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#I love that he's a legendary creature

s0upl0ver · 4 months

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hello today im feeding you with my dnd fantasy yakuza au

soooo the thoughts:

ichiban - paladin (damn OBVIOUSLY)

NANBAAA - sorcerer! i was thinking about druid bc of his pigeon stuff but hes better be a little whimsical drunkard

adachi - i changed his class like three times and ended up with a cleric. there was a choice between monk and fighter because of his police job, but i want to see him connected with something spiritual sooo there he is

saeko was the hard one.. in the end i decided to give her a bard class : ) she runs a tavern! nanba loves to go there for a drink and this is how theyre met! and became like siblings to each others

joon gi - rouge! (DAMN OBVIOUSLY)

zhao - monk, very inspired by his fight style in game

seonhee - druid + tiefling hehehhohoh ^____^ geomijul is a name of the forest now and animals her informants

tomizawa BARBARIAN and chitose rouge too

soooo about kiryu...... WHAT IF there is a legend about dragon that no one could kill. he used to live among people and creatures, protecting them and keeping peace, but one day he just expelled himself. someone thinks he’s dead, someone believes he’ll come back someday… and here comes ichiban! a true hero! he decide to find this legendary dragon, thinking that this is LITERALLY A DRAGON and in the course of their adventures it turns out to be kiryu

3jimas are goblins.

#my art #yakuza #rgg #yu nanba #saeko mukoda #kiryu kazuma #seonhee #tianyou zhao

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sausage-rolll · 4 months

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I love when pokemon games use a character’s team to tell us more about them.

Take Ghetsis from black and white 2 for example. Did you know that his Hydreigon can use the move frustration at maximum power? frustration is a move that gets more powerful the more a pokemon dislikes their trainer, which means that Ghetsis’ Hydreigon literally hates him.

Did you know that his Hydreigon is also a whole ten levels below when the pokemon would normally evolve? While this isn’t uncommon for NPC’s in pokemon games, you could make the argument that this specific instance of it suggests that Ghetsis somehow forced his pokemon to evolve earlier than it ever would have naturally, which isn’t exactly out of character for him.

I’m not even done with Ghetsis and his affront towards nature yet lmao. Did you also know that his Hydreigon is specifically designed to counter N’s team? Y’know, his own foster son.

It has dragon pulse for his legendary

Fire blast for his Vanillux and Klingklang

And focus blast for Carracosta, Zoroark and Archeops

He also has a Cofagrigus who can nullify the legendary’s ability with his mummy ability.

It’s very likely that no matter the outcome of N’s battle with us, Ghetsis was always going to turn on his son to take the dragon for himself. And looking at his team I could believe he would succeed.

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

Let's look at a slightly more recent example.

In pokemon sword and shield, chairman Rose actually does some preparations before waking up Eternatus, specifically it seems that he did some research into Eternatus’ typing (Poison/Dragon) and designed his team to counter it. He brought a full team of steel types to fight it, which are not only immune to poison but also heavily resist dragon as well. With everything he knew, it really was one of the smartest choices he could have made.

But if he was so prepared then how did Eternatus wipe the floor with him so quickly? Surely he could have easily defeated the legendary and capture it himself right?

Well there was one thing Rose didn’t take into account when designing his team. One thing he couldn’t have possibly known, even with his extensive research into the creature.

Eternatus knows flame thrower.

He brought nothing but steel types.

He never stood a chance.

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon black and white #ghetsis #trainer n #chairman rose

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whaledenwtf · 5 months

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Hello! This might be a weird request but what about Gale, Halsin and Astarion with a s/o who's super cute and friendly and overall just a gigantic sweetheart who also happens to canonically be horrifyingly powerful. Like potentially even more destructive than Gale and the orb. Enemies who know their lore turn and run just at the mention of them and their name strikes fear into many hearts but then the camera pans over and it's this short sweetheart of a person. Literally this post basically

Thank you so so much, I really love your writing! Also Happy Holidays sweetie! ☺️

I love this idea!! I made it headcannons so it wasn't too long to read! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! Please ask more, I love writing things for people <3

REQUEST HERE

Headcannons: Astarion, Gale and Halsin with a super cute friendly S/O who's horrifyingly powerful

Warnings: None, this is just indulgent FLUFF, Minor Spoilers for Act 1 and for Gale and Astarion's Lore

Astarion

You were always sweet with Astarion, and only made him feel comfortable and safe.

After he told you he was a vampire, you accepted him despite everyone else telling you not to!

When you told him you could beat Cazador, he didn't believe you at first because of your sweet nature.

The first time he realized you were a legend was when you guys raided the Goblin Camp to save Halsin.

You initially told everyone your name was Tav, so nobody really knew who you were.

Every Goblin met their end with a swing of your weapon, gutting them before they blinked.

It scared your companions, honestly.

When you got to Minthara, you told her your name was (Y/N), and she backed away from you.

Astarion was confused until Karlach, Wyll and Lae'zel spoke of your legendary moniker.

Wyll may be known as the "Blade of Frontiers" but you were known as "The Walking Death" and that was thrilling for Astarion.

Every monster, creature and being met their demise when face to face with you.

Astarion was a slave for 200 years, only knowing the bare minimum from Cazador. But knowing you were on his side, and under his thumb, that thrilled him!

Once you apologized about lying to your companions, they all welcomed you in their arms, especially Astarion.

As he slowly falls in love with you, he realizes that he likes knowing his significant other is not only powerful and showed no mercy, but showed him life through another lens.

You show him that love doesn't make someone weak, but stronger.

You're powerful, and having you by his side makes him feel unstoppable as well.

He is very grateful for you. You will pull him from Cazador's clutches and stay with him through it.

Despite your sweet nature, you kicked ass. You saved everyone you could, which annoyed Astarion. But he loved you despite it, and always will.

After all, why would he run away from the first good thing to happen to him?

Gale

He was also confused about who you were right away. As a scholar he spent most of his time in books, rather than the battlefield.

Honestly, his mind was distracted between the Netherese Orb in his chest and Mystra.

When you pulled him out of the portal, he was struck by your kindness.

Then he was struck by your beauty when you fought valiantly for your companions.

He was excited seeing someone so powerful near him, and honestly fell harder.

After telling you what Mystra did, you told him you'd kill her.

He laughed you off, until he saw what you could do.

Now he's worried he won't have a goddess to worship.

Your battle prowess is astounding, and he can't help but admire you as you shout commands to your companions.

You always were gentle with Gale, soft touches and sweet nothings between you two.

He always finds it difficult to associate you with your title.

"The Slayer of Man and Beast" he's heard Lae'zel and Shadowheart call you.

You always chuckle and tell them "soon you'll have to add gods to that"

Now he's even more worried about his goddess

Over time, he considers you his goddess. After all, you've protected and respected him much more than Mystra ever had.

When he tells you about the Netherese Orb, you shrug him off.

"Nothing will keep me from you, not even a bomb."

Wow

When you two are alone, he caresses your muscles and your hands. He's in love with the idea of his significant other being this battle-worn individual set to protect him

Throughout your adventure, you remind him that you would protect him with your life.

"All for little old me?"

"Nobody will stop me from protecting you. No monster or goddess."

Man you really hate Mystra for hurting Gale so bad.

You dream about smiting her and protecting Gale in your arms.

While adventuring, you always keep Gale by your side. Everyone teases you for it until you shoot them a warning glance.

You're so so good to him. You take hits for him, heal him in battle, and heal him in the privacy of his tent.

"You're too good to me." He muttered once, eyes closed.

"You've never been treated right. It's my personal duty to make sure you never doubt yourself ever again." You replied, kissing his eyelids.

He just fell harder.

Halsin

He actually knew who you were before you saved him.

When you said your name, he bowed his head in respect.

"An honour to put a face to the name" He said to you.

You told him you loved how big and safe he was.

"You're the one who would keep me safe, little one."

He wasn't wrong. You've saved him multiple times throughout your adventure.

You were very sweet with Halsin, always leaning against his arms and closing your eyes when you sit together in camp.

He found it amusing, seeing such a feared individual be so innocent and kind with him.

In his 350 years of existence, he's never been so captivated by someone like you.

When he tasked you with eradicating the Goblin Camp, he enjoyed seeing the fear in Minthara's eyes when you said your name.

Despite being a druid, he knew that with life also came death. He accepted your past.

He found the juxtaposition of your personality endearing.

One day, he was in wildshape lounging around as a bear. You laid on him and spoke about different topics regarding your life.

In that same day, he saw you obliterate 20 goblins on your own.

He never thought he'd be aroused by someone killing goblins, but you did that.

You also knew all the spots to scratch when he was a bear??

Yes that's the spot. Right behind his ears.

He liked seeing the way you treat your companions with such kindness.

You showed respect and compassion to those who you find deserve it. You helped people find safety, and feel safe.

It was beautiful, the way you showed such love to those who were close to you.

He always compared you to the ocean.

"Why the ocean?" You asked him once.

"You can be calm, bring peace. But you are also wild, strong in the most beautiful way." He replied.

He enjoyed the way you blushed.

One time, you asked him to wildshape and you rode him into battle. Nothing is scarier than seeing (Y/N) "The Tempest" riding onto a bear.

Even your companions were scared

Ever since then, you always did it. It was like couple bonding, somehow??

Gods, he loves his little tempest

Hope this is as enjoyable for you guys to read as it was for me to write!!

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feriowind · 7 months

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made a hellsing au because... i love hellsing au's....

Integra Stede, Alucard Ed, and Walter Izzy.....

Only roughly based on the plot of Hellsing, Izzy is only a bit older than Stede and was assigned to him when they were young by Stede's family/Hellsing organization specifically to keep an eye Stede to make sure he didn't try anything funny and get in the way of their plans.

Stede is fake figurehead of the family and when not being used, he is essentially shoved to the side and left to his own devices, which is mostly just esoteric research into cryptids and mythical creatures.

Izzy didn't care for Stede at first, viewing the assignment as an annoying job, but after spending time with him as his butler/bodyguard, he finds him to be far kinder and wonderful than expected. Stede treats Izzy like a friend instead of a tool, and Izzy only grows to care for Stede more and more over time.

Stede doesn't stumble upon Ed until he's in his late 20s or early 30s. He's had many years to settle in his ways that the sudden introduction of being the master of a legendary vampire is not something he takes to very gracefully. Ed doesn't mind though, he enjoys how strange but human Stede is.

Ed has lived a very long time, and though he doesn't regret his life as a vampire, he cannot help but long for his lost humanity. He tempts Stede with offers of being turned but Stede turns him down, his reasoning being that there are too many human comforts he would just hate to lose. The answer is hysterical to Ed and makes him immediately like Stede.

#me getting into steddyhands after s2 because i was so annoyed with how izzy was treated lmfao #but i only like a very small rare flavor of the pairing rip #stede bonnet #edward teach #izzy hands #our flag means death #art #hellsing

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gffa · 1 year

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Laughing my ass right off at Bo-Katan’s never ending terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time, like in the span of about a fucking week, she has:

Din Djarin come knocking on her door and she has to deal with his quest to find the living waters as he prods every emotional bruise she still has about all the Mandalorians abandoning her

Din gets himself snared by some weird eyeball in a jar in a robot body so the weird green baby has to come tell her to rescue him

Which she does and then falls into the Living Waters with him and possibly sees a Mythosaur making her question her sanity

Then her fucking childhood home gets blown up by Imperial remnants, just one more reminder that everything she was gifted she has lost, that she has failed her family’s legacy one more time

So sure why not, let’s go join the group she doesn’t actually believe in and called a cult just last season, but they’re reasonably nice to her and she’s good at fighting, so actually they’re pretty cool

But she’s still quietly freaking out that she may have seen a mythical legendary creature like is she LOSING HER FUCKING MIND HERE???

And how the fuck do you eat without taking your helmet off??

Suddenly she’s being pushed into leadership of the war party, but it’s not bad, she got to stay by the fire, and it’s nice to be useful, even if she still feels out of sorts.

And then even more suddenly she’s being told she walks both worlds, that she needs to unite Mandalore one more fucking time

LET’S GO KICK SOME PIRATE ASS!!!11!

So sure why the fuck not. WHY THE FUCK NOT. Let’s go to some decked out vacation planet in the middle of Bumfuck Outer Rim

Let’s take a stupid as shit detour into finding some malfunctioning droids with a guy who has unresolved droid-related trauma and literally KICKS THE DROIDS just to be a dick so they’ll react,

Like Bo-Katan Kryze doesn’t have enough shit to deal with, every time she has to stop and deal with some absolute clown buffoonery, she’s reminded that she’s in full clown wig and makeup herself, this is her fucking life now and I was LAUGHING MY ASS OFF ABOUT IT THE ENTIRE TIME, Bo-Katan’s life is just one long string of, “Life is already so goddamned weird, this might as well happen.” I love you, babe, but I also love your long suffering face as you have to deal with being in a Star Wars show.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #bo katan kryze #i make myself laugh and that's all that's important

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aerynwrites · 7 months

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Masquerade of Liars

Dad!Gale x Fem!Reader

A/N: Had to do a little something for Halloween! So i found out Faerun has their own kind of Halloween called Liars Night or Masquerade of Liars. Here’s a link if you want to read more about it, it’s actually super cool! But I also just wanted to write some soft Dad!Gale after so many of you seemed to enjoy that one shot of him finding out reader was pregnant. So hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is referred to as mother/mum.

*not beta read, sorry for any grammatical errors*

The smell of sulfur fills your nose as you strike a match to light the small wax candles before you. You light the wicks before shaking the match to douse the flame, and grabbing one of the lit candles.

“Cassias!” You call, moving to place the light source inside of your son’s pumpkin. “Are you almost ready? We need to go. Gale-!”

Your husband materializes just as you call his name, his lips against your own cutting off your words. You sigh when you pull away, smiling despite yourself as you place the last two candles in the remaining pumpkins.

“Did you help Cas with his costume?” You ask, looking over the carved orange spheres before you, making sure they look alright before you put them outside.

Gale lets out a quiet laugh as he shrugs his shoulders, “I tried, but he could not be swayed to accept my assistance. He wanted to do it himself.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes playfully, “He is definitely your son - stubborn.”

Gale lets out a small scoff, as he steps forward to wrap his arms around your waist. “Me? Stubborn? I think he gets that from you, my love.”

You let out a low hum, as you reach up to straighten the collar of his robe, “I suppose he gets it from the both of us.”

Gale smiles. “That’s better,” he says, before leaning in to kiss you again.

You relish in the somewhat quiet moment in your lover’s arms, knowing that the rest of the night will be full of excitement and noise.

The approaching thunder of footsteps coming down the stone steps of the tower make you separate from one another, but not before you press one last kiss to his cheek.

“I’m coming!” You son calls as he barrels down the stairs, nearly tripping over the tail of his costume as he hits the floor.

You instinctively reach out for him, but he’s righted himself before you can help, and you’re unable to stifle the grin that splits your lips as you take in the costume Cassian wears.

He insisted on being a dragon. A red dragon specifically. And it had to have horns, and giant wings.

And well…who were you to deny him?

His mask looked like that of a red dragon, tall pointed black horns rising from the top of it, even pointy teeth peeking out of the creature's mouth. The rest of his costume was just as elaborate, you and Cassian having worked on it for weeks leading up to the Masquerade of Liars. His shirt and pants are lined with hundreds of small metal scales that glint in the candle light. He even has a tale pinned to his pants, which may prove to be more of a hindrance now that you see it dragging the ground.

Even Gale helped with the costume, adding his own magical flare in the form of gentle smoke coming from the mask's mouth as if Cassian could breathe fire.

“Look, father look!” Cassian jumps around in his costume, the scales tinkling softly as he does so and reflecting a beautiful dappled light pattern all through the kitchen.

Gale ‘ooo’s’ and ‘ah’s’ at his son’s costume before picking the child up and smiling at the giggles that pour out from behind the mask.

“You’re just as fearsome as the legendary Ansur of Baldur’s Gate,” Gale tells him seriously before reaching up to tilt the mask up to the top of Cassian's head, revealing his face to you both.

Cassian is basically a spitting image of Gale. Warm brown eyes and dark hair. Gale insists he got your nose though, and your smile, which you’re happy about if not a little begrudging. You carried him for nine months! The least the gods could have done is given him your eyes…

But you wouldn’t change a thing, not really. Cassian has turned into a wonderful child, all chubby cheeks and laughter and kindness. Even now you watch in silent admiration as Cassian talks animatedly with his father. Despite being only six his vocabulary is as big as Gales.

“Are you ready for a night of trickery and lies?” Gale asks, voice dropping to a playfully low octave.

Cassian nods, eyes lighting up. “And candy!”

Glae laughs, moving to set Cassian back on his feet. “And candy of course. Do you have room in your pockets?”

Cassian nods fervently, face serious as he pats both pockets on his costume. “I even have candy in my other pocket so no one steals our coin.”

You stifle a laugh at the seriousness with which Cassian takes the holiday.

Liars night, though now more commonly known as the Masquerade of Liars is a night to pay tribute to the dirties Leira and Mask. While it started centuries ago as a more serious holiday it’s evolved into more of a fun tradition to celebrate the gods.

The particular tradition Cassian is referring to is pickpocketing. It used to be so common back when the holiday was first created that people started keeping candy in their pockets instead of coins - this soon evolved into people taking the candy and leaving behind trinkets or a small note in return.

Now most people just give the candy out, especially to children. But the occasional trinket still makes it into a pocket here or there - and you aren’t about to ruin his fun.

“Very good, Cas!” You praise, turning to face the carved pumpkins once more. “We should be ready to go once we put the pumpkins on the doorstep. Do you want to carry yours?”

“Yes, yes! Can I?” He reaches his hands up expectantly, and you smile, looking over at Gale.

“What do you think, my love?”

Gale nods, a smile matching your own on his face as he takes Cassian’s pumpkins from the counter. “I think a dragon as fearsome as Cassian can carry his own pumpkin to the stoop this year.”

Cassian cheers and takes the pumpkin carefully in his arms, Gale keeping a watchful eye until he’s sure he has a secure hold on it.

You take your pumpkins and Gale takes his as you all move to the front door of the tower, moving slowly to keep the candles lit.

“Be careful Cas,” you say, following close behind. “You don’t want the candle to blow out, remember?”

“I remember, mum,” he says, “It’s bad luck.”

You nod as Gale reaches out with one hand to open the door for all of you, the cool night air kissing your skin. “That’s right.”

You watch as Cassian moves to set his pumpkin at the top of the stairs right next to the door, turning it this way and that until he’s happy with the placement. You and Gale place yours nearby before locking the door and taking Cassian’s hands in your own.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, you all turn to look at the small display, the candles flickering gently in the night. Cassian hops impatiently between you and your husband, his little hands squeezing yours tightly.

“Can we go?” He asks, excitement bleeding into his words.

You chuckle and nod. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to miss the festivities.”

The three of you walk from your home towards Waterdeeps town square. While the night is celebrated throughout the city, most people gather in the square. Vendors set up to sell food or other festive items and children run around trying to collect as much candy as they can in one night. Even the adults partake in the costumes and activities. You and Gale have dressed up in the past, but this year you decided to forgo a disguise.

Cassian chats animatedly as you make your way down the quiet streets, the sounds of celebration getting louder the closer you get to the center of Waterdeep. His steps get more impatient until eventually, both you and Gale are stumbling to keep up with the energetic child as you finally reach your destination.

The square is decorated for the holiday, lanterns hanging all around, and some even floating in the air thanks to some other magic wielders. Autumnal colored banners and draping shirt line the various vendor stalls and the fountain at the center, and lively music fills the square as well.

Cassian breaks away from you and Gale when he spots one of his friends, a little tiefling boy named Allon who looks to be dressed as an owlbear.

Gale laughs as you both follow him, watching as he embraces his friend before gesturing excitedly at their costumes. “I don’t understand where all that energy comes from - it surely doesn’t come from me.”

You let out a chuckle of your own as you stand a few paces back to let Cassian talk to his friend. “That’s just how children are, I’m afraid. But it dies down. Eventually.”

Gale just hums quietly in response, watching your son with adoring eyes as he and Allon take turns roaring at each other.

You remember a time many years ago when Gale told you he didn’t feel like he was father material. Granted it was in the middle of some tumultuous times for everyone, but you had thought he truly meant it. And despite him being overjoyed when you told him you were pregnant with Cassian several years ago you couldn’t help but worry those doubts would creep back in.

But they never did.

Gale took to fatherhood like a fish to water. Despite it being a learning curve for the both of you, he took everything in stride and a new glow settled into his being. Even in his most dour moods from hours of fruitless research or a failed spell experiment, his face would always light up at the sight of his son.

This adoration just seemed to grow as Cassian got older, the boy taking after his father in almost everything. You remember thinking that Gale was going to die of happiness when Cassian started to show an affinity for magic and a certain connection to the weave.

You know he would have been happy even if Cassian showed no interest in the weave or magic in general, but the fact that he does has only pulled the two of them closer.

“Mr. Dekarios!”

Allon’s voice pulls you from your reverie, watching as him and Cassian come running up to you and Gale. You look past him to see his parents watching you all and give them a small wave which they return.

Gale takes his hand from your own as the boy approaches and crouches down to his level.

“Yes, Allon?”

The boy, whose mask is tipped up to sit on top of his head, looks slightly sheepish as he looks at Gale.

“Can you show me that magic trick again?” He asks politely.

Gale feigns to think for a moment, hand on his chin as he scratches his beard. “Do you mean this one?”

With a flick of his wrist and a faint purple aura, Gale produces a small foil wrapped chocolate in the palm of his hand just to the side of Allon’s face. The tiefling giggles in delight before snatching the candy and stuffing it in his mouth.

You hear a small gasp come from behind him as his mother approaches, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Allon, what do you say?”

His eyes widen as he speaks around the chocolate in his mouth. “-‘fank you.”

Gale laughs before pulling two more chocolates from his robe and handing them to him. “You’re most welcome.”

Allon’s mother gives you both a small apology before leading her son back to where her husband stands.

Gale’s trick for Allon starts to attract a small crowd of children, all of them begging to see him do more tricks and other magical displays. Your wizard stands next to you as the gaggle grows, a huge grin splitting his lips as he complies with the tiny demands.

He pulls candy out of thin air, handing them to the small grabby hands that reach out before moving to pull hard candy’s from behind some children’s ears or even making them appear right in their pockets. You watch from a few feet away, as Cassian fights his way to the front of the crowd. Gal hoists him into his arms and pauses his display as yours son leans in to whisper in his ear.

Gale’s eyes light up, and he nods. “That sounds like a grand idea, Cassian. Would you like to help me?”

At the prospect of helping his father with magic, Cassian nods fervently, his mask shaking funnily on his face. Gale instructs the other children to back up just a few feet before setting Cassian down beside him. He turns to face him and takes his little hands in his own, palms facing up.

“Now, remember,” he instructs gently, “You have to think about it very hard, try to picture it in your head.”

Cassian nods firmly, and you can practically picture the look of serious determination on his face.

Gale continues. “And remember, do not be discouraged if it does not work because…”

“I’m still learning and mistakes are okay,” Cassian recites the words Gale tells him so often.

Gale smiles, squeezing Cassian’s hands. “That’s right. Now, are you ready?”

Cassian nods again and Gale turns to face the small crowd, which has now grown to include adults as well. You’ve now moved to join the crowd a few paces back from the front row of children in order to watch your family. You bite the inside of your cheek, hoping that Cassian isn’t nervous in any way.

Gale places both hands out in front of him, palms together and waits as Cassian mimics him. After a moment of concentration he separates his hands to reveal a small area of purple and blue light. You wait for Cassian to do the same but find yourself slightly perplexed when he stays still, his hands held firmly together in front of him.

You watch as Gale whispers something to him before he thrusts his hands skywards ending out a cascade of purple and blue light that settles over the crowd. Moments later you watch as Cassian does the same but instead, pure starlight springs out from his palms, creating a magical night sky above the square as the pinpricks of bright white light settle among the colorful aurora.

Cheers and gasps of pleasure erupt from the crowd, but you don’t stay to watch their faces as they marvel at the magic. You’re already rushing forward, taking Cassian in your arms as you gasp.

“Cassian, that was amazing!” You praise, hugging him close before looking at Gale who gazes proudly at his son. “When did you learn to do that?”

Cassian pulls away so he can look at you, tugging his mask up so his brown eyes can look into your own, excitement and utter joy sparkling in his eyes.

“I’ve been practicing for over a tenday!” He says proudly.

Finally gale approaches, finally free from attention as they all marvel at his handiwork. “It’s true. He would not rest until he was sure he could do it,” he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “In fact it was you he wanted to surprise most.”

You smile and turn to look at your son again. “Well consider me surprised,” you tell him before peppering his face with kisses, causing him to squeal. “I’m so, so proud of you, Cas.”

“Muuum!” He whines, causing you to relent in your barage of kisses.

“Okay, okay,” you say, moving to set him back on his feet. “Why don’t we go explore the rest of the square? I think I saw someone selling cinnamon buns…”

At the mention of his favorite treat, Cassian’s face lights up again and he tugs his mask back down as he grabs your and Gale’s hand in each of his one.

“Yes! Let’s go, let’s go!”

———

The moon is high in the sky by the time you three make your way home. Cassian is sound asleep in Gale’s arms, pockets building with candy, and chocolate staining the corners of his mouth.

You approach the tower soon enough, the facing flicker of three candles greeting you through the carved mouths of the pumpkins. You smile as you make your way up the steps, getting the door for Gale before following them both inside.

You follow them up to Cassian’s room and help Gale gently remove his costume, careful not to wake him. But despite your best efforts, just as you're tucking him into bed, Cassian stirs awake.

His eyes flutter slowly as his hands come up to tug the blanket further around him.

“Did the candles go out?” He asks sleepily.

You shake your head, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Nope. They’re still lit, my love. No bad luck this year.”

Cassian nods before turning onto his side, eyes slipping closed as he falls right back asleep.

You smile and press another kiss to his forehead, Gale doing the same before blowing out the candles and leaving the room, leaving the door cracked so a small amount of light can filter in from the hallway.

You both move about readying for bed once Cassian is settled, neither of you speaking as sleep starts to tug at your minds as well. Only when you’re settled beneath the covers with Gale’s arms snaking around you do you finally break the silence.

“You’re an amazing father,” you tell him softly, lips brushing against his own.

Gale is silent for a moment, eyes trailing over your face before his eyes slip closed and he pulls you closer, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“That is praise most high - praise I sometimes still feel unworthy of.”

You shake your head, wrapping around him further. “You deserve that and more, my love.”

He presses a kiss to your neck, the underside of your jaw, before eventually pulling away to capture your lips with his own. It’s a slow, languid kiss, both of you just taking each other in until finally breaking apart and settling against the pillows.

“I love you,” gale says simply, pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, for giving me this. Giving me a family.”

Your heart swells at his words and you move to bury your face in his chest, wanting him as close as possible.

“I love you too.”

#gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 gale x reader #bg3 x reader #gale #bg3 #bg3 gale

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onlyseokmins · 2 months

Text

$$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!

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!

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!

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

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #lee seokmin smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #trigun au #svt au #seventeen au

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bluegiragi · 1 year

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hello! i'm gira, i go by she/her, and i've been making fanart for the cod fandom for about four months now :) the majority of that time's been spent on the soapbox saga, which is sort of just what i call the very plot-ridden porn comic featuring ghost, soap and konig. and recently i've been working on the monster 141 au!

i'm here to address the reasoning behind how i assigned certain monsters to certain characters, particularly the POC characters as well as accusations of racism regarding me neglecting gaz in all my art :) whoever you are, if you're reading this in good faith, i thank you! i earnestly never intended to make anyone feel uncomfortable from my work.

The Monster AU

i won't post the blog who brought this issue up mainly because, (realistically speaking) i think people might go after them and spam them with hate so I'm paraphrasing here. but basically..."how come all the POC in the Monster AU are assigned animal-associated monsters? Comparisons to animals can be incredibly demeaning when it comes to minorities".

I completely agree! But earnestly, I think my desire to assign every character a 'monster' that was relevant to their culture overshadowed the part of my brain that would've raised red flags about this sort of thing. There's the argument here that I could've assigned these characters cooler monsters such as Price who is a dragon, and Ghost who is a wraith, but I wanted to be respectful of all the minorities in the COD cast by giving them creatures that reflected their culture and personality.

ALEJANDRO - NAGUAL

In the Monster AU, Alejandro is a nagual, which is considered a guardian spirit in Mesoamerican culture. Typically, it's said that the nagual is the shapeshifted form that powerful men can transform into in order to do evil (although that doesn't apply in this case, Ale's a heroic lad), and can come in the forms of a jaguar, deer, dog or bird. I chose a jaguar, since it seemed to be the most common form of nagual depiction in the resources I was looking at. The 'panther mode' isn't pre-established as part of nagual mythology, but since most panthers are just black jaguars, i thought the association wouldn't be unreasonable.

I chose Alejandro to be a nagual because it's so in character for him to be protective of his home. The idea of him being a literal guardian spirit for all he considers his just made sense to me :)

RODOLFO (RUDY) - CADEJOS

In this AU, Rudy is the vessel for two cadejos, which are legendary dog spirits popular in the mythology of Central America, parts of South America and Mexico. Historically, they've been known as psychopomps (guides to help humans into the afterlife following their death) but modern interpretation has shifted to depict them as the good guardian dog and the evil attacking dog respectively.

A lot of the minute information about the cadejos tends to differ depending on the source. Like whether they're actually two separate dogs, or they're the same dog just in different 'modes', or how big they are. My personal depiction of them has them sized as normal dogs (although their spirit nature means they can move into small spaces pretty easily by just becoming immaterial temporarily) and as separate spirits that have been passed down through Rudy's family generationally.

I chose the cadejo for Rudy because although I wanted to include him in the Monster AU, i still liked keeping him as a character who was a bit more 'human' than Alejandro. I think Ale needs Rudy to hold him back sometimes, and having the two cadejo definitely helps with that. Sort of like how cheetahs in zoos have therapy dogs growing up because they're so anxious all the time! I think it also does a good job of showing Rudy's two sides as well, like he's a softie who just wants to protect those he loves, but he's capable of a lot of violence too.

VALERIA - GORGON

Valeria is a gorgon which, admittedly, is not part of Mexican mythology. However, I was put in a bit of a bind here, since my research didn't really reveal to me a monster in Mexican culture that I thought would suit Valeria's vibe (manipulative, elulsive) and I just felt like a gorgon would be perfect for her. Medusa's myth has her being continuously demeaned by the men in her life and is a symbol of female empowerment, which I thought was a great reflection of the implied reason that Valeria left the army was due to internal sexism. There's also the perfect parallel of how anyone who sees El Sin Nombre's face dies, and Medusa's whole 'turn you to stone' thing.

I thought i could compromise by making Valeria a gorgon but her hair would be Mexican black kingsnakes but...turns out they're actually not that dangerous. Some people even keep them as pets! So I decided to keep the visual, but make her a pit viper, a subfamily of vipers found in the Americas as well as Eurasia.

HORANGI - HAETAE

Horangi is a haetae (해태) which is a beast in Korean mythology that typically comes in the form of a horned lion or dog. It's prevalent in a lot of cultures in East Asia actually, although it goes under different names depending on the region - kaichi for Japan, xiezhi for China. I made Horangi a tiger variant on the creature because...well...'horangi' means 'tiger' in korean. It just made sense to me to put that little twist on it.

Typically, haetae are seen as spirits of judgement, that decide on innocent and guilty parties in disputes and punish the latter. It's also considered a guardian against fire (hence the fire immunity and cloud manipulation powers I gave him).

GAZ - HARPY

Gaz is a harpy which, I won't lie, was purely inspired by the fact that he seems to keep falling out of helicopters. But it's also because...yeah, I did neglect Gaz in the soapbox saga. But I think I neglected...everyone in the soapbox saga who weren't directly involved in the main ship. I sort of just tunnel visioned on the main three, so my exclusion of characters isn't just limited to Gaz, it was included Price, Laswell, Alejandro, Rudy, Graves etc.

I just want to make clear that my treatment of Gaz in particular isn't reflective of any inner preference against him. And to make good on that, me assigning Gaz wings of all things was to help me spend more time on him in the Monster AU! I think the contrast between Gaz being an upstart harpy, and Price being a one-winged dragon has a lot of potential as a mentor/protege relationship (and perhaps even something more) and it's why I assigned this monster to him. I really wanted to establish a connection upfront, but just making Gaz another dragon felt cheap - the harpy thing felt a little more in turn with his character :)

I really hope this cleared up any remaining frustrations with my designs for the Monster AU. I hope you can see that I never meant anything demeaning by assigning these monsters to their respective characters - in fact, I earnestly tried to go out of my way and be respectful to their backgrounds.

In any case, if you have any more questions I'd be happy to answer them - I'd just ask you to please ask politely :)

#gira speaks #monster 141 au

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averagemorrowindenjoyer · 2 months

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LU headcanons bc I have nothing better to do

-Legend HATESSSS, DESPISESSS storms bc of what happened in Link's Awakening

-After, like, the second day of them traveling together Time adopted them

-Except Wars bc that's his big brother

-Twi accidentally called Time "dad" once and was so embarrassed. Time pretended to not care but he was mentally jumping with joy

-Legend and Sky are besties I fear. they're always together. either legend's w sky or he's w Hyrule.

-Wind is a fucking gremlin. with a personality of course

-Warrior's will audibly scream if his makeup gets ruined. tbh I don't blame him

-Legend pretends to hate Ravio but she's secretly atrociously in love

-Time knows. he knows everything. about everybody. You can blame his fucking stalfos form for that. he was nosey and started watching them

-Time loves Wind like a little brother (or son, depends on the way u see it) but boy was he FURIOUS when he found out he could use the master sword at 12(he didn't show it obviously)

-Wild sees Twilight as a big brother and will rip ur organs out if he hears an OUNCE of Twi slander coming out of ur mouth

-Twilight is super motherly to the other Links. like, he gets super bad anxiety when one of them disappears into the forest like a fucking cryptid (im looking at u, Hyrule)

-Hyrule is literally feral. somebody do something abt this creature

-Twilight thinks of Time as a father figure

-pretty much everyone except Warriors has almost called Time "dad", in fact

-Legend is a pretty pretty princess and will not let anyone tell her otherwise

-Legend and Warriors will get into the most stupid arguments and, like, five seconds later will be gossiping abt bitches

-Legend looks amazing in the legendary dress(is that what it was called? i don't remember) and he knows it.

#legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #linked universe #linked universe legend #lu legend #lu ravio #lu time #lu warriors #lu wild #lu twilight #loz ravio #loz

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mirai-e-jump · 8 months

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Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger Character Book: We're KING!!!!!

PROLOGUE

Jeramie Brasieri was troubled. After ending the conflict between humans and the strange looking creatures, Bugnarak, and with the turning point of becoming king, he wanted to create a new story.

However, he couldn't come up with anything that could surpass, "The Legend of King-Ohger," which he himself had written, and was known to everyone in Chikyu. And so, he decided to make a proposal to the 5 kings, who were also his figthing comrades…or so it goes.

Gira Hasty

"I'm going to rule the world!"

Taisei Sakai guesses what's going on in Gira's head! 50% Children from the orphanage 20% The people of Shugoddam 15% The kings and citizens of the other countries 10% What I was like when I was young 5% Food

My Favorite Point: The Cloak "I was worried in the beginning on whether it would look good on me, but now, it's my favorite!" (-Sakai)

Yanma Gast

"You guys, just shut up already and follow me. I'm not going to lose to anyone!"

Aoto Watanabe guesses what's going on in Yanma's head! 80% Technology and research for the sake of the country's future 15% When it comes to N'kosopa, how I should act as a king 5% Space to think about other stuff

My Favorite Point: Cuff Earring "I like that it has alot of decorations, including N'kosopa's emblem and the jagged edges." (-Watanabe)

The Jacket "I can understand why Yanma loves it, The key point is that it's got alot of texture!" (-Watanabe)

Hymeno Ran

"I'll do as I want and follow my own path!"

Murakami Erika guesses what's going on in Hymeno's head! 40% Cute things and beautiful scenery, fashion and other things including the "arts" 30% Lifesaving and medical research for the sake of Ishabana's people 20% Romantic stories 10% Daydreaming about the future

My Favorite Point: The Spiral Curled Hair "With this hair, I love the novel style of it being tied up and the tiara attached to the knot." (-Murakami)

The Immovable King and Moffun

A Special photoshoot with Rita Kaniska and Moffun has become a realization! With their mask removed, Rita enters a relaxed mode, and is being healed by and carefully brushing the fur of Moffun.

"Together with Moffun" is a long running animated series that depicts Panpy, a cryptid hunter, meeting the legendary yetis Moffun and living in "Mofu Village." The white, cute and fluffy visuals, the love of humans, and the willingness to be hugged so tightly…The healing nature of Moffun is very popular among both children and adults, and is known to have achieved the highest viewership rating in Ishabana of 90.9%, which is run by Hymeno Ran.

One of the reasons for the love of this series, was the proof of bond between the queen of Ishabana and her people. Having lost her parents in the "Wrath of God" tragedy 15 years ago, Hymeno, who became queen at such a young age, had suffered greatly…It was at this time that the people of Ishabana rose up. They made the show with the hopes that she would smile as much as possible, and Hymeno, who grew up watching it, turned into a wonderful queen and doctor.

Another big fan of this show, which is currently airing all across Chikyu, loves it. It's the King of Gokkan, Rita Kaniska. Rita's "Moffun Love " is becoming apparent to Hymeno, while Rita doesn't show any emotion due to their duty as king…If Moffun's charm, which has won the hearts of the two kings, spreads any further, is it possible…the future of Chikyu could become brighter?!

Rita Kaniska

"Even if the earth were to split or the sky falls, Rita Kaniska will not be shaken!"

Hirakawa Yuzuki guesses what's going on in Rita's head! 90% Trials and other work that has to get done 10% Wanting to play with Moffun

My Favorite Point: The Collar "They usually wear a collar that covers their face, so scenes where they show their face are appealing." (-Hirakawa)

Kaguragi Dybowski

"We'll eliminate these pests for a bountiful harvest"

Kaku So guesses what's going on in Kaguragi's head! 75% Toufu 10% The other countries kings 10% Suzume 5% Racules

My Favorite Point: The Furisode's Patterns "I like that the design shows off the various emotions. This costume is a must for Kaguragi!" (-Kaku)

Jeramie Brasieri

"Humans, Bugnarak, and everything else, I rule over all and determine the fate of the world. The king of inbetween, the story of what I do will be passed down forever."

Ikeda Masashi guesses what's going on in Jeramie's head! 80% Peace 20% Stories

My Favorite Point: The Forehead Makeup Instead of using a sticker, I have the patterns drawn on instead. It's the switch that gets me into the role! (-Ikeda)

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formlines · 2 months

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Gunakadeit

Robert Mills

from the website: Gunakadeit is a mythological supernatural being, a sea monster, who they say brought wealth. The moment I heard the entire backstory from my mentor and legendary Master Artist Nathan Jackson, I was intrigued. The short version is somebody actually captured this sea monster. He skinned it out and placed the skin over himself. There was an orb in it that presented the man with a caveat - he would be granted the privilege of being the supernatural being if he promised to be back by sunrise the following day. The man agrees and transforms into the sea monster. He spends his day by doing good and serving his people, delivering to them food and wealth from the ocean. Gunakadeit starts falling in love with the praises bestowed upon him from the people. He doesn’t want to leave the prominent position he is in. This eventually leads to his demise, as he does not fulfill his promise.

This design speaks to that side of human nature that is the battle of our intentions. It is meant to remind us to be mindful of what motivates us. Is it to genuinely help people or is it driven by the lure of praise and adoration?

by Robert Mills

This design was featured in Smithsonian Magazine. The full story can be found here:

#Robert Mills #Tlingit #Seaklaska Heritage

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 3 months

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Revenge is a dish best served with love; Spider and So’lek found family

I’ve been bothering @dirtytransmasc about it all day and I can’t stop 😭 there is such a strong potential for a story between these two if they were to ever cross paths!

It could go so many ways, but I see Jake giving Spider away to him as one of the possibilities. He does it under the guise of giving Spider training necessary to keep up with the Na’vi, so he could help out the insurgency but in reality, he bribed So’lek into taking Spider under his wing with the opportunity for revenge. And we know So’lek loves nothing more than revenge.

What better way to make Miles Quaritch himself roll in his grave than to mould his biological son into a sky people killing machine?

So the two set off for the western frontier and Spider begins his lessons in survival, as well as combat. He gets to see the man behind the legend and the truth is — the man is barely there. His mind is always partly consumed by violence; thoughts too dark for the boy to imagine. He also sees that So’lek lacks emotion in anything unrelated to war, and is a man of a few words unless discussing tactics. He’d heard that this Na’vi lost his entire clan in the battle of the tree of souls, but seeing the consequences of that event up close was different from being told about it. Trauma defined him.

They reach the clouded forest, and So’lek begins to teach the boy ways of battle. He is just patient enough for Spider to catch things on the fly but as usual, offers little empathy if he struggles or smalltalk when they’re out of combat.

So’lek’s "hunts" are the worst part. They happen rarely as Socorro is not dubbed to be ready for that yet, but he is often taken along to be taught by example. He gets to watch as something like an unsuspecting convoy of RDA grunts falls victim to what they call, among other things, "blue death". He sees them scream and shake in pure terror of a creature they clearly knew, sees how little of a chance they stand against a seasoned warrior as he moves like a silent shadow and takes the sky people out one by one. Swiftly, yet brutally. He calls those outings "hunts" for a reason.

And the way he speaks of sky people makes something in Spider’s spine shudder. The man speaks of them as game, seemingly forgetting that the student who’s intelligence and strength he often praises is still a sky person himself — not in spirit, but in body.

Socorro isn’t sure about this ordeal anymore. The more he finds out about the legendary warrior…the less he wants to follow in his footsteps. Protecting the people has always been something he wished to be useful in, and he loved the Na’vi, loved Pandora, his one and only home…but he can’t let himself become anything like So’lek. The way he sees it, killing should be performed mindfully. Spider hates the idea that taking a life, no matter what life, maybe become second nature to him. A reflex.

Killing should not ever be so easy.

On the other end of the line is So’lek himself. He never thought that taking in a child, even as just a temporary ward, would be so difficult. For the first time in fifteen years he has to feel again, and he hates it. Socorro makes him feel out of control, makes him feel frustrated, confused, tired, amused, alive.

With how stressed Jake sounded when he offered to give him the boy, So’lek assumed Spider was a danger; a nantang disguised as a harmless yerik, but the longer he waited the more he realised that said nantang was nowhere in sight. Not to say that Spider was a yerik either. If anything, the child strongly resembled a playful syaksyuk (prolemuris).

Spider, as any other kid his age, hungers for adventure, for freedom and fun. Even with all the respect he held for So’lek, he was a difficult boy to reel in and keep in line. He was constantly busy with something, be it a crafting project for their base (which, since he appeared, more and more resembled a home), exploring the wilderness or collecting something. Most often rocks or herbs.

His smile is so bright, So’lek feels blinded by it every time.

…no. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, the man catches himself think. He was supposed to "steer Socorro in the right direction", as Jake had put it yet as weeks passed, his resolve melted into something he haven’t felt for years. Could it be…?

No. So’lek was absolutely not getting attached to the child in his care. He couldn’t. He was a sky person; a son to the demon.

But, he was so different from anything So’lek has encountered. There was fire in his honey eyes, but it burned with desire to protect, not hurt. He had an impressive muscle mass, but used it for climbing and weaving only. He made each kill matter, praying for every fallen thing even as So’lek hurried him to skin the meat before it got shrouded. Everything about nature fascinated, awed him, so he thirsted to learn of this new forest and every creature living within it.

Spider could speak of his home for hours. About the animals, the different plants, the remedies one could craft from them, and eventually, as always, he’d speak of his family. His precious siblings he’d raise hell to protect. He loves them more than anything because they are all he has in this entire world, no parental figure in sight. So’lek fights down the urge to hold a child he sees himself in when he hears it.

Spider…has subverted every possible expectation So’lek had of him. So pure and naive and filled with hope in spite of what he has already lost, and the dangers surrounding him…

And So’lek planned to break him. Take all of it away and turn him into a cold-blooded soldier. No more then a weapon for the Na’vi to wield.

What in Eywa’s name was he thinking?

So’lek wants to return Spider to high camp and forget about the deal, but it’s too late. He felt his wards crumble as the human he thought he needed to fear nestled deep within his heart, and now they were bound. He looked at the tiny thing sleeping in a hammock far too big for him. Then at the walls, now painted with images of animals and insects; painted the Omatikaya way. He then turned to the floors, now covered in mats Socorro weaved in his free time.

He made this place a home. Put so much effort with both his skill and voice. He brought So’lek’s base alive. Brought alive him even. It is only fair that So’lek puts in the effort to make this a home for the boy as well.

Just for fairness sake, he thought, tucking the child in as a smile tugged at his lips.

He wasn’t getting attached.

Not at all.

#atwow #avatar2 #avatar frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #avatar frontiers #avatar fop #avatar so’lek #so’lek frontiers of pandora #avatar spider #spider socorro #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #spider avatar #atwow spider #avatar headcanons

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beannary · 10 months

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OK so I dont really like this but this 2012 tmnt mermaid au has been driving me INSANE so here are some mermaid designs for the boys (which I might change if I draw more stuff for this au) and some lore for the au under the cut!

also Donnie is ftm and Leo is mtf and those are the facts! (Donnie did do top surgery on himself, do NOT ask me how he did that underwater safely)

(just a quick note: I am using some japanese mythos for the mermaid part but I'm also being loosey goosey with it alskjdfh)

ALSO slight tw for cannibalism? or like cannibalism adjacent behavior

There is a yokai described in Japanese literature called the ningyo, a creature that is half human and half fish. Legend says that if you capture a ningyo and eat its flesh, that you will be granted eternal life. Hamato Yoshi and Oroku Saki were familiar with these legends, though Saki always believed in them more than Yoshi. Saki believed in the legends so much that he became obsessed with finding the legendary ningyo and becoming immortal after consuming its flesh. Yoshi accompanied his brother on these ventures, more out of a sense of familiar duty and a need to watch out for his younger brother than an actual belief in the ningyo.

And of course, it just so happens that the brother who does not at all believe in the existence of yokai would be the one to find one. Yoshi encounters Tang Shen, a ningyo who has been living throughout the local freshwater river system. And suddenly Yoshi realizes that Saki's quest for murder might actually come true since apparently these ningyo are very much real. So now whenever he accompanies Saki on his hunting quests, he does everything in his ability to try to dissuade Saki from his plan, and when he realizes that isn't going to work, he starts to sabotage Saki's efforts. And Yoshi does this because well he kept in contact with Tang Shen, and the two became close friends, and son fell in love, bridging the gap between yokai and human.

They can't get married, obviously, Tang Shen is fully a yokai, but they build their lives together and eventually Tang Shen falls pregnant with their daughter Miwa. The two weren't entirely sure what to expect of their child, but Miwa turns out to be a completely normal human child.

Over the years as Yoshi and Tang Shen's love and family grew, Yoshi started pulling away from his birth family, and more noticeably, from Saki, who was you know pretty angry with Yoshi who seemingly disappeared on him with no explanation. Saki channels his anger into his search for the ningyo, and it takes three years but eventually he does finally find one.

Around three years after Miwa was born, Tang Shen and Yoshi welcome in four new kids! Quadruplets! Three boys and a girl. And these four, unlike Miwa, seem to all be fully ningyo, which very much surprised Yoshi and Tang Shen (both the fact that there were four kids and those four kids are all mermaids) but hey, they knew their genetic situation would be weird and they were fully ready to hop into raising these four.

It's only a few days after the birth of their quadruplets, so soon after that they haven't even given them names, that Saki stumbles upon the home of Yoshi and Tang Shen. And He Is Pissed. Not only did his BROTHER ABANDON him but he abandon him to start a family with this yokai? The yokai that he's been hunting all this time? And Saki, like in canon, kills Tang Shen and Miwa. (Or well you know, he kidnaps Miwa and renames her Karai but Yoshi thinks Miwa is dead)

Yoshi manages to get away with the quadruplets in the chaos, and he tries so hard to establish a new life for himself in Japan, but no matter where he goes, Saki manages to find him. Eventually Yoshi gets desperate enough to flee the country, and he finds himself in New York City!

But meanwhile back in Japan, Saki did in fact end up eating Tang Shen but idk how he realizes it but he figures out that he didnt get immortality, and so he concludes that oh, Tang Shen must have been tainted somehow by her relationship with Yoshi, which sucks because now he has to find a whole other ningyo to get immortality. Luckily he happens to know of four ningyo that he would be more than happy to kill, which is basically Saki's drive to finding and killing the Hamatos.

Anyways that's all I have so far!!!! I'm trying to think about how they would live in NYC, if they can somehow become human (in maybe like an H2O just add water situation) or if they are stuck in the water all the time.

I'm leaning towards them being able to shed their fish tails if even only for a small amount of time, just so they can still be ninjas and train on land, since I think Yoshi would still want to train them to defend themselves. I think that if they can be human for a bit, they still get dried out really easily so they can't stay out of the water for very long, probably not long enough for them to go to school full time, so they still live super isolated lives. Or maybe Yoshi figures out a way to train them to fight in the water? Idk suggestions are appreciated!

They do eventually meet April and Casey, I think April is gonna be on the swim team and so she's a fairly strong swimmer (for a human) and so she spends a lot of time in the water with the hamatos which they appreciate a lot! I think maybe Yoshi isn't a super strong swimmer so as much as he tries to spend time with his kids he can't really.

Casey is still on the hockey team and he can't swim, the hamatos try to teach him but they fully dont know how to swim with legs and so they are Bad tm swimming teachers salkdjfh.

#my art #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #2012 tmnt #tmnt 2k12 #2k12 tmnt #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo

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navstuffs · 7 months

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The Visitor

Pairing: Incubus!Leon Kennedy x GNSupernaturalHunter!Reader

Summary: Your mom always told you to find allies between your enemies - but your incubus consultant, Leon Kennedy, wants to be more than that.

Warning tags: SMUT with gn!reader so MINORS DNI,frenemies to lovers, sexual tension, masturbation, oral sex, penetration, excessive cum (its my headcanon for incubus so), jealousy sex (sorta)

Author's tags: we are the end of my halloween challenge! thank you so much for everyone who supported me. i am so freaking proud and happy with myself that i finally got to finish ONE thing that i commited! last one has to be smut. happy halloween!! enjoy your reading!

my halloween's masterlist

Rain starts as you drive to your home. It has been one heck of a night. The streets are empty as they should be at 2 a.m., but your senses are on high alert. You blame your genetics: coming from a legendary lineage of supernatural hunters, you were expected to become one from your early age, liking or not. It was in your blood. The problem? To be able to sniff other supernatural beings with that same skill prompts your social and love life to be awkward sometimes.

Take tonight as an example: first date with a nice fellow you met on a dating app. When you arrived, your sixth sense instantly picked a creature nearby; you shouldn't be surprised, but obviously, it came from your date. The man, a recently transformed werewolf, ended up reacting to your dangerous smell. And what was supposed to be an excellent night with you fucking your brains out ended up with an awkward goodbye, together with the silent promise of never seeing each other again.

As you park your car in front of your house, you rest your head on your wheel. It had been like this for a while: you met a nice person until you found out they were friends with a vampire or a family member who was a banshee. Your romantic life was nonexistent, which your mom would approve of: "We must remain sharp. No time for this romance bs." Says the woman who almost ran away with a vampire as a teenager.

You are so focused on your thoughts you don't pick up the familiar sensation stinging in your chest as you should. You had been around him so long that your body had started not to react in alert when you were near him. It's almost as if you are getting comfortable.

You exit your car, covering your eyes against the rain, which is getting stronger. You notice the familiar figure sitting on the steps of your porch. He has his hood on, his face partially obscured by the darkness, but you would know him from anywhere: Leon Kennedy. The incubus, you sometimes have the displeasure to work with him. You sigh, wondering what he was doing there so late.

As you approach the entrance, Leon raises his head, and you are met with a pair of enchanted blue eyes. You can feel your stomach twist in a way you are used to by now. It is not technically his fault: Leon needs to have this effect on people if he wants to feed. His eyes start from your head to your well-dressed figure, then your legs, and return to your face. You decide to ignore that and the way your body has warmed up.

"What is it? This better be important." You scoff, and Leon finally gets up, opening a small smile.

"Am I not always important?" Leon chuckles, crossing his arms, a smug smile on his lips. Attractive bastard, you think.

"Yeah, sure, sure. What is it, Kennedy?"

"And where did you come from? A date?"

"Kennedy, I really don't have time for that." You answer, impatient. Your body is telling you to get away from the "monster," and you have to trust your instincts. You search for your house key, walking past Leon and ignoring how inviting he looks tonight.

"Werewolf this time? At least it wasn't a ghoul like last time," Leon teases you, walking up behind you. You look back at him, furious, after opening the door of your house, and Leon raises his arms in a sign of defeat. "I am kidding."

"No, you are wasting my time. Goodnight, Kennedy." As you try to close the door on his face, Leon stops it. You look at him like he has gone crazy, caught off guard by the look you are met back: hungry as a hunter staring at his defenseless prey.

The rational part of you wants to tell Leon to fuck off and close the door on his face. Advising you to remain unaffected if Leon is trying to seduce you now. But you are so tired tonight that you let the irrational one speak. The one that is needy for some sort of human contact tonight. Even if it's from a freaking demon, who pisses the crap out of you.

And to not help, the next time Leon speaks is in a much more vulnerable tone.

"Can I come in?"

Your mom's biggest piece of advice? That you should always find allies between your enemies. They were always traitor among their kind. You and Leon met by accident three years ago. Like most sex demons, he would prey on his victims in places with a strong sexual desire, like strip clubs, bars, or regular clubs.

You were there trying to find another sex demon who was killing his victims after sex, instead finding yourself in the middle of a fight between two very hungry incubus. You should have had an easy time, but a bigger fight started amongst the humans present as well. It was a mess.

Leon helped you, to your surprise. You realized he was an incubus as soon as he grabbed your hand to get you out of the middle of the mess. Your body reacted as it should to his presence: you pulled your hand away, disgusted, but simultaneously, you were affected (and you knew it). Usually, you shouldn't remain unaffected by their extreme sexual energy (they were created for that), but with Leon, it was different. You didn't know why. Leon offered to help find this killer incubus, which proved to be an easier task with him at your side.

And now you could consider him your partner. A very annoying, sexy, good-looking sex demon partner who always looked at your body with interest when he thought you weren't looking.

Like right now. You ignore again your rational part as you bend over to find a bottle of water by the fridge. If Leon's eyes are on your ass or not, you don't really care. It is your fault for letting him inside your house anyway.

"Again, what do you need, Kennedy?" You ask as you close the fridge door with a bump. Leon is resting against the kitchen counter, the hood down. His dirty blonde hair is by his shoulders now, much longer than you first met.

"Decided to go for a bike ride late at night. Couldn't sleep."

"Oh? And you are telling me that because? Are we friends or something?" Leon ignores the irony in your voice, a small smile on his lips. You wait.

"No, we are not."

"Good, because-"

"I don't want to be your friend, anyway." Leon declares a somber tone in his voice. It's that same feeling you have had many times near Leon: he is trying to take down your defense walls, one by one. Wanting for you to feel anything other than danger.

"I see. The feeling is mutual." You whisper back, clearly affected this time. Leon starts approaching you slowly. When he stops before you, your back against the cold fridge. There is nowhere to run from his blue eyes. You can't move or don't want to move.

"What do you truly want?" You murmur again, afraid of the answer. Leon places each arm to your sides, caging your body with his. You have never felt so scared before, but not in the wrong way. Never felt so small. So powerless. Passing control to someone else shouldn't feel so easy.

"What do you think I want?" He tilts his head to one side, tempting you to answer. You bite your lips, wanting to close your eyes but keeping them locked on his. You can still pull him away, your rational part suggests. Pull him away and never see Leon Kennedy again. But do you truly want that?

"This is a trick." You place your hands on Leon's chest. Either stopping or grabbing it, you don't know. You close your eyes, shaking your head, refusing to see, to feel what is right in front of you: Leon Kennedy wants you.

You were doomed from the start as soon as you let him in. Not here, not today, but from the club. From accepting his hand, reaching out to you.

You know that getting too close to the sun could eventually burn. You have known since the first meeting that allowing Leon Kennedy into your life would be trouble. The wet dreams about him, the fact you would get jealous every time he went out for "a meal." You tried to deny for a long time, ignore, and kill those feelings that only grew stronger. Because who would be stupid enough to fall in love with an incubus?

"Open your eyes." Leon's smooth voice commands, and you still fight again, your body urging you to obey him. Tired of resisting, you open to find him just inches away from your face, his lips close enough so you can finally kiss them. "I can give you what you want. You wouldn't have to go scoping around searching for it. I can leave you breathless. I can give you all the pleasure you deserve and much more."

Leon's voice sounds like butter. This is it: you are into the incubus enchantment. You are melting inside, your hands now grabbing his hoodie.

What actually breaks you is that Leon seems to be asking for your permission. Deep down, Leon could seduce you, could make you kneel and beg for him. Instead, the silent please in his eyes, the desperation in his voice, his hand trembling against your cheek. You close your hands around his hoodie, bringing his lips into yours. It surprises you how ferocious you are kissing him, surprises you how you moan into the kiss.

Finally, your body aches relieved. Finally.

The feeling is mutual to Leon. What he never has told you is that since he met you, he knew he had to have you: he didn't know what it was about you. He had never heard of anyone of his kind falling in love (they are supposed to be the embodiment of sexual desire, anyway). The time bonding together (for more, you tried to not call that), fighting other creatures, and saving each other's asses made Leon just desire you even more. And for some strange reason, you seemed to reciprocate his feelings, too stubborn to admit.

His feelings for you made him stop feeding as much, as Leon didn't find much fun and interest in other people. Everything tasted bland and boring compared to you. It didn't help with the dreams, the horny thoughts about you getting worse and worse. Usually, jerking off would be like a small snack for Leon, but thinking about you never left him completely satisfied. He needed to have you.

And tonight, especially tonight, after another sleepless night and having another dream about you sucking him off, Leon decided to, as numerous past nights, bike around town to cool off. He would need to get home and maybe jerk off again, imagining you squirming under him, begging for him to move when he noticed your smell. His attention turned into jealousy when he saw you hugging a werewolf who clearly had sexual intentions towards you.

After seeing this, Leon turned his motorcycle around with one destination: your house. He needed to try. He needed to show you what he felt for you. And if you sent him away, well, at least he would have tried.

Your bodies are entirely in sync. You are surprised to notice Leon knows precisely where and how you desire to be touched and how you like to be kissed. You "blame" the incubus side: he is supposed to seduce you, so you give him what you want.

You fall back into your mattress, and Leon pulls away from you momentarily. You are only in your underwear, bare chest, a complete mess with your lips swollen with the kisses. Your body is vibrating for him: Leon needs to admire that. Or else he would never believe his dreams turned into reality.

"You look so beautiful." He whispers with reverence, taking his hoodie off. You are surprised to see him with no shirt on. Leon pulls his pants down, and you gulp, watching his cock spring free.

"No underwear?" You wonder, your eyes locked into his hard-on. Were all incubus supposed to be this thick and big?

"Easier that way," Leon answers, shrugging his shoulder. He kisses you again, and his hands take off the last piece of your underwear. He doesn't even know where to touch you first: your hard nipples or your sex? He is eager and somehow nervous. Leon is probably the first case of a nervous incubus in history.

"Leon?" You call his name, confused. He raises his head to meet your eyes, an emotional expression on his face. It is the first time you have called him by his name.

Leon starts paying attention to your nipples. He watches for your reaction, twisting and pinching the way that makes you moan more. You are clay under his hands; if Leon told you to run around naked, you would. At this moment time, you are no one else except his.

"Spread your legs for me."

You obey his command, feeling his hard-on against your thigh. His hands go down your belly to your sex, more wet than usual. Leon smiles, rubbing you with a fingertip to get a taste of your juice. He chuckles as you tremble, your face embarrassed.

"I have never been so wet like this," You confess.

"You never heard? Incubus charm can do that. Especially if the other one desires us back, really, really bad." You ignore the way he probably would have said meal. You can feel his breath between your tights, and your hands go into his shoulders to warn him.

"I won't last long if you do this."

"Exactly my point."

By the first touch of Leon's tongue on your needy sex, you can feel close to the orgasm. Your body is so warm, and one of your hands grabs his golden locks, keeping his head there. That only seems to thrill Leon more: He explores with his tongue up and down your sex, and you can't hold back your moans, your other hand grabbing the sheets under you. Leon hums, satisfied as he continues to savor you.

It doesn't take long for you to cum in Leon's mouth. There is a sound of approval coming from his chest as your entire body shakes under him, your eyes rolling. It had never been this strong with your past partners, you had never come this fast. You would never tell Leon that. You need a moment to relax as Leon raises his head, licking his lips.

"Delicious. Even better, what I imagined." You try to not look embarrassed as he compliments you, the warm feeling in your chest happy to hear that.

"Leon?" You call him worried.

You finally realize his eyes remain the same blue eye color. You might not know a lot about incubus sex, but one thing you know is that their eyes turn a different color when they are feeding. You had heard about red, deep red, orange, orange red-ish.

"You okay? Need more moments?"

"Why didn't you feed?" The worried tone of your voice doesn't go unnoticed by him. Leon smiles, attempting to ease your worries.

"I didn't ask for your consent. Didn't think it would be fair."

"You don't ask for consent for the others." You argue, the tone of jealousy making him chuckle. Leon lays on top of you, his arms caging you again.

"You are not like the others. You are special." Before the weight of his confession would make you run away scared, screaming for your life. Now, it makes you lock your legs around his hips, purring content.

"I am sure you say that to all others."

"No, I don't." His tone is serious. Leon starts to rub against your still-sensitive sex. He lowers down to kiss you, slowly and this time more patiently. You can taste yourself in Leon's mouth, making you wonder what Leon's taste is. When you break away, you confess in a hushed whisper you want him to feed.

You want him satisfied with you. Only you.

When Leon penetrates you slowly, to not hurt you, for more wet that your entrance is with his magic, you watch fascinated his eyes turn into a weak red. He probably had been hungry for a long time, and something inside of you told Leon that he would need much more to be fed entirely. Leon pushes all his dick inside of you, giving both a moment to calm yourself. You feel delicious wrapped around him like that: tight and warm. There would be really no one else for him after this.

"You can move now." You whisper, rubbing his face. His first thrust is gentle but still drags a sob out of you. How come Leon has found your pleasure spot so quick? It had to be luck.

Your body had never been in such sync with someone else like that before: Leon knew precisely how to move his hips, how exactly would you make you moan the loudest. It doesn't take long for you to cum again, his thrusts still gentle, hitting that specific pleasure spot you love so much repeatedly. After you cum, Leon stops, worried you might say this is over, but you lift yourself from the bed with one hand, the other holding Leon's neck so he can look at you. You demand more from him, harder, faster. That makes you scream. That the whole town knows who you belong from now.

Your consent is probably what drives him over the edge. Leon doesn't stop now, and if it wasn't for his arm holding around your shoulder to keep you in the bed, you would have fallen out with the strength of his thrusts. You sound incoherent by now, pleading for something, someone, watching Leon's eyes flicker into a stronger red. His eyes never entirely leave your face, his hips hitting against yours with a supernatural strength. You thank mentally for your genetics, or else Leon could have actually hurt you.

You both are close now, you to your third orgasm, Leon on his first one after weeks. Or months. He remembers how many times he has fapped to this vision before, your eyes rolling with your mouth parted as you begged him to not stop, to fuck you insane, never enough to completely satisfy him. But tonight, Leon is giving you all that he has gotten.

When you both come at the same time, your back arches against the bed, and your vision goes white. You scream, your body trembling under Leon's arm, holding onto his shoulders as if you are drowning in the water. Leon is your anchor now, keeping you remotely sane.

As Leon fills you up with a strangled moan of your name, Leon feels his starvation to subdue. He is still hungry as he always would be for you, but this time he is sated. Different from all the other times he had feed: different from the simple fucks he had when he was hungry. As the closest thing from an incubus could feel from love.

It takes you a few minutes to come back to reality. You blink, Leon at your side this time, his arm around you and his head resting against your shoulder. He has his eyes closed, but he isn't sleeping.

"You okay?" He asks, finally opening his eyes. They are back to their normal blue eyes, even looking more vivid.

"Yeah, I guess?" You can feel his cum in your tights leaking from your entrance. "What have you done to me?"

"I told you I would have given you what you deserved." Leon chuckles, and you hit in the arm lightly. Convinced bastard.

You sit down, wincing at the soreness in the middle of your legs. You wonder if you were entirely human if you could walk the following day. There is a small puddle of white cum in the bed, and you look at him, surprised.

"Didn't know you guys could make this much mess…"

"Only when we are entirely satisfied."

Leon lays on his back, arms lifted with his head resting against his hands, a satisfied smile on his lips like he just had the biggest meal of his entire life. And he did: you look a mess, and Leon loves being the reason for that.

"So, do you have to leave now or…?"

"Not if you don't want me," Leon answers softly.

"I don't." You confess, and Leon smiles, happy. The confused feelings in your thoughts and heart could stay for tomorrow. Now, you need a shower and change your sheets. Then cuddle with the man next to you.

"Do you guys cuddle?" You ask, sounding like an idiot, and Leon giggles again.

"I think we can. You will be my first one anyway."

First one? Before you can ask what that means, Leon gets up from the bed. You watch as the light of the night illuminates his body, marked with your love. He raises his hand.

"I can see you are overthinking. Let's worry about tomorrow when tomorrow arrives, okay?"

You nod. Sounds like the perfect plan.

taglist: @90sbee, @scar-crossedlvrs, @roseglazedlens, @sarahs-secrets2

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