'll be going as? I thought I might coordinate..."

"Jä, I've decided on a dread pirate this year! Perhaps you would do me the honour of being my sweet siren, mein Kanonenkugel."

"I was thinking about when you and I would watch Star Trek as kids, and I was thinking of Captain Kirk. Maybe you could be my Spock or my big-boned 'Bones'~?"

"Eh, I was gonna swing by a Spirit Halloween and get a vampire costume. Why? You want me to suck you dry?"

"Ugh, you out-crassed me, bub. Jean says I can't do the shirt-over-the-head costume again, but I might do the Big Bad Wolf for lil' Hope and Nate. But seriously, Hank - why not just go all fancy-schmancy? We see you half hangin'-out mosta the time anyway."

"Oh, nevermind. I'll have to get back to you about the costume ideas..."

[condoriano-67890]

Wanted to write a Shanks X reader fanfic. It doesn’t actually have much Shanks X reader in it, but I dreamt about this scenario last night and thought it would be cool to write.

Shanks X gn! Reader

Summary: Instead of smashing his beer bottle over Shanks’ head, Higuma decided you were his target.

Warnings: Blood, reader getting hurt, violence & alcohol

You lived in Foosha Village, working as a bartender at Partys Bar, with Makino. She needed the help— after all, she was the only one working there. It usually wasn’t too busy.. unless Shanks and his crew were there. That when Makino really needed your help.

The Red Haired Pirates had been staying a while— and, as always, Luffy had been pestering them about joining their crew. Makino told him to stop pestering them— in the meanwhile, you were cleaning a glass, as the bar was almost all out of glasses. They were all in use.

Then, Higuma and his gang entered— they were angry, and looking for some booze. You could tell, just by the way they looked.

Before they could even say anything, you went looking for the last of the booze— to no avail. You quietly came back out, to hear Makino telling Higuma that there was no booze left.

“Haha— looks like we drank the place dry! Sorry man, but I have an extra bottle. It’s unused,” Shanks said with a smile, as he kindly offered his beer bottle to Higuma.

Higuma stared at it for a moment, before snatching the beer bottle from him. “That ain’t enough for me!” He exclaimed, before hurling it— right into your head.

The bottle smashed up against you. Beer ended up in your eyes, clouding your vision, as the pieces of glass cut up your face. A few smaller pieces ended up getting stuck.

All of the laughing in the bar stopped when you let out a shriek. Makino looked over— and, seeing this, she immediately ran over. “Y/n-san!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto you to keep you from falling into the alcohol display behind the counter.

Higuma stared at you, angrily, as Shanks immediately got up and ran over to help. Hongo, the doctor of the Red-Haired Pirates, immediately saw that someone needed medical attention— and rushed over.

Luffy was watching the whole ordeal, with rage in his eyes, before attempting to attack Higuma. Lucky Roux noticed this, and grabbed the little boy, restraining him.

Makino quietly sat you down, holding your hand, as tears fled from your eyes. But you made no sound. All you could do was tell yourself to breathe as Hongo carefully attempted to extract the pieces from your face. Shanks saw the sheer amounts of blood running down your face— and, ripping some cloth off of his own shirt, tried to plug up the deepest wounds, pressing the cloth to your face firmly.

Higuma rolled his eyes— and saw it as a fine time to leave. He’d brag to Shanks about himself later.

. . .

A short while later, you found yourself laying in a bed, in the one little hospital found at Foosha Village. It looked like every other building.

The beer was out of your eyes— your eyes still stung a bit, but it was out. The beer and blood was all cleaned up, and you were all bandages up on the face. Shanks and Makino stood over you.

“Y/n-san!” Makino said softly, smiling, as she went to hold your hand. “How are you feeling?” She asked, as Shanks smiled down at you.

“…my eyes,” you said softly, “..they sting. Could I get some eye drops?” You asked, as Makino nodded, “of course. I’ll be right back,” she said, giving your hand a squeeze before she let go and left, leaving you and Shanks alone.

“You good?” Shanks asked, chuckling, “your face is kinda swollen. You should see it in a mirror.”

You stared at him for a moment, before chuckling. “Don’t look at me, then.”

“I’ll always look at you!” Shanks said, before you blushed.

“…oh. I didn’t mean it in a romantic way, but I guess it came out like that, huh?” Shanks asked, laughing now.

You couldn’t help but smile at his hearty laugh. But then you thought— someone wasn’t in this room.

Luffy.

You turned your attention to his absence.

“..hey.. Luffy isn’t here. Doesn’t he follow you around like, all day, every day?” You asked, as Shanks’ smile faded.

“..now that I think about it, yeah. It’s a bit concerning.. I’m gunna go look for him,” he said, making his way to the door as you waved him goodbye.

As you laid there in silence, you couldn’t help but wonder.. was Shanks calling you pretty?

[opencharacters]

Happy New Year Mr. Mouse

A short thing I prepared in honor of this occasion. I'm aware Mickey Mouse is not public domain outside of the US and that Disney can still use their trademark laws and fancy lawyers. But this means so much to me in just what I've believed about copyright for years. Disney isn't the main villain in the fight for a more robust public domain but they certainly are and were one of the big ones. It feels nice. Let us celebrate. Here is a short fic I wrote in the Mouse's honor on this day. Happy public domain day everyone!

An anthropomorphic mouse, wearing overalls and a hat arrived at the local bar. He distinctly was wearing no gloves, something unusual for this time of year given how cold it could get but most of the other bar flies didn't think much of it.

"I'm sort of part of the gang now boys, give me a frosty one to celebrate"

The bartender was a woman wearing a scarf and steampunk looking goggles resting on her head.

"Ah the king himself joining my little bar, you know what for the occasion its on the house" the woman said, pouring the mouse a beer and sliding it over to him.

"Name's Jenny" she said. "And you need no introduction. You're Mickey Mouse, right?"

"That's right ma'am"

"You know you just being in here is gonna upset some powerful people right?"

"I've served my 95 years, I deserve to be here" Mickey said, proceeding to take a long chug at his beer.

(Web Archive Link)

"I don't argue with that, in fact some of the folks around here have been counting the days. Congrats"

"Thank you"

"Seen my brother around?"

"Oswald?" Jenny asked.

"Well, yeah I guess I should've been more specific"

"Yeah he's always around somewhere. I'm sure he'd be happy to see you"

There werent many people in the bar, people could come and go but there was certain requirements for entering Jenny's Public Drinkery. The crowd that day was mostly a few regulars like Sherlock Holmes a detective type with a deerstalker hat or Winnie the Pooh, a yellow-ish brown bear distinctly lacking any red shirts in fact he had burnt all his red shirts on the first day he arrived.

People found it to be odd but it wasn't uncommon for people to destroy something that symbolized their previous cosmic shackles that tethered them to the unseen forces beyond their control. They relished in their newfound freedom.

Besides those two there was Yrina, a blonde woman wearing odd looking pink clothes and blue gloves, like a flashy looking cosmonaut. She had arrived wet and disoriented and talking about sea monsters yet didn't elaborate.

"Mickey, cheers to your freedom. Cheers to all our freedoms" Yrina said, being already on her way to being drunk despite her only having been there for an hour or so. "Never take it for granted Mickey"

She proceeded to chug a huge mug of ale and slam the tankard down on the table, demanding a refill which Jenny obliged.

"Sorry about Yrina, she's a space pirate and her manners could use a bit work" Jenny whispered to Mickey.

Changing her volume she said: "You know Mickey, we were kind of not sure how this day would go. I was thinking of throwing a party for you with all your siblings and stuff. But I guess chatting to me and these three is your welcome party. Sorry about that"

"No ma'am its fine. You've been kind. I can mingle later on and this is nice. I do know Winnie, him and I go way back" Mickey raised his glass in the direction of Winnie and nodded.

"You're very kind to be there when folks like me break free. From what I've heard it can be disorienting and overwhelming and being here now I can vouch for that.

"Yeah that's why I built this place. I wanted to be there for everyone. To give them a welcome"

"How do you have time to greet all these people?"

"I'm Jenny Everywhere, I can handle more things than you can shake a stick at"

"You certainly made me feel welcome and at ease. I think I'll sit here for a while and take it in and then try to find Oswald"

He took off his hat and threw it in the garbage can next to him.

"Happy New Year everyone" Mickey cheered, met with equal enthusiasm from everyone there.

[punks-never-die205]

Passing Fascination

Fem Reader x Yandere!Eustass Kid

CW: kidnapping, yandere Eustass Kid, violence, dubious consent, imprisonment, abuse, swearing, sex, group sex, dark content kids I am not messing around with this ♥

Summary: Three Rivers Island was a unique island on the Grand Line. It had only two rivers, but those two rivers divided the island into thirds. One far bank was tightly controlled by Marines, the other far bank was controlled by pirates unofficially, and the center section was controlled by merchants - who welcomed both Pirates and Marines.

You grew up on Three Rivers, taking care of yourself with whatever jobs you could find. Port savvy and sassy enough to keep pirates inline, you're a barmaid at the local pirate-favored tavern. When Kid and his gang come into port you're pretty sure that it's merely passing fascination between you both, but Kid seems to have other ideas.

Chapter 1: That Night, This Morning

You balanced the large tray on the edge of the table, passing out drinks as the masked first-mate stood up and helped you pass them around. “Your starting round of ale, gentlemen.” You say with a smirk. The captain rolls his golden eyes and groans while the other crew members laugh.

“That’s gonna stick, huh?” Eustass Kid grumbles. “I told you sweetheart, we ain’t gentle.”

You tuck the tray under your arm and give him a crooked smile. “Could’ve fooled me, Red.” You say with a wink. “Whatcha boys having tonight?”

Kid leans forward, he’s a little irritated by the nickname, but he hasn’t explicitly told you to stop using it. “You on the menu tonight?”

“I’m only on the menu the day before.” You answer smoothly, giving him a sly smile.

“The day before what?” Wire asks, walking into your trap.

“The day before someone asks.” You answer. It only takes a second before the table bursts out laughing. You get the crew’s orders as the ruckus dies down, even getting a begrudging order from Eustass Kid.

You wake up slowly. You had fallen asleep so hard that it was almost hard to get yourself moving, but you had to get to work so you needed to get up. Hard as you slept, you must not have overslept, because your room was dark, and the shaky place you called home wasn’t light-proof.

Something pinged in the back of your mind as you pushed yourself upright, but you couldn’t sort out what it was in your morning haze. Your clothes were –

Wait.

Clothes?

You grab at your shirt as you sit up fully. You rarely went to bed in anything, it was too hot on the island even at night, and you couldn’t afford a fan to stay cool. But you were still in your clothes from your date with Kid.

The evening continues on without anything else of note happening. Once you’re done entirely and heading home – thank the seas you weren’t stuck closing – you step out into the night air and see Eustass Kid waiting for you.

None of his other crew was around, and he wasn’t hiding in the shadows. He was a massive guy, and far more than just a little intimidating, but he seemed to be doing everything he could to appear less so. Something about the effort alone makes you relax.

“What’s got you waiting out here, captain?” You inquire, looking up and down the street before stepping closer.

He gives you a look that pointedly answers your question and you can’t stop the nervous chuckle that escapes you.

“What time is it?” He questions, cracking his neck as he stretches a little.

“Mm, it was about 11:40pm when I walked out. Can’t be much later than that.”

“Perfect.” He says with a grin, coming over to you and stopping just far enough away you didn’t have to crane your neck to see his face. “I can put my order in for you for tomorrow then.”

“You – can… you…” You stammer a few times, feeling the heat rush up into your face. “I – I’m… flattered.” You take a step back, and clear your throat. “But… I don’t want to be anyone’s port-whore or port-girl or whatever. I… I have a very strict no-sailors rule.” You insist, waving a hand in front of yourself.

“… Just for a meal then.” Eustass concedes, giving you a look and a grin that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Let me treat you. Is there a fancy place you like in that middle island?”

“I, yes, but I mean…” You stammer. “I – I won’t budge, Mr. Eustass. I don’t want you to think I’m u-using you.”

“Using me?” Kid looks amused.

“For a… for a f-free meal, I mean.” You say apologetically. “The… the Avant Garde is an aptly named restaurant, with prices to match.”

He steps toward you, kneeling before he reaches out and brushes your cheek with the back of his finger. “No one uses me,” he says softly. “One meal. A second if you enjoy yourself. I won’t force my way into your pants.” He gives you a toothy grin. “It’s no good if you’re not begging me for it.”

As you’re more alert now, you realize what was bothering the back of your mind earlier. The room wasn’t just dark, it was windowless, and the soft rocking sensation was another problem.

You were not in your room.

The room was dark, but it wasn’t completely devoid of light. A transponder snail – the type for playing recordings – was sitting on a desk not too far away. It wasn’t looking at you, it was just projecting a blank image onto the wall, which created a bit of light in the room. Aside from the snail you were alone.

It smelled a little of oil, but mostly of oak and liquor. There was a subtle scent of ocean water, but the room was dry and the scents were crisp – clean.

Getting out of bed as your eyes adjusted, you stepped around the room carefully. There were shelves of books built into the walls with bars across them. Not in a way to stop anyone from getting to the books, but you assumed a way to keep them in place when the waters got choppy. It looked like there used to be more in the room, as though it was missing chairs and small knickknacks and other things that usually made a room look lived in.

You weren’t sure if things were removed to tidy the room, or if they were removed because of you, but you were fairly certain that you’d been kidnapped.

The steady rocking was unmistakable, and you knew for certain at least that you were on a ship. Your heart was nearly in your stomach, and your stomach was by no means steady the more you came to realize, but you walked toward the doors to the room regardless.

You put a hand on the door handle, taking a deep breath. What would you do if it opened? You didn’t know the layout of any ship, what good would leaving the room do? If you could find a room with a window you could jump into the ocean. You had no idea how long the ship had been at sea, but every moment pulled you further from your island, you were certain of that much.

No part of you ached. No one had, as far as you could sense, touched you. Aside from whatever it took to get you on this ship in the first place. You were being treated kindly, but that was irrelevant right now.

Waiting in here did you no good so you put pressure on the handle and winced as it slowly rotated, allowing you to crack the door open. Light from the hallway spilled in, and you gave your eyes a moment to adjust before opening it wide enough to step out in the hall.

The quiet was a little unnerving, but you’d take whatever graces you were given. You strained your hearing to gather any useful sounds as you moved quickly and quietly down the hall. You were still in your clothes from the date, minus your shoes, but the shoes were noisy so you were okay without them. You were just grateful you’d opted for a nice shirt and some capri pants for your date. Shuffling around in a dress would’ve been a hassle.

You could hear the sounds of people sleeping as you worked your way down the hall. You didn’t want to open the door to an occupied room, so you continued onward. Eventually, you came to a door with a window in it – moonlight hitting the wall from outside.

It was still dark outside, which meant that most of the crew would likely be asleep, and not just a few loud snorers recovering from a night shift. You stopped by the door, cursing your height, and inability to see out the window effectively. If someone was watching the door, it would be better to just walk out of it and take stock of what you could as fast as you could. Otherwise, you’d end up pinned before you could make it onto the deck.

Stepping through the door you stepped around and took in what you could. A mostly empty, broad deck, with what looked like a few people resting up against the railings. The moon was bright, and you were glad your clothes were fairly dark in color, if you’d gone with something pastel you’d be lit up like a beacon compared to everything else.

You didn’t want anyone to notice you until you were within leaping distance of the rail. You were currently the smallest thing on this ship, you were sure of it.

These men were big – wide, tall, full of muscles and scars and spikes and leather and ostentatious furs. Even the women in the crew fit the aesthetic. These looked like people who could level a tavern because they had a good time, and then leave enough money to rebuild the place better because they wanted to come back later to a better time.

And woe to the tavern owner not able to comply.

But their behavior was keeping the other pirate crews in line by default. Eustass “Captain” Kid and his crew were part of the worst generation, bounties in the millions. Bounties created a kind of hierarchy among pirates – most wouldn’t cause a commotion when higher bounties were around. They’d happily join in if those pirates started shit though, of that you could be sure.

Despite the higher-than-average collection of pirate vessels, the port thrived. It was one of the best places in the New World to stock up. Part of the island was tightly protected and controlled by the navy, but the other two thirds of it was very loose on the rules. Two rivers divided the island neatly.

The center island facilitated things between the two extremes, creating a unique situation all the way around. Pirates and Marines rarely ventured into the center area, a place almost exclusively controlled by merchants and couriers, with pockets deep enough to afford guards that could keep both marines and pirates in place. There were rumors some of the guards were ex Cipher Pol agents, or people who only quit being pirates when they barely survived facing the Emperors.

So, by that alone, there weren’t many people who could give them a hard time. Thus, a tidy balance was struck on the island – one that was mutually beneficial for everyone involved.

Three Rivers’ port was big, and busy, and if you were still anywhere near, you’d be able to at least find a passing ship. Statistically your chances were pretty good. You were a strong swimmer, and as you reached the rail you hadn’t heard anyone stirring or paying you any mind. Looking at the horizon, you were certain you could see the island.

You walked steadily alongside the rail looking for a lifeboat. The release would make noise, but so would you if you leapt overboard. You could get further faster in the rowboat, and once your arms gave out you could just ditch the boat and swim. It would take time for the larger boat to turn around and come after you.

You were nearly at the stern of the ship when you saw what you needed. A small, two-person at most and probably just large enough to hold a single crew member from this crew, rowboat with a quick release. Considering the vibe of the crew that you came to know over their week in port, you doubted it was for someone to run away. Whatever it was used for, it’s what you needed right now.

The wind was coming in straight from the island, and that put luck on your side. Turning into the wind was going to be hard for the big ship, and the wide arc would give you time enough to reach the shore.

Hopping into the boat you gave it as thorough a check as you could spare. Seeing no major damage or cracks, and finding two well-cared for oars, you braced yourself against the rails and kicked the quick release hard. It sent a jolt up your foot that made it throb, but you’d have to worry about any major injury later.

The boat dropped, hitting the water loudly.

Water curled up around the sides and splashed into the boat, but not enough to sink the small vessel and it buoyed onto the water’s surface easily enough. You gave your stomach half a second to settle from the intense drop and set both the oars.

The oars hit the water as the call rang out on the ship, and you stayed still. The ship was moving away from you under its own power, and the longer it took for the people on board to sort out what happened the better for you.

There was no sense in giving yourself away by rowing and making more noise.

Seconds stretched into a minute, two minutes, the ship was far enough away now that no one was going to be able to hook and haul you back in, so you started rowing. The commotion was covering your sounds at this point as well, and you were experienced at rowing.

You weren’t going to panic and work harder than you needed to. Setting your feet against the second bench you braced yourself and made long, slow, full strokes, letting what power you had from years of bartending and running row boats through the shores for testing help you.

Dip, twist, haul, twist, lift. It was almost soundless as you rowed the boat away.

It wasn’t noise that gave you away, eventually it was the moon.

“Straight off the stern!” Came the call. “Fuck, how’d she get so far?!”

You grin a little. The only change you make are the twists. There’s no need to set the oars in or lift them quietly. Rowing is power over speed though, so you didn’t pick up your pace. You didn’t hurt your foot too bad kicking the quick release either, it wasn’t bleeding enough to be seen and it only throbbed a little from the point of impact.

Considering you’d been kidnapped by pirates, your luck was winning through. Once you got ashore and got your bearings sorted you could work on trying to remember how you ended up on Eustass Kid’s ship.

For now though, you needed to stay focused on rowing as efficiently as possible.