#And thank you for enjoying Cult AU! It was fun to write so I was hoping people would like it

[tswwwit]

I have sooo many questions abt the reincarnation au.

1. Does bot contracts stay through each incarnation, the first one-Where bill is a familiar and has a physical body is there but what about the marriage one along with the bill tattoo

2. If the second-marriage- contract stays does the bill-shaped tattoo stay as well and is it like the birthmark where it pops up in different places?

3. Is dipper being an illusionist the same in each incarnation?

4. Does dipper gain all his memories of each life or just the first dippers memories?

5. How many years between each incarnation (other than the 18 years after he’s born)?

6. Can the reincarnation spell be redacted if dipper no longer wants to be reincarnated?

7. Does dipper ever gain his memories before meeting bill(and if he does, does he psyche himself up to be some sort of hero that is destined to protect humanity, but slowly realises his past self fell in love so now hes screwed/pissed)?

Thats it! Chapter six was soo good and my suggestion is ‘Silent Devotion’ as the ao3 name!! Have a good day💕💕

The first contract - the familiar one - definitely! The marriage contract is also.. mostly in place? Reincarnation makes some of the terms wibbly.

No tattoo for the reincarnations - Bill's gotta reapply it if he wants to slip the ol' wedding circle back on.

Maybe? Or maybe not!

Dipper gets all the memories back eventually - but his first life is always going to be the most clear and powerful. That's where he started after all!

The time between death and rebirth could be anything from near-instantaneously to a few decades. Depends on what's going on in the afterlife.

Bill almost certainly made the reincarnation contract pretty wiggle-proof. There's no way he's just letting Dipper escape. That being said, Dipper's probably figured out a way to get out if he really wanted to. He hasn't taken it yet, and may not ever!

He could get the memories back pre-Bill, for sure! This is actually a pretty interesting premise, too; A Dipper who wonders how the FUCK he could EVER fall for such an evil conniving jackass, only to finally meet Bill and have that 'Uh Oh' moment.

[wintfleur]

ꔫ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Pretty boys b-day! — Stella Hughes AU!

au masterlist - you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

﹕─┈ pairings (Estella Hughes oc! X Rutger McGroarty )

°. — summary ( Stella’s post for Rutgers birthday! )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I really wanted to write a blurb for Rutgers birthday, but I have been so busy that I totally forgot! I do hope you guys still enjoy, please let me know what you guys think !!! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

stellahughes added to their story !

🎵 Always forever - Cults

[caption1: it’s pretty boys birthday 🫶🏻] [caption2: in my sugar mommy era 🤩]

rutgermcgroarty reacted with 🩷

luca.fantilli replied with ‘fridgeee 😍’

lilybaileys replied with ‘MOMMY 😩’

carmenbarlowe replied with ‘oh the song, you picked the song 😭’

edwards.73 replied with ‘this is favoritism, you always make me pay 😐’

stellahughes replied with ‘you’re not the one fucking me every night ??’

edwards.73 replied with ‘ . . . rutger give Stella her phone back”

stellahughes

liked by gabeperreault44, cuttergauthier_, bboeser and others

🏷️ rutgermcgroarty

🎵 My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

stellahughes; happy birthday to the sweetest boy I’ll ever know, the only one who can make me smile so big! Can’t wait to spend many more with you !! 🩷

comments have been limited

lhughes_06 happy birthday ig 🫤

rutgermcgroarty thanks bro!

jackhughes @/rutgermcgroarty NO NO 🙅‍♂️

lilybaileys happy birthday old man!

rutgermcgroarty 🖕🏻

stellahughes my fav dilf 😩

rutgermcgroarty BABE???

nick_moldenhauer bros perfect

g.brindley4 MY MAN MY MAN 😍

adamfantilli FRIDGEEE 😍

_quinnhughes happy birthday rut!

rutgermcgroarty thank you q!

elblue6 happy birthday sweetie! 🩷

rutgermcgroarty thank you mama Hughes! 🩷

markestapa happy b-day sexy!

edwards.73 RUT! RUT! RUT!

luca.fantilli happy birthday; love you bro!

rutgermcgroarty thanks luc! Love you 2

luca.fantilli no photo creds??? 🧐

stellahughes 🙄

rutgermcgroarty I love you so much stell 🩷

stellahughes 💋💋

carmenbarlowe HAPPY BIRTHDAY RUTGER 🥳

rutgermcgroarty THANK YOU CARMEN 🥳

entersteller

liked by _willsmith2, trevorzegras, adamfantilli, and others

🏷️ rutgermcgroarty

🎵 Those eyes - New west

entersteller; I close my eyes and all I see is you 🩷

📍rutgermcgroarty hehe 🎥

entersteller shhhh 🤭

jackhughes WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??

jackhughes Happy birthday rutger!

rutgermcgroarty thanks BRO!

Trevorzegras happy birthday 💋

Trevorzegras I did not mean to use that emoji…

entersteller you have somthin to tell me trev? Hmm? 🤔

rutgermcgroarty thanks man 💋

colecaufield please tell me you have clothes on ‼️

entersteller my mama told me not to lie 🥳

colecaufield 🤢🤢🤢

Ihughes_06 🤢🤢🤢

jackhughes 🤢🤢🤢

edwards.73 🤢🤢🤢

_alexturcotte 🤢🤢🤢

entersteller u guys are a bunch of haters omg.

tatemcrae hottest couple mhm

entersteller MARRY ME PLEASEEE 😩

carmenbarlowe the cutest couple ever 😭

entersteller ilysm minnie 💋💋

lilybaileys IS IT SAFE FOR ME TO DROP RUTS PRESENT OFF ??

rutgermcgroarty nope 😁

entersteller no! 🫶🏻

lilybaileys damn okay…

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( smaus are so fun omg I need to do them more ! This is kinda rushed sorry . . . hehe if anyone gets Rutgers comment with the 🎥 I love you! )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lxvelyzoe @lovings4turn x )

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 1) • l.s.m.

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

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

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin. 

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

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

You shiver. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obviously."

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

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

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

"And that's why you'll be the —"

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

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

"Technically, that's true."

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

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

"Well —"

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

" — Think fast!"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

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

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

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

"Hey… thanks."

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

"Mm-hm."

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

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

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

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

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

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

"Goodnight, Chan."

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

But tomorrow never came.

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

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

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

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

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

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

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

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

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

"Nothing guarantees —"

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

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

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

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

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

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

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

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

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

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

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

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

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

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

"Chan?!"

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

"What about you?"

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

"But —"

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

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

"Chan, what's —"

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

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

"You hate those kinds of things."

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

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

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

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

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

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

What was going on?

Boom!

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

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

It's gone.

"No…"

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

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

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

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

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

For now.

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

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

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

"Don't. Move."

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

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

"Go ahead and shoot."

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

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

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

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

"I —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt.

"I — I —"

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

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

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

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

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

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

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's stale too.

Fucker.

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh-huh."

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

"Hey, now —"

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

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

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

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

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

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

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

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

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

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

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

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

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

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

You feel a funny sensation.

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

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

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that's anything new."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except you're on edge.

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

"Now who's staring?"

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

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

Hope.

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

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

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

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

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

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

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

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

"'Lo, Wonu."

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

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

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

"Oh, Lina…"

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

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

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

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

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

"I am strong!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

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

"I swear!"

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

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

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

"Really?!"

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

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

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

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

"Choi!"

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

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

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

"Dunno, cute?"

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

"No need for apologizin', man."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

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

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just a bounty hunter."

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

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

"Oh? Same here."

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

"He's…?"

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

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

"Yeah, tell me about it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

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

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

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

"M-maybe."

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

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

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

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fill me up again?"

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

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

But you know the truth.

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

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

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

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

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

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

"Hey, you."

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

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

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

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

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

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

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

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

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

"'Cause that's what he is."

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

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

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

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

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

"Only if you get one, too."

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

"As you wish, m'lady!"

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

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

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

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

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

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

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

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

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

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

"'Kay."

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

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

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

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

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

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

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

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

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

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

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

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

Splash.

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

"Let's begin… the killing time."

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

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

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

Rem Saverem.

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

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

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

"What's got you making that face?"

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

"What face?"

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

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

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

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

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

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

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

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

"… Yeah. I like you."

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

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

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

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

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

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

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

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

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

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

"I'm not the only one!"

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

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

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

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

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

"You're right. How dare I?"

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

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

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

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

Yet, it hurts all the more.

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

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

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

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

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

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

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

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

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

Don't leave me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

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

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

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

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

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

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

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

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

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

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

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

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

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

How typical.

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

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

"Soonyoung's coming."

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

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

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

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

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

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

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

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

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

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

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

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

Antagonize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really, 'Kwan?"

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

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

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

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

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

"All that does is make me cringe."

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

"Who's acting like what?"

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

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

"There's no way!"

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

"Uh-huh."

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

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

"The hell did you even throw for?"

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

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

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

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

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

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

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

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

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

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

"Don't recall!"

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

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

"Aw, see? You still care!"

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

"Sure you do."

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

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

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

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

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

"As far as we know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

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

"Dokyeom. DK."

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

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

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

"… Deadly Knives?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

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

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

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

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

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

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

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

"… Mistake?"

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

You wonder how long he's known.

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

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

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

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

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

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'Course they would."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Surely you know what —"

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

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

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

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

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

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

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

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

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

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

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

Click!

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

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

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

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

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

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

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

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

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

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

"Why you —"

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

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

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

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

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

"You don't want this."

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

"We do."

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

"He's not a monster."

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

To us?

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

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

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

"… Excuse me?"

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

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

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

"Because you took a bribe!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…. I —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You mean…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

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

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

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

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

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

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

"Hm. But I think you do."

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

Lina.

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

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

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

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

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

"… Wonu?"

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

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

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

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

It doesn't end there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

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

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

"Seokmin, switch!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bang!

Bang!

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

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

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

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

Nails.

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

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

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

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

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

Click.

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

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

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

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

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

Someone.

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

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

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

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[ymechi]

Who is the real Creator?

Hello! I have a bit of an announcement to make I don't think everyone has seen the previous post but an anon asked me if I will continue the series and to be honest I don't think I will. This series was made on a whim and was really fun to write except I hit a roadblock. I am unsure where to continue with this I feel like I have written enough and not sure where to go from here story wise, that is why I decided to discontinue the story. Thank you everyone who commented and liked I enjoyed seeing your guys reactions. For now this is the last chapter. If I ever decide to continue this or make a new series I look forward to seeing you guys there!

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, self harm (nothing major), OOC character

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, this is part 6

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The beat of their heart was as loud as a drum. Reader could even feel their head vibrate in tandem with the marching drums they had heard before when they were younger. Their vision felt blurry and their head was light. The fading sun outside the windows caught their eye. Reader felt nauseous.

They were such a coward they had left Nahida and Wanderer to clean up after them as they ran away. Reader wanted to help her not add more trouble yet here they were weak and unable to speak.

Distantly they heard a gasp.

"Reader! Are you okay? Oh no- Traveller come quick!"

Two blurry figures came closer to Reader. They idly noted one of the figures was floating. . . Ohh, it was Paimon and Aether.

Seeing the two somehow calmed them down and they tried to take deep breaths. With a calmer and clearer mind, they noticed that both stared at Reader with worried expressions.

Reader gave a wry smile.

"Hi Paimon, hi Traveller."

The two said nothing staring at Reader and then at each other coming to an agreement of some sort.

"Paimon thinks you should sit down first," she said, trailing off and looking down.

Reader also noticed Aether was looking down as well to the side, it was then it dawned on Reader they were looking at their sliced palm. They subconsciously tried to hide it but stopped midway bringing it forward towards the duo.

"I guess you two were also summoned but were late haha," they said with a flat laugh.

Traveler continued to look at them with a worried frown and Paimon who usually had a positive expression looked even more worried. Reader's wry smile seemed not to work sadly.

"P-Paimon is still not sure what is going on but Paimon thinks you should sit down first. . ."

"I agree let's get you somewhere to rest first."

Aether reached his hand out as an invite and Reader felt too weak to reject him. He took their hand and guided them further down the hall towards a seating area where guests could sit. There Reader was able to sit down and calm down.

"Thanks, I do feel better."

Aether smiled and nodded while Paimon's eyes sifted from looking at them and then at a wall.

"Uhm- so Paimon has been wondering. . ."

It was obvious what she was referring to. They held the sliced palm with the other hand almost cradling it.

"Sorry, I did not mean to keep it from you guys. . . I just found out recently as well, I-I hope you are not mad."

"What! Why would we be mad? You are the creator- Oh no should we bow?" Paimon said looking at Reader then around as if someone would pop up and admonish her.

Traveler shook his head at his companion's antics and gave Reader a sad smile.

"I hope you can forgive out-"

"Oh no stop there!"

Reader jumped out quickly from their seat causing the duo to step back (the other to float back) in shock. Reader stepped forward and looked at them with a serious expression.

"I don't care if I am some creator or whatever and I don't care about that formal shit, especially when you two are my friends!"

Reader was not sure where this outburst came from. Was it because of the stressful day? Was it having to see people you did not like or was it because of having to watch Wanderer act subservient for so long?

"So no your grace or bowing!"

The two still looked aback. Suddenly Reader felt embarrassed shouting at them when they were concerned about her.

"W-well uhm, sorry, yeah I should not have shouted. . ."

Reader wrung their hands together but stopped when they noticed the sliced palm. They looked down at their shoes.

"Paimon. . . Paimon thinks of you as a friend too," she said and her cheeks turned red.

Reader smiled at her and Traveller sighed but gave the floating girl a smile.

"If that is what you wish for then who are we to say no?"

He sounded a tad bit too formal for Reader but it would have to do for now.

"None of that now, how have the two of you been?"

Paimon opened her mouth about to answer Reader's question but she was interrupted unexpectedly.

"Your Grace-"

Reader's heart skipped a beat and not the good kind. The calm they experienced before was gone and their body froze again. The one who spoke was unmistakably the retired geo Archon. He looked frazzled and looked at Reader in a way they could not decipher.

"Your grace I. . ."

"That is enough I had already told you they were not ready to talk to you yet."

Nahida came afterward it looks like she rushed over to where they were. Her face was stern and it looked so out of place compared to her more relaxed and curious features. Reader's stomach clenched. Zhongli looked as if he wanted to argue with her. His face took on a harsher stance as he looked at her.

No.

They would not let him.

"Whatever it is you want to say it's with me leave her out of this."

Their hands were shaking but they held them together. Nahida looked surprised at them and Reader wanted to reassure her it was going to be alright. Aether from his side approached them and stood between the Archon and Reader. The implication that he was willing to defend them from one of the strongest beings in Teyvat was not lost on Reader. They did feel safer by having him on their side and Paimon as well.

"Your grace I," Zhongli paused his gaze on Reader with a guilty look that made them feel uncomfortable, "If I had known if only. . ."

"That does not matter anymore," Reader interrupted him.

He looked at them and flinched.

"Save your what 'ifs’, you did what you did and I won't forget it."

The unexpected venom that came out of Reader surprised even them. Zhongli had taken to look down he looked ashamed, how dare he? Now he wants to act all guilty. Reader scoffed.

"You have done enough damage for today, I suggest you leave neither me or the Dendro Archon are in a mood to deal with you," Reader said and crossed their arms.

They idly wondered if the meeting had gone awry for her to come here. Nahida looked thoroughly surprised.

Zhongli opened his mouth to speak but Reader beat him to it.

"That is all I have nothing more to say."

"I think I will take it over here with Mr. Zhongli and the rest."

They nodded at Nahida. Reader tugged at Aether's scarf for him to follow them.

.

.

.

They entered Reader's new room and their muscles went lax. It felt though as if they had carried a heavy boulder. They threw decorum away and sat on their desk stool.

"Sorry, I think I need a bit of rest."

"It's okay Paimon doesn't think anyone would handle talking to a guy that tried to kill as well as you did."

Aether glared at Paimon and she jumped up in the air while still floating.

"Maybe Paimon should not have said that. . ."

Reader looked at her and shook their head with a smile.

"It's okay, you sort of reminded me I did something pretty cool huh?"

Paimon's expression eased and she nodded.

"While Zhongli is our friend what he did to you was unforgivable so Paimon thinks he ought to get kicked around for what he did."

"Heh, it seems like you can speak some sense from time to time."

It was Wanderer who had entered when the door was still unopened. Paimon did look angry at his remark.

"You! What do you mean Paimon always says things that make sense!"

"Yeah sure," he said with a mocking smile and crossed his arms.

"You came early did something happen?" Reader spoke.

Wanderer uncrossed his arms and shook his head.

"No Lesser Lord Kusanali came back with the funeral consultant and told me to look out for you."

Ohh, Reader's heart melted a bit. They really had a good friend, next time they should make her something as thanks.

"Paimon has a question are you planning to announce it to everyone that you are the creator?"

Aether looked at Reader more intently as well. It seemed he was interested in the topic.

"No, I rather not, we decided to let the acolytes know for now their words hold some sway if they could calm the public down after the 'fake' left."

Aether had a thoughtful expression and nodded at Reader's answer. Perhaps he guessed Reader was not in the mood to talk about this particular topic and left it a that. Reader was once again thankful for their friend's thoughtfulness.

"Sorry for all the drama today take a seat what have you two been up to?"

Aether smiled and sat down while Wanderer ever the polite one bought fruits and left to get some tea. The Traveler and his companion told them of the many new adventures they had and the people they met. After Wanderer came back with the tea all of them sat down and listened as Paimon did a dramatic retelling of a recent commission they took on.

"I see everyone is having a fun time."

"Nahida!" Reader went out of their seat to check on the Archon.

"I hope there was not too much trouble are all right? Did something happen?"

"No worries I am fine and nothing happened it took a while to convince some to leave, there were acolytes who wanted to meet you."

Reader grimaced.

"Yeah sorry, next time I won't run away like that."

Nahida shook her head.

"No, it is part of my duty, there is no need for you to do it if you don't feel like it."

"You shouldn't have to shoulder this," Reader argued.

"Lesser Lord Kusanali is right if you are not ready it might do more damage to your health," Wandered interjected.

At that Reader could only be silent. They felt so helpless.

"For now let Nahida handle it you can be there and see how much you can handle," Wanderer said after sighing.

Reader wrung their hands together and looked at Nahida with a guilty look.

"If it's okay with you could I?"

"Only if you think you can handle it."

For now that would be their solution.

Reader ushered Nahida to take a seat and poured her some tea. Paimon took it upon herself to start over her tale once again since Nahida was there and the Wanderer scoffed at her which caused them to bicker for a few seconds. Reader could only laugh behind their hand. The rest of the day was spent comfortably talking.

"It is getting late Paimon doesn't want to intrude any longer."

The Traveller nodded as well.

"Wait you both could stay in my room?"

Traveller and Paimon looked surprised.

"We don't want to interrupt your resting time there is also only one bed."

"The bed is big enough for all of us we can have a sleepover?"

Reader wrung their hands together. It was just, they did not want to sleep alone today.

Traveller and Paimon looked at each other they must have had a silent conversation.

"If you are okay with it Reader."

"Yeah it would be nice I haven't had a sleepover in a long while Nahida and Wanderer you could join in if you want to." They said with a smile.

"I've never had one before but I would love to try it out."

Wanderer was silent for a while before he quietly answered.

"I will join then. . ."

Reader smiled it almost hurt their face. They gathered a lot of pillows and extra blankets just in case. Reader took the middle while Nahida was to the right and Paimon to the left. Respectievly Aether took Paimon's side and Wanderer slept next to Nahida. It really did feel like a huge sleepover. Reader slept soundly that night sourrended in warmth.

Extra:

Reader felt warm and fuzzy images of Christmas lights surrounding their vision. the lights were blurry and smudged. Gentle snow started to fall blanketing the ground in white. The blanket that surrounded them kept them warm and they snuggled closer to it.

The stars above twinkled and They watched with interest as they changed shape and colour. Then a star started to fall, no it was a snowflake. A huge giant snowflake was falling towards Reader and they tried to struggle but it was in vain as the blanket held them in place. With horror they watched as the snowflake landed on their head.

It was rather soft and it did not hurt but the snowflake was beginning to limit their breathing. Reader tried to open their mouth to breathe in more air.

With a gasp, they woke up.

The thing smothering their face was not a snowflake or anything nefarious but rather Paimon herself. Somehow she had ended up on their face. They struggled to shake her off and after a few seconds of prying she rolled off to the side.

She was still asleep her mouth open and she mumbled something about food no doubt.

Reader sighed.

They blinked a few times as they looked out to the window where the sun was shining. It was already morning.

Reader was rather in a bind, literally. Nahida had curled up in her chest, she looked so small and cute Reader’s heart melted and they wanted to pat her head. Their feet somehow got tangled up with Wanderer’s and to the side Aether was hugging their arm.

They could not get up.

”If I was in a different room I would still be able to hear your squirms.”

It was wanderer who woke up. His voice was hoarse. Now that they thought about it Reader had no idea if he could sleep or if he even needed to.

”Sorry,” they said whispering.

Wanderer sighed and came closer towards Reader shutting his eyes.

Wait, was he not going to get up at all?

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

Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo @yu-ulda @samohxt2-0 @pinkpainc @vianitry @dreamlessnight @kurayamioterasu @fantasyhopperhea @victoria1676 @liansh3ng @game-savvy @uchihaeirin @awelygirl @klemen-time @synthe4u @deadgirldreaming @quacking-simp

[bogor-o]

Bogor, beautiful amazing Bogor,

Your art and your lamb, mother, has me in a vice grip. It has changed my mind in ways I didn't know were possible, and has made me happy and cry often (sometimes at the same time)

I'm new to Tumblr and your au remains in my mind as such an interesting one, the way you portray the lamb's struggle and the crown's influence is just masterful

That being said,

PLEASE

Can mother be happy one day? She deserves some happiness. Pretty please?

not that I don't enjoy a bit of angst mind you, and by God do you write it well

Also what was your inspiration behind this idea? Any other fiction similar to it you drew from, was it personal experience (obviously don't feel obliged to go into that) or was it just creative whimsy.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, you're a gem

Hope you're well, have a good day!

IHRGORETR YOU ARE SO KIND THANK U!!! i losing it heroige

I PROMMY SHE GETS SOME BIT OF HAPPINESS i cant prommy a perfect happy ending bc WELL its a rollercoaster for them foreverrrr but eventually it becomes nicer-ish

initially getting back into playing cotl i played an older file and realized how much i didnt like my followers dying and so they were basically like all my kids and then its like "wow making a cult around a matriarch would be really easy" and then i made a new file and it snowballed from there!

Mother as a character and their story is still developing as i go because im having fun letting it kind of go loose a little, but a lot of my inspo to an extent comes from experience of depersonalization and dissociation and idk if that comes through in what ive made so far but its very cathartic! my other inspos i cant quite grab but theyre like at the tip of my tongue because i definitely grab from a lot of media i consume so if something feels familiar it might not be a coincidence!

[arcielee]

Interview With a Writer

Thank you so much @dragonwanker for allowing me to pick your brain on this wonderful story and allowing me to continue this series! 💜 As always, Interview With a Writer is my ongoing series of the talented souls on Tumblr and ao3, and their brilliant writing!

Dividers by @saradika 💜

Name: dragonwanker

Story: The Commune [on ao3]

Paring: modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns. This fic contains dark themes such as; descriptions of depression, manipulation, coercion, noncon/dubcon, and incest. Please mind the tags for each chapter.

So, when did you start writing?

Oh, just in September this year! I wrote my first fic and published it then, it’s called “Warm Me Up” 😊 But I’ve been obsessed since it aired last October and I’ve read miles of Aemond fanfic especially!

I’ve always been like a day dreamer, who needs a fantasy to escape to. I didn’t think I’d be any good at writing and avoided it for so long, but then I felt inspired and brave and thought I’d give it a shot. Fanfic really helped me last year when I had a pretty bad time mentally and I thought if someone would enjoy my stories like I’ve enjoyed so many others, I’d be happy!

What made you decide to start writing in English? Do you have any advice for budding new writers where English is not their native tongue?

I think I decided to write in English since I only read fanfics in English, there really isn’t a community in Swedish. Most Swedish people have high enough English literacy to read in the language, and being able to read and write in English opens up to so much more content. As for advice; I’d say read read read! Even if it’s just fanfics, there is so much talent among ff writers and so many lovely pieces to chose from!

I don’t think I would have been able to write without having read so much fan fiction in the last year honestly! I only ever read books in Swedish, or really boring text books and academic articles in English. So, reading has really helped me understand the tone that I enjoy reading in. And helped me understand how to describe and paint a picture for the reader.

I’ve had some time to practice writing in English though, I did both my bachelors and masters in English, but the papers I wrote in school were all boring academic papers.

But that did help me articulate myself and get my point across, something that I think might feel challenging when writing in a second language.

Where did the plot for The Commune come from?

Since I am new to writing, I thought I’d explore writing something darker (also cause Halloween was just around the corner hehe) but wanted it to be different from other stories I’ve read.

I studied politics in uni and was very focused on nationalism, identity and national identity. I think theories surrounding those concepts, like Benedict Anderson’s theory on ‘imagined communities,’ inspired me to write something about a secluded community, and then I thought of a cult.

And the idea works ‘cause Aemond (in canon, I mean) was brought up in a religious family, and I felt like the Seven would be fun to explore more, especially since the story takes place in a modern AU of Westeros.

And his personality really reflects other cult leaders, like Jim Jones (I used Jonestown as a bit of an inspiration for The Commune). Aemond is highly intelligent, calculating, persuasive, knowledgeable about the Seven, and authoritative.

Can you expand a bit more on your interpretation of Aemond. What drives him? Why is he the way he is in The Commune?

I’d say the trauma from losing his eye as a child drives him greatly, and that has both good and bad consequences. Like in canon, he utilises that when studying, and it’s implied that he is extremely intelligent, which I’d say is a result of his tedious work. The need to prove himself drives him greatly.

I also think he has a inferiority complex as a child that develops into a superiority complex as he gets older and praised for his amazing work in school.

So, he takes a natural role as the leader within The Commune (I mean, he’s the mastermind behind it) since he believes that he’s superior to everyone else, even those older than him (with more experience in life or in research). That is where the idea that he could be the father reincarnated comes from; his incredible intellect and how sure he is in everything he does.

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?

I felt like some of us needed a relatable depressed girl whose too tired of her meaningless job to fight the manipulation.

But I guess I drew a lot of inspiration from real life, and having battled a bit with mental health issues, I utilised that. I wanted the ending to be a bit ambiguous; so that we don’t know if she chose to stay or if she was “brainwashed” into staying. So, she needed to be displeased with life from the start, otherwise she wouldn’t want to leave her career.

Plus, cults often pray on people like her: depressed and disappointed in life. So it felt fitting 😊

Do you think your Reader complements Aemond?

I’ve thought about it and in a twisted way, yes, I think she compliments him (or his delusions haha). He uses his scar and the trauma he went through as a child as a way to manipulate his followers, and having the girl who (he thinks) wronged him by his side as a devoted partner helps him further reinforce his agenda as this outer worldly leader!

That’s one more thing that drives him marrying her: he thinks she’ll help in his selfish goals of gaining more power.

So really, she complements his end game.

Were there any other characters in your story you enjoyed writing?

Oh yes, I loved writing Alys and Helaena! They’re only the two other real ‘actors’ in the story but it was so fun exploring how their characters would translate onto this dark, modern setting.

Helaena being depressed in King’s Landing and finding solace in the country where she can pursue a life without the stresses of modern society felt realistic to the way I interpret her character; someone who craves connection to nature (actualised through her fondness of insects) yet gets pulled away from that and thrust into the chaotic mess that is the Targtowers.

And Alys being this highly intelligent PhD student in phytotherapy; having vast knowledge on plants and ancient healing practices! Gets charmed by the young and confident political science student (Aemond) who promises a better life under a brand new philosophy.

Do you think you will do a sequel to this story? Or a new piece you might post?

Hmmm no, at least not at the moment! I like the way it ended and feel like I don’t have anything else to add that would elevate the story… but if inspiration strikes I’m not opposed to the idea!

I’m currently writing a series called ‘Rumours’ that I think people who enjoyed ‘The Commune’ might like; it’s not a dark!fic but there’s plenty of angst and drama 👀

Do you have a personal favorite fanfic you'd like to share?

I am beyond excited for more of @theoneeyedprince Tom Bennett story ‘As the World Burns’ and @humanpurposes modern!Aemond story ‘It Will Come Back’

[annwayne]

Writing Interview Tag Game!

Thanks @bagheerita and @chaniis-atlantis atlantis for the tag!! This looks like lots of fun :3 Interesting to see what all everyone says.

(questions w/o answers below the read more.)

About me

When did you start writing?

Sixth grade, otherwise around 10/11? I think that's how old I was in sixth grade lol.

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Absolutely! I write mostly romance and fantasy/sci fi, but I love most genres. Murder mysteries are a particular favorite of mine.

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

Not a clue. I read voraciously as a child until college, and just now I'm starting to pick the habit back up again-which is to say I couldn't tell you what authors inspired me as a kid and I'm not familiar enough with any authors I'm reading now to tell you what I want to emulate. No one has compared my writing to anyone that I know of.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I mostly write on the pc, which is in our office. The desk is not deep enough to my liking but the chair is comfy. Perry's got a bunch of little knickknacks all around the monitor (since it's his side of the desk technically) and I've got a bunch of shelves full of decorations, collectables, so forth, along the wall/in the shelves that connect to the desk.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Engage with the material that first sparked inspiration over and over and over again. This keeps the ideas flowing and often brings about dreams of said material, which help greatly.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

Hahahahahaha. Ha. Yeah, you could say that.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

Yes and no. See the question above.

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

You're asking me to pick a favorite child 😩 Ok. I'll talk about Alice bc I'm working on the sga bridgerton!au. Alice's backstory isn't fully figured out, I'm debating if she'll be adopted or not. I know for sure her relationship with her family is terrible and that's why she was so willing to join the Atlantis expedition despite no guarantee of return. She never learned how to balance work and life, thus leading to a rather isolated adulthood where she spent most of her time in the lab. But hey, her work was well acclaimed and got her to the Pegasus galaxy. Her personality has really come through while working on this bridgerton!au fic. She's terribly anxious, but aware of that anxiety having little logic behind it, so a lot of her actions are based on being brave despite being terrified. She's very courageous in that sense. I'd say her biggest arc (at least in the bridgerton!au) is learning how to voice her wants. She's good at speaking up for others but not so much for herself. Also genderweird feminine presenting chubby scientist in 2000's woo.

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

I can't deicde if it'd be a "get along swell because they are so similar" or a "so alike they can't stand each other" situation with my fandom ocs tbh. I think I might befriend Anya and Awyn, but Alice might upset me too much lol. I can say, for my Angel and Death characters from an original work of mine, they would be my friends.

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Again, not sure. Hard to tell.

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

I watch a show I like a character I make a sona/insert/version of myself I think would fit well in that world, make a cool story, and be a good ship with the character I like. Then the character blooms as I write.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

Parental issues, adoption abandonment, cults. Yeah. There's a few.

How do you picture your characters?

I usually draw them! :D

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Self expression, I can do it better (fix-it-fics), and entertainment. The process of writing itself is very enjoyable for me.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

When readers pick up on foreshadowing and hints I'm putting down, when they leave behind long "book reports," as I call them, detailing narrative devices/thematic beats/etc., and when they tell me outright how excited they are to read more of the story. But literally any comment is like gold to me.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Uhh. I've never thought of this before. I hope they enjoy my writing? And my ocs? I wouldn't mind being thought of as the person to go to with oc thoughts-not even about my own but anyones. I love ocs. I love seeing someone new I get to learn all about thrown into a world with all these characters I love. It's such a fun thing.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I'm not insecure with my writing lol. Art school really took the brunt of that one. But for a technical answer, I'd say character dynamics? Like. I'm good at a lot of things, but I think recently my ability to emphasize the emotions two characters have for each other (whatever those may be) has improved immensely.

Have you been told what is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

I've been told I capture individual character voice's rather well. The trick, imo, is once you have heard the character speak enough that you can hear their voice in your head, you can tell when dialogue fits them or not. (obviously this goes for mediums where there is an aloud voice to hear lol.)

How do you feel about your own writing?

I love it! I'm a good writer and I'm always improving.

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

Yep. Re-reading my writing is fun!

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

Might be a mix? When I have an audience in mind (like for trades, gifts, and friends who are hype about wips I share with them) I tend to think past myself into bigger ideas. I'm still writing what I want to read, but I'm just giving more thought about the execution lol.

npt: @wolveria @nimata-beroya @silverwings22 @klynnvakarian @the-itzy-bitzy-spider

About me

When did you start writing?

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

How do you picture your characters?

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Have you been told what is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

How do you feel about your own writing?

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

[lucienarcheron]

🐇🔪🧩

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

Original characters for sure. I've tried the reader inserts before but to me, it doesn't land the same way a OC would. I can have more fun building an OC than reader inserts :)

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

When I was working on my original work, I did a deep dive into myths from different cultural backgrounds and a lot of cult-like stuff started popping up and it got weird haha.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Fanfics that aren't spaced out/structured well LOL. I can't do the blocks of paragraphs and lack of clarity. I also struggle reading fics that aren't true to the characters. I prefer characterization that is rooted in canon; I enjoy these characters because of the way they are in their stories so I appreciate when the fic writes them well but also true to their character. Even if we're doing an AU, I still expect the characters to carry the same traits in whichever universe it is.

Naturally, if I don't ship it, I usually don't read for it (respectfully!)

thank you for the ask bby!! ♥️

[hangon-silvergirl]

Both Hollywood Celebrities AU for hc game?

Ooh, I had to have a good think about this one, and I've written so much here that I may actually have to write this story because it sort of took over my brain for a spell there:

Chrissy gets her start in a teen drama show where she played a stereotype--popular girl with a heart of gold, probably a cheerleader--and has struggled against it somewhat for typecasting in her career; she's been able to move on successfully from TV to film, but it's been mostly to romantic comedies. Romcoms are a ton of fun, and Chrissy honestly really enjoys making them (she's actually really great with the physical comedy bit as well), and does well with them as a leading lady in that space, very America's Sweetheart; the media reports that getting cast opposite her is like a rite of passage for actors. She really doesn't feel like the industry takes her seriously, and wants a role that she can sink her teeth into; an opportunity to shake things up, and show the world exactly what she's capable of.

Eddie's career kicked off with him playing an iconic serial killer in a teen slasher that ended up with a massive cult-following, and he reprised the role in a couple of sequels. He ends up carving out a bit of a niche in the horror world, plus becomes a staple in comic book/video game movies, almost an inevitability like, "Oh yeah, that guy is in everything, and he always dies in like, the first 30 minutes." Eddie loves the gore and the themes and the costumes and the horror and what not, but like Chrissy he keeps putting out feelers for something more challenging, and a real leading role, where he gets real-time in the spotlight.

After delivering stellar auditions, they end up getting cast opposite one another in a Blondie biopic playing Debbie Harry and Chris Stein. There are OPINIONS about the casting, because most people don't think they're up for it, think that they don't have the chops, and think that they're gonna botch it. The widespread belief is that the movie's gonna be garbage. The director is a relatively unknown woman, and the screenplay was also written by unknown women, adapted from Harry's biography Face It; Harry herself has a writing credit and ends consulting on set. When asked about how things are going she says that she thinks 'these kids are gonna blow you all outta the water.'

Eddie and Chrissy both insist on recording their own performances for the film/soundtrack. Eddie lays the guitar tracks; Chrissy takes voice lessons to help her get the sound right.

The end result is that they both kill it. The movie is a huge commercial and critical success. It sweeps every award ceremony; takes home Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Picture nearly across the board. Eddie and Chrissy become media darlings, especially with their flirty, physical interviews. Everyone loves them, raves, etc.

And everyone asks if they're dating. There's tons of speculation, and the questions are constant. And the paps catch them out for lunch and out and about, but there's never PDA or anything physical that couldn't be attributed to them having 'developed a close friendship' on set. And neither of them ever give a straight answer about anything.

And no one really gets one until Eddie and Chrissy show up on the red carpet for the Oscars together, wearing wedding rings, and with Chrissy in a super form-fitting gown that shows off her sweet little baby bump. In their Oscar acceptance speeches they express how thankful they both are to have gotten this opportunity, not only the wonderful recognition for their roles and the film, but also for having met one another and fallen in love. Chrissy proclaims: "No more rites of passage, sorry!" and Eddie says, "Maybe they'll stop killing me in everything now, heh."

Thanks for the ask, anon! Request comes from this post: Send Me an AU & I'll Give You 5+ Headcanons About It.

[monstersinthecosmos]

Hi! I have a bit of an odd question. Do you think it’s possible to read your VC fics having zero familiarity with the source material? More accurately, how can I get acquainted enough with what’s canonically relevant in order to be able to read them? I am a long time fan of alllll your Sheith fics and have read them all so many times I can’t even count anymore. I saw you mention some similarities between Keith and Armand (?) in a comment and Immediately tried reading your latest VC fic but it went right over my head 😭. I can’t put into words how much I appreciate your writing - and how read to filth *I* feel when reading your stuff LOL - so I won’t try, but I hope you can tell it’s a lot. My latest rereading binge was set off when I saw you post about the new chapter of ttsr! on twitter and I lostttt it, I literally think about that fic every day (if you can give me any teasers at all about the next chapter, I will die and hopefully resuscitate when it’s posted). In any case, in the meantime, I’d love to read your other works. Any tips would be much appreciated. Either way, thank you so much for all you’ve already put out there. <3

dfasdhkgj oh my gosh WHAT A QUESTION AND IT'S SOMETHING IVE THOUGHT ABOUT SO MANY FUCKIN TIMES !! You're not even the first to ask! And I've answered in both directions because I've had VC people read my Sheith fics!!! OH LORD OKAY LISTEN LET'S HAVE A SEAT FOR A MINUTE. (Also thank you so much omg 🥹🥹🥹)

Okay to break this down!!! My main two ships I’ve posted about are either Armand/Daniel or Marius/Armand and they can BOTH be Sheith analogs imo, especially because I think Sheith fandom is SO fic heavy and we have so many sort of like established tropes and fanon for the way people approach Shiro! 

But starting with Armand on his own, here’s what you need to know:  He’s 500 years old but he was turned when he was 17! He’s always going to look like he did when he was 17 in 1497!!!!! He’s from the RENAISSANCE BAYBEE!!! But he grew up spending a lot of time in a monastery and he was ABDUCTED when he was like 14ish and SEX TRAFFICKED! And then he’s found & rescued by a vampire named Marius, who’s like 1500 years old and very lonely and looking for a companion! Marius is convinced that it will backfire if he tries to turn any old rando into a vampire and what he really needs is like a BLANK SLATE that he can groom for vampirism. When he finds Armand, Armand is so fucking traumatized that he doesn’t remember how to talk, doesn’t remember where he’s from, has no memory of being trafficked, etc. Marius is also feeling traumatized so he feels a connection to this person and decides THIS IS THE ONE and he takes care of him for a few years and winds up turning him. (They have a lot of sex and stuff it’s wild.) I actually wrote an AU based on it for Sheith one time on Twitter so this might also explain it!!!

((I'M EXTREMELY SILLY BC I ALSO SHARED THE ART BUT WITH RED HAIR TO BE ARMAND HAHAH))

Then blah blah a lot of traumatic shit happens, they get separated, they don’t see each other until the 1980s lol. Armand also spends like 300 years in a cult. And in the 1970s he meets DANIEL! And if you are aware the first book of this series is called INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE, Daniel is the interviewer! He’s the one who interviewed the vampire!!!! And Armand STALKS HIM LMFAO and threatens him and they play a cat and mouse game. But then they start getting used to each other and kinda enjoy seeing each other and they wind up being lovers. This goes on for like TWELVE YEARS during which time Daniel is like slowly killing himself with alcohol because he wants to be a vampire so bad and Armand refuses to turn him. Eventually Daniel is like dying of liver failure or whatever and Armand turns him because he can’t handle the thought of losing him.

What I think Armand has REALLY IN COMMON with Keith and why they’re fun to write about is that like

- They’re both orphans and their experiences being orphaned and losing people at young ages really dictates a lot of their behavior and how they treat others. I think a ton of Keith’s characterization comes down to his abandonment issues and for Armand it’s the same. There’s some added drama with Armand because he’s a vampire so like, he’s so convinced that vampires can’t have meaningful relationships with their makers (because of his own maker) that he can’t bear to turn Daniel. It’s a lot like how Keith, in his human version, can’t get close to people and doesn’t even try to. Even looking like the entire time he’s with Voltron he really never bonds with anybody,  even way later in canon when he admits he doesn’t think any of them are friends. AND HOW HE FUCKIN HAS NO ISSUE LEAVING THE TEAM TO JOIN THE BLADES BECAUSE HE’S NEVER FELT SUPPORTED BY ANYBODY EXCEPT SHIRO? 

- I think also that Keith deliberately makes himself unpleasant to people (ie: immediately stealing Shiro’s car) so that he can have some control over people coming in and out of his life. Like, if he pushes them away first they can’t leave him. And like with Armand, his cult years remind me of this too. Like in VC there’s a LOT of Catholicism in the themes of the writing and Armand was very religious when he was alive, and then he winds up indoctrinated by this cult. He spends 300 years living in filth, in rags, under a cemetery, not allowing himself any type of creature comforts because the cult believes that vampires are a tool of the Devil. In VC there’s a lot of themes of like, abstinence/absolution/penance and so I think there’s some thematic resonance here when it comes to like, forcing yourself to be uncomfortable because you think you deserve to be. And also just like, after a life of abandonment and trauma picking SOMETHING to have control over, even if it's not healthy.

- A huge theme in VC is also the concept of the vampire as the outsider, which is how the author intended it. So like all the ways vampires are on the outside of society or humanity is always kind of infused to the stories and I think same can be said for Keith being Galra!!!!! And in VC there’s always this thing about how like, the vampires all do terrible things and the stories still ask us to love them, and I think the vampires always eventually are just asking to be loved! They’re all just looking for love !!! And I MEAN. I MEAN???? KEITH????? 

- On a shallow note, smol angry bby lol 

- This is completely headcanon territory but I think they each have the same AUTISM CODING; both fandoms notice this lol. Just that they’re like, KINDA WEIRD AND PRICKLY? Don’t always understand social customs, often deadpan!  <3 Armand has a lot of sensory stuff in canon and I think we see this a TON in Sheith fic even though it’s never said specifically on the show that Keith probably gets sensory overload from his Galra traits.

So when it comes to fics, what I love about this is that like I’m sure you’ve noticed like there’s such a WIDE SPECTRUM of Sheith fic because they are so wholesome and support each other so much and are just such a beautiful ship? But then they also fit all the like smut tropes LMFAO like the size difference, the mentor/mentee, Shiro being daddy af, etc. So I think like if you were to read either of these VC ships you could sort of imagine a Sheith analog to make it make sense, whether you want it to be loving or if you just want NASTY DISRESPECTFUL SEX.  

Marius/Armand is a bit like canon Sheith in that there’s the age difference, the size difference, and it’s teacher/student. As an AU you can say: Shiro is an ancient lonely vampire who purchases a trafficked boy to be his apprentice. 

The catch here is like! Marius is a really polarizing character in VC fandom because he can be kind of an arrogant prick sometimes LOL. And he’s very obsessed with like, being patient and wise, and he tries REALLY HARD to be patient and wise but he’s actually kind of petty and has a temper. In a lot of ways, Shiro reminds me of like everything Marius WISHES he was. And like both characters are so obsessed with the concept of PATIENCE, even though Shiro is a bit better at it.

And Marius was ALSO abducted by DRUIDS 😭😩😩😩! Weird coincidence! But Marius was turned because he was taken hostage by some druids and forced into like a Wicker Man religious ritual where he was sacrificed to a vampire and turned against his will and he's real salty about it. IT JUST FEELS A LOT LIKE WHAT HAPPENED TO SHIRO, RIGHT? Except Shiro is like a modern person who knows how to do therapy or something.

So I think Marius/Armand fics could also fit the kinda Dark!Shiro trope that a lot of Sheith fics have. Like if you picture how Rifa or Aphor have written dark!Shiro LOL or even like how people characterize Kuron sometimes. Like, still Shiro, but, kind of a dark undercurrent happening. 

The other catch is that Armand and Marius get separated because they get their house raided by the cult (the one that eventually indoctrinates Armand) and they burnt the house down and it’s traumatic for everybody; Marius is severely injured and has to go into hiding for like 100 years to recover, and by the time he finds Armand again he just sees that he’s fully engaged with this cult and he decides to leave him alone and doesn’t risk trying to rescue him because he thinks Armand has like, found his place with them and he can't risk betrayal/rejection.

And like, this is never exactly in canon, but I just think it has so much to do with Why Armand is Like That, and why he has all these Daddy/Maker Issues, and 500 years later it’s why he’s so squeamish about turning Daniel and just cannot do it. 

SO I WOULD POSIT THAT THIS IS LIKE, THE DARK ALTERNATE UNIVERSE OF WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF SHIRO ACTUALLY GAVE UP ON KEITH?????? Like Keith would be fucking crushed, he’d never be okay again !!! 😭😭😭

But having said that, depending what era a fic is set in, Marius/Armand PRE-DISASTER is very much Sheith when it comes to like Daddy & Mentor stuff and that type of vibe. ALSO, IN CANON, A LARGE CHUNK OF THEIR TIME TOGETHER IN THE BOOK IS THEM HAVING BDSM LOL. So there’s that. 

Now! Armand/Daniel, on the other hand!!! imo fits really nicely into like Sheith fic tropes/fanon like FERAL KEITH and DISASTER GAY SHIRO. So the AU would be this: Shiro is a nerdy journalist trying to publish a book about vampires, and Keith is a weird creepy vampire who stalks and fucks with him for years until they start liking each other, Keith becomes his sugar daddy, Keith likes to watch him fuck people and they cry a lot because Keith doesn’t think they can be together and he loves Shiro so much he refuses to CURSE him with vampirism because he thinks of it as a CURSE! They do a lot of kinky stuff and need each other but also sort of resent each other.

And in this situation! The thing about it is that in VC canon, Daniel is the person who HEALS Armand the most!! He learns how to be a person again because he has Daniel!!!! AND SO I JUST THINK THIS TOO IS LIKE, SHIRO IS THE ONLY PERSON KEITH CAN BE HIMSELF AROUND, THE ONLY PERSON HE CAN BE VULNERABLE WITH, THE PERSON WHO GIVES HIM STRENGTH AND HELPS HIM BECOME A BETTER MAN!!!! And in some ways I think Daniel is that to Armand, as well, even if it’s in a real fucked up toxic kinda way because of all the stalking and alcohol abuse and whatnot LOL but I think imagining Disaster Gay Shiro can sorta give you a primer! It kinda reminds of that Sochi fic where Keith is a vampire ??? The “You need to eat something” and he hands Shiro a fucking TOMATO?? That fic LOL. 

Another way I would TLDR this is like, with the dynamic you want, do you want Vampire!Keith with Human!Shiro (Armand/Daniel) or Vampire!Shiro with Human!Keith (Marius/Armand) ? It changes the power dynamic significantly. I think again within the spectrum of Sheith fanon and the huge culture of fanfics we’ve written that there’s so much space for both to fit as Sheith, like if you want feisty feral Keith or if you want like vulnerable uwu bby Keith. LOL. 

One last thing that I think is important to mention LOL is that in the VC lore, the vampires are asexual! Once they become vampires, drinking blood is like THEIR WORLD and it’s so much better than sexual gratification that they lose interest in sex. A lot of VC fic doesn’t honor this but I fucking adore it as an asexual, so if you do decide to check any of my fics out they're gonna be fooling around and not often penetrative sex, because that’s how it is in canon! The vampires will still play with their food and sorta get their pets off but they don’t actually stick it in LOL. 

So I talked a lot, I’m not really sure if this answers your question LMAOOOO. If you did try to read any of my VC fics I think this kinda gives you a primer for the relationship dynamics even if misc canon events get dropped or hinted at that might be out of context. I’m always very happy to answer questions if something doesn’t make sense!

Regarding my most recent fic, what I think you’d need to know if you want to take a shot:

It takes place around part of the book where Marius and Armand have a huge fight that ends in a BDSM scene of Marius whipping him and Armand crying and stuff and then getting off lol and then they go out to a banquet and Marius kills a bunch of dudes in front of him, and all the dudes are saying lewd shit to Armand about what they want to do with him and how they want to fuck him and etc. 

For Armand & Daniel’s canon, one of the things that happens is that Armand makes Daniel fuck people while he watches, so I decided to ask like, what if this habit is something he LEARNED from Marius, and so I decided to write a fic about Marius watching people fuck Armand after the banquet incident.

Marius has sort of a group home for boys he rescues (but Armand is his fav that he’s grooming lol) so there’s a few mentions of that, and one of the boys is called Riccardo and he’s Armand’s best friend! You’ll also see a namedrop of someone called Bianca who’s this local woman that Marius is in love with lol. 

In the fic there’s also some fuckery like name drops of Andrei (Armand’s given name that he doesn’t even remember) and Ivan (his father that he also doesn’t remember) and there’s a scene with “THE PARENTS” aka Akasha and Enkil. And blah blah LONG STORY LMAO but Marius takes care of The Parents, and they’re like the first ever vampires who are so old as fuck and bored that they’re just catatonic in a shrine where he keeps them safe. And he goes to check on them and stuff and he wants Akasha’s approval so bad and wants her to give him a sign that he should turn Armand and she just is hardcore ignoring him and he’s upset lol. 

Also if this helps to know, Armand’s name is Amadeo if you see that in fics. Same guy! He changes his name to Armand later when he’s a vampire.

If you check out any Armand/Daniel fics they’re a lot more straightforward, I mostly just write porn about them LOL!!!!!! The book kinda glosses over the twelve years that Armand stalked & then bedded Daniel so my fics are just like trying to think about more details about what went on or think about individual incidents that might have happened. 

So yeah! 

THIS POST IS A MESS, I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE LOLLLLLLLLLL 

I got into VC when I was like 12 years old so it was such a blueprint for me for stuff I like and Marius has always been my favorite character so I think it’s got a lot to do with why I like Shiro so much. And Sheith fandom is such a strong community of writers and I feel like I’ve really thrived there as a fic writer, but I still make time to write about VC because it’s like my main home that I’ll never be able to get over. And I could talk about this all fucking day, I am a disaster!!! 

Anyway thank you so much, this was such a nice thing to say. :D Please talk to me about Sheith and vampires any time and if you do decide to read any vampire fics you can always ask if the details are confusing! But no pressure at all man sometimes like I just do NOT get other ships LOL. Like there are authors I love to death and it’s like I’m reading another language if I try to check out their other fics. 

And finally, re: teasers………….  flattery will get you everywhere, my friend:

“Oh,” Keith says. His temple grinds against the wall as he turns, trying to roll the stiffness out of his shoulders. And if Shiro is going to pretend to be collected, Keith can do that, too. He can be embarrassed that Kolivan walked in on him getting his ass beat later, but he can play it cool. “Hey.”

Shiro’s eyebrow quirks and he motions towards his upper lip, some attempt to be subtle and polite, but Kolivan speaks over it.

“You’re bleeding,” he says. His arms are folded behind his back and he stands straight up, yellow eyes taking stock of him, of the bots, of the mess in the room. 

Keith sniffles. He tastes the blood in the back of his throat. The tip of his nose tingles again and he tugs at the bottom hem of his t-shirt to wipe his face. Cold air hits his exposed belly, and Shiro’s smell gets stronger as he wipes his nose. Less diluted by metalic hint of his own blood. When he looks back up at them, the reality settles in. And Shiro looks small next to Kolivan, but the two of them together make Keith feel like a complete child.

Shiro’s fingers fidget against his helmet some more, and he glances up at Kolivan, watching him for a moment even as he speaks to Keith.

“We just wanted to... check on you,” he says. Keith wonders what Shiro would’ve said if they were alone. And wonder if the adrenaline slowly creeping out of his body would leave him feeling this vulnerable all of a sudden. He turns away from them, finds his discarded baton on the floor and puts it away as an excuse to busy himself. 

“I’m gonna go to the med bay,” he says, to spare Shiro the awkwardness of having to tell him to. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand and peeks at the red smear left behind. He tries to blow his nose on the hem of his shirt, not caring that he’s being disgusting. When he looks back up, Shiro’s face is that same diplomatic-neutral, doing his best not to respond. 

Being around Kolivan isn’t like being around the Paladins, though. Not like Shiro has to pretend Keith isn’t his favorite. Kolivan had called Shiro his mate last night. 

Keith hadn’t told Shiro that, though. Hasn’t seen him alone since. He wonders what Shiro and Kolivan have been talking about. What went on when they watched Keith get brutalized for hours. 

He’s still trying to be professional, though. Maybe he’s being submissive to Koilvan. Trying to show they’re not too horny to function in a fucking war. 

Your mate. Hah. Keith had been too tired to worry about it at the time. Now, he looks back and forth between them, rolling the word over and over in his head. What a strange thing to say.

The silence is awkward, and he wipes his hands on the tops of his thighs. His pajama bottoms still, and he realizes he’s not wearing shoes. He should leave, and has the excuse to, but the two of them are shoulder to shoulder in front of the door. 

“AI is never going to teach you,” Kolivan says. It’s simple, the way he speaks. The pitch of his voice crawls across Keith’s skin. “This program is not smart enough.”

Heat rises in his face. He rubs at his nose again, fidgeting, tasting the blood as it drips down the back of his throat. 

Before he can think of anything to say, Shiro is smiling, gesturing. “It’s good for keeping everyone in shape. The weapons programs help teach them proper form.”

“The whole team does this?” Kolivan asks.

Shiro looks from Kolivan to Keith, then back. Keith sniffles again and pinches at his nostrils.

“We have team exercises,” Shiro says. “Keith puts in some extra time on his own.”

Kolivan’s eyes sweep over the room. It twinges in Keith’s stomach, wondering if Shiro can tell where Kolivan is looking. He has to ask later, when they’re alone. But there’s that eerie feeling that Keith gets, in his spine, that he can read Kolivan’s eyes, even without pupils. It makes him wonder what Kolivan even sees. How he sees. 

And the idea of it dawns on him, the possibility peeling back and back that maybe one day he’ll be able to ask Kolivan about it. When they’re alone.

For a moment his mouth feels dry. He looks between the two of them again and it sets in that… he’s different now. 

Not just literally, like he’s an alien. Besides, he was an alien the whole fucking time and just didn’t know it. No, it’s the knowledge of it. Today is the first day he knows it. And it’s never going to be the same after this. Not really.

Being out here is fucked up. Getting involved was an accident. But. He’s here now. And here’s Kolivan, and Keith can ask him questions, and get to know the others. 

Shiro sneaks him a look, while Kolivan is inspecting the weapons rack. It’s an Are you okay? kind of look. 

Keith chuckles. He grabs a water as he starts heading towards the door. Claps Shiro on the arm as he passes by.

Who the fuck knows anymore. 

🫡

[coolcattime]

Hiya it's the Usual anon here.

All the recent post about the Noir au has me caught up in it again. I really do love some magic and eldritch horror themed noir. I especially love the your Under The New Moon story from earlier. (IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT YET READ IT #ad) now i might be getting the mianite brainrot again so i've been re looking over my noir au notes and

My original idea for the noir was someone (originally was going to be champwan, in disguise sent by dec, but i also left a note that i didn't really like that idea too much.) came to tucker with a case of a series of missing people connected to a cult, and a man with a skull mask that seems connected. Originally the story was going to eventually lead to the fact that the police force are involved with the cult and

sonja goes undercover and joins the cult and finds that they are worshiping an eldrich god that promises them all great power, and in the altar to that god sonja feels an allure from the ancient statue of the god. a shadow creature with hundreds of lashing tentacles shaped like wisps of smoke. She doesn't submit to it but from that point on it lingers in her mind enthralling and beckoning to her from that point she can draw on it's powers the same way she can draw on Mianite's. From that point on she finds her struggles against the corruption infesting the police and her friendship with tucker both weakening

Tucker, Is quick to realize a pattern in the missing cases and realizes there are two separate cases of people going missing, but they are both very similar conditions, one is just much easier to find information on and investigate, the other is way more difficult and tucker realizes that the police are covering up the latter. Turns out there is a splinter cell in the cult and now two competing factions both heading for similar ends, but for different reasons

I have no notes on what the ianitees are up too, the section with them are just completely blank i think i got caught up in writing angsty stories instead right after this lol

Hi Anon!

I’m so so so happy that you like Under the New Moon 🥰🥰🥰 I had so much fun typing it up and editing it these past couple of days and I’m so glad that people have enjoyed it! I absolutely love to vibes of magical and eldritch horror in detective and noir stories (a TTRPG channel I watch has released two Call of Cthulhu oneshots in the past month and I have been absolutely consuming them).

Okay, I love these original notes so much! So Under the New Moon would, if I continue it, follow the plot idea I laid out of the group trying to track down the serial killer who kidnapped Redbeard, but gods do I really love the idea of Sonja going undercover in a cult to the Shadows. Like it works so well with her character and I also love the angle of Tucker realising the cult has split into two with the police being loyal to one half. It works so well as a noir eldritch horror mystery.

If I continue Under the New Moon, I’m definitely stealing the Sonja and the Shadows cult ideas, possibly with it being linked to the serial killer, possibly just because the time limit is getting desperate and she feels the need to do something extreme for information. Idk which one but the cult vibes that you described are just so !!! and I wanna play with them!

Thank you for the ask! Glad you’ve still vibing with the AU ❤❤❤

[berryunho]

hii a longg while back I had sent a long ask about how much I enjoyed the answer and had asked about what other cults/writing/media had inspired you when developing the storyline and its characters. In your response you had recommended a list of books that you enjoy/inspire you and I just wanted to share that I bought two of the books you recommended:) The Secret History by Donna Tartt and The Long Walk by Stephen King. It was so exciting and I thought of you as soon as I saw them at Barnes and Noble lol. It meant so much that you replied and recommended some great books because I really do enjoy your work and reading about how you come up with stuff when you write. This is so silly but I got so excited and wanted to tell you haha. You inspired me to start my book collection!! If you have any more recommendations please feel free to share if you would like🫶 I hope you have a great weekend!

OMG!!!!!!! im literally honored seriously this is so awesome !!! i really hope you enjoy the books and pls lmk what you think after you read them :] im actually touched for real thinking about you thinking about me hehehe <33 putting a read more before more recs !!! hehe

im gonna be so real with you i REMEMBER answering your ask and i remember giving some recs but i have scoured my blog (as well as i can w tumblrs shitty search mechanism) and i cannot find it to save my LIFEEEE so ill give some more recommendations but pls forgive me if i repeat a couple bc i cannot remember ... what i said ... LOLLL

so in no particular order here are some more books !! hehe

a canticle for liebowitz by walter miller jr (this book is from 1959 but its actually so funny and the vibes are immaculate)

the langoliers by stephen king (technically a novella but tell me why i have an urge to write an au like this LMAO)

giovanni's room by james baldwin (not like other books i recommend but very good)

chaos by tom o'neill (if you feel like learning about charles manson and the corruptness of the us government)

people who eat darkness by richard parry (if you feel like learning about a japanese serial rapist)

(this one is controversial but. we're adults.) a mother's reckoning by sue klebold (if you feel like learning about the columbine school shooting from one of the shooters' mothers' perspectives)

i probably recommended this BUT if you find yourself really liking stephen king (or even moderately liking him lol) i would. H I G H L Y highly recommend the dark tower series. it is amazing and incredible and i loved every second i spent reading it.

im gonna be so honest rn. i read the entire acotar series. do i think they're good books. no. but did i enjoy reading them and laughing at sarah j maas's writing style. yes. so [shrug].

and to finish i am currently reading dune (like everyone else) and its quite good along with a clash of kings which is. game of thrones. so. hard to read but fun.

but yeah !!!! thank you so much for thinking of me and taking my recommendations hehe it really means a lot !! like i said pls lmk what you think of the two that you got bc those are truly some of my favorite books ever :] <3

[alexxmason]

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers 🖤

Thank you and to @sstewyhosseini for the ask!!! ❤️❤️💕💕

I have to say my favs are definitely the ones I put the most effort in. Ones that proud of. First three are nsfw/18+.

Hanged Man (Far Cry 5/ Jacob x Teagan)

The amount of blood, sweat, and tears I have put into this story and carefully crafted it into its own storyline will always mean something to me. I enjoy more the lore and world building I’ve had to do and fix from the game and blessed to call it an actually good fic.

Memorial Day Weekend (FC5/ John x Dahlia/ No cult au)

Mostly proud that I actually finished this one and I love this little self indulgence fic honestly. It’s like a guilty pleasure I can go back and read over and over.

Showtime, Little One (House Of Wax/ Dahlia x Bo)

Fav fav fav. Dahlia living her most ignorance is bliss life here. Writing this one was fun and I was so happy with how it came out. I still am.

Through War, We Love (DAI/ Blackwall x Sin)

This is a good one and I always loved the amount of comfort I found in writing this one.

The Enforcer (FC5, Thomas x reader)

I have to include this one since someone liked my problematic unproblematic baby boy enough to request a reader insert w him.

[eledritch]

hi ele!

i’m a fan of your writing, mostly your voltron fics but i’ve also read your dragon age, critical role, and captive prince stories, they are all so fucking good. where do i go to join your cult? /j

you’re insanely creative in your AUs or plot ideas, from plant porn to beauty in the beast with vampires but also magic schools with magic goddesses and incubi and cambions!

i was just wondering what inspires you when you’re coming up with ideas for fics and what normally comes first to you, the setting or plot or something else? plus, how did you develop such a strong sense of characterization? because across alternate universes and in every different life, your characters are so consistent and recognizable.

another way your creativity shines is the world building in your fics, it is always so fascinating and effortless, it’s a tantalizing background that really hooks me into the world of your stories. i don’t know if you have more notes on world building that didn’t make it into your fics but please know i would sell my soul for a napkin of extra notes for your fics. do you world build as you write or plan it in advance? and do some things you consider fic-canon not make it into the final edit or do you try to work everything you have in?

i know this is a lot, i’m very interested in your writing methods and how you develop so many amazing stories sorry! thanks for your many years of amazing writing and the time it took you to read this ask XD

Hi wow this is all so kind of you to say!! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing <3

so, I would say that usually when I am starting on a new story, I start with the characters and think about what kinds of situations, settings, conflicts, genres, themes, etc I want to write them in. Fantasy is one of my favorite genres because in many ways it feels the most flexible -- I am probably halfway between a pantser and a plotter in terms of story-planning, so I enjoy having space in my plots for them to change if I feel like they need to. I usually know the ending early on in the process tho.

Worldbuilding is one of my favorite aspects of writing and partly why I am so partial to writing AUs. I tend to do more planning for the worldbuilding up front than I do with the plot: my story worlds are scaffolds on which I can build the plot, if that makes sense. I've loved worldbuilding since I was a kid, and I think the best advice I can give for how to build story worlds is to read a lot of books. Books I read as a kid still influence how I worldbuild today (a few that come to mind are the Redwall, Series of Unfortunate Events, Narnia, & May Bird books), as well as videogames (Dragon Age always), places I've actually been, and honestly my academic reading/writing also definitely influences my creative writing, i.e., when thinking about how to write about social conflicts and cultural norms and especially colonization/empire in the worlds I write stories about.

For writing both characters and worldbuilding, I think it's really key to figure out how to suspend your readers' disbelief, and this starts with suspending your own disbelief. You have to believe in the worlds and characters you create. This means being comfortable with writing your characters in all kinds of situations, because people only show a lot of aspects of themselves (and therefore seem like real people, because people & their personalities & motives & backgrounds are complex) if they experience a lot of things. This may be why I gravitate towards writing stories with more dramatic tones and plots, because I find it much more fun to figure out characters by stressing them out. Seriously, I think characters solidify when they're placed in wild situations lol! And these don't necessarily need to be really serious perilous situations, but rather events and conflicts that fundamentally challenge the characters and force you to imagine how they might react in ways that feel true to how you've written them.

For example, one of my favorite character types to write is "kind of a bitch but like, a complicated bitch and kind of justified in their bitchiness because they're going through some stuff." Laurent from Captive Prince definitely falls under this; Keith from VLD, Essek from CR, and Astarion from BG3 also fit into this category (albeit all in really different ways and shades of bitchiness haha). I find these characters fun to write because they're characters who should probably change -- they also have clearly defined flaws and desires, which is great when you have to create a conflict and keep readers engaged/make readers get attached to these characters.

It's tough to root for a character who is consistently a bitch, never feels bad about it, has no reason for being that way, is never critiqued by other characters about it, and is not influenced to change by the narrative at all. It's a lot easier to root for a character who has some kind of inner conflict going on which is complemented by the outer conflict/s of the story. I'm especially fond of characters who have trust issues, because this is a flaw that obviously lends itself well to romance plots, but also can have some very interesting backstory implications and lead to really dynamic yet believable character development, as trust can be built incrementally and also wax and wane in a way that feels natural and builds narrative tension in a compelling way. It also allows you to work on other characters, since trust requires at least two people :)

Thank you for your questions!! I'm sure this is all over the place (it's finals week and dear god grad school finals week is actually hell) but best of luck in your own writing and I hope to share more fic soon~

[essayofthoughts]

Hi! I just stumbled on your Little Moments In The Quiet series on ao3 and I wanted to drop by and tell you that your Critical Role fic is great! I'm really interested in your "Sylas Briarwood Gets To Live, Bitches" AU, and anything you have planned for Zahra and Kash! Thanks for sharing your writing!

Aw thank you! I'm glad you enjoy it so much; I've had a lot of fun with each of those fics and it's always nice to know when others have enjoyed them. I'm actually working quite a lot on the Zahra and Kash fics right now, so with any luck there should be some additions to Little Moments In The Quiet relatively soon, while Sylas Lives, Bitches is much farther down the list.

So hows about a few snips for you?

From the ongoing Zahra and Kash fic, which starts when they meet on the job where Zahra saves his life:

“This is stupid,” he says, cutting through everyone else. “We’re not gonna get anywhere by digging; this is-” He pauses, glances to see if anyone is too close by before continuing more quietly. “This is a fucking cult. Trust me - they won’t tell us shit. They’ll only talk if they think they can convert us, in which case you should fucking run.” He meets Hydris’ eyes. “This is a lost cause. I’d rather go back to the Take and accept the slap for failing than continuing. We’re not gonna get jack shit and if we do, we’ll have the whole village bearing down on us. It isn’t worth it.” Keith scoffs. Kash doesn’t bother looking over at him. “I know cults,” he says. “This has the word written on it in great big capital letters.” Laralel is listening, and Fenick beside her. Serhan’s eyes are narrowed, but she’s a suspicious lady, he knows she’ll be thinking about it. Keith doesn’t give two shits but then Keith is a dick so who cares. Boldar just seems bored if anything. “I appreciate the input,” Hydris says and oh great, that means she’s gonna ignore him, and he can’t help his scoff as she turns to the others. “Do we have anything else to go on?”

And from Sylas Briarwood Gets To Live, Bitches, (uncommon find: Pike POV!):

Her amulet feels warm in her hands - of course it is. Here, in this form, it is light and her goddess’ power. Back with her body, her amulet has been clasped in her hands for hours. Sarenrae, she thinks, prayer beyond spoken words and instead simple intent and concepts. You are of redemption. Bring them back to when they did not need this from us. A prayer. A prayer of kindness and of hope, a prayer that Sarenrae’s eyes will watch them through the Raven Queen’s veil of feathers, will perhaps take them up as projects so they do not fall to the pits of hell- Pike does not expect the surge she feels, something bright and wonderful, something more. She opens her eyes, and the vast reaching gloom of the cavern is suddenly lit with daylight. Up the stairs, Sylas Briarwood cringes back - but this light does not burn him, not as Pelor’s sun does. Sarenrae does not harm. Sarenrae helps. As Pike watches, Sarenrae’s hand, immense as a house, descends, fingers gentle as they touch Sylas Briarwood. He does not disintegrate. He does not burn or fade or vanish. As they watch he falls heavily to his knees, gasps audible as they echo off the stone, and Pike doesn’t need Sarenrae’s words, echoing through the chamber to know what has been done. “To you, I give you back a life lost,” says the echoing voice like sunlight and honey and healing. Sylas Briarwood breathes with gasping need, with the desperation of someone not used to it. How many years, Pike wonders, has he been dead? How strange must it feel, to be alive again?

Hope you enjoy these, because I've no idea when exactly any of my WIPs will be done! I am chipping away at Ghost Cass, Delia AU, the Kashra fic and a rotating set of other small WIPs.

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

A quick announcement of Hello Sisterhood

No. I am not cancelling the story, it's taking me a long time to continue writing it due to lack of motivation, the cult theory taking my focus too, and overall not having as much fun as I used to. I do plan to continue and finish it, so no worries.

This is about the continuations of Hello Sisterhood! I do plan to add just two continuations and then finish the series for good.

Why?

Well, Hello Sisterhood is a big project and I have plan so many future chapters involving the family growth and a nice conclusion to the main plot of the story.

I also don't wish to make more Handee-Family content as after working in Hello Sisterhood for so long, I've been growing quite tired of the concept and I'm yearning for new concepts and non-romantic relationships. I am not against the family concept and I do enjoy it from time to time, but I've decided that Hello Sisterhood universe will be the only Gubberson and his children type of stuff that I will write for now.

That doesn't mean I might not write more content like this in the future, but sometimes you grow tired of writing the Handeemen as a family for too long and planning for future chapters as well.

So the only two sequels to this series would be:

Hello Summer which would be much shorter than Hello Sisterhood, and it would be more about the family's summer adventures up to a cute ending to their summer involving their father and Amy herself.

Hello Halloween which is about a fun short of the Handeemen during Halloween.

I decided to keep it on these two since Hello Sisterhood would have a thanksgiving chapter (ch16) and a Christmas chapter + the story would end in Scout's last day of school. This give me the opportunity to write about their summer and Halloween.

I do plan to shift in working and exploring the handeemen's relationship in a new light (No cannon x cannon tho) and get back to work in fun side projects like fallen! or my cannon divergent AU with Beth and the Vox Veritas gang.

I do thank you for all of you who enjoyed my stories and I'll admit it would be bittersweet when I get to finish the Hello Sisterhood universe.

But well, like one of the major themes of that story are "Changes happen. Some are good and some are bad, but overall they're inevitable"

Thank you for your understanding, and no worries I'm slowly working on getting back to it ;)