#why are space westerns so fun to write?

[apomaro-mellow]

Dimension Hopping Part 5

If I had a nickel for every time I wrote Eddie kidnapping Steve and his parents didn't care, I'd have two nickels.

Eddie adjusted his long brown coat as he looked up to the sky. He could see the trails above of the rails like they were a cage. People touted the Transplanetary Railway like a sign of progress. And it certainly was for the fat cats able to line their pockets with stock money.

"All aboard! All passengers bound for Portales Station, the Sonoran Rings, and Mars via Flagstaff!"

Eddie boarded the train, tipping his hat down to keep a low profile in the car with the other working class passengers until the conductor got the vessel going. He gripped the arm of his seat as he felt the initial lurch of launch but soon stars were passing by with the smoothness of Mercurian butter.

He checked his watch. It was just about the time for his crew to be ready. Eddie got up and moved to one of the fancier cars. He definitely looked out of place to anyone who looked. Thankfully, rich people tended not to notice his kind until they needed something. Eddie looked for a certain face. One he had memorized while planning this heist. It was different from all the others. He and his gang were used to sneaking aboard, asking for all their jewels and coins and then going ghost.

This time it was more personal.

He didn't see who he was looking for at first, but just as he was going to move to the next car, in he came, drink in his hand, with a leisured look on his face. Perfect.

Eddie took his bandana out of his pocket and tied it to his face. Then came right up to the young man, not giving him time to react as he got behind, put an arm around his waist and held a gun to the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention please?" He knocked a man's wrist with his gun wielding hand, knocking a glass to the floor to get the car quiet. "No, your eyes are not deceiving you. It is I, Back Alley Al Munson. Now I'm gonna make off with your lil prince here and I'd like y'all to let us go quietly. All I want is to hold court with his daddy. So someone make sure the Harringtons get a telegraph asap."

Eddie grinned beneath his face covering when he felt the man in his arms try to struggle. He put a firm hand on his lower belly. The prissy upper crust weren't much in a physical fight but still, he didn't want to bruise that pretty face.

"Settle down, sweetheart. We'll get you back to your manor soon. Just follow my lead."

Eddie nudged him forward with his hips, forcing him to start walking. His target, none other than Steve "the heir" Harrington, looked to all the other passengers in disbelief.

"Is no one going to stop him!? For god's sakes, someone help me!"

Eddie chuckled and took him to the emergency exit door. "Allow me to provide assistance." He jammed his fist on the button, opening up the car to the vacuum of space. Everyone's emergency seatbelts activated as they screamed bloody murder. Steve screamed too when he was suddenly sucked out into space. Eddie went easily right after him, grabbing for Steve as they floated. Eddie counted the seconds.

1...

2...

3-

He let out an exhale as something warm washed over them, pulling them in a new direction. The weightlessness of space was replaced by a solid feeling under them. Steve pushed him off and Eddie let him. He took off his bandana and beamed.

"Told you it would work!"

"Eddie you son of a bitch!"

Steve watched as a trio of men came to them and hugged his kidnapper deep.

"Eddie? I thought you were Al Munson? Isn't he the leader of the Corroded Coffin gang?"

Eddie smirked. "My old man's name is good for something. Helps people take you more seriously if they think you're the scourge of the West Quadrant and not just his scrappy son. Jeffy my man, you did awesome with that tractor beam hat trick."

"Just don't make me do it again", Jeff wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Next time, let's splurge for the helmets."

"What do you all want from me?", Steve said as he stood and took in his surroundings. It looked like he was in the cargo hold of a shipping vessel. A very, very small one. There were crates everywhere, both open and sealed shut.

"Nothing you can give us", Eddie said. "But your pa is kickin' up dirt where he shouldn't. There's way too much land in the Harrington name and now he wants our town."

"Your town?"

"A little place on Earth. Maybe you know it? You stuffed shirts hightailed it out of there the moment you terraformed Mars though." And other places after that. Earth was considered the backwater town of their solar system. Hand been for decades.

"Why would my family be interested in Earth?", Steve asked.

"Hell if we know. We just want him to step off", one of Eddie's members, with a mop of curly hair said.

"You're wasting your time", Steve protested as they started to haul him off somewhere. He got to see more of the ship. It looked like it had been around for a long time. He was taken to a room and thrown inside. Steve had never been in a place with four walls this close together. All the room really had was what looked like an operating table coming out of the wall. Steve felt the thing cushion and realized it was probably supposed to be a bed. He let out a sigh and sat on it.

He had to think of a way out of here.

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

"What do you think he meant by that?", Jeff asked.

The gang was sitting in the bridge. Eddie had taken his coat off and was simply in a shirt and dusty jeans. He was twirling his hat around. "Gareth, Grant? Care to weigh in on Jeff's question?"

The other two were playing cards. "I think he meant by Harrington saying we're wasting our time", Grant said.

Eddie thought about it. Steve "the heir" Harrington. Known as such because his father, Silas Harrington, had significant ownership holdings on several planets, their moons, and even the space stations surrounding them. He had also started diversifying and investing stock in the railways. All that meant was that when he was gone, Steve stood to inherit the universe. The wealth of the Harringtons rivaled that of the last remaining monarchies. Taking their precious son had to put a fire in their belly.

But Steve saying it was a waste of time rubbed him the wrong way. He got up and went to the mess to whip up something for them all to eat. He opened up a sealed pack of jerky, tossed some frozen biscuits to the reactor and boiled up some mashed potato powder. He plated it up and served his hard working crew, then thought about Steve. He was drinking when Steve had taken him, so he'd probably eaten already. And going a day or two without food wouldn't kill him.

Against his will, Eddie thought about the days he'd been hungry. When his dad went off on a score, leaving him alone with the barest of essentials. With a huff, he carried a plate to Steve.

"Hope you're decent", Eddie said. He used a free hand to open the door, prepared with a knife in his back pocket in case his captive got brave.

To his surprise, Steve was lounging on the cot. Eddie felt a bit too close to a servant delivering a meal to a passenger, not a hostage. He tried to ignore the curve of Steve's hip.

"Food, for his majesty", Eddie said, putting on an exaggerated voice.

Steve scrunched up his nose as he looked at it and Eddie felt a little satisfaction and giving this spoiled man a bit of ruffage he wasn't used to.

"It probably doesn't compare to the feasts you have in your ivory tower, princess." He held it out to Steve, who sat up to take it in his lap.

"Not a princess. And no, we don't really eat this where I come from." He picked up the jerky. "Is this food or building material?"

"Both. It builds character", Eddie grinned. "Where are you from anyway?"

"Venus", Steve answered before taking a bite of the jerky, struggling with it a bit.

Eddie whistled. Venus, known for its floating cities and beautiful people. Figures Steve would be from there. "I bet you've never even touched real earth." If Eddie's mother, rest her soul, was to be believed, then her sweet baby Theodore had been born right in the wheat fields. As close to the earth as you could get.

He and Steve couldn't be any more different. He put his hands on his hips, watching Steve chew on the jerky for a moment more before going towards the door.

"Well, you'll get plenty of chances to get well acquainted with all of mankind's roots. We should be home in a few hours."

Part 7

Tag Team

@goodolefashionedloverboi @xjessicafaithx @newtstabber @am-i-obssed-probably

[genericpuff]

The Elephant in the Room - Queer Erasure and Westernization in Lore Olympus (and all its horrid stepchildren)

This is one people have been asking me for a while now, and I've been waiting for the right inspiration to hit, as is required for my ADHD hyperfixation-fueled rants. After recently watching a video that did an objective review of Cait Corrain's Crown of Starlight, I felt now was the time, because Crown of Starlight effectively proves exactly what Lore Olympus - and other Greek myth interpretations like it - has issues with.

And I want to preface this post with one question - why do we keep getting these Greek myth adaptations written by queer women that still wind up perpetuating toxic heteronormative culture?

Buckle up, because this one's HEFTY.

In that aforementioned review of A Crown of Starlight, there were a lot of points that came up about how Cait wrote the female protagonist - Ariadne, wife of Dionysus - where I immediately stopped and went, "Wait, this sounds awfully familiar."

It should be mentioned briefly for anyone who's unaware - Cait Corrain is an author who was recently (and still) under fire for using sock puppet accounts on GoodReads to intentionally sabotage the ratings of other debut authors, many of whom were her own peers or from the same publishing imprint as her (Del Rey), and most of whom were POC. I mentioned in that previous essay that I just linked that Cait Corrain is a fan of Lore Olympus and decided to give it 5 star ratings from these alt accounts, not just de-legitimizing the reputation of the books she bombed, but also the ones that she praised (including her own book, because of course she had to leave an obvious calling card LMAO). I felt it necessary to tie Cait into my discussion of white feminism in LO and its fanbase because people like Cait are exactly who we're talking about when we dissect the intent and consequences of LO's writing - much of its brand of "feminism" seems to only be catered to a specific kind of woman (i.e. white women who fetishize queer people/relationships) and seem to encourage/embrace violence towards women if those women aren't "behaving correctly" or just aren't fortunate enough to be white and rich - and so Cait choosing to give Lore Olympus 5 stars in her hate-raiding and even have it visibly in the background of her headshot photos was... not exactly disproving my argument that these are the types of people LO caters to and encourages, to say the least.

But then I watched Read with Rachel's "Did It Deserve 1 Star" review of Crown of Starlight and it cemented my assumptions and concerns regarding Cait's intentions and influences even more.

As a brief tangent, I've read A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Claire. It very obviously is using Lore Olympus as its blueprints, but it's not super obvious that if you didn't read Lore Olympus or weren't aware of it, you probably wouldn't notice. It's still not a great book on its own, it's riddled with writing problems, but at least it can call itself its own thing to some degree.

Crown of Starlight is just blatant Lore Olympus fanfiction pretending to be original, even down to its marketing (which I'll get to shortly) but swapping out Hades and Persephone with Dionysus and Ariadne, and setting the entire story in space. Why is it in space? There doesn't seem to be any actual necessary reason for this, it just is, go with it. I'd be willing to accept this because changing up the setting of pre-existing stories can be fun (god knows I loved the premise enough of Lore Olympus being a modern day Greek myth retelling that I had to go and make my own version of it that's still in that modern setting) but as RWR says in her review:

"... we're told that it's the 'island' of Crete, but then we talk about commbands, airlocks, [holo-shields] and it wasn't really written in a way that I felt meshed 'Greek retelling' and 'sci-fi' in a cohesive way."

Needless to say, Crown of Starlight unsurprisingly suffers from the same problems Lore Olympus does, where it will try to "subvert" the original myths by changing their setting and characters and then doing absolutely nothing interesting with them to justify those changes.

To really drive my point home that Crown of Starlight is undoubtedly Lore Olympus fanfiction, Lore Olympus was literally used as a comparison point in Crown of Starlight's marketing which is a fair tactic to use to advertise to a specific niche or demographic, and while some have argued that Cait isn't technically the one to come up with that marketing jargon, it's made much more clear that she used that comparison herself when writing and pitching the book because it is quite literally just Lore Olympus with a different couple in space, right down to the main female protagonist being part of a purity cult. And of course it wouldn't be a bad Wattpad romance if it didn't have our main female protagonist Ariadne talking about how inconvenient her MASSIVE BREASTS are and of COURSE Ariadne is a poor innocent uwu babygirl who needs a man to come in and rescue her from the evil purity cult and of COURSE it hints at them eventually having raunchy sex just for it to wind up being milquetoast bondage and of COURSE it all just winds up taking traditionally queer characters and stories and turning them into this sanitized Disney-esque plotline where the boy and girl were always meant to be together and nothing else matters except their love-

And that, at its core, really just screams "this is bad LO fanfiction". From the stylization of the book's writing which never outgrew its "adorkable fanfiction writing" phase-

"Realizing that I'm being gaslit by my entire world doesn't make it easier to deal with, but hey, at least I still have some part of my soul!" - an excerpt from Crown of Starlight quoted from RWR's review timestamp 13:03

-to the "creative" choices made to turn Ariadne into a chastity cult girl whose resolution is obviously going to be to have what's implied to be dirty raunchy sex just for it to be like... the most tame level one bondage stuff;

-to the classic "she breasted boobily down the stairs" focus on Ariadne's body and breasts and sex appeal that's being kept in check by that pesky purity club.

And that's really disappointing because I had seen people say, "Yeah, Cait did an awful thing and deserves to be removed from her publishing schedule, but it's a shame that that book was written by Cait because it's actually a really good book!" because now it's just making me even more sus of people's Greek myth adaption recommendations (I'm still mad at BookTok for convincing me that A Touch of Darkness was worth reading). All I could think while listening to some of the excerpts quoted by RWR was that if I didn't know about Cait Corrain and read Crown of Starlight blind, I'd undoubtedly assume it was being written by a heterocis guy... but it's in fact being written by a queer woman.

And this is where I segue into talking about the root of this problem, where the calls are really coming from - Lore Olympus and its erasure of queer identities and relationships, despite also being written by a queer woman who should know better.

I could think of no better character to help carry this essay than Eros.

Unlike many of the characters in LO that Rachel has managed to straightwash by changing their motives entirely or straight up changing their identity from the source material (ex. Zeus, Apollo, Crocus who was turned into a flower nymph, Dionysus and Achilles because they're both literally babies, the list goes on), Eros has largely remained the same on paper who had zero reason to not be queer within the story.

Eros is still the god of love in this, he's still a guy and presumed to be an adult, but we NEVER see or explore him having relationships with anyone other than Psyche, aside from a brief mention of organizing orgies in the beginning that's used as a quick joke and then promptly never mentioned again.

Just like with Crown of Starlight and A Touch of Darkness and all these other "dark romance" stories, it's that brand of "pretends to be sexually liberating but isn't actually" writing, where they'll briefly mention orgies or sex-related things and then beat around the bush or avoid involving them entirely like a kid at Sunday school who doesn't want to say the word "penis".

(fr out of all the corny and awful slang for genitals I've seen used in stories like this, "a certain part of my anatomy" is definitely one of the most boring and stupid, like for god's sakes Hades you're both adults and at the beginning of this comic you thought she wanted to bang in the kitchen, why are you suddenly talking like a 7 year old boy LOL)

All that aside, while Eros might still be hinted at being queer and sex-positive, it's only as vaguely as possible so that the story can quickly move on to focus on him and Psyche or, better yet, Hades and Persephone. When Eros isn't deadset on finding Psyche, he's being the gay best friend for Persephone, who he has NO right having a friendship with when he introduced himself by intentionally getting her as drunk as possible with the intent of dumping her in Hades' car as per his mom's command. It's brushed off later as "well Aphrodite maaade him do it, for Psycheee!" but Eros still agreed to potentially put Persephone in danger over a relationship that had NOTHING to do with her and was also mostly his fault in its fallout (which Artemis calls him out for, but of course, like all the other times characters have called out the actual issues in the story they're inhabiting, they get brushed aside so that Persephone can talk about Hades):

Now, the Eros and Psyche plotline is one I've talked about before here and not the focus of this essay so I'll keep this tangent brief, but it's absolutely wild to me that Rachel took a story about a woman going to the ends of the earth to prove her love for someone whose trust she broke (a common theme in a lot of Greek myth stories, such as the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice) and turned it into... woman of color gets turned into a nymph slave for Aphrodite to 'test' Eros, a test that isn't clear at all in what it's trying to achieve, and wait hold up, didn't Eros actually fail that test by kissing Ampelus while completely unaware that it was Psyche-

This is just that episode of Family Guy where Peter justifies emotionally cheating and eventually physically cheating on Lois because "well you were the phone sex lady the whole time so no harm done!", isn't it? (×﹏×)

Anyways. It's all very convenient that the comic will hint at queer rep just to either have it be a constant question of whether or not they're actually queer (ex. Morpheus) OR to have it be promptly swept under the rug to make way for other characters/plot points. It's like when mongie tried to be "inclusive" by writing a stereotypical vaguely Asian character with no specific ethnicity just to get angry at her fanbase for calling her out on this that you can't just call a vaguely Asian character "representation" of anything (because Asia is MASSIVE and covers so many different ethnicities and languages and cultures).

Eros is only as gay as he needs to be to fill the role of "gay best friend" for Persephone.

Krokos is no longer a male lover of Hermes but a flower nymph created by Persephone because... apparently we can't dare imply that Hermes would be into anyone besides his unrequited childhood love, Persephone.

Achilles is introduced as a baby even though it makes no sense in the comic's own timeline where Odysseus is presumably already a well-known hero in Olympus, so much so that he was invited to the Panathenea.

Apollo is turned into a flat-out rapist who's only concerned with getting Persephone at all costs and when that doesn't work, he tries to get ANOTHER flower nymph (Daphne) who's actually genuinely interested in him (contrary to the original myth, there's that "swap it subversion" Rachel is known for) to cut her hair so she'll resemble Persephone more because we can't have a single plot point not resolve around Persephone.

Despite there being loads of genderbent characters already, Morpheus is supposedly the only one we're supposed to assume is specifically trans and not just a gender-flipped version of a Greek myth character. Why? Not because Rachel stated so explicitly, not because the comic has actually explored her identity as a trans woman, but because the readers just assumed it in good faith and Rachel was clearly fine with taking credit for trans representation that's only there via assumption (and only confirmed via her mods in Discord, which is... not how you establish canon information in your comic, Rachel.)

Hestia and Athena are part of a chastity club, until uh oh how convenient that they're secretly in a relationship with each other even though it further vilifies them and their morals, particularly Hestia who was promptly called out for being a hypocrite for taking Persephone's coat gifted to her from Hades while secretly being in a relationship the whole time. Not only does the Hestia and Athena relationship manage to commit queer erasure - of two gods who are considered icons in the aroace communities - but it also makes the only two lesbians in the story come across as assholes AND ON TOP OF THAT ALSO manages to somehow invalidate queer sex and relationships as being legitimate due to the even deeper implication that breaking their chastity vows "doesn't count" because it's not a male x female relationship. It's the 'ole poophole loophole all over again.

And then there's Artemis, who has MORE REASON THAN EVER TO BE IN THE PLOT but keeps being conveniently ignored. Her finding out about Hestia and Athena doesn't get any more screentime than her going "oh you're in a relationship, okay" , we never see her question the true intentions of TGOEM or what it means to her, we never see her have any opportunity to carve out her identity beyond just being Apollo's twin sister (it tries to at times, but then immediately goes nowhere with it, amounting to just poetic word salad), and she really just comes across as what a lot of people assume aroace people to be - alone and standoffish, because obviously someone who's nice and a good person would be in a relationship, there has to be a reason they don't want to have sex or fall in love, and that reason obviously has to be that they just hate everyone and want to be alone forever (￢_￢;) Then again, like many of the queer characters in LO, I don't know if I can definitively call her aroace because it's kept as vague as possible, and - going by Rachel's answers to these questions way back in her Tumblr era - apparently people can't be gay and ace at the same time-

There are undoubtedly loads more examples that I could cover here but that goes for practically any essay I write about LO - the more you peel it apart, the more you start unearthing some really questionable and frankly mean-spirited stuff. Queer people feel largely ignored in LO, alongside many of its derivative offspring such as A Touch of Darkness and Crown of Starlight, and it really speaks to how so many people - queer women, no less - have somehow managed to bastardize and sanitize what were traditionally very queer stories with queer characters. It's like these people think "olden times" and can only get as far as "women were slaves and men were rich assholes". Like, yeah, okay, that was the case for many cultures, but not all of them, and for some of them it wasn't as clear cut as that, many had misogynist power struggles in them while also still celebrating women and queer people in their own way. Greek myth is full of stories of women being forced into marriage or being made the victims of assault, but many of them are supportive of women and their struggles, unlike works like LO that somehow manage to be less feminist and sympathetic to women and queer people than these works from thousands of years ago.

This is another topic that's surely meant for another post, but it really speaks not only to the straightwashing and whitewashing of Greek myth, but also the Westernizing of it. That's not to say Rachel Smythe and Cait Corrain and Scarlett St. Claire are intentionally trying to whitewash another culture's works here, but if you're raised predominantly on Western media, you're undoubtedly going to absentmindedly adopt ideas about society that are primarily molded around Western beliefs .

And this is apparent in LO, while Rachel is from New Zealand, you can tell she grew up on a lot of Western media and its influences are sorely showing through LO's worldbuilding, character designs, and narrative choices. That "modern setting" that I mentioned before is much less Greek and a lot more adjacent to The Kardashians which lends to the theories that most of the media that Rachel consumes is American. Rather than actually going to the effort of doing her research on Greek culture, she seems to just prefer defaulting to the easiest assumption of how modern society is across the board - a generic Los Angeles clone with big glass skyscrapers and pavement walkways. She rarely ever draws food or clothing from those time periods; despite this story being about gods she's spent so little time on the people who passed on the stories about those gods, the mortals, and the gods themselves rarely feel like gods, rather just like Hollywood celebrities covered in body paint. The clothing feels very generic and uninspired with often very little Greek influence, even though Greek clothing is designed around Mediterranean living which you could do a lot with, to such an egregiously Western degree that Hades and Persephone's wedding was Christian-coded. The food... well, there ISN'T any because as we've seen, like the stereotypical American child, Persephone apparently only wants chicken nuggies and Skittles for dinner, so we never see her eat; and not only do we not see Persephone eat, but Rachel weirdly tries to use Persephone's vegetarianism as some kind of anti-capitalist characterization when much of the Greek diet is predominantly vegetarian. It's NOT HARD or uncommon to be a vegetarian in Greece!

(it looks like they're literally all eating the same thing so IDK what Hera is referring to here, it looks like they're all eating toast and lettuce LMAO)

All that's to say, much of LO - and the books like it that I've gone over here - are written with this idea that every culture - including the one that it's trying to adapt - was subject to the same ideas that Western culture lives by in the modern day - that being a vegetarian is "counterculture" in every culture, that the notion of sexual purity is enforced in the same way it's enforced in the Western education system (cough Christianity cough), that queer or otherwise "unconventional" relationships should stay inside the bedroom and not be seen. As much as Rachel claims she wants to "fight the patriarchy" and "deconstruct purity culture", all she winds up doing is reinforcing it through a Westernized lens, which is, as I've talked about before, very indicative of right-leaning white feminism and what it embraces and promotes - being a "good woman" who follows the rules and willingly becomes part of the system that's oppressing them because that's what "good women" do. Women who are confidant in their sexuality are evil and should be shunned for being "sluts". Women who are in relationships with other women "don't count" as real relationships the same way heteronormative relationships do, and cannot be trusted because they're likely trying to spread an agenda that's designed to brainwash heterocis women. Women should only aim to achieve marriage and their entire personality has to be built around their true love. Women are allowed to be kinky, but only as kinky as roleplaying the exact same gender structures that puts the man in a position to dominate a woman, and it should always and only ever be with her first love who she marries immediately, no one else.

This is exactly what the critics are getting at when they hold LO - and its creator - accountable for the messages it's been sending for five years to its audience of middle aged women and young girls. Having a demographic is fine, if this were just a comic for girls it would be fine, but it becomes a lot more problematic when that demographic is being fed toxic power fantasy stories based on a culture that's being gentrified and sanitized of all its original messaging and characterization right before our eyes. It feels blatantly misinformed from the very beginning in its intention to be a "feminist retelling" of Greek myth, because somehow Lore Olympus manages to be less feminist than these stories drafted and written by men from 2000+ years ago.

I opened this essay with a question: why do we keep getting these Greek myth adaptations written by queer women that still wind up perpetuating toxic heteronormative culture?

I think cases like these really highlight how deep the heteronormative brainwashing from childhood onward goes. That, despite these writers being queer or women, still manage to reinforce the same ideas and tropes and harmful predisposed notions that were designed to be used explicitly against queer people and women. These are things that we can't ever stop challenging, and asking, and truly deconstructing, because it runs deep in many of us who grew up on popular media even as innocent as Disney. Learning about more complex social concepts like sexism and misogyny and queerphobia doesn't automatically absolve us of those very same biases that have been both blatantly and subtly ingrained into us since childhood. All that said, Rachel being bisexual does not mean she's not capable of straightwashing; Cait Corrain being a queer debut author with a POC main character didn't stop them from targeting other POC debut authors at their own imprint; being part of any minority group or identifier does not automatically protect you from perpetuating the cycle that you, too, likely had enforced upon you at some point or another in your life. The fact that these creators and writers are still perpetuating that cycle to begin with is indicative of why it's a cycle at all - it takes work to break on a subconscious level because those cycles are specifically designed to target and hijack the subconscious.

At its worst, do you really think Lore Olympus can claim to be a feminist retelling that's "deconstructing purity culture" when the creator herself admittedly never fully identified or understood sexism until her mid-30's and has the audacity to say her audience is "harsh" on the female characters that she constantly vilifies through her own narrative?

"I feel like female characters in general, people will be a little harsher on them and sometimes way harsher on them, and I used to be like.. before I started writing the story and like making a story I was like yeah, sexism is not that bad, and [now] I was like oh it's bad. It's quite bad [laughs], so like, I don't know, I feel like the female characters in the story don't get so much of a pass. But this isn't consistent across the board, it's not all the time" - Rachel Smythe, in an interview with Girl Wonder Webtoon Podcast

If Lore Olympus truly was just a series meant to be for fun "no thoughts head empty" drama and spice, that would be fine. I've said it time and time before on this blog and I'll say it again: I wouldn't have an issue if Rachel was just writing a story exclusively revolving around heterocis men and women. I'm just frustrated and tired and annoyed that she keeps lying about it, and doubly so that this comic and its creator who claim to be "feminist" have inspired other people in the same headspace to continue to perpetuate that cycle through works that are clearly inspired by LO and never challenged the things LO promoted - violence towards "unconventional" women, violence towards POC, and erasure of queer people. And worst of all, for writers like Cait Corrain, it's more than just writing a really bad book with really bad messaging, it's going so far as intentionally targeting those same groups of people that are regularly vilified in works like LO - people who are just existing, who don't pose a threat to anyone, but had the misfortune of becoming the target of a white woman's insecurity.

I don't know what the answer to this problem is. I don't know what form the solution will come in, if any, to address the ongoing issues with Greek myth adaptions that are being sorely written through an "America as the default" point of view and praised for "rewriting the script of Greek mythology", quite literally cultural appropriation happening live right before our eyes all for the sake of cheap entertainment. Maybe it'll take the failings of works like Crown of Starlight to really get people talking about it. But so long as the roots of these works - such as Lore Olympus - are still being protected and marketed en masse by the same kinds of people who don't see the issue in Americanizing other cultures and their stories, then Lore Olympus and Crown of Starlight will not be the last ones to cause harm to the source material - and the cultures that source material is born from and a part of - they're taking from.

I opened this post with a question, and I'm going to close it with another to really leave it as food for thought. That question comes from another video that I'll link here for you to watch at your convenience that spends even more time diving into and discussing the nature of works like this that have seemingly attempted to "deconstruct" the very dogmas that they still wind up reinforcing all the same.

Does the romance genre have a white supremacy problem?

(yes. yes, it does.)

[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 ©

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Seventeen with an s/o that writes/produces songs? The s/o could be like a very famous one! for example: when fans see their name is in the credits of a song (kpop or even western music, cus why not be a global phenomenon 🤷🏽‍♀️) they already know it’s gonna be so good since they have a history of making amazing music, iykiwm?

THANK YOU SO MUCH! Also I love your work, you’re so talented and you always put stuff out so quickly but to the highest quality it’s quite mind blowing. ilysm!! 💗

🎶Who; Seventeen (individually) x reader, with a focus on Jihoon at the end 🎶What; headcanon, idol/producer au 🎶Wordcount; 570-ish 🎶Warnings; none, I don't think

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N - I'm not sure how to do individual reactions for this because I'm pretty sure they'd all be pretty similar so I don't want to be repetitive, so I'll write a general thought and any extra bits for those who may have an individual line of thought. Sorry it's taken a little while to write too, I really couldn't figure out how to write this so I hope this is okay. Thank you for the suggestion and I hope you like it

Also omg you're so sweet omg, that's genuinely one of the nicest comments I've ever had about my writing! Being told my writing is high quality feels insane in the best of ways! Thank you for saying that! I really appreciate it 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

He will love it if you're in the same industry as him, especially if you're well known because you'll know exactly what it's like to be him; the busy schedules and little privacy with people always trying to have a view into your personal lives. So you'll be able to bond over that from day one.

The biggest hype man for his partner; they won't all cheer the loudest at award shows because obviously, some of them are much too introverted for that but they will all shower you with praise for every award you win. But even if he doesn't cheer the loudest, he will all do his utmost to share every single new release you've worked on, sometimes his social media accounts will seem more like a fan accounts for you but it's very sweet and cute so the fans don't really mind.

Of course, it's not all fun times. What with how busy you both are, it's genuinely really hard to find time to be together so unless you move in together, you probably might not even see each other on a weekly basis. Though even if you live together, your conflicting schedules will probably make it hard to be awake at the same time so most of your quality time together is spent asleep.

So long as you both try to make space for each other in your hectic schedules and try and have a phone/video call every single day and send update/random messages to one another throughout the day when possible, you'll be fine.

Now, of course, I have to do a special shout-out to Jihoon, producer-songwriter extraordinaire. If anyone will understand how much he works, it's you. But the funniest thing is, he's actually the one I think will be able to handle all this the easiest.

Because I have this very vivid of Jihoon in his studio working away with his headphones on and his phone propped up in the matching stands you have in your own studios, your face on his screen showing you doing the exact same thing in your own studio. You can't hear each other and honestly, the calls are muted at both ends so even if it wasn't for your headphones, you wouldn't be able to hear one another, but just being able to glance down and see the other diligently working on the next chart-topper gives you both the energy to keep going. Every now and then, one of you will remove your headphones so the other will notice the movement and look at the screen to copy & unmute the call to hear whatever the other has to say. It's often asking the other's opinion on the track being worked on. Or one of you saying you need to go so the call needs to end. Though sometimes, Jihoon will subtly free one of his ears from his noise-cancelling headphones and unmute the call just so he can hear the tapping of you working away mixed with the random pieces of speech when you mumble to yourself as you work. You may not be paying him any attention at this point and he times it purposely so you never know he does it, but it fills his chest with happy warmth, and then he'll remute the call, fix his headphones and get back to work with a content little smile on his face.

[scarfacemarston]

Tuberculosis and the Wild West

Spoilers for RDR2 , but it’s been since 2018, y’all.  Trigger warnings for serious talk of severe terminal illness and severe stigma. As of 12/20 or 20/12, I have fixed some of the wording and added a few new things so please seriously head the warnings. Ok, first, some background: I've been studying TB since 2018; my father had a form of TB twice. I'm a historian, and one of my specialties is the history of medicine. Of course, you don't need to be a historian to write something like this. Also,  please "like" and reblog, this sort of content takes time. Tons of pics of buildings, and info below of the “lore” and IRL people.

Background info about TB that y’all need to know: TB is still horrifically deadly and still a leading cause of death. To give you all an idea about how recent genuine scientifically proven treatments were-  antibiotics targeting TB were not  discovered until the late 40s. However, sanatoriums (TB hospitals) and similar TB-related places didn't all close until 1970. My sister was born in 1977.  To give you all an idea of how treeified people were of this disease, think of the stigma with the AIDS/HIV crisis in the 1980s or the early fears surrounding Covid.

TB is one of the three oldest diseases dating back to Ancient Egypt with early evidence appearing through ancient mummies. Starting around the 18th century, western people believed TB was a disease of the elite granting someone ethereal beauty, writing prowess, and artistic talents. It was known as a "romantic disease" and a "beautiful death" - both of which we know aren’t true.  Some western beauty standards are influenced by TB including rouged lips, blush, pale skin and a thin figure accentuated with corsets. However, the appearance was due to the patient wasting away. Patients actually had bloodied lips, feverish cheeks, a pale complexion from the illness and losing a large amount of body weight. That's why TB was initially called consumption.(There have been many other names for TB including the White Plague and Captain of All These Men of Death and phthisis which is Greek in origin.) However, people eventually woke up and realized, "Oh wait, this isn't so sexy” The disease spread like wildfire, especially in the cities affecting whole families as was seen with Doc Holliday. Soon, society blamed anyone who wasn’t a white upperclass person AND those who were "immoral . They believed it was someone’s own fault if they had the disease. People held a very e*gen*c view of the disease believing their activities or who their families were caused this.  Immoral in this instance includes thieves, sex workers, bar workers, drunkards, violent people, women who had children out of wedlock, said child born out of wedlock, and homeless people. Obviously, this isn't true. It was overcrowded spaces, poor hygienic practices, but also animals, especially cows and deer. Ironically, the deer/stag plays a huge role in RDR 2. A few aspects from RDR 2 were inspired by Doc Holiday, one of the greatest gunslingers and outlaws in American history. His talents with the gun were considered by some as otherworldly. He and Wyatt Earp are most famous for the shoot-out at the OK Corral. Doc was dying of TB and headed west in order to potentially receive some medical attention, but found out that being an outlaw was great fun. Watch Tombstone for a fictionalized version of him. He had a very colorful life, but died of TB in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, at the age of 36. The same age as you know who.

This leads us to RDR 2 itself. The short answer about  survival is potentially yes, but with some major stipulations. I have traveled across the country studying TB and visiting TB sites and have seen these locations firsthand. Read further to read how survival was possible and for pictures of key locations.

IF Arthur had rested, maintained a proper fat rich diet, rested in especially clean air and partook in light exercise, he MIGHT have had a chance. I would estimate a 60-70 percent chance based on my readings of TB survivors. The chance of survival  could be more if he he headed West immediately after diagnosis. The wealthy traveled to newly built luxury resorts, but most people lived in tent colonies, so Arthur would be very familiar with the site. Hell, if the gang moved West, and followed the conditions I mentioned above, he MIGHT have been able to recover without heading to a TB colony. The the gang wasn't stable, and they were being hunted down, etc. However, people were pissed about the TB patients heading west to settle on "their land" (which is, of course, Native American land that was stolen). This pushed people to the outskirts of town and eventually, the establishment of sanatoriums which were tuberculosis treatment centers. 

Both the picture above and below would be an example of the tents used by TB patients to camp out. The top picture was probably taken around the 1890s which is Arthur’s lifetime while the picture blow is probably from a later era like the 20′s based on the clothing. City people in big cities sometimes camped out on the roofs of their flats and apartments hence the setting of the second picture. 

Due to the extreme fear, people were literally dropped off by families/friends or even government officials far outside of town. You did not want society to know that you had loved one with TB or else the stigma would affect you as well.  Later, TB patients were forcibly institutionalized. Many of these patients were ashamed of their affliction, but also felt further shame that their loved ones could be ostracized by society. I cannot stress enough how horrific this disease was and how tb psychologically affected the sufferer and its loved ones. Many tb sufferers never saw their loved ones again due to their families shunning them. I interviewed the elderly who remembered family members suffering from the disease and it still haunts their lives today. We see some of the shunning and stigma in the game, not just from the townspeople but from the gang. It's actually one of the reasons why I truly dislike a few unexpected gang members, for example.

At least Abigail, Charles, Tilly, John, and Sadie still treated him as a  human. Hell, Even Molly was kinder to him and she was really suffering in chapter 6.

I will tell you right now, realistically speaking, in no way could Arthur have done anything at all in chapter six. I’m not only talking missions, but any sort of work.  I won't go into graphic details, but one of the less graphic ones is that his hands would struggle to grasp objects, especially a gun. His joints would be too swollen. I know because I've seen it firsthand with my father and read plenty of accounts about it. Other than that, the game does a pretty great job of representing TB - however, Arthur could have been arrested or fined for spitting blood on the street which he did quite often in the game. Link goes to an academic article, but here is a more accessible link.

By 1899, people had been heading west for TB treatment for decades. People of all races headed west to Colorado, California, New Mexico, and Arizona being the prime locations. Dry air and or mountainous air were your best bets. Colorado was quite literally known as THE place for TB tourism as it was called. It was one of the first major waves of health tourism in the history of the USA. 

Another famous person and case study is Dr. Edward Livingston Trudeau. He himself suffered from tuberculosis who sent up tuberculosis huts in Saranac Lake, NY. For further study, other key locations include Asheville, North Carolina and in the mountainous regions of Pennsylvania. They huts looked like this:

These were also in Colorado Springs, Colorado Springs was full of them and they are still occasionally found in people’s yards today. 

I visited one in the Pioneer museum in Colorado Springs. I can post my pictures later, but this is one found in an outdoor museum.

The TB patients had a very strict regimen of never leaving the bed and used bed pans. Healthier patients had access to their own private toilet. Stronger patients could work on doctor approved exercises, while even healthier TB patients who weren't ready to leave facilities yet could spend the rest of their time working around the camp or sanatorium.  Below is how Arthur would have looked getting treatment if he wasn’t in a hut or tent:

Above: Women receiving treatment. Below: An 1899 TB facility. Most tuberculosis sanitoriums were built from 1905 onwards so John’s era was FULL of them. The peak of the sanitarium era though was 1920-1940ish.

The problem is TB patients had a very chance of suffering from pneumonia once TB went into remission. It's happened in tons of my case studies. If Arthur could have survived both TB AND pneumonia, then he would have been considered "Ok". Not good, but “Ok”. However, I can't predict how long he would have lived afterwards. Some TB patients had tuberculosis come in a second wave. This is, unfortunately, very common. Some people lived a few months, a few years and some lived decades after surviving the second wave.

 Fortunately, survival after two waves include people who lived hard, like Arthur. Trudeau lived till 68, and that is after 2 bouts of TB and pneumonia, with the third wave of TB being his cause of death.

This is very likely a reason why Arthur would have been in New Austin if they had kept him in the epilogue and continued the TB storyline. I personally do NOT think John was ever going to kill him. MISC NOTES: Related to RDR:  Important side note: Sex workers were especially blamed for spreading TB which makes sense because of the contact with multiple people, but it's not that different than someone who works at a factory every day, runs a shop or works at the docks, or in similar situations. Anyone could spread it. This is why it is actually technically very offensive to ask someone like Abigail if she had TB because it would be a way to imply she is unclean as a person. (Which people in the game already believe with some of the fandom similarly treating her poorly.) The history of sex work is my other specialty, so I am very familiar with their history. I will say, from what I gathered, sex workers did NOT seem to be that much more affected than others, but at the same time, we don't have a lot of records of people who weren't white upper-class Christian men. So we have these records if these people were arrested, but remember that all of the examples of people I mentioned were viewed as second-class citizens. Therefore, we have hardly any records of sex workers as actual people and historians have to be creative to find other ways to research them properly.  Modern day: TB is also becoming antibiotic-resistant at a frightening pace. This will become a massive problem. Treatment  requires at least two antibiotics - streptomycin being the main choice for the primary antibiotic. This treatment lasts months, and these antibiotics are insanely strong. They can really mess with the body's system. I've seen it. My father was one of the lucky ones only having to take the pills for 8 months. Many others take it from a year to even 18 months. Other people take the pills and undergo radiation therapy to treat TB. Modern science can't produce enough new antibiotics to outpace it, but alternative treatments do appear to be promising.  If you want me to write more about TB or for any other history questions, feel free to send me an anon/message.  Additional pics: Below: Sanitarium built around 1905.

Below: An example of a finished Sanatorium in 1911ish:

[aurora-daily]

AURORA in an interview for Ticketmaster via Amroth | April 6th, 2024

In April 2022, AURORA read a letter that changed her life. It was co-written by indigenous activists, titled ‘We Are the Earth’, and called for a revolution: a collective response to global warming – to “heal the land”. They described being connected to the land “through our hearts”, and the earth as “the heart that pulsates within us.”

The letter led AURORA to consider a question: what happened to the heart? “Everything we do is about greed, about money, about mass consumption, about capitalism,” she says, blue wide-eyed and flooded with feeling. “There’s war everywhere, countries under water, flowers in Antarctica. We are ruining our land, mistreating our animals, our clothing, and each other. We have stopped leading from the heart.”

And so 27-year-old Norwegian art-pop superstar AURORA began studying books on human anatomy. She wanted to understand when and why Western culture lost touch with the deeper purpose of our most vital organ.

“The ancient Greeks thought the heart was the portal to spiritual divinity, that it represented the interconnectedness of the world,” she says. “But then Aristotle comes along and says, ‘the heart is a pump’. Then Plato says, ‘the heart makes blood’. Then another guy says, ‘the heart filters the blood’. And so bit by bit, it became purely functional. We had misinterpreted its whole meaning.”

The letter also resonated with AURORA on a more personal level. In 2022, she released her chart-topping last album, The Gods We Can Touch, which saw her complete a sold out UK headline tour, including at BST Hyde Park alongside Adele. With over a million album sales and 2.6 billion streams, and her inaugural The Gods We Can Touch book selling 14,000 copies (while signed copies sold out in less than an hour), AURORA was at her professional peak. Yet at the same time she experienced something painful that split her in two. She sensed a disconnect between her mind and heart. “It made me understand women in a way I hadn’t before. It made me understand how evil hides behind the nicest of faces.”

AURORA’s fourth album, What Happened to the Heart?, is a journey from weakness to strength, from self-destruction to self-healing. Of reuniting a fractured self. “It’s actually the most personal and cathartic album I have ever written,” she says quietly, as if the realisation had only just come to her.

‘Some Type of Skin’, a dark slice of electro-pop, reveals the conflict at the album’s core. “When you’re vulnerable, anything that brushes up against you makes you bleed,” she says. “But you need to go into battle, you need to build some type of skin.” In the song, AURORA cries: “Hit me hard where I am soft… should my heart reveal itself to be more than a muscle? Or a fist covered in blood?”

To build her armour, AURORA decided to throw herself into chaos. “Usually I am very careful, very reasonable” she says. “But for once I wanted to experience what it felt to be unreasonable. I needed to be destructive.” So she gave herself a year, while she was touring ‘The Gods We Can Touch’, to throw herself into life hard and fast. “A lot of alcohol, very little sleep, a lot of fun,” she smiles, a little wistfully. She went ice swimming and hurled things in rage rooms. “It was painful, but I was building skin.”

The chaos extended to the writing process. “I had a rule: I could only write in unsafe spaces, I needed to be rootless.” That meant no forests, where AURORA had spent much of her childhood in Bergen, Norway – a solitary safe haven away from those who made her “feel alien”. These “unsafe spaces” were loud, full of people, “strange smells, noises…anywhere where I could feel observed”.

AURORA travelled all over the word, meeting with women she describes as modern day philosophers, “women with true knowledge”. In particular, three female tribe leaders in Colombia, Brazil and Argentina. “There is wisdom in their indigenous values. These women live in the modern world just like us, but they still choose to live with kindness.”

She was inspired by their feminine power. “Men have been leading us for thousands of years and look where that has got us. We need change, and women have had everything figured out from the very beginning of time. We were the first timekeepers, we could track the seasons inside our own bodies.” She grins cheekily. “I would be scared of us too, if I were a man.”

Feminine strength inspired 'The Gods We Can Touch' – fighting against internal shame and societal judgement of the female body – and it is no less present here. Above the throbbing techno of 'Starvation', produced by German Nicolas Rebscher, who also worked on her debut EP 'Running With the Wolves', AURORA mourns the depletion of the human spirit as a result of technological invasion that is particularly threatening to women. “Our souls are starving, because AI is taking over; art is being replaced by computers,” she says, gravely. “And women, our consent, is being exploited, as it always has been, from porn to deep fakes.”

The act of mourning is integral to What Happened to the Heart? As AURORA says, “I’ve been thinking a lot about funerals, and in the music people used to deal with death”. She drew on buried grief for loved ones, as well mourning her former self.

“In Norway there is a culture of repression. I suppressed something for so long, and became infected by it,” she says, with a deep sigh. “So once I began to properly address my past, I realised that a lot of things I remembered were very different from how I imagined. And I had to accept that I have to change to move on. I am not the same as I was". She adds, firmly: "I have to learn how to work with this body, in this mind, as they are now.”

This mourning led to a kind of holy communion between AURORA's heart and mind for the first time. “I spent a lot of time drinking wine alone, speaking out loud, my heart and mind finally in conversation.” She would record these conversations and later transcribe them as fodder for her songs, such as ‘The Dark Dresses Lightly’, a haunting folkloric melody over an urgent drum pattern, which imagines the heart and the mind as two characters sitting at a table, drinking together – you can even hear the glasses clinking in the production.

AURORA leans forward conspiratorially. “So the heart says, ‘Okay, now, we've gone too long without communicating. Tonight, we're going to get drunk, go deep into this shit, and explode on each other’.” The song is the album’s turning point, AURORA adds, “when all the ugly has come out, and you can kind of hear me having an orgasm because getting everything out is so delicious, and the healing can truly begin.”

These imaginary exchanges felt so visceral to AURORA that she would sometimes paint them; the heart and mind in a sword duel, “splattering all over each other”, she says, her face lighting up with mischievous delight.

It’s a viscerality mirrored by the album’s production: a thrumming, primal force that confronts the almost ecclesiastical purity of AURORA’s own vocals. “It reflects this idea of the body falling apart, and being glued back together by something inhuman.” This discord is brought to life by “beautiful old synthesisers” that AURORA found all over the world, including with previous collaborator Tom Rowlands of The Chemical Brothers. “I got him to puke all over the song ‘My Body is Not Mine’ with his old modular synths” she says, which, fittingly, “had a mind of their own.”  

Despite the thematic and sonic darkness of the album, AURORA wanted to maintain a certain playfulness. “A very random, very intuitive,” way of producing. She collaborated with some of her favourite Norwegian artists and producers, from Ane Brun on ‘My Name’, to Matias Tellez on ‘Invisible Wounds’. On some tracks she plays the drums, a fiddle player and a traditional Chinese Pipa player were brought in, and some songs contain a “beautiful mandolin from the 60s”, she says, smiling, picking up an imaginary bow as she loses herself in the memory. There is even a disco song, ‘Do You Feel?’, produced by longtime collaborator Magnus Skylstad and sure to be a club-banger and chart hit. “It makes no sense, I have no idea why it’s on the album,” AURORA laughs, like a tinkling bell. “But my sister was born in the 80s and I was kind of thinking about her. And I liked the idea of having a song that made no sense.”

Not all these songs are a product of chaos, however. The first and the last songs of the album, ‘The Echo of My Shadow’ and ‘Invisible Wounds’, were written in the quiet. “In my living room, where it was safe. They came directly from my solitude.” And with this quiet comes hope: “We both need to/Tend to the invisible wounds,” AURORA sings, a call to action for herself, to the listener, and to the world, to rupture with this malignant state of inertia, to fight back, to heal. “We need to stop this sense of global denial. We need to blow up, because it’s important, sometimes, to explode. Explosion is vital for change, to put the heart back into politics.” She smiles, and says, in the softest tone: “I think what we need... is a small riot.”

[asksythe]

Does chinese fandom also have the headcannon of wen yuan being wen ruohans secret 3rd son conceived after wen xu & wen chaos death's 😅? Western fans made this headcanon because they thought having the wen remnants wwx takes in be this separate branch that are healers muddled the themes? And to spite the great clans who attempted to exterminate the wens root and branch having the only post canon survivor of the wen being qishan wen but also directly related to wen ruohan is very satisfying to them I guess

What I'm trying to ask is does chinese cultural reading of the text allow for such headcanon or does it go against text

Wen Yuan being Wen Ruohan's secret child... well... I personally have never seen that in the Chinese fandom.

That said, a fandom is a big space, especially the Chinese side. So, I don't think anybody can conclusively claim any one thing. There's a lot of wacky stuff out there. And a lot of it genuinely makes sense or is convincing in its own way. I've seen ethnic minority authors (Xin Jiang, etc..) coming in with their own cosmology and folklore completely distinct from the base cosmology of MDZS and writing some of the most creative and beautiful stories I have ever read (like the idea that Lan mama might be a member of the Northern tribes worshipping the phoenix, which explains her being powerful enough to kill Lan papa's master while also being an unknown to the clans, and that her 'death's is actually part of the phoenix saintess's ability to reborn herself in a new body).

Wen Yuan being Wen Ruohan's secret love child doesn't really have much if any support from the book, the donghua, or the show. If anything, the first time A Yuan appeared in the book, he was described as a child not more than 2 years old atop Wen grangran's back in the prison camp. The time makes it really awkward for A Yuan to be Wen Ruohan's albeit it's not completely out of the realm of possibilities. In the same chapter, the book also said that A Yuan's father is Wen Qing's cousin and Wen grangran's son.

But if you are in pursuit of exploring certain themes or ideas, then I don't see why not. Headcanon is... well... headcanon. The nature of fandom being a space for exploration and appreciation is a beautiful thing I think.

Funnily enough, I have seen a fair number of Chinese fics operating on the premise that Wei Ying himself is mainline Wen via either his mother or his father. The theme they pursue is a member of the Wen ending itself in the fire of purification. The Wen founder, by all accounts, seemed a real stand-up guy. The teachings he left behind to his children were genuine pieces of wisdom and calling for a commitment to justice and fairness. The Wens in the book had a lot of signs that they had many good and right ideas (pursuing standardized laws among cultivators, the observation tower system that ended up being stolen by Jin Guangyao, etc...) but they went down the wrong direction due to corruption and a betrayal of the founding precepts laid down by their own founders. And so it took a (secret) Wen descendant to cut away the rot and to punish themselves, leaving behind only one or two genuinely innocent Wens.

The sun rises, the sun sets, the sun rises again. Anew and cleansed from rot. The mark of the Wen sun burned into Wei Ying's chest holds more symbolic power than it first appears, and the fact that Wei Ying cited the Wen founder's precepts back to a Wen descendant who had betrayed those very precepts. Like that. That kind of theme.

I remember there being several really big-name Chinese fan authors who wrote the same premise in different ways. It was really fun to read. Oh man, stories in which Wen Ruohan gets to redo things, or the Wen are all resurrected in a heaven-gambit type plot are in abundance, funnily enough. Hah! They tend to be a lot of fun to read too. There's also that one really great story in which the previous generations of the clan (Lan mama, papa, Wen Ruohan in his prime before children, Nie papa and his second wife, Jiang husband and wife freshly married, Wei papa and Cangse Sanren, etc...) get to see bits and pieces of the future via text without knowing their names and they have to deduce who is whose kids and how are they going to save their kids now??!!! In that story, Wen Ruohan kept thinking Wei Ying (called the destined of heaven in this story) is his child because there's no way he would spawn such bumbling, corrupted incompetents ... hahahahahahaha.... oh man... Well, that particular Wen Ruohan would then vow to be a better and stricter father to his kids to prevent them from becoming such rotten shitbags.

Oh yeah, there's also the idea that the Wen, being such a big and histories clan, actually had fall-back plan preparing for such scenarios where their entire clan is wiped out. They have secret seeds placed in far off territory. In one Chinese fic I read, this Wen descendant spent decades studying the major clans, rebuild the Wen in secret, and almost enacted bloody vengeance on all the major clans, but then stayed his hand when he found out the existence of Wen Yuan. That one was a good read too. Very convincing.

Ahem, the short answer to your question is that the canon text doesn't really support that headcanon... but it's not strictly speaking an impossibility either. It just boils down to how convincing can you write it?

[meraki-yao]

Is this a safe place? I sort of want to get something off my chest, but I have to do it anon because I’m scared. I’m a straight girl and a huge rwrb fan, and thus also a big fan of TZP and Nick. Lately I’m feeling more and more alienated in most of the fandom and I’m afraid I’m the problem? It’s just all this talk about topping and bottoming and what that means for how the characters are perceived that I absolutely do not get? Is it empowering in some way I’m not getting, because if not the feminist in me is sort of appalled.

It’s more or less the idea that bottoming is a little humiliating in a way that needs to be made jokes about that is bothering me. Like the bottom is always a little pathetic or desperate (like how women have historically been portrayed), and we should snicker when the top (or anyone) publicly «calls them out» for bottoming? Obviously not everyone does this but I see it more and more? And when it was just in fics and art I kept my mouth shut because I think that should be a free space, but now I see it in how the actors are talked about too. Like Alex is the top so TZP is made out to be hypermasculine and Henry was the bottom so Nick is either babied or made fun of? It’s bad for both imo. Why can’t tzp be babygirl sometimes and the focus be on his soft sides? All I see is talk about his body and how everyone wants him to top them. And then there’s Nick and how people are saying they are uncomfortable watching him act as a top in M&G, saying he will always be a bottom and that he is a slut etc. If it was an actress or female characters getting that treatment I would riot. And I guess I am a bit now in my cowardly anon way. Am I alone in feeling frustrated about this? Is it bad that I am? Please help me understand if I’m in the wrong.

Thank you for reaching out to me. As long as you’re respectful and not hurtful, you’re welcome here.

Actually, I’ve kind of wanted to write an essay on gay sex and the perception of gender in same-sex couples for a while now! So this might sound kind of academic, bear with me.

Preface: I identify as a straight cis girl, but I’ve been consuming both western and Asian queer media, both fiction and real person for years. This is my understanding of the matter, and I’m trying to be as sensitive and empathetic as I can be, but please note at the end of the day, I am not directly part of the queer community, therefore there may be certain things I miss, or a queer person will tell you otherwise. Also literally all my knowledge of sex comes from the internet, because Chinese culture literally does not talk about this at all. I gave my sister the talk instead of our parents. So please take what I say with a pinch of salt.

Also gonna talk about sex in an academic manner, but it’s still sex, so here’s your nsfw warning!

Ok here we go:

The power dynamic in sex position is fundamentally biological: the penetrator controls the pace and intensity of the act, thus is the active participant; the penetrated is in turn the passive. This is just the mechanics of the act: The penetrated, be it the woman in a straight couple or the bottom in a gay couple is put in the more vulnerable position, therefore the top, as the active participant is perceive as having more power, while the bottom as the passive participant is perceived as having less power.

And there are historical records of this perception: in ancient Greece, there was a common romantic dynamic called pederasty, a romantic and sexual relationship between an older man (the erastes/ to love) who acts as the active, dominant participant, aka the top, and a younger boy/ a teenager (the eromenos/ beloved) who acts as the passive, submissive participant, aka the bottom. It is speculated that this is the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus. This practice was understood as educative, as a means for the older man to teach the younger “how to be more manly as to grow up into a man”. THAT BEING SAID BY TODAY’S STANDARDS THIS IS PEDOPHILA AND DEFINITELY NOT OKAY. On top of that, the perception of being gay in ancient Rome is “it’s okay if you’re gay, as long as you’re the top”. My point is this power imbalance when it comes to same-sex relationships has existed for a very, very long time.

But the thing is a lot of things have advanced in the past centuries, and the perception of sex and gender is one of them.

So firstly in terms of sex, people are much more flexible in terms of the power dynamics, which is where terms like “switch” (can be either top or bottom), “power bottom” (the penetrated controls the pace and intensity of the act) , “service top” (the penetrator focused on their partner’s needs and wishes instead of their own) and the whole BDSM category (which I’m personally not informed about or interested in). So I would say we’re mostly past the point of humiliating bottoms or perceiving bottoms as inherently weak, and use bottom more in terms of the mechanics.

That being said, the power being more balanced does not immediately take away the gender perception of the dynamic.

Since when comparing a gay couple’s sex act with a straight couple’s sex act, the woman has to be in a penetrated position as per biology and anatomy (at least traditionally speaking), the association drawn between the bottom and the woman becomes easy to make. In fact in China, all bottoms, regardless of gender/sexuality, are referred to with female terms, like “wife”, “princess”, “queen” etc. So bottoms tend to be feminized, or at least viewed as more effeminate. Again, this has changed and made more flexible/free in modern times, but this trend is still present.

But when it comes to applying the terms on the boys, something involved is also the audience’s own perception and understanding of gender representation. “Babygirl” is more referring to the “cute” kind of attractiveness than actually babying him, which with given material, tends to apply more to the perception and presentation of Nick than Taylor. That being said I have seen Taylor/Alex being referred to babygirl as well. It’s a little rare but it’s present. I wouldn’t really say Taylor’s hypermasculine either, but in relatively, his style and manners lean more towards the masculine side of the spectrum. But again it’s a matter of perception. Are the gendered terms used on the boys affected by the dynamic of their characters? To some degree, yes. But it’s also sometimes a genuine commentary on their own style as themselves.

As for Geroge, I personally haven’t seen those comments, but the problem with the comments lies in associating George with Nick as an individual and Henry as an individual: as in, they’re not treating George as George, they’re treating George as Nick, which might be why they have such comments. That being said, this is a piece of media, so each to their own.

I think the last thing I’m gonna say to end this is that please remember that this is all subjective perception. If you see something different, then that’s just what you see. Try seeing someone else’s perspective, and if you tried and it didn’t work, then let it be. You’re not in the wrong, it’s ok that you’re frustrated, but at least I don’t think the situation is as harmful as you might see it to be. These types of comments often are throwaway thoughts, so there’s also the question on how serious a comment is.

Hope this helped! Feel free to shoot me another ask if you still have questions.

[archivalofsins]

It's probably not something many people want to hear or even attempt to internalize.

However, if the way a person engages with any media is making people actively fearful, afraid, or anxious to engage with said media that's not good. If a good deal of people's response to trial two coming to a close is like they're clocking out of a long work shift, finally getting that vacation they've been hoping for. That's not healthy or fun.

I want it to be known that if someone cannot personally handle being around others with different opinions than them, if someone is asking why these people can't just see this how they see it- It's not even an issue of Milgram not being a healthy series for them to engage in anymore. At that point being a part of big fandom spaces may not be a healthy thing for that person in general.

Look I know that throughout trial two a vocal minority of fans have made Milgram a completely horrid experience for a good deal of people. Mostly fucking twitter users. Some of which are here now and like to bring their drama with them. I don't even use the fucking thing anymore. This ceased to be just a western fan problem and turned into a global one a long time ago.

Fans on twitter to my personal memory,

Complained about other countries being allowed to vote at all stating that Milgram should only let people who live in Japan vote, the same person who said this on twitter made a poll after the end of Amane's trial to figure out if it was just western fans that wanted her innocent. Consistently gave inaccurate information about dissociative identity disorder (focused primarily upon one person's individual experience with it multiple times in various spaces). Resulting in presenting the disorder as a monolith in order to push their own theories setting back progress for the millions of people who actually have it. Literally the western audience heavily headcanoned Mu's victim as half black while making fun of her death/how she died during her second trial. Along with using racist rhetoric/dogwhistles in order to push for an innocent verdict for the girl. Made a Kazui guilty shrine. Directly incentivizing people to vote the man guilty by giving them stuff each day they did-

Bitch I'm not paid for this. Hell I would like to be- Incentivize me real quick. Honestly, since they got paid just saying where's mine? People on tumblr write elaborate theories and analysis for free. Because they genuinely enjoy the media. Twitter is the fucking platform that's telling people how they should fucking vote and trying to decide who has the right to since trial two started. Then fucking whining when their piss poor behavior doesn't get them the verdicts they want. It's so bad that eastern fans have actively sought help from western fans to combat some of these problems on multiple occassions.

There are people in the east who wanted Amane innocent and celebrated when she was innocent just like there are people in the west who wanted her guilty. Whether the fandom on twitter believes it or not. This part of the fandom is so detached from the rest of it that they only dream about knowing what the fuck we do over here. They've created a fucking echochamber. Yet the people literally going think for yourself, this is my opinion what's yours are getting the most flack because the vocal minority doesn't like the fact the logic they share makes their feelings hurt.

That in the face of the actual facts of the situations presented to us none of the prisoners look completely good or completely bad. Yet, they're definitely not looking that good either. That some of the facts directly conflict with the squeaky clean always right image they've created of the prisoner they like in their head. Then they go online and make that the issue of whoever's take they like the least that day instead of I don't know not bothering others. Then the worst part is these people whine and play victim harder than the prisoners in their interrogations as soon as consequences present themself for their behavior usually as tangible trial results in Milgram.

Because they've continually thrown these fits publically just to have the verdict they didn't want happen over and over this trial.

Pushed for Mu innocent-

Pushed for Kazui Guilty-

Pushed for Amane Guilty-

I don't even give a fuck what Twitter is pushing for with Kotoko at this point because she's pushing up daises from the bottom of hell-

By audience choice. Literally by audience choice. Fuck the only thing I've heard about Kotoko's trial from twitter was from Star about how they're once again attempting voting fraud in an attempt to get her innocent. Though even I can admit this is fucking embarrassing. This is like really fucking sad. Everything Twitter has fucking pushed for this trial has not won. Meawhile I think maybe tumblr took one loss with Haruka this trial and just vowed never again.

I think everyone can realize how fucking wild that is. Can you fucking imagine how at your wits end you would be if you kept publicly losing like this? How dejected? It's only reasonable to think why isn't anyone listening to what I have to say or how I feel in this sort of situation. Yet, at the same time some of the fans on twitter have actively alienated the other fans on there they have no fandom unity. Which makes sense given they do the shit up there. They are literally eatting eachother over there for sport.

Because it's fucking twitter. That's how it's always been.

Hell, I fucking wouldn't even know these were losses for them if they didn't announce on every verdict post on twitter that's what happened. Or even go back to the comments of Purge March where they're still complaining about Amane's innocent verdict primarily blaming you guessed it the west.

Then they want to go I'm just trying to have fun why are people so mean- Without ever asking who their fun is at the expense of. What it says when they blame everything on overseas fans, state they shouldn't be allowed to vote, and Milgram is different now. This is the platform people are letting impact their experience and encite them into bothering people on other platforms?! People who are actually just trying to have fun in a way that is unique and personal to them? This is the platform running the milgram fandom narrative?

This is what people want the history of the fandom to be when all is said and done? I don't because I know the fandom is better than this. I know it can be better than this. The worst part of trial two is the fact that we let people with no intention to understand make us believe it couldn't be better than this. People who most of the time actively sought out someone who's privately enjoying themselves in the fandom to just go "um, actually you're doing that wrong" or picked someone from the tag to have bad faith discourse with.

Newsflash nobody asked, nobody fucking asked for a Milgram referee, nobody asked who's watching the watchmen, who's guarding the guard. If anyone's fandom hobby is trying to micromanage how others engage with media they're in a different book now and they deserve to stay in it alone or with people like them. Because the only thing people who act in this way want is for others to shut up. For them to stop saying the things that make their favorite look bad and there's only one thing to respond to that with after a while.

I hope you grow up someday~

Think about what makes people who do this more entitled to having fun discussing the things they enjoy than the person(s) that they're currently behaving in this way to? What makes them different from the others that they look down on and treat as an enemy from square one. All because they read a post and decided to define whether a fan was a good or bad person based on that alone. It's not different from coming to that conclusion from just listening to a song or watching a music video really.

Plus, I promise anyone who is doing stuff like this nobody is going to magically change their mind because someone behaves this way towards them. Because the people who do this shit are usually no different from the people who do the same shit listed above. Now everyone is not like this. This is why I said the vocal minority. It's still bad that people are behaving in this manner and treating others like this regardless of how little people are doing it.

At a point the Milgram fandom globally is going to have to reckon with how the way many have treated other fans in this space has been harmful and sown division. The solution to this hostility should not have to be disavowing an entire part of the fandom on a different platform and going we don't do that shit here. However, at a point that becomes the only correct response. Because at the point the behavior being exhibited by some fans is making others feel unsafe and anxious about enjoying the things they enjoy it is only right to go-

We don't do that shit here. We don't engage with people who do that shit here. I have no respect for anyone who mistreats real people over Milgram. If people want to have fun and not have these serious discussions the door is right there go out of it. Communication is a two way street and if you come to someone else with disrespect and hostility you should expect right back. The time of having both while some have none is fucking over. People who behave in this way, whining and bitching about how we don't need nuance it's not that serious one instance just to pivot into how can you not take this seriously are disngenuous and ultimately driven by serving only theirselves.

I myself am sick of pretending like they don't fucking realize that. Because the biggest kicker here is they treat themselves like prisoners but unlike them no one is forcing them to be here or engage at all. People who enjoy anlayzing these things and asking these questions aren't forcing them to fucking do that too. So, no one who enjoys Milgram that way is responsible for the feelings of those who do not enjoy engaging with the series in that way.

Every individual is responsible for currating their own fandom experience. Anyone entitled enough to bother another person into currating their personal fandom experience around them and only saying things that they like is the one being the issue. It's probably disappointing to hear but if the ways up there are how fans want to enjoy Milgram on Twitter and I don't like that I stay away from fucking twitter. Like I said I stopped going in the milgram tag on here and I don't go on twitter either.

I'm not going to act like the tumblr part of the fandom doesn't have problems or even a lot of the same ones as twitter. It spreads misinformation as though it's fact, the fans here can be just as hostile, a lot of fans on tumblr are from twitter as well or use it too. More fans from twitter are coming to tumblr. I can't imagine why-

On tumblr I've personally been messaged some of the rudest most guilt trippy shit by multiple people in this fandom and then blocked immediately. One of the reasons I made that post explaining what grooming is by definition was because someone condescendingly direct messaged me stating I had misused the term. Then when it boiled down to it they're entire issue was simply I don't think Kotoko is that and I don't like how you're stating that she is.

If people keep making they're interpretations your responsibility that's a personal issue not a failing on you the person they happen to be taking that out on today. Because if they feel emboldened to do it once they'll do it twice- Hell, they'll do it as many times as they can get away with doing it until someone stands firm and goes I'm not engaging in this anymore if this is the behavior that brings you joy fine go have fun. However, this isn't what I want my fandom experience to be and I'd appreciate if you respected that and if you can't we just won't talk.

Engaging with your own personal interests is meant to be fun. It's meant to be honest to how you feel and what you personally believe. Anyone making you feel bad about that for no reason by centering themselves and their enjoyment first and foremost in a shared space, regardless of how understanding you want to be, is taking advantage of you. They're saying you have to pay for my fun by giving up your own and being less of yourself publicly because the way you have fun is messing up mine. That's not fair to you and anyone who wants you to respect their fun by dampening your own fucking knows that and doesn't care.

Because if they did they would respect what you enjoy as something that makes you happy first and foremost and talk to you about like a person instead of a problem. Yet if others can't do that if they can't give you the good faith back that you extend to them. You just have to cut them off at a point. Because I'm not cutting off my own hands to put a smile on a strangers face. I'm not silencing myself just so others can applaud. That's not how this works and no one should ever think it is. Fandom while it can be personalized to one's own needs is about community and no community can be good when anyone in it is being mistreated.

Sadly we can't control others the only thing we as individuals can do is try to be kind and understanding of the other fans that share this space with us. And- when people do the things above extend the benefit of the doubt say they're having a tough time and then extend consideration towards yourself and ask is this something I want to see or engage with in any capacity. That's all. The prisoners may have to go through hell by the end of this but that doesn't mean we have to make this hell on each other.

[chemicalarospec]

my dad invited me and my brother to watch Firefly with him and it's actually really good??? (idk why I expected it not to be-- probably because the last time I tried one of his old Spaceship Shows (the one with the puppets) it was too sexist and too slow to get through.) First of all it should have been ILLEGAL for them to not have a single Chinese character in this show, but as a Chinese person I do like the aesthetics of the show and how they mashed up traditional Western and Chinese styles. The pronunciation is hilariously bad (IF ONLY THEY HAD A CHINESE ACTOR, HUH), but I like it because it's funny. (Me and my brother do laugh out loud every time.)

But the characters are actually so good?? First of all we got THREE FOUR (I didn't count right lmao) female main characters, no smurfette principal here! One of them doesn't even have any implied romance so far okay technically River doesn't but I was thinking of Kaylee and she has a crush on Simon lol. Kaylee, my favorite -- I LOVE how her appreciation of girly feminine stuff is portrayed as something that should NOT be mocked and does not negate her more "masculine" role as the mechanic and that she can nerd out WHILE being feminine. There's also how Mal, the main character, and Zoe, his first mate, have a longstanding and deep connection that's entirely platonic! Men and women CAN just be friends! Do note, Zoe (who is awesome btw) is married to another man, the pilot who is honestly so far the most boring character, and Mal is interested in Inara. Who, speaking of, I also love how so far Inara's profession as a (unionized it seems!) sex worker is treated with respect. River is the most ~okay~ in terms of sexist writing as a weak and mysterious and mentally unwell but sexy woman, but since she's not the only woman it doesn't feel like a big deal. (I feel like she's going to become more grounded, at least I hope so because I want to see more of her personality!) Misogynistic comments are challenged when made! Of course the writing isn't perfect but it's a LOT better than what I expected (and if a modern show didn't do the things I'm praising here I would be offended btw).

Also River's brother Simon is a complete dandy (I think it would be stereotyping for me to call him gay lmao), I love that for him. Episode one he bleeds from his mouth like a dying c-drama boy-- I just had a Vision of the resemblance and now I can't get it out of my head, all he needs to do his open his eyes super wide and then he'd be a dying c-drama boy. He cares for his sister so much, it's super sweet even though he REALLY sucks at dealing with psychosis(? would that be the term to describe her episodes?). Book is an instant icon of course, he's just there forcibly being the moral compass lol. Christianity in space smh. Despite being mr sexism I also love Jayne's character - he's funny (love a guy who's always trying to kill) and the question of his loyalty is intriguing. Mal is a kind of a Generic Protagonist Man but his backstory is solid enough that means his brooding attitude actually makes sense. The "Badger" side character is funny/interesting too, and my bro says he looks like Captian Sparklez haha. (Wash (Zoe's husband) is there. Sometimes he's funny.)

Going back to the design, I am partial to Victorian or whatever aesthetics, so I love how they threw that in along with the cowboy thing, and there's a lot of individual pieces merging Chinese aesthetics with that that I think do a great job. It speaks to my mixed heart <3. The costuming is actually so fun (mostly speaking to crowd scenes), so many characters get to wear distinctive outfits . Also kind of Killjoys vibes because they say "shiny" haha. I respect how space shots have no environment noise, only cowboy music lollll. Visual effects are interesting; you can always Tell but it does seem to me the best they could do at the time.

Wow this post turned out longer than I expected. So a recommendation for Firefly I guess! Forewarning, the parts with the "Reavers" are pretty dark/grotesque -- actually, there's significant violence throughout the show, the Reavers are just the worst.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/7/2023

three days until my birthday problems. i have been very busy with 1) prepping my costume for ren faire and 2) onboarding a new henchwoman to the evil lair, a talented little tabby we're immediately extending full health benefits to with no trial period

listening

good morning afternoon by rebecca sugar. if i had not already known it was rebecca sugar by the voice and the understated guitar, i would have known it was her by the gorgeous synthy chimey chimes. spotify

on my release radar playlist

-

reading

stop fucking using personally identifiable details in your passwords. also stop reusing your passwords and burner emails. especially if you're doing crime

A pivotal clue for validating the research into Apathyp/Fearlless came from the identity intelligence firm myNetWatchman, which found that gezze@mail.ru at one time used the passwords “геззи1991” (gezze1991) and “gezze18081991.” Care to place a wager on when Vkontakte says is Mr. Sherban’s birthday? Ten points if you answered August 18 (18081991). Mr. Sherban did not respond to multiple requests for comment.

-

watching

the 2006 anime BLACK LAGOON, we're going to yoink this from wikipedia bc it's serviceable enough

The series follows the Lagoon Company, a four-member team of pirate mercenaries smuggling goods in and around the seas of Southeast Asia with their PT boat, the Black Lagoon. The group takes on various jobs, usually involving criminal organizations and resulting in violent gunfights.

unfortunately i am genetically inclined to boats and ex-military boats. it is extremely 2006 in sensibility and animation choices. there are remarkably sophisticated and fun battle sequences, and a lot of ass but little upskirting. revy (pictured below) is a dual-wielding gunslinger who is simply the worst. horrible woman that gets space to have a bit of a messy complex character arc and have a messy complex time of it. her writing and character are quite good period, not just quite good for 2006. i adore her.

the second episode has our pirates take out a helicopter with a torpedo boat (no deck guns! they just use the torpedo!) in a way that made me stand up, lift mackintosh above my head, and hoot like a tusken raider.

this is about as violent as your average spaghetti western, and much like spaghetti westerns i don't think the series is always successful in using its setting to make points about grey morality and not like. shock for shock's sake? certainly one to look up trigger warnings for.

the why: now i have a bootleg chromecast i have been watching more things on my actual television, remembered "hey this exists on hulu why didn't i finish it several years ago". still not sure why i didn't finish this several years ago. i am pirating the second season, but it's the sub which is a shame bc i quite like the dubbed voice actors, but it's a nightmare trying to find a dub with subtitles. i rarely have the patience to fuss with my own subtitle files.

-

playing

turnip boy commits tax evasion, a 2021 game that was recently free on Epic. it is the studio Snoozy Kazoo's first game. i had a very strange time with this, bc the first fifteen minutes up to the first boss fight lulled me into a sense of complacency and then the minute i had to do something slightly complicated at the first boss fight (pay attention to my timing) i lost interest. i don't know if i will return to this, bc the humor didn't always hit for me (extremely online, but twitter online) and there's a major genshin update later this week.

-

making

new evil lair employee, phil (short for philip marlowe)

recap of tragic backstory: i had seen her Around for about a week or so, realized on friday night when i scared her out of the dumpster that she had something stuck to her, and didn't see her again until sunday night, when she was too lethargic to skitter away from the dumpster. she has a VERY gnarly wound on her left flank and leg, the urgent care vet thinks she got dragged or caught in something. it is healing remarkably well, all things considered, and it's not infected bc the thing stuck to her was some vetwrap. so someone at some point patched her up?

she is SO full of milk. i have not found the kittens but there are a Lot of strays in this neighborhood, so my hope is that some other momma cat has engaged in some kidnapping.

i have a formal vet appt on the 17th for mackie that ive added phil to, so we'll see about her heart murmur, if she has a microchip (unlikely) and getting her spayed after she heals up a bit more.

mackintosh is Fucking Pissed!!! we will do incredibly slow introductions and phil will probably live in the office/guest suite for. several months. i had not originally planned on adding another henchwoman so soon, but i do have the spare bedroom, the shelter wasn't doing intakes or clinic appointments until friday, and the wound. really could not have waited until friday. it was free cat.

[narcissistcookbook]

okay......anime. I'm sending a lot because I'm not entirely sure what you like? perhaps none of these? please ignore it as needed haha I am mainly getting it out of my system.

SERIOUS FARE - drama, action, adrenaline, feelings

Cowboy Bebop (1 Season, Complete) - slick, gritty, moody, jazzy, impeccably animated. neo-noir space-western about a crew of oddballs on a little spaceship just trying to get by. sometimes goofy, sometimes sad, always a favorite.

Chainsaw Man (1 Season So Far) - an impoverished, immature young man whose dreams include "eating some nice food" and "touching a girl" finds himself swept up in a career that allows him to do both those things and more, to varying degrees of satisfaction. also he can turn his body into chainsaws. it's coming-of-age it's horror it's action it's more found family it's good.

Violet Evergarden (1 Season, Complete) - some controversial choices were made for the adjacent movie, but the show is so good even standing alone. a traumatized child soldier slowly reconnects with her emotions by writing letters for other people. that's basically the whole story. made me cry a lot.

THE FUNNY PAGES - for when you need a laugh!

Spy x Family (1 Season, 2nd Incoming) - a delightful situational comedy set in Definitely Not Cold War Germany about a spy, his cover wife whom he does not know is an assassin, and his adopted daughter whom he does not know is a psychic. featuring moments of genuinely compelling found family connection.

Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun (1 Season, Complete) - a girl summons the courage to confess to her crush. a series of misunderstandings ensues and doesn't stop ensuing. more mistaken identity goofiness, a cast full of charming dumbasses, and some insights into life as a manga artist. also another bangin theme song.

TOASTY'S TOP 3 - my absolute favorites

Vinland Saga (2 Seasons, 3rd Seemingly Confirmed) - you follow me so you are probably at least aware of this and whether it looks like something you'd enjoy but I have to include it. a viking-era tale of trauma, war, revenge, redemption, masculinity, religion, politics, philosophy, and more! season one is the prologue, where the antagonist is (imo) the secret main character. season two answers the unmitigated violence of season one with the povs of normal working people who end up as collateral damage, and also pays off one of season one's earliest setups in a huge fantastic way imo. it's idealistic without ever failing to acknowledge the pain that comes when idealism meets reality. I love it.

Run With the Wind (2 Seasons, Complete) - there aren't a whole lot of sports anime for older audiences, but this is one of them and I rewatch it on a yearly basis. you have to kind of slow yourself down for it--most shonen sports anime are brisk, high-octane fun-times, but this one (a college-age series about the most Underdog of Underdog Track Teams) really takes its time building up the characters and environment, and chemistry between the dual opposites-attract leads is so heartwrenchingly beautiful. they complete each other! they love each other! what does it mean to run? why do we run even if we know we can't win?! the answers to these things are found within each other!!

Mob Psycho 100 (3 Seasons, Complete) -slapstick, drama, mindblowing action scenes--this is another one that needs a little time to start showing you what it is, but there's so much heart in this dang show. a hymn to all things mundane and ordinary, a rumination on the dangers of suppressing one's emotions, a story about a middle schooler who tries not to use his Unlimited Psychic Powers and a fraud exorcist who pretends to have powers but doesn't. absolutely worth the watch.

BONUS LIGHTNING ROUND

Shirobako (a stressfully/excellently accurate anime about the anime industry, the only cute-girls-doing-cute-things show I like), Keep Your Hands off Eizouken (weird girls making amateur anime in high school), Blue Period (for if you want to have an existential crisis about ART), Kaiji (Squid Game before Squid Game), The Great Pretenders (Robin Hood-ass confidence artists pulling off HEISTS), Haikyuu (my favorite younger-audiences sports anime, get hype for VOLLEYBALL), Beastars (the Furry One, gorgeous 3d animation, dark and weird and wild), and Neon Genesis Evangelion (surreal horror sci-fi/fantasy, "mechs" vs. apocalyptic "angels", I haven't seen it but it's a standard and also I've been told not to watch it while depressed)

ANYWAY thanks for receiving this absolute infodump, do what you will with it!!

okay but honestly i didn't know cowboy bebop was one and done, i can commit to that

[all-inmoderation]

"About the Blogger" Meme

thanks for tagging me <3 @razielim

Star Sign(s): Gemini sun (Libra moon, Libra rising)

Favorite Holidays: Eid, and my birthday hehe

Last Meal: Cereal

Current Favorite Musician: Well, Kendrick Lamar was in my top artists for spotify wrapped this year because I listened to his latest album a lot, so I guess him

Last Music Listened To: First Person Shooter by Drake ft. Jcole lol

Last Movie Watched: omg I watched the movie Nimona and loved it! and before that I was obsessed with Across the Spiderverse for months.

Last TV Show Watched: Just started watching Blue Eye Samurai. its soooooo gooddd. and before that I watched Arcane (i'm late) and I also loved that. and before before that I watched The Bear (wow thats a lot of shows in a short period of time i dont usually even have the stamina to watch shows ngl). Has anyone noticed that Caitlyn Kiramman and Mizu look very similar ? lol

Last Book/Fic Finished: omg THE sydcarmy fic "Fundamentals for the Fun and the Mental" by @bioloyg

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: damn idk, maybe the academic books I have to read for my intro to islam class. those thangs are hefty im not reading more than what is assigned

Currently Reading: Islamic Feminism in Iran by Fereshteh Ahmadi. it's research for my final paper in the intro to islam class. very interesting and enlightening tbh

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: see above. my topic for the paper looks at how iranian muslim women have reconciled with their religion as it was being used against them pre and post-revolution. there's a lotttt of material out there on the topic. despite what we've been led to believe in western culture, my professor stresses that iran is actually the most secular country in the world. and when you look into the history you can clearly see why that is.

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: meeting my friends during the atla renaissance <3

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: the atla fandom was/is so obnoxious but in its height in 2020 it was fun seeing a really rich meta appear on the dash for every 5 dumb opinions. everybody was making gifsets and art and fics and it was so much fun. now its slowed down a bit and the only parts of fandom still kind of active are the shippers lol

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: more like a fandom within a fandom- im glad that the "zukaang" ship stayed pretty niche within the atla fandom. like it wasn't so tiny but we stayed in our own spaces (and rlly won the idgaf war when it came to the hate) and it was just full of mature wonderful people writing THE best meta and fics and just genuinely enjoying the show, which was rare in the fandom (ironically enough)

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: so many. i have so many ideas and fics that cross my mind whenever i watch something new but i never have time for them :(. i started a spiderverse miles x miles42 fic and never got to finish it :(((. maybe after finals 🤞

Tagging: @squippy-lemonwhore @enosimania @thefudge @currymanganese @thinkingisadangerouspastime @catty-words @bioloyg @praetorqueenreyna @lady-tortilla-chip @irresistible-revolution @donkeylauncher @unseemingowl as well as ANYONE ELSE who wants to.

[lady-of-endless]

Overwatch matchup trade for lovely @pinkusmaximus

Author's Note: Thank you so much for being patient and understanding! I had so much fun writing this. You seem so fun and lovely! I hope you'll enjoy it.

(lovely gif is not mine, I thank the owner)

I match you with...

Cole Cassidy

- Oh God he would have a blast listening to your jokes and zingers. He praises you for being better than him at those, and to have Cole Cassidy admit this is a huge thing.

- He's also protective as hell over those who he cares about and is glad that you are too. It makes him feel like you two are having each other's backs and that's a new feeling for him. A lovely feeling, of course. However, this won't always be a good thing... There might be situations in which you both risk yourselves for the safety of the other.

- Cassidy might not notice your ability to be intimidating, at first. You're just so nice and cute that he doesn't expect you to have this ability. That's a big mistake. I imagine you two hanging at a bar and someone annoys you. Of course, he sighs, puts on his hat, and gets ready to interfere, but you turn to him and tell him to sit back down. Cassidy is confused but intrigued as he watches you in action, intimidating that person away. Damn, that's quite the show...

- He was a loner for too long, and your kindness filled up all those empty spaces in his heart. He's not used to someone caring for him and this makes him less reckless during overwatch missions. The thought of your worried expression is the only thing that can compete with his stubbornness.

- About stubbornness. Your tenacious way of handling things is a trait that he admires a lot but also triggers his protectiveness. He is worried that you might be pushing yourself too hard.

- You'd say that Cassidy is a full extrovert but no. Oh no. He, too, needs both time and trust to express his true feelings and open up. With this being said, it might feel like a slow burn even if you wouldn't expect it.

- Your interest in working things with your hands and creating jewelry is endearing. I can imagine him cleaning his Peacekeeper next to you while you work. It's a silent, chill atmosphere. He is not the man to ask for things, being used to what he has and what he gets alone, but he asks you if you could make a charm he can attach to his revolver. He'll cherish it forever, always looking at it during missions and thinking of you.

- Cassidy is so used to motor riding alone in silence that when you decide to go with him and start humming a certain tune in his ear while traveling, it really makes his heart melt. Karaoke night with Cassidy? More like him getting accidentally drunk and singing to you (some western corny love songs). Also, he has a nice singing voice, but of course, he prefers hearing yours more often.

- Your love language baffles Cassidy. Him? To get random small gifts? AND made by you? Why? You're able to get him surprised with anything you decide to give him. He's not used to this gesture made out of love and not out of other hidden intentions (he went through a lot, he knows that strategy). Gift-giving might not be his love language, but he'll try to get something for you, too. He'll always tell you how you're spoiling him rotten.

- Your preferred love language when receiving is acts of service? He's your man. Besides words of affirmation, Cassidy uses acts of service as a way to express his care too. He'll keep you motivated when you feel low, he'll remind you to take breaks, he'll try to help with anything that might be overwhelming you.

Runner-ups:

- Junker Queen (duh): The absolute power couple. People would be terrified of you two. She might be the Queen but she'll treat you like a queen as well.

- Junkrat: You got him wrapped around your finger with your jokes. He's listening and blushing furiously. God give Roadhog patience because Junkrat won't shut up about you.

As a side note, those two lovely runner-ups might start fighting against each other to win you over. Let the chaos begin.

[prototypelq]

Very curious about this one from the game ask game:

22. A game ending that’s really stuck with you

A mutual after my own heart, are you?)

I'll do a small confession here - I love gaming, I love playing all kinds of things, but I don't do it nearly as much as I know of them. So I might start to sound a bit like a broken record by mentioning some familiar titles

If I had to choose one, I would, predictably, say Outer Wilds. This won't be a surprise for anyone who played the game, and if you, for some reason haven't yet - good, don't look anything up, and please try it out for yourself. If you, for some reason, can't or don't want to play it yourself, I recommend looking up an essay, either one of the dozens on this game (there will honestly never be enough). Personal favourite would be The Song at The End of All Times. I don't want to go into anything further than this in fear of spoiling someone, but I think from the title of the essay you can guess where this is going.

Let's just say space westerns are my jam) Finishing this game was incredible, and I was in a kind of limbo for some time afterwards. I don't think I would be the same person I am today without it, not really. I also watch every single essay on this game that I come across, because you only really get to experience this game once, and then desperately wish to do so again somehow. Watching essays is the closest you can come close to that feeling ever again. The game is a perfect space exploration game - it will make you experience the dread and joy of cosmos like no other, it can be depressing and feel oppressive at times, but the story of the game, while bittersweet, is fundamentally built upon hope. So, while the ending shakes you to the core, it does so with the goal of sharing something intimately beautiful with you.

Another game I can think of that has story which affected me a lot, but which I haven't played myself (not sure I could ever play it really) would be SOMA. This game introduced me fulltime to existential horror, and apparently I am a sucker for it.

The game has a lot of philosophy tied to it, and it had me thinking about it all for literal weeks. The 'horror' name-part might be misleading, as this game and its' story is not about scaring you with monsters or jumpscares (although those exist in the game and that's why I'm never playing it, I would NOT be able to handle that), it's, uh... about literal horror of existence? Anyway, you'll get what it's about if you look up anything about the game, I saw a cutscene ('gamemovie') cut of it and oh boy, the voice acting sells everything perfectly. The writing is insanely good, there's a reason people still keep talking about the game.

Cyberpunk 2077 also kind of steps a little into that territory. While I couldn't play that game because CDPR are bastards, I had a lot of fun looking into the endings of that game as well as the lore of the cyberpunk universe.

Not-really spoilers paragraph ahead

basically by the time the protagonist, V, figures out what to do with the chip with AI-personality of Johnny Silverhand in their head, that has been taking over their body for the entirety of the game, it is too late to really do anything about it, and V is doomed to be overwritten out of his own body. There is an interpretation of different endings for the game as different stages of grief (selling yourself as a guinea pig to try to get experimental treatment - denial, single-handedly storming the corporation that owns the chip - anger, etc.) and I loved that insight, especially because for the player, these are not really as transparent as may seem. The game does a good job of installing into you the idea of dying and the fear of death, and the endings are basically the forked roads which player can take in their limited time to try to deal with it. It's very personal, and I think the writing team at CDPR did an amazing job for this game. The most striking of them all, and one that surprised me the most, was the suicide ending. When V and Johnny finally end up at that 'final fork' where they have to choose a path to their grand finale, they have to consider their options. All of these endings have a price, and none of them guarantee a solution - it's either selling yourself out to a corporation for experimentation, storming a corporation single-handedly or with help, and chances to die in getting to any of these is very high. You can rope in some friends for help you get to the solution, but again, there likely is no way out of this for you, and this puts your friend on a firing line right up with you. So, V can die a slow and torturous death because of the chip, die trying to do the impossible and/or force his friends into it, or. Or the game allows you to end it all, right now, without additional pain for you or any casualties. Hence, the suicide ending. All game credits, regardless of the chosen ending, have companions and friends calling V and leaving him a message. In messages for the Suicide ending it's...all of them crying in anger and hurt and feeling betrayed. One of them calls only to realize 'Shit, I can't do this', starts howling and ends the call. Those voice messages are genuinely heartbreaking to listen to.

That. That is one powerful ending to experience.

...would it be cheating to add DMC5 here? I don't think it will be news to anyone xD This didn't leave me a wreck like the others, but I love how surprisingly wholesome and sweet the story ends in this game about blood, gore and demon hunting. I love the fandom, I arguably love the fandom more than I do the game, but the game is also great, and it deserves a lot of praise for that, sparda loser twins my beloved)

Pyre ending resonated with me a lot as well. Won't go into any detail here, basically the game is a perfect blend of a roleplaying and a visual novel. This means you have a lot of free space to bond with your companions, this game is very much about the path, and not the destination. However, the destination sells the impact of your time spent with each companion.

Unlike most standard rpgs, there is no really 'good' or 'bad' ending for the characters. The path you took will dictate the circumstances of their life in the future, and they will have to just deal with it. There is no weight placed on the player character of 'making their lives better', quite honestly because you really can't. So every ending for them is just, a character being in one place, or the other, and them continuing their life from there. I love this, and the credits song Bound Together, which is Gorgeous as all Darren Korb&Ashley Barrett tracks are, reflects the path you took and time you spent with your companions by changing the lyrics of the song to fit your version of events. One of the videos about the game is called 'How Pyre Sings Your Story' and the game really does exactly that - sings your own personal story. It's beautiful.

Transistor stuck with me too, not just because of the soundtrack, but because it is a very wholesome romance story. Tragic as hell at the beginning (We All Become - as the opening song of the game), but I guess Supergiant's love their bittersweet endings, and credits songs that emotionally devastate me (We All Become morphs into -> Paper Boats).

Terra Nil is another weird game I wanted to add here. I didn't change my life or anything, but it did provide me a unique perspective. The game was marketed as 'reverse city-builder', I would characterize it as a 'climate-change solar-power fantasy'.

Horizon games setting of a post-post-apocalypse (meaning= the future after immediate post-apocalypse= meaning far future after an apocalypse) speaks volumes to me on a level of hope for life in general - that life will always persist, in any way shape or form, it will always continue to surprise and amaze you, it's just the matter of if humanity will live to see it in the future. Terra Nil would be a reverse of that mentality - what it would feel like to have the power to help mother nature recover and let it thrive again. The game has you use green-science-based technology to refertilize soil, clean pollution from water, manipulate the landscape into distinct biomes and introduce different animals into the according environment, the newfound ecosystem stabilize on its own, then your job is to recycle everything you've built to leave this land clear of external devices and leave it to thrive on it's own. This makes the gameplay feel extremely wholesome and hopeful, usually the solarpunk genre is a static image of an unattainable future - a pretty motivating picture, but without any depth to it. Terra Nil shows how our technology and power could be used for good. I think the moment that kind of broke me a little, was when in a later level, I had to dredge up land from the bottom of the ocean to create a continental ecosystem, and this unearthed nuclear pollution which quickly undid a lot of my work on like, half the map. The game then gave me access to sunflower seeds, because they have the actual power to safely suck up nuclear pollution, and save the ecosystem I was trying to build. I had to genuinely pause the game and go get a tea or something in that moment, that was so beautiful I teared up.

This game can actually be quite educational - it makes you really think about the necessity of each part of an ecosystem, that every animal, every plant, every water source - all of them are important for the whole ecosystem. The gameplay teaches you to look at a dumpsite and think up about how can you make a complete and thriving ecosystem out of it. The gameplay requires you thinking up ahead some steps, and that can be a bit challenging at first, but the game is very lenient with the difficulty. Although, if you are trying to introduce all the rarer and more niche animals into the system - prepare for some tries and errors, this will prove a nice tactical challenge.

I also just learned Terra Nil was nominated by several committees for 'Social Impact' award and Yes this game absolutely deserves it. Also the developers have donated quite a sum to the Endangered Wildlife Trust, and it's extremely nice of them.

[subdee]

9 people you would like to get to know better

tagged by @hxhhasmysoul thank you!

3 ships:

KilluGon (HxH) -

It's The Ship of All TIme, they fit together like puzzle pieces... copedence central (affectionate) as munen said.

EndHawks (BNHA) -

Actually my instinct after watching BNHA was to ship EndHawks, bc they ARE the bratty western-inspired blonde younger guy x button-downed repressed trad japanese dark-haired older guy trope from BL manga + their issues are tailor made for each other, they fit together like puzzle pieces (derrogatory). I think this could be one of those ships where it looks extremely messed up from the outside - and it IS messed up - but it works for the people involved. BUT most people don't write it correctly, for instance in my ideal Endhawks fic the rest of the todoroki family would HATE the relationship because they would think (correctly) that Endeavor is evading taking responsibility for being a terrible father by choosing to be in a relationship with someone who has a terrible father kink. And most people either don't write Hawks as messed up enough or they write him as messed up in a generic gay slut way, and not his specific variety of messed up.

BakuDeku (BNHA) -

So because the Endhawks fic is mostly not what I'm looking for, I just kinda gravitated to BakuDeku which has tons of awesome fic, plus I'm just not as choosy about the characterization and accept all kinds of AUs that have barely any connection to canon. Haha. (I like the genderswap fic for them actually). BakuDeku is fun because they're shounen rivals who aren't purely rivals, even from the beginning of the manga Bakugou is a lot more involved than the rival character usually is (knows Deku's secret & helps with the training plan etc). It fixes a lot of the things that generally annoy me about rival plots in shounen manga... I also like the growth narrative for Bakugou and Deku's versatility as a POV character.

I'm not currently shipping anything else... maybe Cloud/Tifa/Aeris, in any combination of two or three, was the last thing I shipped but didn't really talk about on tumblr. Oh! And the main characters from the Kdrama It's Okay to Not Be Okay, Ko Moon-Young and Moon Gang-tae.

First ship: Ranma/Akane from Ranma 1/2!!! Classic ship, probably the first really big juggernaut anime ship on the internet. It's all about the genderbending with this one... I used to really like the fanfiction where they're together because Akane is a attracted to women and Ranma is sometimes a woman.

Last Song: Me and RJ are doing a version of Death Cab for Cutie's I'll Follow You Into the the Dark to sing the baby to sleep at night, so probably that? I made up a new harmony for it that I'm kinda proud of. One of these days we'll record it and I'll put it up here.

Last Movie: It was the Barbie movie, yeah. (No I haven't seen Oppenheimer.)

Currently Reading: "A Secret Princess" by Margarat Stohl and Melissa de la Cruz. It's like a fanfic mashup of The Secret Garden, which I've never read, and A Little Princess, which I've read a bunch of times and love, with a mysterious new original character added to the mix. A fanfic remix of a book I've already read is about the level of literature I can handle at the moment.

Currently Consuming Watching: I'm into this house renovation show on Roku called Old House New Home, because it's set in England and they actually talk about the history of the area and why the houses were built the way they were... there's a lot of historically listed beautiful homes... and not every renovation looks exactly the same following the exact same trends, although a lot of them are similar (combine the kitchen and dining room, raise the ceiling, add windows and glass doors and skylights - all things that look beautiful and increase the feeling of light and space, but make the house less energy efficient).

Me and RJ are also watching The Marvelous Ms. Maisel - the heavy(ish) show - and the One Piece live action - the lighter(ish) show - when we have time. Recommend both of those.

Currently Craving: Sleep

Tag 9 people (if you feel like it :D): @fury-brand @rosemochi @nautilusopus @tofucasserole @spectroscopes @fireolin @storybookprincess @autumnxsunflower @recents @applepi00