#no spoilers though please 🙏🙏

[all-too-unwell-13]

"it's just a one off" "i'm not asking you to join us again"

LIAR. anthony lockwood, i can practically see it in your eyes.

tell me that wasn't him trying to ask her to come back!!!! bc it totally was!!!!!

[suncaptor]

tragically watching killing eve and just feeling so horrific for eve's poor husband.

[couldbebetterforsure]

Okay folks I’m back from my vacation, so now I can go back to posting about my Jack Jeanne playthrough!!!! I finished the Fall Performance before my vacation but I didn’t have time to post my thoughts before I left, so let’s get to it then!

Man, Mary Jane as a play was so creepy and wild and enjoyable! I loved how it managed to be both fucked up and lighthearted at the same time??? Also it just may have my favorite play related CGs so far because WOW there were some fantastic CGs for this play!!! Mary Jane herself is such a fun and sad character in how lonely she is and how warped she is by that loneliness, and yet how kind she also is. Fumi yet again did a wonderful job in this role! All the ghosts managed to be funny and sweet characters. Suzu, Neji, Mitsuki, and Otori did wonderfully (while also having the funniest costumes I let out such a dumb laugh when I saw Suzu’s)! Otori I think you’re meant for the weird roles, just embrace your fate…And man were Figaro and Charles just sooooo delightfully unhinged! Kisa, my girl, she truly did a masterful job in her second Jack role and that maniacal laugh of hers was fucking incredible. But Sou…fucking Soshiro Yonaga…holy fucking shit!!!! More on him later….But anyways the pair were also pitiful in that along with their hatred of ghosts, it’s understandable that they were so angry at Mary specifically for (albeit unknowingly) using their friends’ corpses to make Jacob and man Figaro going absolutely batshit after Charles died because that’s his brother, his twin…What absolutely fun villains! Well at least they can be together as ghosts, right?

Some more A+ music from the play! A Friend Without a Name was such a lovely tune, reminded me in many ways of a music box. Fumi and Kai had some wonderful choreography for this song. Hallelujah Shout the name of God, My Friends was my favorite of the three for sure! I loved how it shifted so much and the way Kisa, Sou, and Fumi’s voices all came together! Ghost Party is a very close second, it’s so damn catchy!!! Like I wasn’t really feeling it when I heard the instrumental during the practice but when I got to hear the actual performance I was bouncing along so much I fucked up the rhythm game 😂😂😂 Still got the SS rank though ✌️ Then again, I am playing the rhythm games on normal mode, which is SUPER forgiving regarding how much you can fuck up and still get the best rank.

And good GRIEF the drama going on with Quartz throughout all of this! I mentioned this earlier but the sheer shock I felt when the cast list first came out and Sou didn’t get a named role. I truly didn’t expect that to happen! I figured there’s no way that doesn’t change, it doesn’t seem right, but I was getting worried there as we got closer and closer to performance day! The buildup to what happened with Sou for the Fall Performance had been building up slowly, like I’ve said before he’s shown he’s getting frustrated with his performance on stage. Especially when compared to how Kisa and Suzu, his two closest friends in Univeil, have been performing in the last two plays…I said before that what he needed was the chance to prove himself in a role that truly clicked for him. But then he wasn’t given a named role for Mary Jane…And geez you see how badly that destroys him despite him trying to stay his polite and soft spoken self, to the point of even ignoring Kisa and Suzu. Which all comes to a head when Suzu and Sou have their big fight, which leads to Sou being the loudest I’ve ever heard him at that point in the game. While I was so uncomfortable in that fight because “nooo boys please you’re friends don’t do this 😭😭😭”, I liked that I could get both sides of the argument. Because on Suzu’s end one of his closest friends has suddenly started ignoring him and won’t explain anything and it’s also clearly hurting another one of their mutual friends (Kisa), while on Sou’s end his insecurities and frustration at how his own efforts aren’t matching up to what he wants and how his friends are seemingly getting where they want to be so easily and seemingly aren’t as gutted by disappointment made him reach his breaking point.

Coupled with Sou’s drama is Suzu’s own drama. Suzu struggling to play a villain role so unlike who he is, a cunning guy. Gosh when I heard Suzu was gonna okay a villain I was sooooooooo hyped!!! He struggled but that’s the thing about Suzu, he struggles but he gets there eventually because he doesn’t stop trying. I was so ready to see him as the cunning and arrogant Jean Jose!!! But then…his injury…You know I remembered a while back a random Suzu event I saw had him mention a scar on his ankle if I remember right, and I was like 👀 at that info but then it was never brought up again so I thought it was just a random fun fact or something. But then as the weeks went on for the Fall Performance, Suzu was shown occasionally struggling with his foot. I actually thought maybe he sprained it in that early practice scene but then I remembered that scar thing and was like “👀👀👀👀👀 oh????? is it related?!?!?!?!??!?!!?!!” And then BAM!!! My poor sweet boy’s ankle couldn’t hold out anymore…Gosh that reveal that he had to give up kendo because of how bad the injury was…And how acting, specifically Univeil performances, gave him a reason to keep going again and a new dream…But now his ankle gave out and now there’s that chance acting could be taken from him too. I wonder if we’ll get more info on his injury, specifically what caused it. Because I admit I’m not too familiar with kendo but I’ve seen some pictures and stuff of it, and I can’t figure out what on earth happened to Suzu that injured him THAT badly. Based on a convo with Neji earlier, I can guess either he or the person he was sparring with wasn’t careful enough but I’d like more details. But yeah seeing how much of a brave face he was putting on, especially when he was cleared to come back but no longer had a role in the play. That scene between him and Kisa when he admits how scared he is murdered me…My poor sweetheart….

Also the way that before the fight was officially cleared up between Suzu and Sou the two of them were already friends again. Sou wanting to practice all the play lines to help Suzu and Kisa with rehearsals while Suzu told Neji to give the role to Sou if he couldn’t stand on stage himself. The way Suzu had no hard feelings towards Sou about being replaced. Sou at the end of the performance telling Suzu that HE is the one Sou doesn’t wanna lose to most 😭😭😭😭 I love all of Quartz so much but the first years are special to me because they really are the best friend trio.

And maaaan, Quartz really does have the best senpai in the world!!! Mitsuki, Fumi, and Kai all helping out Suzu, Kisa, and Sou respectively regarding the fight. Mitsuki and Fumi both standing up to Utsuri and Kakuto when they wanted to start shit with poor Kisa. The fact that Neji at the last moment added an entirely new character to the play just so that Suzu wouldn’t be left out! I mean when they changed the okay so that Sou would play Figaro and as Charles’ brother instead, Neji only needed to fix stuff related to that. But he also went and gave Suzu a new role that wouldn’t stress his ankle out because he knew that despite Suzu trying to be lighthearted about it he desperately wanted to stand on the stage too. For all that Neji thrives on chaos he’s much kinder than he lets on ☺️

Anyways, Sou’s acting in Mary Jane was nuts, absolutely bonkers. The way he kept such a calm tone for most of the play before starting to yell some lines once Figaro and Charles revealed their true purpose. And then…the masterpiece…Figaro’s screaming after Charles died….I truly thought Sou was gonna throw his voice out with how absolute batshit those screams were. How did his VA manage to NOT destroy his voice??? And the CG that accompanied that moment? Perfection. You know half of the audience went home and had nightmares after that. But yeah I was right, Sou got the role that clicked for him. He got to showcase what he’s made of and I can only hope he’ll improve from here! And he deserved that reward, I would’ve entered this game and fought all of Univeil if he didn’t get anything after that performance. Also I really loved Fumi finally getting a chance to be free and not be so tied down from being Quartz’s responsible senpai and getting to truly showcase his skill by competing with Kisa and Sou.

Final note, while I loved Mary Jane and think everything that went down in the Fall Performance arc was great, I’m sad we never got Jean Jose realized. I wanted to see my boy Suzu play a villain role 😞😞😞 Neji, babe, please come through for me and give me the gift of villain Suzu for the Winter Performance! Please do me this one solid, Neji 🙏

[happi-tree]

Terry Jr for that character ask game ?

Hihihi Aether! Hope you're doing well, lovebird <333

So, Terry Jr. TJ. Teej. *begins weeping*

First impression: A little bit of a brat. Somewhat understandable between juggling teenage angst and adjusting to Ron's, uh, Ron-ness (affectionate <3), but would it kill him to be a little nicer about it? :/

Impression now: THAT'S MY FUCKING SON AND I MISS HIM TERRIBLY!!! So sick and twisted of Anthony to do that to him 😭😭😭 He's been through so much and he just wants to be there for his stepdaughter like his stepfather was there for him and!!!! Dissolves into a puddle of tears.

Favorite moment: Either the entire Thing that was the end of Tower of Terry or when he spotted Scary picking up the lunch he made for her and smiled about it :') I love him so much

Idea for a story: Hhhhhh this is one I've been meaning to actually write for a bit and have talked about a ton on Discord but! AU with seasoned vampire Terry Jr attempting to take fledgling vampire Scary under his wing. Scary is Not Having It, obviously (and is even MORE adamantly against it once she figures out he's coincidentally the new guy her mom's been seeing), but eventually she falls super ill bc she hasn't had blood in awhile and so Terry guiltily takes care of her while she's too out of it to argue. It only further complicates things that they were both Turned by the same man (Willy Stampler, obviously). They end up having a bit of a heart-to-heart on what it is to be a monster and how to live with yourself when you have to kill to stay alive sometimes and when you have the knowledge that you'll outlive everyone you know and love. Terry has no idea if she'll remember any of this conversation once she gets a good day's rest, but it feels like something of a breakthrough to him :')

Unpopular opinion: Hmmm idk the general opinion the fandom has bc it seems like things are mixed rn. The only "unpopular" option that's coming to mind for him right now is him just. Not coming back. But I do want him to come back in some way, so??? Hm. Oh! I think it would be cool if he switched classes between seasons from a caster to more of a fighter - not ONLY would it explain why Anthony is constantly referring to him as a "swordboy" and why he hasn't cast a single spell, it also gives him another parallel with Scary - they have both given up some element of the past selves (Scary, her peppy persona, Terry, his wizardry) in order to pursue what they think will serve them best. Also, it's quite possible that Terry associates his talent for learning magic with his trauma from Faerun and is attempting to distance himself from that (his mother is a therapist, after all, so I think that if one of the kiddads is going to make a single choice in favor of their own mental wellbeing, it's probably him). Anyway. Is this anything.

Favorite relationship: Terry and Scary I think! They just mirror each other in SUCH interesting and complex ways and episode 36 has only further solidified that for me 🥰

Favorite headcanon: Not so much a headcanon as a series of predictions, but I LOVE the idea of Terry coming back as a vampire. I also saw someone mention the possibility of Terry coming back as an Aasimar, which would be soooooo fucking neat, especially since it draws an interesting dichotomy between himself and Nicky. Angel/demon imagery and all that. I can already feel the desire to make Terrick content if that ends up being the case. That said, I hope he comes back and I hope he comes back Wrong :)))

[asleepinawell]

I'm about to pass out but I just had a galaxy brain moment about the parallels between balder (bayonetta) and emet-selch (ffxiv) and I cannot stop laughing like both one of the last survivors of a civilization that got destroyed in a war of light vs dark, both trying to resurrect a dead god, something something the sin eaters reminded me of the laguna something, the Dramatic Hoe factor, they both were involved in blowing up a moon

(please no spoilers past the end of shadowbringers (5.0, no patches yet))

[zikadraws]

Ok first question to Doug: why would you want to be alive again? I’m generally curious and wanna know, and to Henry: how come you want back to the studio? Did anything made you want to? If you had a chance, would you go save the creations that reside in there?

{Oh boy, that sure does for a long read ahead ! Please buckle up, and enjoy.}

-----------------------------------------

Doug : "Ha, ha, well, actually, here's the thing, I don't want to be alive again- well, not really. I'm not doing this whole demon ring thing for myself, you know. I don't- I'm not doing things for myself anymore.''

''When I was searching for answers and read about the ring, its legend described it as "powerful enough to provide whose who acquires it a second chance", and as vague as it is, that's about the kind of stuff I research. Not necessarily a second chance for me- a chance to... You know... Right my wrongs, and make up for all the suffering I've caused to- to my family.''

''That's for them that I do what I'm doing. I was absolutely awful to both of them, a self-absorbed... awful... selfish... stupid... coward, and everything that I would have wished I'd never be, and my selfishness ended with me doing something horrible to Elise, which caused her death and- and Tammy's. They both died, because I'm a horrible person that should have never been involved in their lives.''

''I tried everything I could think of to try and make up for it- Religion, charity, prison, you name it. I have not been living for myself in the past 40 years, and nothing I've done has brought me even near to find peace.''

''Now I've grown old. I'm old, I'm tired, and I never found peace for my sins. And I've recently learnt that I developed cancer, so I'm ready to give it up for the extreme. I've tried everything, and I'm up to date soon anyway, so I might as well give up the few life I have left for a last resort. To be honest, I didn't actually think this demonic stuff would work, but now that I'm here, I'm ready to give it all.''

''I'm never going to wake up anyway, and I know I'm going to hell no matter what. So if my dying soul can at least give them a chance to live again and go on without me, I'm ready to give it up. To Bierce, to Malak, the ring, or whatever. They deserve to go on without me. They deserve better. ...And if it instead gives me the chance to go back to before and do better with them, I'm all kinds of willing to be a better person."

''I'm going to die anyway. ...It's been a long time since it's not about me anymore."

Henry : ''*sigh* It's not that I'm particularly thrilled about going back in this sad excuse of a hellhole, but our dimensions are broken. Even if I really love the people I've met here, and even if this is a most welcome break from the usual ink dripping nightmare loop bullshit, we don't belong here. I just know this wasn't supposed to happen, and it's probably best not to keep our dimensions shattered like that. Which is why I want to bring things back. There's no need to let our demons share tips or whatever, if you know what I mean."

"(Also the Ink Demon seems to try to 'spread' around. This can't possibly be good.)''

"As for why I'm still journeying through the studio loop, I honestly don't really know by now. I know what's going to happen, but somehow I can't manage to prevent it from happening. It's always the same result and it's starting to really corrode my spite or whatever's still animating me. I've become so numb to all of this, you have no idea. I'm so tired. ...The reason I'm still doing this, I guess, is because I want to see my family again. I want to see my wife Linda, let her know I'm not dead, see my son again, his wife as well. They're such a sweet couple, you know... I was there for their baby shower. I promised I would be there for the birth of their child. But because of this stupid fucking cartoon guilt trip it's probably passed by now, I couldn't have been here to see their kid, I'm... Goddammit, I want to get to meet my grandkid is all ! I want to see Linda again ! Is that asking too much ???"

"...So yes, this is the main reason I still have hope. My wedding ring is my most valued possession by now."

"As for whether or not I would save the creations of the studio would I be given the occasion... Honestly, I don't know. I've stopped caring about Bendy, Alice, Boris & company a long time ago. It was just supposed to be a failed try in my career, and as amusing as these characters could be, they were just... Characters... They didn't mean much more than that to me. It was Joey's idea, not mine. These don't really count as persons to me, sorry to say that. And I don't really think it's a good idea to consider them as such.''

''I do want to try and save my co-workers, though. These are people,and they've never asked for this. They've endured way too much, for way too long. They deserve to be set free- in one way of the word... or another.''

''...Maybe I can actually achieve something of some sort, someday. ...Anything."

"(Also I really want to have a clarification of some sort about whatever the hell the Ink Demon actually is, and whatever became of Joey. I'm pretty sure the one I found in his office isn't the real one. I require a long, honest, clear talk over here.)"

-----------------------------------------

So that was their answer ! Sorry if it was quite long and mixed, I wanted to try and picture an actual conversation. To resume, here's the facts :

-----

Doug isn't counting on being alive anymore, and would actually rather sacrifice himself to allow his daughter and wife to live again, as his redemption. He knows he's going to hell anyway- and fully believes he deserves it.

Henry is still trying to break the loop because he dreams to see his family again, but he's getting slowly increasingly delusional and is more and more just trying to get anything different to happen, and has grown numb to the fate of his coworkers due to the never ending loops. He's also in complete denial to the idea that the Toons could have possibly gained sentience, and refuses to consider them as anything but fictive characters.

-----

Thanks for your questions ! These are really good ones :) don't hesitate if you have more ✨✨✨ (but please do so on the blog dedicated to the AU @it-takes-four thank you very much 🙏)

[ian0key]

SAM/SASHA AND ALICE/TIM????

TMAGP ep 1-2 Spoilers!! (And TMA Spoilers!)

Do you realize how similar Alice and Sam are to Tim and Sasha?

Many of you talked about Alice being fun, carefree and the comic relief, like Tim in the first season.

But what happens if we look deeper? I start with Alice and Tim because I think they are the most obvious

-Alice does not have "professional respect" for either Gwen or Lena.

Just like what happened between Tim and Jon. But none of them go so far as to "completely disrespect them."(at least S1 Tim).

-Alice has a younger brother who she apparently cares a lot about, just like Tim was with Danny. Besides, (this is my theory), but the way they introduced Alice's brother, I get the feeling that his fate won't be very different from poor Danny's.

-They know more than they say, Alice clearly knows more than she tells Sam,Alice has been working for the government for at least 4 years, and the only time she acted seriously was to tell Sam that he shouldn't get too involved in the cases, because she saw people go crazy because of it.

Something similar happened with Tim in the first seasons, he knew that the Fears were real, he knew things about the stranger, he was looking for revenge..

And now on to the similarities between Sam and Sasha.

-They were both overqualified for their position, Lena told Sam that the job he applied for was too low for his level, but he didn't care,on the other hand ,Sasha must have been The Archivist, Gerdtrud knew this, that's why her warning notes were made for her, but Elias found out after Killing Gerdtrud and left Sasha as assistant and put Jon as The Archivist..

-Sam is calm, he follows Alice's games but is professional towards his colleagues, Just like the little we saw of Sasha, She treated Jon quite well even though at the time Jon was a bit... very Shitty.

That's why Jon trusted her so much.

-Curiosity , Sam asked a lot of questions throughout the first 2 chapters, and when he didn't get answers he started investigating on his own. When Sasha met Michael, she wanted answer,without caring about the danger.

Also, That could have been a foreshadowing that Sam will be connected to the Eye of this reality???.

- Both of their names start with "SA" but that's not very important /j

And finally, we analyze Alice and Sam as a duo and the parallels they have with Tim and Sasha.The two of them complement each other perfectly, they play each other's games and we feel their connection.

Besides Alice and Sam are exes (although I think it's more of a reference to Georgie and Jon) Sasha and Tim always had an "almost something?????".like we heard in the fifth season..

I don't know, at some point I felt like I was listening to the reincarnations of the chaotic Archives duo , you know what I mean?

(English is not my first language, please let me know if I have any spelling mistakes🙏)

[anonymouscheeses]

Obvious shit I noticed part 3 (spoilers for welcome to heaven)

Look at her! "Teehee"

Also she's nervous! Foreshadowing omg 🤯

STICKERS! Two pride stickers and a cute donut. Gives me an idea to draw Chaggie at a donut shop while everything is burning down <3 (I'll probably do it but if any artist wants to as well go ahead!)

*CHOKES ON COFFEE* I LOVE THEM. I'M SORRY I GET SO GIDDY WHEN THEY HAVE EVEN THE SMALLEST INTERACTION BUT UGHHH I NEED MORE, IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH 🙏🙏

KISSY! MWA! *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*

Vivzie give me more, moar now. MOAR

DAMN. SHE CAN THROW- or maybe it just exaggerates the perspective in this frame but still- ZAMNNN

Cherri x Sir Pentious fans RISE UP.

I wasn't ever really a fan of it myself but I always thought it was CUTE. Like 3 seconds before this part I was already begging for them to kiss 😭

More foreshadowing!

AAAAAA CREEPY BIRD THINGS!!!

Oh wait- Sera's hot and Emily's already adorable

If heaven don't look like what this is in the show, I DONT WANT IT! (THATS A JOKE PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME)

JEALOUS GIRLFRIEND VAGGIE!! Can I just say how much I love Vaggie's face expressions? Not just here but like all the time. She's just made to be so exaggerated, out of all of them I thought it would be Charlie who would have the most dramatic faces but Vaggie wins it for me. I JUST GIGGLE SO HARD WHEN SHE LOOKS LIKE THIS BAHAHAH

Okay yeah. It's very obvious now. Vaggie is definitely an ex-exterminator. They don't close in on Charlie here so it's made to subtly nudge the attention to Vaggie. HOW DID THEY IMMEDIATELY NOTICE IT WAS HER THO??

Hot-

That's it.

SHARE THAT MOTHUSSY GIRL-

YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE GREW OUT ALL OF THAT HAIR?!? YEAH ITS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE THEN BUT STILL AJJSJD.

But overall the design is pretty meh. I always loved the idea of short hair Vaggie and even have seen art of it but it's just yknow, alright. Reminds me of Cassandra from Tangled: the series. IM LISTENING TO ONE OF THE SONGS RIGHT NOW HELPPP

THIS SCENE HERE! WOOOOO! SO GLAD WE KNOW WHEN AND WHERE THEY FIRST MET!! Wish we got it extended tho. And also probably push it to next episode so it would have a better impact(atleast I think thats when they'll have the duet). BUT WHATEVER SOMETHING IS BETTER THAN NOTHING! or uh whatever

Vaggie must've been a bit terrified at first. The only sinner she ever sent mercy to was a child. Then to see someone who to her is an adult sinner who just looks really human, that must be crazy. BUT THEN IF SHE WAS TOLD THAT CHARLIE WAS ACTUALLY THE PRINCESS OF HELL? HOOOO, LOCK IN AND STEAL HER. THAT'S SOME WATTPAD SHIT. Also, I wonder how long Charlie thought of redeeming sinners. It would make sense to be after meeting Vaggie, since it could have been a wake up call to the fact not all sinners are bad people. Even though Vaggie isn't a sinner technically, Charlie didn't know that at the time. But maybe Charlie was always like this but just needed to meet someone who could start her dream with her. Long rant uhhh

Haha penis 🫵

SCRAP WHATEVER I SAID IN THE FIRST PART. THEY PROBABLY DO FUCK- OR DONT?? I DONT KNOW- ANYWAY LESBIAN SEX (BOTTOM TEXT). WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH??? SOMEONE PULL THE TRIGGER.

Lute looks like a basic asf anime gorl. Adam doesn't ever take his helmet off, or maybe he just can't. OH HE'S DOING THE GAY SIGN 💅💅 Very appropriate for what he's saying

Mentor, apprentice. I love that Husk is just trying to help Angel grow but isn't going to force him into it if he doesn't want to.

Im not a fan of huskerdust and think they'd be better friends as I can't imagine a relationship with them at all. But it's still nice and they are supportive of eachother so that's like- yknow. Basic rules. Or something like that. (HELP. I ruined it all at the last part)

I- girl- WHY IS SHE GROWLING?? GRR GRR RR (INSERT TWILIGHT SAGA HERE)

VAGGIE'S FACE. SENDS ME. WHO GAVE HER THESE OVERDRAMATIC EXPRESSIONS, I APPLAUD YOU RGAGAGA

Ooo... I didnt like this part at all... Instead of making the choice she just runs off. Then because the plot demands it, Adam says nothing. Kinda whish she atleast avoided the question, maybe in some way that would require actual thinking? For a character like Vaggie, she could choose either way and it feel like it's still her. If she chose to protect Charlie's dream, she would still be perfectly loyal to her but in the act of so would reveal a secret that could harm their relationship(which does happen at the end but that's because the plot wanted it like that). If she chose to side with Adam, she'd be hurting Charlie emotionally, sure, but it would keep a secret that could make Charlie see Vaggie less than who she is to her already(atleast what Vaggie might think would happen). Imo it should've been her deciding to protect Charlie, since it would mean she's devoted to her at all times.

ANOTHER THING! IF SHE COULDN'T MAKE THE CHOICE, THAT IS SOMETHING INTERESTING TO GO INTO. Maybe it could go deeper into how Vaggie doesn't know who she is without Charlie. So when she has a choice to make, like here, she can't do it without feeling the need to ask Charlie. BUT NOOO, YA HAD TO GO WITH THIS!! Wow. That was a long ass rant. Wtf 😭

Maybe I'm a dumbass. Maybe they'll talk about that next episode, but still, atleast touch on it a bit to not seem rushed?

Angel looking out for his kids like a mom. We always did need the motherly figure, the one closest to that being Charlie but girl needs a mother in her life too(damn, wait, I did her so dirty).

Huh, so why does it work here then? 🤨🤨 if it was said in the contract that Valentino can do whatever he wants only in the studio, then why is this the exception? 🤨🤨

Yes I'm stupid. Why do you ask? (No genuinely what's happening here)

OH ITS THE IMAGE! I really like Sera so far, hope we get more of her soon or in season 2.

Now that we know the context of this, yeah, that's fucking insane. And badass. WOMEN.

HMM. THATS STRANGE. DID YOU NOT FOR ONCE THINK THERE COULD BE A POSSIBILITY SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN ANGEL? Okay I probably wouldn't either but I have an excuse, I'm an idiot. Some girl with a standing out outfit, with one eye, looks unusually human, right after/during the extermination... that's pretty solid ass proof. But I'm dumb so don't take anything i say seriously :D

Imagine this. No- shit. Just-

JUST LOOK! THEY ARE SO CUTE! EVEN THOUGH CRAZY SHIT IS HAPPENING.

*SWEATS*

Vaggie is DESPERATE. PLEADING. That's obvious yeah, but don't mind me I had nothing to say for the last 3 images I just thought they were cool

I mean. Slay I guess. 😍💅

Do all the exterminators look similar or is it just Lute and Vaggie? 🤨

Even though Vaggie and Charlie may be going through this horrible thing with a hard punch in the gut, but Vaggie is always going to comfort her and I just think that's so adorable.

Also Adam looks like a chicken hah.

Everyone fears to be like Lucifer. If they don't do bad things they believe are for the greater good and make sacrifices that put them higher than those in hell, they could themselves be fallen. It's really interesting but I don't know if it's going to be fleshed out enough with the amount of episodes left. Which also worries me about everything else that still hasn't be concluded. There's gonna be loose strings I just know it. Hopefully though they rather do that then rush everything out y'know?

I want the next episode to be mostly focused on Vaggie and Charlie's relationship and the healing of what happened. Not for the entire episode of course, it would feel drawn out if it did, but atleast address the problem for the first like I would say 10 minutes? Then the rest would focus on one or two loose threads while also having Vaggie and Charlie acting upon moving on. That's just my idea but yeah-

[leighlew3]

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THE MARVELS.

But I’ll refrain from direct spoilers for now. It’s mildly spoiler-y maybe but very generalized and I’m gonna talk around some stuff. 😅

The nutshell?

It’s legit SO fun. It’s a fun, funny as hell, really ENJOYABLE time at the movies. I laughed. Got misty. Felt feels. And wow… THE CAMEOS!!! 🔥

This movie is for everybody. Families should have a great time. But fangirls especially will LOVE. Highly recommend for a SMILE. 😸

Cool action. Great music. Lovable cast (I will adore Iman Vellani as Kamala Khan forever). Laugh out loud moments. I loved it. It didn’t unnecessarily waste time nor stretch anything out. It’s just under 2 hours and it WORKS.

Look, yeah it’s blah blah random plot lore lore etc but it opens up for the future while giving a blast of a ride in the present (and nods to the past). 😉

Go. Now. 👍

And stay for the mid-credit scene!

Lastly, IMO, it’s all very queer coded. Baity even. THAT 🎶 scene was the one iffy thing for me. Kinda silly, and really felt like a “no homo” for the straights but a wink wink and super coded for the LGBTQs. “Marriage of convenience” … 🤐💀 Anyway it’s pretty clear Carol and Valkyrie definitely hooked up. And we all know Maria was so totally her partner before, because come on already… Monica is her dang daughter, that “Aunt” shit ain’t flyin’. And Kamala is hardcore CRUSHIN’ on Carol. 😂

Also one of the cameos at the end. Of all characters they chose the one people are also shipping with another female character, played by an actress beloved by the sapphics for her previous queer roles? And the cats?! So many cats. 💀 Plus Valkyrie in a suit? SAPPHICS RISE.

This entire movie was a whole fruit basket but in a way that slides past heteronormative audiences so “families can still enjoy” (🙄) but that’s a whole other ramble (or rant) for another day.

In the meantime… it’s so fun, y’all. Please GO. It’s important to support projects like these or they’ll keep pulling back on women and POC in these things. Even though the strike impacted promotion and the butthurt fragile misogynists are trying to review bomb (as always). It’s legit a fun time and if you hated it I have to just assume you hate fun, so. Go. See it. Spread the word. 🙏

[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 ©

[reiderwriter]

♣️ To Warm a Lonely Night ♣️

Chapter 6 of That's What You Get

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Prev. Chapter || Next Chapter

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: With a few days of leave ahead of you, you wake up in Spencer's apartment with absolutely no plans to leave. All in the pursuit of regaining your memory, of course.

Warnings: none, but there is one sexually explicit-ish sentence at the end (which may or may not be a spoiler for the next chapter, who knows 👀).

A/N: Ahh! I can't believe we're halfway through! This one is mainly fluff, and I hope you love it because it's building to something more next Chapter tee hee. It's a bit later of an upload today because I've been so busy at work, so please forgive me lol 🙏 And please, please, PLEASE let me know in the comments/reblogs/through an ask what you think about it! It'd would make my week 🩷

True to his word, Spencer provided you with a toothbrush, toothpaste, wet tissues to remove your make-up with, a generous amount of pajama options, and a warm bed. You had shyly accepted everything and readied yourself for bed in a matter of minutes, half of you cursing your stupidity at landing in this situation and the other half of you jumping for joy at being back in the same bed as him.

He was right about there being a possibility that the two of you jumping into bed together - again - could jog some memories for you. The only solid memory you had of your marriage was, after all, waking up the day after. So you’d thrown on the plaid pajama bottoms and oversized sweatshirt that surely must’ve been big on him too, and slunked back into his bedroom.

He was already there of course, folding down the covers to his bed and climbing in, trying to make it seem more comfortable and appealing by removing the stacks of books that were strewn across it.

“Sorry, don’t get much use out of that side of the bed,” he said, noticing your eyes on him at that moment.

“You don’t? After everything you said, I assumed that you had… frequent visitors.” You looked up at his face to gauge his reaction, delighted by the flush of color that greeted you there.

He cleared his throat and turned away, shelving another set of books. “It’s not… I’m not that great at picking up women if you hadn’t already guessed that, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, you managed to get me to marry you in the span of less than three hours, Spencer, so I’d say you’re plenty good at it.”

“That was the alcohol, though.”

“It wasn’t.” You let the thought hang in the air between you, having mumbled it so quietly you weren’t sure if he even heard you. You cleared your throat and tried again.

“I mean, can you imagine if some random guy had tried to pick me up and marry me this weekend? Hotch would’ve had to arrest me. Or worse.” You laughed a little to ease the tension of your sudden almost-confession. What the hell were you thinking, blurting out something like that?

“Thank god you got me, then, right?” Spencer smiled back at you, sitting up on the edge of the bed facing you.

“Yeah. Thank god.” You moved towards him then, awkwardly asking which side you should sleep on, and he quickly moved over for you, letting you climb up into the bed as he returned to the door to shut it and turn the lights off.

You listened to his footsteps as he returned to the bed, pulling the covers up and over himself, trying not to confuse his movements with your heavy heartbeat. He didn’t reach out to you, and so you didn’t reach out to him, the two of you awkwardly facing each other in bed, not touching in even the smallest of places.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

–X–

You hoped that you would wake up tangled up in him, that his arms would be wrapped around you, his legs buried deep between your own. You hoped that his breath would be warm on your neck, that he would take the plunge and give you a good morning kiss, and that he would pull you closer into him, suggesting that the two of you not move for another hour at least.

Instead, you woke alone, the bedsheets still warm as you heard the sounds of running water soundtrack your morning. Spencer was gone, and he hadn’t bothered to wake you.

Of course, this was his apartment, and you knew exactly where it was since your brain had finally kicked into gear two minutes into consciousness, but the overwhelming disappointment had you almost frustrated to tears.

So much for trying to jog the memories of your wedding.

You cautiously climbed out of bed after hearing the shower switch off, following the dying trail of steam to the bathroom just as he emerged from within.

“Y/N. You’re awake, good morning.” He greeted you, almost too naturally for a man wrapped in nothing but a white towel. You stared at him a minute too long, your gaze raking down his body, doing everything it could to deny your brain's pleas to pleases look back at his fucking face, for god’s sake.

“Sorry, forgot to bring clothes, not used to this sharing a space thing,” he said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot a little, before giving you one of those tight-lipped smiles you loved seeing.

“Shit, um, sorry, I’ll just head back to the bedroom.” You start walking in that direction, then automatically change my mind. “No, you need to get clothes, I’ll stand here.” You nodded at that last decision, sticking by it and boring a hole into the floor with your rapid attention to it,

He smiled at you again, ruffling your hair as he passed you on his way back to his own room, leaving you alone with your already sinful thoughts, to gently rest yourself against the wall and convince yourself that you could persist through this temptation.

He emerged a few minutes later, and, with some grace and fucking decorum finally, you looked up at his eyes and started talking cohesively.

“Spencer, why didn’t you wake me? We were supposed to see if this could jog a memory for either of us right, that’s the whole reason I stayed over.”

“Sorry, it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Spencer, you have an eidetic memory,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you waited for his real answer, blocking the doorway to the rest of his apartment with a stern look.

“Okay, I give up. You just looked too… Too happy. Resting there tucked into my arm. I didn’t want to wake you up, because I’ve seen how you get on cases after you’ve had only a couple hours of sleep and I don’t want to be on the other end of that.”

You laughed at him then, not knowing whether his words were truthful or not, and trying your best not to profile him.

“Would you mind if…Spencer, would you mind if I stayed a little longer?” You grabbed his hand and held it as you said the words, trying not to use the way his body stiffened to inform any decisions you were about to make.

“What for?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“We only have seven days, right? And, let’s be honest, most of them are going to be spent on some case or the other. I was hoping we could spend these precious few moments free from work trying to get our memories back.” You smiled up at him hopeful, squeezing his hand just a little.

“I, um… Sure. I have some tickets to a thing this weekend, though, but I can cancel.” Your heart jumped into your stomach and your face dropped as you did your best to backpedal.

“No, wait, Spencer, if you have plans, that’s okay, I can go home.”

“It was just this stupid book fair thing. It’s okay, I didn’t even have anyone to go with.” You almost laughed at his obliviousness.

“Spencer, it’s not stupid, and now you have someone to go with.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Your wife, now where is it?”

–X–

The book fair had turned out to be an accidentally amazing first date. Which was, you’d realized after driving home to change clothes and freshen up, exactly what it was going to be. A date. Another - accidental - date.

He’d picked you up a half hour later, and together you’d driven the 45 minutes to the fair. It was more of a book jumble sale, a collection of vendors, antique dealers, indie bookshops, and exhibitions coming together to celebrate vintage, used, and second-hand books. Spencer was excited, of course, but you felt like a kid in a candy store, ooh-ing and aah-ing at every special edition, basking in the smell of old books, and desperately seeking out the most obscure titles you could find.

You’d made a game out of it with Spencer, sharing a laugh over titles including “Ducks and How To Make Them Pay,” by W. Cook and “An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting; with Proper Rules for the Exercise of that Pleasant Art,” by Jane Collier. Walking through the aisles of stalls, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, not letting yourself think too hard about it.

You’d probably held his hand at some point on your wedding night, you thought to yourself, so maybe it would help. Your justifications were unwarranted, though, as you knew you weren’t letting him go until you absolutely had to.

“Spencer, look at that!” You gasped excitedly, pulling him over to a stall decorated in an array of plushies, some old and worn, some newer, showcasing children’s books from the last century. He trailed after you with a stumble, your excitement having pulled him a little too quickly, his long limbs not able to move as gracefully as you’d somehow managed to.

“Oh my god, isn’t this adorable?” You asked him, squeezing his hand a little bit as you perused the titles. Titles you remembered from your own childhood were there: Judy Bloom, the Babysitters Club, and some Enid Blyton. You talked his ear off about each childhood memory you had with each of the books when you’d read them, asking if he’d read them, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so excited about books for some reason,” you apologized to the kind-looking old man running the store, shyly flushing at the run-on conversation you’d been having in front of him.

“It’s fine, my dear, isn’t that why we’re all here? To be excited about books?” He smiled as he looked at you over his glasses, and you pulled Spencer further down the table, noticing that as you went further to the left, the books seemed to get older. You spotted it then, wedged tightly between two piles of other children’s classics, but you pulled it out swiftly, still not dropping Spencer’s hand.

“Spencer look! Anne of Green Gables! I loved this book as a kid, it’s been like 20 years since I last read it.” You beamed up at him, and he smiled down at you as well.

“I’ve read it, too, though only a few years back, I’ll admit. I went through a phase of reading a lot of children’s books after Henry was born to see which would be the best gifts to get him.”

“And did you?”

“Oh, yeah. Got him a whole box set, but I’m not sure if he’s read any of them yet.”

“Perfect, then this one’s for me.” You said quickly, before turning back to the vendor and asking him how much for the book. He gave you the price, a reasonable one for a vintage book. Before you could pull out your money to pay, though, Spencer had dropped your hand and pulled out his own wallet, handing over the money before you could even insist he didn’t have to.

“Spencer! You didn’t have to do that!”

“I know. I wanted to.” The look he gave you had your stomach doing somersaults, as you felt the blood race to your face.

“That’s one very sweet boyfriend you’ve got yourself there, my dear,” the old man said, handing the book back over, having wrapped it, and placed it in a paper bag. Before you could stutter out an explanation, Spencer was sending you further into a tailspin with his own reply.

“I’m her husband, actually. We’re newlyweds.”

“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t see a ring, so I just assumed.” You looked down at your left hand then, before Spencer wrapped it in his again. You’d taken the ring off after you’d woken up that first day, and not wanting any questions about it, you’d placed it in your bag and then in your jewelry box when you finally returned home. You had shown it to Penelope though, in a romcom-drunk fit of giggles.

With another thank you, you quickly left the stall behind, this time Spencer being the one to take action and pull you excitedly onward.

“What did you do with that ring?” He asked, genuinely curious. “And where did we even get it?”

“It’s in a jewelry box at my house, I didn’t… I didn’t want anyone asking questions, you know.” You felt a small tension between you then, as you suddenly acknowledged the circumstances of your relationship. You were doing the adult version of “playing house,” and neither of you was sure when the game was going to come to an end.

“And no memories, remember? We probably picked it up on the side of the road somewhere, or maybe it’s a souvenir from the chapel?”

“No, I only caught a glimpse of it, and it didn’t look like costume jewelry or something we could get for cheap.” You looked at him puzzled before an idea came to you.

“What if I send a picture of it to Penelope? See if she can come up with anything for us. I’ll tell her one of my college roommates is getting engaged and she’s bragging about the ring, so I wanted to know what it’s worth?” It was a white lie, of course. You still weren’t sure about telling Spencer about Penelope being your witness, not sure how it would go over with him.

“You think that’ll work?”

“Oh yeah, Penelope’s big on girl drama. I think she actually coined the phrase ‘I support women’s rights and I support women’s wrongs.’”

“No, Y/N, about the ring, do you think she’d be able to find it?”

“Spencer, you’ve worked with Penelope Garcia for over a decade, and you’re still doubting her?”

–X–

True to form, Penelope found the ring for you in under 24 minutes, along with a list of stores in the immediate Las Vegas area where it could be purchased, and a follow-up mention that the transaction was nowhere in either of your credit card histories, so you must’ve paid cash.

Which only begged further questions, because where the HELL had you gotten 30k in cash?

“Spencer, holy shit.” You shouted out as he pulled up to his apartment, the two of you finally calling it quits at the book fair after you noticed the sun was beginning to set.

“What? Did you not want to come back here with me, I can drive you home if you want?”

“No, Spencer it’s not that, it’s the ring. It retails for $30,000, Penelope found it. Where the hell did we get that much cash?”

“Cash?”

“For a transaction that large, we must’ve paid cash, right? I haven’t had any cold calls from my credit card company asking me to watch my back, and I certainly don’t have that amount in my regular bank accounts.”

“Oh, right. Well, we were in Vegas.” He shrugged and exited the car, but something about the words rang in your head a little as you followed him in, and you gasped realizing what it was.

“That’s it, Spencer! We went to a casino, we must have! You did your card trick magic and whatever and then boom! Wedding ring!” You smiled at the discovery as he pushed open the door to the apartment building for you, letting you bask in your discovery.

“It’s not magic, really, it’s just math.” You gave his arm a light punch at the stupid words and followed him back up to his apartment.

“Well, then, I want to do a lot more math with you, Doctor Reid.” You wiggled your eyebrows a little, and he burst into laughter in front of you, having finally reached the door to his unit.

Pushing the door open, he left the doorway empty for you to make your decision. Were you really going to follow him back into his apartment again? After making yourself a temporary guest the night before, and forcing the man to spend the entire day with you, you didn’t want to push your luck, but oh god how you wanted him to invite you to stay and never leave. Is this why people got married?

“After you, Mrs. Reid.” His words made the decision for you, and you stepped over the threshold swiftly, letting his hand on the small of your back guide you.

“Since we had takeout last night, I was maybe thinking I could cook today? That is, unless you wanted to go home?” He muttered the words a little shyly, and you found yourself squirming at his cuteness, pushing down the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

“Yeah, I could eat.” Was all you managed before he pulled you into his kitchen and started preparing the pasta dish Rossi had taught you all to make only weeks prior.

–X–

You finished off the pasta quickly and just sat together talking for a while before he returned to the kitchen again for a second and bought out a bottle of wine and two mismatched wine glasses.

“A lecturer got me this when I guest lectured in their class last year, but I don’t drink that much. Do you want to share it with me?” You nodded and grabbed the glasses from his hands, letting him prepare the drinks for you.

“This is kind of like the bar, right? All the books, and now the drinking. It could probably lead to some memories, right?”

“Yeah, it probably could.” He held his drink out and you chimed your glass against his, finally taking a sip as he returned to his seat next to you. At some point, you had migrated from the dining table to the sofa, back in the same seats you’d occupied the night before.

“Let’s play a game,” you said, taking another sip for confidence as he turned to look at you with a questioning stare.

“I have a pack of cards and a chess board, but I’ll warn you I’m not the most fun to play with-”

“Not that type of game, Spencer. I mean like… twenty questions or something?”

“Oh, right, Um, how exactly do you play twenty questions?”

“Is that your first question?”

“Is that yours?”

“See you’re already great at it.” He rolled his eyes at you and shifted himself closer to you on the couch, letting his hand rest gently behind your head. A breeze blew through the room, and you shivered slightly, huddling closer to him, too.

“Okay, so question 1. What’s your favorite book?”

“War and Peace. Or at least it’s the book I reread the most often. What about you?"

“Probably something by Austen. There’s just something about an Austen hero that has me melting.” You let your hand trail up his leg, and you saw him drop his gaze to follow it’s path. “Your turn, Spence.”

“Oh, right… So, what… what is your dream date?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a trip to a cute cafe or… I don’t know, a book fair?” He laughed at that, and you asked your next question.

“Did you think you’d ever get married like this?” You took a deep breath after asking it, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer to that.

“No. I didn’t… I guess I didn’t ever think I would get married. I’ve been alone this long, you know, it seemed that I’d be alone forever, you know.” The words cracked your heart, and you let your hand fall from his thigh to his hand instead. “I’m sure you didn’t so I won’t waste my question on that.”

You laughed a little before answering, “Yeah, I… I didn’t expect it to happen that way. I was picturing more church, white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and growing so old together that we die like that old couple in The Notebook.”

“You want kids?” He asked, almost a little too quickly to be casual about it.

“Yeah, I guess I do. What about you?” Your heartbeat burst into your ears as you let the question sit between you, Spencer considering the question for a while before speaking again.

“I didn’t think about it before… with everything going on with my mom, I guess I was a little afraid about passing on my problems to a small child, but…” He let his head hang for a second, before grabbing his drink again and taking another sip.

“But now what?”

“I don’t know I just… I think it would be really nice. I love spending time with Henry, and Jack, but it’s different when it’s your own, right? Someone to make the world better for.”

“That’s a really beautiful way to put it, Spencer.” You smiled at him, and he matched your gaze, returning your smile. Your game was left abandoned between you then, the questions fizzling out as you just sat, halfway to being in his arms, and looked at him.

“It’s getting late again. And you drank, too, you should probably stay here again tonight.”

“I probably should.”

“And we should probably go to bed now, you never know when we’re going to get called in on an emergency case again.”

“You’re probably right.”

You talked your way around in circles there on his couch, but when you finally crawled into bed together, neither of you feigned the distance of the night before, instantly reaching out to hold each other as your breaths synchronised into shallow breaths.

–X–

Frustratingly though, he was gone again when you woke. You stretched yourself out on his bed, just to be sure, but he was gone. You found him this time in the kitchen, though, making you breakfast.

“Good morning, Spencer.” You walked up to him, grabbing him from behind and letting your head rest on his back, no longer shy with your physical affection. Well, still a little shy. You hadn’t kissed him again yet, and you had no plans to, waiting to see if he’d go that extra step all by himself.

“Good morning. I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, and honestly, that pasta dish from yesterday is the only thing I really know how to do, so I hope you like pancakes?”

“I’m in love with pancakes, Spencer.”

“That’s a weird way to put it, but great.” You cursed yourself and pulled away from him, grabbing some plates from his cupboards for the two of you. You settled down to eat together, and before you knew it, the morning was drawing to a close.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” He asked you, leaning on the doorway to the bathroom as you brushed your teeth.

“Plans? You want… you want to spend today together as well?” The question had taken you off-guard. You really thought you’d overstayed your welcome, but here he was, asking what was next.

“Yeah, if that’s… if that’s okay with you. You still don’t remember much, right?”

“Right. But, uh, I was kind of planning on running errands today. Laundry, grocery shopping, picking up prescriptions. It’s not going to be like yesterday.”

“Well, then I guess we’re running errands. You need to drop by your house to pick up clothes?” You nodded your reply, finally washing the toothpaste from the side of your mouth.

“Perfect. You can get ready and we’ll go from there.”

–X–

A couple of hours later and a drive to the nearest supermarket, you were surprised at how true to his words Spencer was. He’d followed you to the dry cleaners, and helpfully advised you on which items were best hand-washed vs. laundered by taking a look at their material percentages. You’d accompanied him to his opticians, where he picked up the refill for his contact lenses - while wearing the eyeglasses that you secretly found very, very hot. And now here you were, the picture of domestic bliss in the aisles of a supermarket, arguing over which milk you should buy.

“What if we get called on a case? You don’t want bad dairy in your fridge for a week, trust me.”

“Spencer, I’m telling you, I’ll use it. I drink like a liter of tea a day, and I like mine pretty light.”

“Okay, but it’s your contaminated fridge, not mine.” You scoffed and laughed at him again as he pushed the shopping cart from behind you, trapping you between his body and the handle.

“Spencer, what are you doing?” You rolled your eyes at his childish antics, turning around to face him as he leaned closer.

“What? I like pushing the cart.”

“You like pushing my buttons. Come on, I thought you were supposed to be helping me with the errands today?”

“I tried to help. In fact, I offered some very sound advice on which milk to buy, but I was heartlessly ignored, and now I’m pushing the cart.”

“Okay then, Mr. Tragic Hero. Fruit aisle next, please. I’m going to buy enough perishable goods to really piss you off.”

The stares you got in the supermarket were worth it for that small moment of happiness with Spencer, gently tickling your sides as you practically ran through the supermarket with him, not caring that your groceries haul was about to look like an ingredients challenge on Hell’s Kitchen. Or maybe Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares instead.

He was there next to you, and he was smiling. That’s all you really wanted for that moment.

–X–

After a day of errands, pulling up to your house left an almost empty feeling in your stomach. The groceries had been your last stop, but it had taken you almost two hours to complete them just because of the sheer chaos you’d caused between the two of you, your multiple faux-stand-offs over food choices. You’d since argued over instant coffee brands, apples vs. oranges, the longevity of a pack of Doritos, and more. It was probably the most romantic second date you’d ever been on.

He turned off the engine of the car and immediately began grabbing things from the trunk, grabbing paper bags to deposit within your house. He managed to get all of them in his arms before you even unclipped your seatbelt.

“Spencer, let me help, you can’t carry all of that on your own.”

“I can. Just unlock the door, it’s fine.”

“Okay, but if you break something, you’re driving back to the store alone to replace it.” That was all you said as you led him into the tiny apartment you called home.

“You can put the bags on the counter, I’ll unpack everything later.” He followed your directions quickly, then stepped back into the passage, readying himself by the door to leave.

“Thanks for staying with me again today, Spencer. I really enjoyed having company.”

“Me too. Even if…Y/N, even after all of this is finished, do you think we could… do this more often?” He asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you a bit closer to him in the doorway. You let yourself fall into his arms, not caring which of your neighbors was suddenly out and about to witness this.

“I think I’d like that.” Your lips were inches from each other now, and you stilled yourself completely, not wanting any sudden movements to get between you and the kiss you had been begging for silently since Saturday night. He tilted your head up and leaned down, closing the gap as his arms tightened around you.

His lips were sweet, warm with a hint of the sweetness from the morning's pancakes still, and you wanted more of him. But as his lips slid over yours again, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth, your stomach dropped with an intense feeling of deja vu.

All of a sudden you felt his hands on your body, his lips trailing down your neck, his cock buried deep inside of you, and his voice low and husky in your ear.

With the force of your entire will, you pushed him away with the whole weight of your body and slammed the door shut in his face.

You had successfully restored part of your memory.

--X--

🏷 Pt. 1 @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil @shqwqrma

[nervocat]

NEEVO ❗️ CONGRATS ‼️

May I request —

Prompt 1 with yjh :’) yk bc he regresses ;;

I’ll leave the details up to you but feel free to ask if you need any :D

Congrats again !!

“Yoo Joonghyuk, Just Why?” (extreme blood, death, offing oneself, hinted spoilers but not rlly? - wc: 540, heavy(?) angst/romantic/platonic, gn reader)

You don't quite understand Joonghyuk and the concept of Regression, but you understood that concept seemingly all too late. You only had a mere grasp of it, and now you feared what would happen to your very existence.

“Joonghyuk.. what are you doing?” you ask as you grip your weapon. You two had been through so much together including the others — just what was he planning?

All you wanted to do was go with Joonghyuk to get some needed items and maybe complete some sub-scenarios for coins. What happened?

You walk up to Joonghyuk, his blood staining your hands further and mixing with the blood of your now defeated enemy as you grasp his shoulder. He only shrugs you off, not making eye contact.

Your brows furrow as you hold your own side wound, though less severe then his. The battle didn't seem like it would be hard, but you suppose you should be more careful. “Hey, what's up. You're obviously thinking of something,” you try to urge him to talk, but get a groan in reply.

Joonghyuks wounds were severe, but you could get him back to the others and they'd know what to do, right?

“[name]..” comes a gurgled, weak call from him. Blood has only just started to drip from Joonghyuks mouth, dripping onto the ground. Your eyes widen slightly.

“Hey, hey, you'll be ok, right? No regressing?” the silence that followed only sent you further into despair. “Joonghyuk, look at me,” you say firmly, grab this shoulder again.

He doesn't look, and only grabs his sword.

“Wait, Joonghyuk? Joonghyuk, why are you..” he pushes away again, though gently, and brought the blade close to his throat.

Mortified, you ignore the pain in your side as you grab into his wrists, desperation growing by the millisecond as you look his in the eyes. His hair was all disheveled as he finally looked at you, the blood of his still dripping.

“Hey, Joonghyuk, remember that promise you made to Dokja? Not to regress? Come on, we can still-”

“Stop.”

“Remember that promise you made to me? Joonghyuk, please,” your desperate attempt to stop him seemed to make him freeze up, remembering just what you were saying.

But it turned out futile as he impulsively drove his blade into his neck, coughing up and spitting out even more blood.

“Joonghyuk!” you yell, grabbing him. It was a horrific sight, really. “You.. why?! Why are you breaking the promise you swore not to? Why!?”

It hurt Joonghyuk to do this, but his wounds were too lethal (to him). Who knew if he'd see you or the others in his next regression. “I..” he garbled, spitting out more blood. “Sorry, [name]. Maybe.. next regression. Couldn't be helped..”

You don't know what will happen to your existence now. The desperation of yours made it even worse for him to do what he did. You still wonder as you can only watch as Joonghyuk dies before your very eyes, in your own arms.

“Yoo Joonghyuk,” you sob, the wound in your side forgotten. “Just why? Why do you want to regress so badly when you leave so much behind?”

He hates how that was the last thing he had to hear before regressing.

notes: did I do too much for this? Probably 😭😭 BUT DUMBIIII AHH TYSM!! It's pretty exciting for me to be this close to 200.. I was also pretty vague with this and I probably could've toned down on like. The blood aspect of this and stuff but yk. Um. Hope you like it tho Dumbi bc idk how I feel abt it 🙏🙏 I also got this done faster than I thought mainly bc I have nothing better to do so uhhhh I don't think I'm very good at writing ansgt ngl and this is my first time writing for him so :pp IF I MISSED TO ADDRESS ANYTHING I'M SORRY

★ — © nervocat || I appreciate any reblogs made, and pls don't repost or translate my works anywhere, ty — ✦

[sophiethewitch1]

Can we have some spoilers for Mr. Richard Grayson, please?🙏🙏🙏✨

Realising I don't have as many scenes actually written out for Dick, even though I have the most outlined for him. At least the non big spoiler ones. Here's a smaller spoiler one, under the cut as usual. The strange courting of one such Dick Grayson and You is very stupid.

-

“Well, since you’ve met all of them, I have to ask…” Molly’s words drawl off, and you sigh at the impish expression on her face, “Whose your favourite?”

You purse your lips together, glancing over at Dick on the couch. He’s just scrolling on his phone. Still, something about all this just… you don’t know. It pings something in you. You can’t tell what, but it definitely does. Ah, whatever, the paranoid schizophrenia’s settling in. Moving on.

“Ah, probably Nightwing.”

Dick’s breath hitches. He scrolls on his phone furiously. You wonder what he saw, and hope it’s not another Gotham-Tuesday-Disaster. You had notifications on for the twitter account that had announcements for villain attacks, but there’s every chance that something might happen to whoever runs it, and then you’d be kind of screwed.

“It’s the ass, isn’t it?”

Dick breaks out into a coughing fit. You feel your neck heat, and you lean over the table to swat at Molly’s hand. She desolves into laughter. The mix of Dick’s chest-rattling choking noises and your evil friend’s cackling is mortifying.

“Molly! You can’t just say stuff like that,” you sigh as you relax back into your seat, “Besides that’s not it. He was nice to me, and I like the way he moves.”

“I bet you do!” Molly barks out another loud sound of laughter. Dick gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen. You hear the sound of the tap running, and then gulping. Oops.

“You make it too easy for me,” Molly sighs back into her chair, obviously pleased with herself.

[asimpwithfreetime]

!Spoilers for Avatar:The way of the water!

Could I get a story about yandare!Tsireya and yandare!Lo'ak being head-over-heels metkayina!reader who is completely oblivious to them? where they're going to confess but when they are done making her gifts and meat to give them, they're missing? Could they confess after she randomly goes missing for hours and the entire village is looking for them? Could she be found ranting to an akula(it's the animal that attacked lo'ak in the movie)? Pretty please🙏

Finally I can develop my yandere headcanons of Lo’ak and Tsireya 😈

-Is she mine or yours? -Ours (communism, ahem!, I mean, Yandere! Lo’ak x Metkayina! Reader x Yandere! Tsireya)

Content warning: English isn’t my first language and this hasn’t been proofread yet, I might be delusional at this point, sometimes the things I write make it seem like Lo’ak is horny for the reader, but my intention was to make him look obsessed, maybe I should practice my English more and actually learn more words.

General warnings: yandere behavior, oblivious reader, aged up! Lo’ak and aged up! Tsireya, polyamory, courting, double courting, cursing

Another day started for the Metkayina clan the Sullys had decided to stay with. War was over finally and everyone was happy and alive.

Neteyam ruffed Lo’ak’s hair. “So Tsireya and you are a thing now?” The eldest son smiled while laughing.

“Shut up!” Lo’ak shushed him while punching his arm. Neteyam laughed wholeheartedly, wincing when he felt the pain of his wounds still too fresh to move properly.

Lo’ak got up and went down to the beach where Tsireya awaited for him. “Lo’ak I must tell you something” she said hurriedly. “I do too”.

“I see you, Tsireya, but I also see someone else. I don’t know how to explain it is just-“ he was cut off “a connection, as if Eywa wanted us three together” Tsireya continued for him. Lo’ak was dumbfounded.

“So you also feel like this?” He asked. His eyes shone, he couldn’t hide his excitement. “Yes” she smiled, in response he kissed her forehead. “Is it Y/n?” Lo’ak asked.

Tsireya looked surprised, “Y-yes”. “We could court her together” he said.

“She could be ours” Tsireya said, the tone dropping. As they continued to talk their yandere side got wilder, but they both loved each other and had put their target on Y/n. Something else shone in their eyes every time they planned it.

Y/n was a normal Metkayina, with her duties and chores here and there. She had helped alongside the others in the war and she had tended Neteyam’s wounds. That way, Lo’ak got to know her. As he was often visited by Tsireya she also got to know the sweet Metkayina that stole their hearts.

But her sweet nature and her soft act made them both fall in love. And maybe even more than in love. She sparked a new sensation in them, making them obsess over her, they need to know where she is, who she is with and everything.

Speaking of which, when she saw Lo’ak and Tsireya on the beach she swam towards them. “Hey guys, how is it going?” She asked. “Is Neteyam doing better?” The way she worried, the cute concern written all over her face, she was perfect.

Even though, when they heard of Neteyam, the way his name rolled out of her tongue, they almost scoffed. “Oh, he is doing okay and we were going to look for cool shells, care to join us?” Tsireya said, smiling up to her. She nodded. “I have just finished my chores so, why not”.

Lo’ak helped her up to her ilu, even though she could have done it herself. He wanted to hold her. Just the short lived feeling of his hands in her waist was driving him crazy.

Once they were all riding their ilus, they took Y/n to a reef full of beautiful shells. And while Y/n was distracted looking at some fish, Lo’ak and Tsireya took it upon themselves to find gifts for her.

“Y/n! Look!” Lo’ak said, he gave her a (your favorite color) shell. It sparkled under the sunlight. “Oh, it is beautiful, Lo’ak” she responded. He saw the stars, he loved her voice and the way she said his name and the way her eyes looked at him. Her body, her frame, her personality, everything was a blessing from Eywa. He loved her and wanted her.

When she was about to give the shell back he said “you can keep it, it is a gif”. That was the beginning of the courting, even if Y/n didn’t have a clue.

From that they on, the would appear around her at random points of the day, asking to help her, gifting her stuff or showing off their skills. She thanked them with a smile, thinking it was just friends giving gifts to friends. She even returned the gesture with shells she had found and things like that.

“Bro” Neteyam called Lo’ak over in one of his and Tsireya’s courting sessions. “What?” The younger sibling huffed. “I think she isn’t noticing your advances, she is just being friendly” he deadpanned.

“No she is not! She is accepting our advances” Lo’ak responded angrily. “Look at her” Neteyam said. Lo’ak turned, it was true. You were playing with Tsireya on the water, splashing around.

Tsireya was blushing while Y/n played with a child-like nature. She was just having fun with a friend, while Tsireya didn’t notice.

After that, they planned the day that they would confess to her, no more playing.

The day came and as Lo’ak and Tsireya prepared everything, time passed. When it was time to search for Y/n they came with the surprise that she wasn’t there anymore.

“Where the fuck is Y/n?” Lo’ak grunted desperately. “I don’t know” Tsireya sighed. “We should look for her”.

Soon the whole village was searching for her, nobody could find her. Tsireya and Lo’ak went way over the reef to find her. Tsireya signed towards Lo’ak underwater “I see her, let’s be quiet”. Lo’ak nodded and followed her.

They hid behind some rocks and saw Y/n swimming supposedly alone. Until a huge Akula came over. Lo’ak started swimming towards her until he felt a tug on his tail. The Metkayina girl signed for him to stop and wait. He, pretty against his will, went back down.

“You wouldn’t believe it” Y/n signed to the akula. “There is an omatikaya boy and a Metkayina girl who are always with me” she told her friend happily. Lo’ak and Tsireya were dumbfounded.

“They are nice and always friendly, but I think I like them” she signed with fast movements. Tsireya and Lo’ak smiled at each other. The akula softly pushed against Y/n in a loving and caring movement. “You know how excited I can get” she laughed.

[oxymorayuri]

Hiii i read the acex reader i dont remember the title but its the one where she was the revolver?

I wanted to request more parts for it please BCS THE WAY U WRITE IT ITS SO CAPTIVATING I CANT

So yes thats all i wanted PLEASE DO CONSIDER 🙏

It will get me through my exams 😔🔫

❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Part two

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here or the overview. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: cussing/language, suggestive content ✦ Spoiler: none

A/N: Aw that is so cute! You know what? Why not? I really fell in love with the revolver too. I had to think of something to continue it but see for yourself, I hope you like it sweetie. PS: I hope everything goes well with your studies <3

wordcount: 2488

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Ivan Imros

Everything before your eyes appears as if you're looking through a curtain. Time passes more slowly, every touch seems both intense and unreal, but you feel the desire.

There is nothing but desire... the thirst for more.

Light as a feather, you feel as if you are not even in control of your body. But that's not a problem. You enjoy every second, no matter how blurred everything seems to you.

Perhaps because you know that it is nothing more than just a desire. Your movements are rhythmic and you try to intensify the feeling with every thrust, but there are limits to how much you can feel.

Your options are small but you are grateful for what is in front of you.

You can dimly see the lust shining in Ace's eyes, while barely feeling his hands on your hips as they guide you into bliss. Your mind is constantly shifting between lucid yet dazed and one moment you are riding him while the next his lips are caressing yours.

Full of pleasure you close your eyes, your voice says 'more' but you don't feel your lips moving and although your eyes are closed, it gets brighter and brighter behind your eyelids…

You groan in annoyance as you pull the covers over your head. Damn that sucks. This isn't the first dream you've had about Ace, but it's never been as intense as this one.

You cannot escape the images of the things that happened between you and you keep dreaming about that night on the beach. A whole week has passed since then and you and Ace are far from what you could have become and whose fault is it?

Yep, yours.

The angry wiggle in bed gets you nowhere, but you are so annoyed by the situation that you have to let it out.

After your fit of rage, you look up at the ceiling of your room in defeat. Slight dark circles adorn your face because it takes half an eternity for your brain to finally shut up. You don't even want to think about Ace and when you are surrounded by complete silence, his face automatically appears before your eyes. You've spent a few nights tossing and turning in your bed because every time you close your eyes you see him. No matter how tired you were, you couldn't get a wink of sleep.

You tousle your hair. Your ego is so big that you would rather die than approach Ace.

You wonder why you reacted the way you did. After your night, you woke up alone in your room and even though you didn't expect him to be lying next to you, you wished for it.

Loneliness engulfed you and as lonely as you felt, the more you didn't want him to get near you. You felt so available and that's a pretty strange feeling for you… Would it have been different if you had woken up next to him?

You'll never know.

As usual you gave him the cold shoulder but this time you had an additional reason... but somehow you feel a bit childish about it now.

Your thoughts are spinning around. What is your reason anyway? The answer seems to secretly pile up inside you and that makes you nervous.

Should you really have reacted like this? You haven't said a single word to each other. Okay, you haven't said a single word to him… At least he tried, you have to give him that, but after 3 days he had given up. He just leaves you alone and doesn't even get on your "nerves" like before. Nothing nada

Somewhat sadly, you pull your knees towards you and put your head down. You can only blame yourself.

You idiot!

If it wasn't for Jozu, you would probably never have come out of your cabin. He actually managed to get you out of the room.

Well, he more or less dragged you out. He just barged into your room, came up to you without saying a word and grabbed you by the neck. You noticed him, but you didn't have the strength in your bones to really react.

Somewhat belatedly you grab him by his bulky arm but every attempt is in vain and when you realized, that he wanted to leave your room with you, all alarm bells rang in your head.

Like a wild animal, you tried to escape from his grip but no matter how much you scratched him or how hard you hissed, he wouldn't budge. You feisty thing. Without paying the slightest attention to you, he brought you onto the deck and although you were brought here rather roughly, he set you down on the ground with care.

"Touch me like that again and…!!!!!" You are caught off guard when your mouth is suddenly covered with tape; you hadn't expected that. You can only grumble in anger and your eyebrows furrow up furiously as you look up at your commander.

"Hah your stare can't do anything to me you stupid ass!" He makes fun of you while he ties your arms and legs and you have no chance to resist.

The big man took a step back as he watched you wobble pathetically back and forth. You try to free yourself because you are beginning to feel that you are in a critical situation.

Your strength returns and the ropes loosen. Jozu doesn't hesitate any longer and immediately ties you up completely from head to toe, which looks ridiculous. Like a mummy, with only your head free, he leaned you against the ship's mast.

From behind you, you hear Ace apparently going through something similar as you and suddenly he is thrown to the ground in front of you by Marco. He wasn't set down as gently as you were, and with a pained look he rubs his cheek, which has just kissed the ground.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Confused, he looks at the men in front of him who just look down at him with stern expressions and folded arms. Jozu's eyes wandered over to you and Ace's eyes followed his. With shock written all over his face, he looked at you with widened eyes.

Without commenting, he looked back at the two commanders and then Marco broke the silence.

"What have you done Ace." Marco's voice seemed a little threatening. Astonishment spread across Ace's face.

"ME?" Startled, he pointed his own finger at his chest. "I have done NOTHING!" He defends himself with a slightly raised voice.

You want to laugh out loud but the tape stops you.

"I don't know what happened between you, but one thing is clear and that is that the two of you have something to sort out!" Jozu lays out the facts.

"You're so wrapped up in your thoughts that you're constantly setting yourself on fire and even if it doesn't hurt you, it's affecting the people around you." His gaze went to you as he noticed your muffled laughter. "And you? We don't even need to talk about you, y/n. But let me refresh your memory. First you shouted at Ace, then you didn't say a word to ANYONE and then you didn't come out of your room for two whole DAYS!!!" The commander breathes in and out, somewhat exhausted.

You weren't even aware that you were behaving outrageously, but now that Jozu has reminded you, you can't deny it. Ace is bothering you and you are bothering him.

Marco touches his forehead, somewhat distraught.

"Listen, if Newgate gets wind of this, he'll talk to you… is that what you want?!" You both shake your heads in panic at the same time.

"I thought so." - "Ace, you were last with y/n that night and she's been so nasty ever since. Did something happen between you?" Jozu interjects.

He exhales a little helplessly and drops his shoulders.

"hahhh, I don't know… I thought we had a good time but the next day everything was different than I thought and that's why I wanted to talk to her to find out what I did wrong!" He turns to you and for the first time you see a look on his face that you never expected to see. He looks angry with a hint of confusion.

"But SHE doesn't want to talk!" he points his finger at you like a child. Offended, you grimace. Luckily, the tape is stuck to your lips because no matter what you would have said, it wouldn't have made any sense anyway. You're so irrational that you don't even recognize yourself.

The two standing men looked at each other and nodded. You and Ace don't quite understand what's happening now, but you'll find out soon enough.

Marco grabbed Ace by the shoulder and led him ahead of him. Ace doesn't really resist and starts to move. When Jozu approached you, you didn't want to leave the stage without a fight. You tried to move like a worm to escape from your commander and even though he admires your efforts, there's no point in trying to escape, because you're just as fast as a worm - not at all. Jozu has an easy time with you and throws you over his shoulder.

The two of them threw you into a prison cell made of sea stone and before they locked the cell, Jozu freed you from your full body bondage. You are glad that your mouth is free again because now you can finally let out all the bad words you have left for Jozu.

"You son of a bitch! Just wait until I'm out of here, then you'll be given a bloody surprise… I'm telling you!"

But you idiot threw yourself against the bars to grab the big man, forgetting that the bars are made of sea stone and that you now have the power of a devil fruit that you still have to get used to.

The energy sapping feeling in your body is sudden, overwhelming and slowly you go down to the ground.

While the men walk away from the cell, Marco shouts something back to you.

"You stay in there until you've sorted this out!" Grinding your teeth, you roll onto your back with the last ounce of your strength and close your eyes.

If I can't see him, then he's not there...

Yeah, exactly, that will work… You don't really believe that, do you?

"Hey… I'll leave you alone if you want, but the others are right. We take it out on the others and that's not okay. We're a crew…" The word crew makes you open your eyes without wanting to.

You sigh in annoyance and roll onto your side so that Ace can stare at your back.

"Yea, maybe. Leave me alone." Your stubbornness is driving Ace crazy, but he doesn't really want you to be like this with each other. Above all, he wants to know why you're like this to him. What did he do wrong?

He's been racking his brains for days about what he could have done or said that upset you so much. He wants to make things better if you would let him.

"If you're not going to talk to me, at least take the bed. Sleeping on the floor won't do you any good." You have no idea what kind of cheap trick that is. Is he trying to get you to sleep in a bed with him? You look back towards the bed but Ace isn't there. He's sitting next to the bed with his back against the wall.

Unexpectedly, disappointment spreads through you. Wait a minute? Is that what you secretly wanted?

A little confused, you stand up and stop in front of Ace, who looks up at you. His unkempt hair falls back slightly as he looks up at you. How you would like to swallow your pride and fall into his arms, but you have no idea where to start. You don't know what to say because you don't even quite understand what is wrong with you. So you say nothing and stare at him with tired eyes as he sits in front of you with one leg bent and his arm resting on his knee.

Ace doesn't quite know how to react, but he's not one to do nothing.

He stands up just a few centimeters away from you and now you are the one looking up at him.

His gaze scans your face for answers that you can't even give yourself.

"What have I done?" he whispers to you. His pained voice tears apart your heart. You didn't know Ace could sound so vulnerable.

"I…, I don't know." you mumble your words, but your gaze remains fixed on Ace.

You have no further answer for Ace and walk towards the bed and lie down with your back to him again.

"Sleeping on the floor won't do you any good…" You repeat Ace's words back to him, feeling less pathetic since he said it first.

You listen closely as you can make out the sound of his feet approaching the bed. His shadow falls on the wall, which you stare at, waiting to see what comes next.

You feel the mattress go down a little and you automatically hold your breath until you can hear your heartbeat.

Ace looks down at your slender figure. His eyes wander over your delicate curves. He would love to stroke your hips until you fall asleep, but he's not sure how far he can go without making a mistake... but he has a feeling that doing nothing would be a mistake too.

He decides to lie down with his chest against your back. Lying on his back doesn't really work, there wouldn't be enough room and back to back would be awkward. He really makes an effort not to touch you unnecessarily. He's already glad that you offered him the bed.

You try to calm down, but Ace's breathing gives you goose bumps on the back of your neck. You pinch your eyes shut and try to concentrate on Ace's warmth, hoping you'll be able to fall asleep soon.

Luckily for you, you quickly find your way to the land of dreams because with Ace behind you, one could say; he's no longer buzzing around in your head...

Stay tuned for the next Part babes <3

➽ Next chapter

[incorrect-riordanverse]

finally reading tsats here are my live thoughts (spoilers, obviously):

i’m so excited because some pages are darkly decorated and its so cool. still don’t vibe with the title though (the sun IS a star and its peeving me)

why are we talking about dating darth vader 😟 where are we rn (anakin is a yes, but DARTH VADER???)

maybe i’m too old but the jokes are not funny 😭

“this whole place feels like my soul. empty and dark. dark as the pit of the underworld.” <- i don’t care if he’s joking nico would never say thissss 🙏😭 we’re only 10 pages in but please stop butchering my fav character he’s not himselffff i am cringing so bad

i know i’m being dramatic but if they do nico dirty in this book i’m going to end it all

oh my god i don’t think i’ve thought about the words “significant annoyance” in so long. bringing back good memories for sure.

i can tell which parts were written by riordan and which parts were written by oshiro. i don’t think their voices are blending very well together…

also, maybe it’s because it’s the start of the book and they’re trying to familiarise new readers quickly with the characters but it feels like they’re making nico the caricature of ‘emo and shadow and ebony darkness dementia raven way 🥀⛓️🖤’ and will the caricature of ‘happy and sunshine and blonde and flower gleam and glow ☀️🌈🫧’ and i usually like this dynamic when it’s not blatantly pointed out every other page. i have faith they’ll show more complexity than this later on though. future yan will let me know by the end. (future yan here, im not at the end but the characterisation def does get more complex thank gods)

oh ok so it is bob the titan

since when was nico’s actual name niccolo??? how did i forget this detail??

“you have to listen if not you’ll share my fate.” “ominous much?” <- ok he’s finally himself again guys it’s all good

the one-sided beef nico has with percy will never not be funny

“cookie monster appeared over the mouth of the jar, reached inside and gobbled up nico like the chocolate-chip cookie he was.” <- nevermind i’ve gone back to hating this book again

“what was one straight boy when you spent your whole life longing for the impossible?” <- i’m reminded of that time a few years back where everyone made ‘having an unrequited crush on percy’ nico’s whole fanon personality, so i’m glad they addressed this somewhat. this boy has been through so much and people really thought crushing on percy was the biggest thing to focus on about ‘nico angst.’

“we made a mistake. you have to fix it.” <- call me a red flag but if i was nico i would do anything and everything to not go. i would medicate myself so highly on sleeping pills that i can’t dream (doctor bf can go kick rocks). i would track percy and annabeth down and haul their asses into tartarus instead to do it. and if i had to go i would only go in to kill bob myself for sending me those traumatic ass nightmares. no thx. bro willingly jumped in himself and now wants me to save him. nuh uh.

not cupid being will 😭 its like his aphrodite 😭 i am not well.

they always have a really good and emotionally moving scene and they ruin it with a dumb joke. let it be heavy 👏👏

something’s really fishy and i have a feeling that it might not be bob calling for him

if this whole “grumpy ball of darkness” thing continues i will actually lose it

you can’t tell me the percabeth pep talk was actually needed. i will forgive it because i miss them though

im sensing tension in the gap between nico’s connection to the underworld and his relationship with will and i’m here for ittttt. give me the dramaaa

who is the gorgyra girl and why is she in their business sm?

oh shit a will solace pov??? christmas came early 🙏

nevermind that whole nightmare sequence was so fucked up 😭😭

somebody HELP HIM i never thought we would get will angst (nico angst fs, but will???)

DONT JUMP IN THE STYX PLEASE

SOMEBODY TELL HIM HE’S HELPFUL OMG

nico strangling epiales in his sleep is so fucking cool he’s literally HIM he’s literally THAT GUY