#beware they may contain spoilers

[narcissarina]

•Lost, Acceptance, and Love again•

Before reading, please take note that:

This is a work of fiction, events that have happened here are entirely fictional and it's all in the authors imagination.

You may or may not agree with what the characters say since it's only for the sake of the plot to continue the story.

May or may not contain spoilers from the actual Silent Hill 2 remake game.

The author would like to apologize for her shit ass writing because she's rusty as hell.

Words used: 17,965

This story contains, slow burn, single mother reader, grieving James, trauma and smut.

Please beware that this may be ass, but the author had to post and edit this at 4:08 in the morning in her country. (Save yourself pls)

The author hasn't finished the game, and may have flaws while she researches something on the internet rather than playing the game itself (waiting for her fav ytuber to upload)

Tumblr is being ass for the 10 picture limit that the author couldn't use her Lost, Acceptance, and Love again divider. So please bear with the ~~~~~ lmao.

Lost, Acceptance and Love again...

It was morning, the sunlight creeps in and the cheers of your kids blessed your ears—their little feet carried themselves and pushed the door of your room open, “mommy, mommy!” They said, helping one another to set foot in your bed and tackle you.

You smiled at their tactics, finally opening your eyes as you were greeted with the biggest smile you ever witness. The four of them steps on your bed, Veronica on your lap, Kenan clings to your arm and Junior messing your hair. Since they’re only two years old, they are loud and more energetic than you are.

“Alright, alright.” You sat up and tried to get Junior’s hand off of your hair, untangling his super grip and tried to find their other brother: Leo. Leo seems busy watching what the others are doing, “you four go play in the living room, mommy has to make her bed and make you devils some breakfast, okay?” You said, putting Veronica down the ground as Kenan and Junior followed, then Leo.

“Mommy, somwone move in next dwor.” Leo informed you, “and where did you heard that, baby Leo?” you asked, standing up to stretch your arms and legs—throwing question at Leo, “the other neighbwors, mommy.” Pouts Leo.

After making you bed, you told them to run along the living room while you make them breakfast but since you’re now informed that someone moved in next door, you thought about giving the new neighbor some warm welcoming like how you first moved in. Gifts and homemade foods is what greeted you on the first day, you wanted to welcome the new neighbor just the same.

Someone deserve to feel welcome, right?

Setting down your utensils, facing your kids, “you kids want to help me make something to give next door?” silence as the four little blonde kids looks at one another as they nod to agree to assist you.

“What do you kids want to give to our new neighbor?” You asked, rummaging through your kitchens top drawer snd the pantry closet, “cookies!” suggest Veronica, “muffins?” said Kenan in a timid, shy tone, “Can I eat wone?” asked Junior, his mind drooling about eating cookies and muffins.

You smiled at them with a nod, “cookies and muffin then.”

The four little blonde kids helped you knead the cookie dough, this also helps them find entertainment for cooking—one of the fun activities that they never knew they’d enjoy, after making a mess on the table, with the flour and chocolate chips spread through the table.

Letting them experience to clean and help you with basic house chores while waiting for the cookies and muffin to bake.

Sitting with the kids in the living room, they’re drawing on their papers, Leo is taking a nap on your lap while the others draw. “Ms. Lay fwom next door says that the new guy nexts dwor is a bit gwumpy looking, but I think he’s just sad.” What Junior said struck you, the new guy next door is… sad? Why is that your kids say that the man was sad?

You thought, maybe having a little chat with him and try to befriend him would make a difference. Maybe he’s lonely or could use a friend, it’s totally all right to rely on someone when they needed it most, right?

You asked yourself, losing yourself in thought as Kenan bit your knees to snap you out of it, “Ow—” you wince, almost kicking your knee up as Kenan backs away, “cookie and muffin owlready done mowm.” He pats and continues to draw with Veronica and Junior as you settle down Leo to nap on the couch.

Thinking back again as you took two trays out of the oven, you can’t help but wonder what must that guy be going through, why he moved alone next door. You sigh and took each one of the cookies and muffin out of the tray, calling your kids to let them decorate it to whatever they pleases.

Junior put a blue icing and put don’t be sad, have a muffin.

While Veronica draw hearts and flowers, Leo on the other hand just put a frown and smile together. Kenan just wants it to be a simple swirl.

They help pick a box to put in to give it to the man next door, a pink with white stripes box as you neatly put a ribbon around it, then taking a box out to give the man a few cookies to enjoy while the rest are for yours and the kids to enjoy.

You smiled at the masterpiece that your kids made, and of course, an A for your effort too.

“Let’s hope that he likes it.” You smiled at the four eating their own muffin, stuffing their face with icing.

Still wearing your apron on, kids were on your side. Veronica holding the muffin box with both of her hands, smiling from ear to ear as if she’s delighted to share the masterpiece that she and her brothers made, Kenan clings to your pants while Leo walks in front of you. You rang the door bell and looks down at Leo—who’s expression is uninterested to be here right now and holding the box filled with cookies.

It took a few minutes and two doorbells before the man opens the door, before you, you saw a tall dark blonde man with tired eyes in a slightly ajar door. Is he not sleeping well? It’s quite worrying to see him at such a state, but Veronica’s voice filled the silence with her usual loud and cheery voice, “HELLO!” she beams, startling the man, “me, my mowmi and my bwothers made these for chu!” She started walking towards him, taking his hand and giving the box to him.

Leo goes up next, didn’t say anything and shoves the box to the mans knee—making him kneel down to pick up the box, “Leo!” You called out with a slight frown, “I-I’m so sorry for my son, sir.” You flash him with a soft smile, “we were informed you had just moved in, we thought we might give you something to welcome you.” You added, Veronica is clapping with a giggle while Kenan on the other hand, is hiding from the man.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Grunts the dark blonde man, taking box filled with cookies in his hands and set it to the nearby table in his home, you told him your name while he told his, “I’m James…” he said, “James Sunderland.”

You nod, looking down at Junior that’s in front of you, “mister awre you high?” asked Junior, your eyes wide and knelt down quickly to cover Juniors mouth, “I am SO sorry.” You apologize for your kids behavior, earning a small chuckle from James, “just kidding, mommy.” Junior giggled at his own words, “Junior that’s not nice.” You tut and got to your feet again.

The kid walks towards James and pushed the door to open more, giving the man a hug to his knees, “don’t be sad, miwster.” Junior tries comforting the man, looking at James with his baby blue eyes, “just eat a mufwin.” He grins and quickly got back to you. James eyed your kids one by one, nodding at Juniors words, “I will, kid.” James smiled, his day a bit better because of your little devils.

You had a long and friendly conversation with James, the kids asking him questions and urging him to take a bite of what they made, asking him who’s muffin is better—giving James the pressure of answering the so called ‘winner’.

Finally got back inside, your kids bursting with energy and zoomies around the living room. They’re playing tag while you watch them play and turn on your television to watch something, turning channels to see if there’s something interesting to watch but since there’s none, you just read a book while Leo decided to take a nap on top of you while you read.

James smiled today, amused by the kids and made his day a little better. You smiled to yourself and look back at your children, they sure are a bundle of joy—bringing a smile to someone’s face with their unique personality and odd choice of words talking to a stranger… that now strangely turned into a friend.

You are thankful that you have them to bring joy to someone’s day… even if it’s just for today.

It’s now nighttime, you look to the window and see that James never set foot outside for once today, he might have something a lot to worry in his mind. The bags under his eyes… You’re worried, but not to worry! You have set a goal to yourself that you’ll break down James’ walls little by little until he shares his worries with you. That he’ll see that he’s not alone, that he’s free to share his burden with you.

You asked your kids to take a bath (you dried them one by one with a towel of course), brush their teeth and waste their energy to their last playtime for today and set off to bed.

Tucking Veronica first in her own separate room from the boys, she giggles as you kissed her forehead. Pulling the blanket up to her neck and setting Mr. Bunny to her side.

The boys are chatting and Junior being the clown to their group is making a joke to make them laugh, “okay, boys. Off to bed now.” You smiled, leaning against the doorframe then walking to their beds as they scatter to their own.

Tucking Kenan and Leo in their own, giving them a goodnight kiss on their forehead, setting their comfort animal stuff toys to their side. You also tucked in Junior last, he’s sitting on his bed, smoothing out his blanket with a smile then finally lying down.

“Mowmmy,” he called, “yes, baby?”

“I wayk James.” He stated with a giggle, “why is that?” you asked, interested that he had taken a liking to James, “he seems to be a nice guy.” You nodded, agreeing to him.

“He is.”

“But chi seems sad and lonely..” Juniors tone became hush and blue, he shoot you a pity look, “c-can we bwe chis fwend?”

His question stunned you a little, but seeing that James seems to be feeling blue and lonely, why not try right? You nodded and kisses Juniors forehead goodnight, “we’ll try, baby. Let’s invite him to every plans we have. Ease his mind a bit yeah?” you smiled at him.

Junior yawned and leans towards you touch, “I like that vewi much, mowmmy,” he yawns mid sentence, “I wuv you vewi much…”

Your heart swells with so much love, adding more fuel to your determination and make James be part of the family so he would never be alone. Not when they’re here with him.

“Mr. Sunderland?” knocking on his door then ringing his doorbell, calling him out while your kids were chatting among themselves, you waited for James to come out.

“Mr. Sun—” the door open, you almost hit James by the chest when you’re suppose to knock, “yeah?” he responded to your call, eyes still tired as ever then he pinch the bridge of his nose—finally looking down at your kids that’s dressed up. For what? A party or play?

His mouth open, but couldn’t pin point the words he wanted to say, “is—is everything all right?” he asked, looking down at Veronica who’s giggling at James, “yes, everything is fine. About yesterday, uhm…” taking a sharp breath, you gather your courage to invite him out, “you see, my kids had taking a liking to you and—”

“No, I dwon’t” pouts Leo.

You shush Leo and gave him the stare, “that’s not nice.” You quickly warned Leo, “bwut I like James.” Said Junior with a smile and Veronica steps up to James giving him a big hug to his knee, “wiw you pwease come with chas mister?” Veronica asked with a pleading tone, not letting go of James because well… she doesn’t take a no for an answer.

Waiting for his response, James kneels down to Veronica’s level and pats her head, “I can’t.” he said, trying to untangle her grip to his leg, “whys?” She asked with a pout, not letting go of James, “I uhm…” he cough and start looking around his house, “a bit busy.”

“wayer.”

He sigh and smiled, “I’m… not.” He pauses and took his gaze off Veronica’s pleading look, puppy eyes and all. “Pwease?” plead Veronica, stomping her little legs, “pwease, pwease, pwease.” She repeatedly plead, hugging James’ leg tightly.

Taking Veronica off of him and cradling her in your arms, you just faintly smiled at James’ polite refusal, “it’s okay, Mr. Sunderland,” you said, patting your daughters back as you two could hear her sob. You pamper her with kisses on her cheek to cheer her up, but she hugged you tightly around your neck and silently sob.

“We’ll just go,” taking Leo’s hand, taking Leo away because he’s giving James the glare. Junior waved his hand bye-bye and took Kenan with him.

Seeing the tears that the girl shed, it made him feel bad—a guilty feeling that he hates to feel because he refused a little girls request, “wait!” he yelled, stopping the five of you in your tracks, “w-wait… I’ll just get uh… ready.” He awkwardly stated and shut the door first, probably going to have a quick wash to his face.

You could hear him tripping inside his own home and almost loud banging in there, is he all right? You asked yourself, then turn to the crying Veronica, “look, baby. He’s now coming with us.” You coo her, bouncing her on your arms as Veronica smiled and nodded, wiping her tears with her little hands.

His door open and locked it, walking down to his porch steps and pocketing his keys. First time seeing him in the light as he walks over to you, he sigh—knowing that he accepted defeat when he witness Veronica cry.

“All right…” he sigh, “where to?”

“Up.. up..” Veronica lift her arms and tried to get to James to carry her, “all right.” Accepting her request, he cradle her in his arms then felt like the heavy stare faded from him, Leo was glaring at him but not anymore—now that he sees his sister content and happy being carried by James.

“Just the playground.”

Arriving at the park, the kids dashes off to either the swing or slides, you sit beside James on the bench and watch over them. “So.” You start, glancing over him while he’s leaning forward.

“any kids?” you question, he slowly shakes his head, “no.”

Awkward…

You start again while watching the kids from the distance, Veronica pushing Kenan on the swing while Leo helped Junior to slide down the slides, “any particular reason why you moved in to town?” you asked, there was an silence that gap between you. As if, James’ is reflecting on to his own thoughts.

“Well, it’s—… it’s not that it’s wrong to move in.” you almost eat and stutter your words, pursing your lips and looking down to your knees. He’s refusing to answer doesn’t he? Better not push it, maybe it’s quite personal to him.

You heard a tuning song from the distance, oh look. An ice cream truck! Better buy some to make him and the kids better.

Standing up from your seat and taking your purse, target locked to the truck from the street as James’ mutter in his breath, “just… to run away from something.” He said. You catch what he said and nodded, brows furrowing to what? Pity or worry?

“watch the kids for me, can you?” asking a small favor for him, he nods and lean back to his seat, taking a closer eye on four of your kids while you run along with your heels clicking and across the street buying ice cream.

James’ eyed on Veronica closely… There seems to be a stranger talking and coming closer to her, giving her what? Candy? His eyes squinted and stood up from his seat, walking closer to your daughter. He could hear what they’re saying, “oh you want more candy?” the stranger asked.

“ches, more pwease.” Veronica demanded, gesturing on her hand to give her more, “excuse me?” James’ voice cuts their little idle chat, making the stranger flinch and look at the man before him, he leans down to Veronica (who is licking her candy) tapping her shoulder and nod to the stranger before her, “you know this person, sweetheart?” James asked, she chin up to meet James’ gaze—she shakes her head to a no, not knowing who might this stranger be.

The unknown person stood up and backed away, “so.” James warned as he stood and took Veronica in his arms, cradling her. “It’s either you scram or I’ll take you out myself.” His voice might be calm and collected, but it hints a warning and threat.

The unknown person backs away and out the park that’s filled with children, James’ decided to warn the parents that’s present on the park—warning about the guy who is suspicious and could possibly kidnap the children out of sight.

James took the children to the bench and waited for your return.

When you came back, plastic bag on your wrist filled with cup ice creams and two big ice cones for you and James’—witnessing them look gloomy sitting on the bench while Veronica is happily chewing on her candy.

“I’m back, what happened?” you asked, walking in front ofhim and giving James his cone, then gave the four children their own small cupped ice creams, “someone tried to bribe your daughter with candies.” He looks at his own cone and took a big bite on top, “he looks suspicious so I warned the other parents that are present.” He added, looking worried as she snap your gaze to Veronica.

“Baby, what did I told you when strangers that looks sketchy offered you candy huh?” your voice firm but with worry.

“Bwut mowmmy, I intwend to take a few then rwun away. It’s buswiness.” Proud and smug as Veronica gesture a ‘pay me’ gesture, letting out a scoff and put your free hand to your face as you gaze back to James’ “thank you so much, James. I don’t know what could’ve happened to her without you watching.” You let out a huge sigh and looks down at Veronica, “you do understand that I’ll give a good scolding for later, right Nica?”

Veronica pouted but made no objections but instead, nodded—she knee that she made you worried and got in a little bit of struggle, since she didn’t want to left out her three brothers by not having a candy, she took the risk in mind.

You couldn’t believe that one of your kids already made some trouble for James, you sat down with them and you glance at James’ ice cream cone… It’s already gone? Huh?

Eyes wide that James already ate his at a split second, he looks at you with those same tired green eyes, “what?” he asked, “n.. no-no no, it’s nothing.” Licking your own cone and minding your own business, eating ice cream a little too quiet.

“you might want to have your daughter check, you know… incase that the candy was drugged.” Almost choking on your own cone, coughing and hitting your chest—your face went pale as the thought of the possibility that the candy might be drugged is your worst nightmare.

Your turn your head to Veronica and asked her, “baby, do you feel weird or sleepy?” Veronica shook her head, still eating her ice cream cup, “we’ll go to the hospital first before we go to you and your brothers favorite diner, all right?” you let out a small chuckle and took the kids empty ice cream cup to the trash.

You nod your head to James’ with a smile, “Lets go.”

“I’m still invited?” he asked, getting up to his feet.

“Of course, plus. I think you’d do that for the kids right?” you said with a grin, Veronica with pleading eyes as she now demands to be picked up.

“to the hospital?”

“to the hospital.” You nod.

“Well, the test result came quick and good news.” Says the doctor as he smiled and pats Veronicas head, “there are no drugs from your daughters system, miss.” The doctor added and gave Veronica candy—which Veronica is reluctant to take, asking you for silent permission using her eyes.

You smiled and kisses her head, “you can take the doctors candy, sweetie.” The doctor let out a chuckle at the cuteness and cautious Veronica, “it’s all right, you can trust me.” Said the doctor with a proud tone, “you know, I have a daughter that has the same name as you.” He winks playfully and left the room.

“Do you hear that baby? It means your name is special.” You coo as she devours the candy, Leo is sleepy on the other hand and had been itching to go home, “so I suppose we’re going to a diner next?” James asked, raising a brow—seeing that Leo is nodding off, he picked Leo up to his arms and cradle him, letting him nap to his shoulder.

Nodding to his words, finally leaving the hospital as the sun is almost setting and entering the diner. Taking your seats as Leo is still gripping on to James’ shoulder, not wanting to let go and disturb his nap.

“What would you like to have?” you asked, flipping over to the menu’s.

“Anything that you’re going to order.” Answered James as he tried to gently tug off Leo and reposition him to a comfortable position to nap.

You nod to his words and after a while, finally calling a waiter to order. Well, you ordered a few stuff that what you think he might like and your kid’s favorite, “you can wake him up when the food is here.” You told James, smiling from ear to ear from the sight and knowing Leo? He gets grumpy and loud when he gets his nap disturbed, you might want to consider working on your kid with that one.

“he gets better when the food is here.” You added with a smile to James, Veronica patting on his shoulder and leans in, trying to engage a friendly conversation with him with her own curiosity to James.

Time passed and when the food arrived, James almost got his hand chewed by Leo for waking him up, but since the food arrived—the boys demeanor changed and turned slightly happy that he gets to eat his dinner now. The dark blonde man was thankful that he didn’t woke the little man up before the food arrive or else he’ll get teeth marks on his hands.

Exchanging friendly chat and opinion on several things with him is fun, having a few deep talks with James is something you never expected.

“do you think that when a person die, they’ll wake up again in their next life?”

“What do you think ones purpose in life when they were brought to this world?”

You threw various question to James and he didn’t refuse to share his own thought and feelings, even some cultural reference, happy to say that… James is the man you never thought would be your friend that you could talk things like this about.

The kids were so confused and worried about each and every answer and question, Veronica throwing you a look to stop asking James about something like Life and Death.

Well, there are a few things James learned; one is that your family is fun to hang around, two is that his burdens were shared even for a little bit and that he feels safe and secure to be having those kind of conversation with you. And three, the kids made him smile as if he couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy…

It had soon became dark, the kids knew they had to go home now and that they’ll be separated from James for today… But knowing a kid, they get attached a little too quickly when they had taken a liking to someone, James just happened to be a lovable man to them. He makes them feel safe and laugh, even though he, himself is a little miserable in life.

He just lost someone…

He’s afraid…

To what?

To get attached and lose that person again…

“Mary…” he mutter.

“Did you say something?” you asked, snapping him back to reality and see that he’s already back home, well—at your home to be precise, he probably daydream along the way and never noticed that he accepted your invite to stay inside your home for a while.

You saw that he’s at it again, after drying the dishes with clean cloth, you sat down beside him on the couch—your hand on his shoulder as you lean to see his face, “hey…” you called, tilting your head to the side, “you don’t look fine, mind sharing what’s on your mind?” you asked, soothing his back in case he needed it.

Hearing a sigh from him, he leans back (which you quickly took your hand off because it’ll get squish by his back), “i-it,’s nothing… just…” he paused, “just.. thinking about my wife.” He murmur, brows furrow and his feeling sink into longing and regret.

Your eyes wide at the news of hearing that he has a wife, “oh, really?” you gasp, not reading him quite well, “you have a wife? Where is she then? I would love to make friends with her.” You chuckle but stop, the look on his face is what would you see in a grieving person.

You stop and scoots to him closer, patting his hand, “what.. what happened to her?” you asked, seeing a nice guy that’s depress like James hurts you… You hate the look on his face when he had done so much for you and you, well, couldn’t do much for him.

Just company and talks.

James already thinks that just hearing you laugh, talk, or even coo your children and bring him company is already enough for him.

“Mary?” he uttered his wife’s name to you, “is Mary her name?” you smiled, “you know, people who tends to have a name Mary is usually the most nicest and beautiful people you’d ever met.” You told him, maybe it’ll cheer him better and… it did.

He lets out a soft chuckle and nodded, agreeing with you, “yeah… Mary is kind, beautiful and the most sweetest woman I have ever met…” he opens up, you listen intently—not wanting to break this moment for him, “she likes to play the piano, though she claims that she’s not very good at it. I’ve always love to hear her play again.”

You smiled at his words and nodded, “well, where is she now?” you asked, his smile slowly fading—regret and longing kicking in, “Mary’s dead.” He said.

As if your breath had caught to your throat, words won’t come out as your heart drops from the news—sharing the same mournful feeling with him and soothing him by his shoulder, “do you know the cause of her death?” you asked.

James sigh and rest his elbows to his knees, covering and wiping his face with both of his hands, “she was sick, the doctors told us that she only has three years maximum to live, it became a problem to both of us… She would’ve still love to visit our special place.” You smiled at the mention of them having a special place, “but then, the disease she made her almost unrecognizable, sever mood swings where she would attack you.” His breath hitches, recalling the painful memories he had with her.

You wanted to ask if the illness she had was curable, but I guess James already read your mind, “no, they couldn’t find a cure for it.” He said, his tone low and mournful. “so, she died from a disease..?” You asked, resting your elbows to your knees like his, “and where is this special place she loved?”

“Silent Hill.”

You nod, smiling, also recalling some childhood memories from that place—but now is not the time being about you, isn’t it?

“So, Mary had three years maximum to live, meaning that she died three years ago?” you summarized in question on what he had told you so far, “am I right?” searching for reassurance.

But instead, he shakes his head and bow low, “no…” he murmur, “what do you mean?” you asked, brows slightly frowning, heart beating rapidly and almost holding your breath back.

“I killed her.”

As if your ears had gone deaf, ringing and your mind swirl with a lot of questions. Snapping out of it, you just let out a nervous chuckle, “you’re joking… right?” breath hitches, heart pounding rapidly as he didn’t react, he turn his head away and didn’t fill the silence.

Quickly getting up to your feet, finding something to do to busy yourself and distract your mind—it’s impossible, right? How could someone as kind like James kill someone? He spoke about Mary full of love and sincerity yet… he killed her.

Why..?

“I uhm…” you start, James stood and called your name, calm and gentle yet—those are the same lips that loved Mary and what killed her, “… could you please..” James hums, walking up to you, your back facing him as he tried to reach for your hand.

Flinching to his touch, you turn and cover then wipe your face with your whole palm. You couldn’t even look at him in the eye, “y.. you should go,” you remark, his lips parts but no words fell from it, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow…” you added, “I just… uhm… need some time.” James, of course, understood. If someone he wanted to be closed to told him that they had killed someone that the person really loves, he’d react the same too.

He'd doubt, isolate himself or even just cut ties with them.

Probably.

If he has the heart to.

Why now? He would asked himself, why now did he have to open up so soon? He just ruined another relationship that he thought he finally could keep. He just need time, just another time and chance to explain himself. But he couldn’t redeem himself to the crime he had done with the same hands that held your kids…

His hand stop reaching out to you, seeing how terrified you were with the information he just laid out to you, it’s terrifying and he knows that… He just… didn’t want Mary to suffer, if he could just say those words, will you understand why he had taken the life of his late-wife?

No. No you won’t, you won’t forgive him nor would he forgive himself, his mouth were open but no words were uttered out, “James…” he snaps back to reality, out of his mind yet again, “please, you and I need uhm… some rest.” You voice out, whispering as the kids were already fast asleep.

He nodded, understanding that it’s already night and… You need sleep and to avoid him for this night, “all right, I understand…” he mutter, slowly backing away and turn to face the door, he called out to you before walking out, “… good night.”

You hum in respond, “yeah… Goodnight too, James.”

Toss and turning in bed after an hour has passed, his words keeps haunting your mind, you could only ask yourself why? Why did he do it? Is it because Mary is too ill and that her illness isn’t curable, does that mean he just didn’t want her to suffer and ended her life with his own hands?

How could he? You thought, can’t sleep properly. James is a nice person, calm and collected when around your kids, even protected them from possible kidnap of Veronica, warned other parents about that suspicious person.

It's just, maybe, hard go believe. He couldn’t possibly, right? You don’t want go believe it, he’s starting to grow in you—letting your heart open ajar for him, just one more push and you’re attached.

Maybe he just said it to push you away? He said horrible things to himself just to distance people away from him, you can’t just ignore his existence and continue with your daily life when your own kids got attached to him.

You’ll go talk to him tomorrow, just need some good night sleep.

But how? When James himself is convinced that he’s a monster.

This all stresses you out, your mind is already tired of thinking and before you knew it, your eyes were closed as slowly your consciousness had taken a deep slumber, while your heartaches for James, a single tear shed from one corner of your eye.

You woke up a little too early, drinking coffee and reading a book on the kitchen table. Surprised that Leo was the first one to wake up, “mowmmy?” he called, putting your mug down and picked him up to your arms, “yes, baby?”

“Whwere’s James?” he asked, yawning and nuzzling his head to the crook of your neck, you hum him in your embrace, trying to put him back to sleep. Leo is smart from his siblings, he understands things that should’ve been terrifying to kids, you wanted to ask him about something, “Leo?”

Leo hums, pulling himself together and rubs his eyes with the back of his palm, “I want to ask you something baby.” You coo, “what would you do if someone you love is suffering in an incurable illness, what would you do?”

It takes time for the question to fully register in Leo’s mind, he blinks at you with his sleepy lidded eyes and huffs out his answer, “I uhm..” he almost mumble, “If its incwurable, I would wike them to stwop suffewing.” He hums, still sleepy yet he could answer your question.

“bwecause, i-if.. mhm.. if they cwontinue to swuffer, it’ll ownly pain them but fwor as long as thwey are stwill alive, I would want to cweate lots of memories with thwem.” He added, you nod. You know this to yourself that you shouldn’t be asking the child such dark question, but you did it anyway.

“But, baby, what if the person was the one who ended that persons suffering, what then?”

He squints at you hard, judging you badly.

Silence filled in as Leo was now fully awake and aware, “did swomeone killed swomeone mwommy?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, shaking your head as an answer with a smile, “just curious what would your answer be, Leo.”

He tilts his head, “lawfuwwy, it’s illegal and cwould be set in jail to swerve sentence fwor attempt murder.” He huffs, kicking his legs to be put down and sit on your lap, you sat back down to your chair and made him sit on your lap. He continues, “bwut, if—IF,” he almost yelled, “itw’s not like I’m dwefending a mwurderer or something.” He coughs and clasp his tiny hands together, “if thwat person feels guilty abwout it, and that thwey wish they dwidn’t done it and wanted to gwow back that thwey didn’t kwilled them. Thwen it means thwat thwey still have a gwood heart, bwecause they regwet.” He finishes and yawns, “mwurders are sometwine put to trial and serve swentence to jail, why is that mwommy?” he asked you.

You thought about it, “because they believe in being sober and second chances, and that they give them months or years in prison to reflect.” Leo nodded at your words in agreement, “exwactly. Now, if ywou will excuse me, I’m still eepy.” He huffs, stomping down to his feet hitting the ground, he looks back at you, “and mwommy, I bwelieve in secwond chances. Maybwe that pwerson thinks its fwor the best or that the pwerson with the illness mwakes it their wish.”

After that, he storms off back to his room, taking another nap with his brothers, it’s still eight in the morning, probably eight and thirty-five, what Leo just said left you speechless and in awe. He really is smart and gifted.

Making up your mind, Leo is right. Maybe… Maybe Mary really had requested it to James to kill herself. Give her life up because she doesn’t want to suffer anymore? Who knows, you’re not there when they’re story happened. You will have a talk with James’ later…

Oops, you need to prepare breakfast first, or else the house will be loud with complaining children about breakfast and having zoomies.

10:30AM.

Kids awake, Veronica somehow knew James’ phone number and invited him over without your knowledge, you only knew that when James told you, “huh? Veronica said you invited me over to come eat breakfast with you guys.”

Spacing out on the table, mind is full of thoughts and question while Veronica is standing on James’ chair while he sits, being also fed by the little girl when James could feed himself, but since knowing Veronica for being a little overdramatic. James couldn’t help but to play along to Veronica’s antics.

James would steal a glance at you every minute while letting Veronica yap and Kenan asking him question about stuff that curious the little boy, though you still refuse to speak the things that are on your mind yesterday—about what he had told you, maybe… just maybe…

Cradling Leo into your arms, looking at him taking a nap on your embrace—thinking about what he had told you earlier when he got his sleep disturb, is it by the lights or perhaps he had nightmares that he never told you about?

You were in the park with James, watching the kids play while Leo takes a nap in your embrace. Silence was deafening between the two of you, for James—it’s like you were out of reach to talk to because of yesterday’s conversation. He thought about explaining, but what is to explain when in the end, he still took an innocent life?

“You know, I have thought about it…” you start, filling the silence and giving James hope to finally talk to you again, “yeah?” he respond, taking his eyes off from the kids playing and searching something in your eyes, “w... Why did you killed Mary?” you asked, covering Leo’s ear incase he’ll hear.

James just shook his head, opening his mouth then closing it again, finding the right words to say, “I… I just didn’t want her to suffer.” He sighs, covering his face with both of his hands, “I-I know she still has three years to live and yet, I.. I killed her, I…” he starts to stutter and slur his words, his heart racing and his ears ringing—getting a bit dizzy when he speaks his situation, it’s too much for him.

Why? Is all he could ask himself.

Why did he do it?

Someone’s calling out to him… “h… ey…” it said, his breathing became shallow and making it hard to him to breathe.

“James!” you yelled, hand grasping his shoulder while the other is still cradling Leo asleep, you frown in worry— how his face went pale and starts sweating cold sweats, “are you okay?” You asked, voice shaking because it looks like he’s going to collapse any time soon.

He shakes his head and finally snaps out of it, “I-I’m fine.” He assures, blinking a few times as he leans back to the bench, “memories are probably getting to me… Even that place.” He murmur, leaning his head back and letting out a big sigh.

“Silent hill?” you curiously raised a brow, Leo steer awake and sat up to your lap, “mwommy…” Leo whines, hands clenched to your shoulder while he used the other to rub his eye, blinking at James, “Jwames?” he murmur, “yeah buddy?” James smiled, unexpectedly—Leo lift his arms to James, silently asking for James to pick him up to his grasp.

Silence filled in yet again, you two just sit on the bench while Kenan, Junior and Veronica still plays on the slides and swings. Leo eyed on the two of you, as if trying to crack an unsolved case, “awre you in love with my mwommy, James?” Leo squint his eyes to him, brows frowning at James—the man could also let out a small chuckle, “I like your mom as my friend, bud. Why do you ask?” he says, Leo shook his head that says ‘nothing!’

Leo could only play with James calloused hands, tracing his small finger tips to James’ fingers, your conversation with James was just interrupted by your son—but it doesn’t matter. You already heard James’ reason for killing Mary, but it still isn’t justified why he took her life…

But now that you think about it…

Three years to live with the disease that really made a huge impact in your life… Slashing out to your cherished ones without a reason, no complete control of your temper and mood, almost completely losing your mind because of the sudden change of your mood swings… Then drugs are fed to you just to have a complete grasp of your actual self.

Wouldn’t you wish to just die too?

Letting out a sigh as you finally come to a conclusion in mind, “James… was Mary been fed some type of drugs just to have… you know, to have a complete control of herself?” you asked, it takes a few minutes before he answer, nodding faintly, “yeah.. yeah, probably…” he hums, Leo is tracing the indent or trace of a ring to James’ ring finger.

Leo lifts James hand up and asked him, “you has ring?” the boy asked, “is Jwames has wife?” he added, James nodded to his question and Leo shot you a look, “mwommy, James has wife which mweans you cwan’t shoot youwr shot.” Said Leo, making you gasp and speechless at what your son just said, you? Hit on James? As if, right?

“but,” start James, looking down at Leo’s baby blues, “bit, my wife is gone… to a happy place, you know?” he pats his head and smiles, “oooh…” Leo’s lips form in a shape of an O then said, “she’s died.” With a straight innocent face and nodded with understanding.

James doesn’t know whether he would laugh at him or just be concern how Leo knew that, you almost snicker but cough and cleared your throat—neither of you spoke such things with Leo again.

The kids finally got tired and asked to go home.

What a day, right?

Walking back home with James helping you with the kids, again. In his arms are holding two of your kids that took a nap on each of his shoulders; Veronica and Kenan got very tired, Junior on the other hand, had some energy left to just walk home by foot.

Since they’ve already eaten dinner (went out to eat dinner), James helped you change your kids into their pajamas and put them to sleep in their rooms, leaving Junior last because he isn’t sleepy for now, “Junior, you’ve already change into your jammies,” you raise your brows at him, “c’mon now, let’s get you tucked in bed.” Gesturing your hand to him to come to you.

Junior waved his hand to James then off to bed, “bye-bye James.” Junior murmur, you could tell he still likes to have a dew more minutes with the man but he needs his sleep, tucking him in bed and kissing his forehead goodnight.

Which leaves you and James alone in your own home, silence and gap between you as you reluctantly sat down beside James, and knowing you’re still bothered. He created some distance between the two of you, you glanced at him, he’s still as miserable as ever but he’s trying to have a positive look—especially when the kids were around.

You let out a sigh, leaning your back to the soft cushion of your couch, “d-.. do you think Mary would forgive you?” you asked, finally looking over him at the other end of your couch, large distance he made to make you comfortable, it takes him a few courage to look and meet your gaze, “I.. I don’t know… But the most thing she’ll ask is… why did I killed her.” He murmur.

You just nod and let silence sit between you, heart heavy and the atmosphere gloomy.

“But she did want the pain to end soon right?” you asked, slowly scooting over to him, “James, knowing you these past few days—” you cut yourself off, bluffing your words, “I mean, three entire days to be exact. It feels like I’ve known a friend for a long time, you became a familiar feeling so… I wanted to say that…” you took a sharp breath and takes his hand to yours.

“You have many things left unsaid, don’t you?” caressing his hand and tracing the indent mark of his ring finger, “doesn’t it feel heavy, to just bottle it all up?” You asked, your tone soft and understanding—just like Mary he thought. But he couldn’t compare you to her, you’re you. And Mary is herself. Yet he finds solace to your comforting words and tone, your presence too.

He misses this feeling, how his heart pounds out as he lets out his cries—you see tears finally running down to his cheeks. You let out a soft sigh and soothes his back, letting him weep and cry his heart out, “there are still some things you want to say to Mary, right?” you asked, “ask her… If she could forgive you for what you’ve done, and that she may understand why you had done it.” You hum.

But it still doesn’t change the fact she’s gone…

A minute passed and he finally calmed down, his breath hitches as he just stared off to your floor, “tea?” you offered a mug to him which he happily takes it and sips, “how about we visit Mary tomorrow?” you suggested, sipping on your tea while staring blankly at the wall too.

He thought about it, maybe it’s time to finally say the things he left unsaid… His regrets, his happiest time with her and the life that they had, though in just a blink of an eye, it was all gone… She’s gone.

James nod at your suggestion, caressing the mug that he’s holding, “yeah… I think I would love that…” a small smile tug from the corner of his lips, you smiled back but you don’t know whether to judge his character or not… But it’s up to Mary to decide that.

“Great, I’ll call my friends and father to come babysit my kids tomorrow morning,” she hums, “well, since it’s scheduled that my father will take them anyway for some bonding time for a whole week.” She chuckles, taking the mug from your hands to wash it on the sink.

He stood up and nod to your words, “well, I better get going then.” He voice out, although a bit trouble to turn his back and leave, “goodnight.” He said, you nod and said your goodnight to him too, but something caught his eye. Something was covered with a white floral fabric, it looks like a piano of some sort?

His brows furrow with curiosity, looking back at you washing the remaining dishes and back at the covered piano, “h-hey..” he called, “what’s this?” he points, you turn to look at him but what he’s pointing at is being covered by the wall, “wait,” you dry your hands with a clean cloth and walk towards him.

You turn to see what he’s pointing at… Your piano, “oh.. I-it’s uhm.. a piano,” you nervously chuckle, “why’d you cover it?” James took the white floral fabric off and revealing a black upright piano that goes against the wall, you thin your lips because you covered the piano because of Mary.

“You play?” James asked, lifting the cover to reveal the keys, “you still haven’t answer my first question though.” He added and sat on the piano stool, just to feel the keys. You sigh and just tell him why you covered your piano up, “yes I play and I covered it because well… It reminds you of Mary, you said that Mary plays right?” you smiled and pressed one key down, hoping that your kids wouldn’t hear it.

“I just.. don’t want you to remember a painful memory when you’re with us…” you admitted, looking down at the keys, “I play for my kids whenever they want to hear me play, then sometimes they will play the piano badly to the point where your ears would bleed.” You chuckle, sharing one precious memory with him, opening up just like how he did to you.

He smiled and let out a small laugh with you, “well uhm… Play one for me then?” he requested, you raise a brow and nodded, “uhm, yeah sure…” preparing your fingers up to the keys and asked him, “what song?”

“something that resonate with you most.”

You nodded and fulfill his request, it was slow and melodic… It suddenly became fast and your fingers easily pressed the right keys swiftly, quick and smoothly taking one finger off to pressed another key…

You played river flows in you by Yiruma.

It’s something about that song that hits home, how it describes ones person love, representing how love grows on two different people with two different worlds and yet… Love always make things hurt or work, it’s a representation of feeling in love… But for you, the song also makes you cry and how you dedicate this song to the person you also lost.

James stayed silent to the whole song until it ended, “wow” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. You’re not Mary, and never will. You played it like a pro and James now knew the difference and accepted that, he wanted to clap but was outdone by someone else.

“wow mwommy!” claps Veronica, beaming despite being sleepy, you snap your head to look at the kids being awake, how long were they standing there to watch you play?

You suddenly stood up and looks down at them, “how long were you guys watching huh?” you asked with a sweet soft smile, kneeling to their level to give them an individual kiss on their cheeks, “mwommy, play us again pwease…” plead Kenan while sitting on the floor with his stuffed plush on his arms, Leo had his arms fold… here we go again.

Raising a brow at Leo while James pulled down the cover of the piano keys, still sitting on the piano stool, “mwommy are you confwessing ywour wove to Jwames or somethwing?” Leo asked with suspicion, you snicker at his words and shake your head, “James asked me to play a song that resonate with me most, baby. Why do you asked?”

“bwecause mwommy, wivers fwows in you repwesent the feeling of bweing in wove.” He smartly answers and tuts at you, “so, it’s nwormal fwor me to assume thwat you’re confwessing mwommy.” He added, you just gently flick his forehead for his smartass answer and picked him up.

Junior comes and hugs your legs, gripping tightly with his sleepy eyes looking up at you, what Junior asked shocked you most.

“is Jwames now our daddy?”

“…”

Silence…

Junior blinks at you with his sleepy eyes, yawning and waiting for your answers—he just doesn’t know what he said wrong, always jumping to conclusions when given the opportunity, you open your mouth to answer but no words were uttered out but Junior speaks again, “bwecause mwommy, I vewy like Jwames…” he yawns, admitting his likeness to James.

James on the other hand, is smiling from the piano stool. It feels like, he’s wanted—belonged even, his heart swells when an innocent kid thinks high regard of him, even though in his mind. He’s just a normal guy doing nothing special, “well, hate to break it to you buddy,” said James, getting to his feet and meeting his level, “I-.. I’m not.” He thin his lips as he breaks it to Junior, shaking his head—meeting the kids innocent gaze.

“…oh.” Juniors late reaction, he’s still sleepy but you can tell he’s a bit upset about it, clasping your hands together and breaking the news to everybody that it’s bed time and a little late and that everyone needs sleep for tonight.

Taking the kids back to bed again, Junior frowning when he finally sleeps. It took a little while for Leo to comfort his brother that got really attached to James, you couldn’t blame him. James may see himself nothing special, but to the kids—he is special. To them, and to you (as a friend)

Tomorrow, your father would take the kids for a whole week to bond and some alone time for yourself, and tomorrow… You’ll accompany James to Mary’s grave… Help him say his goodbye and support him along his healing journey along the way, it’s time to say goodbye and start anew right?

James bid goodbye for the last time to get himself some sleep and prepare himself for tomorrow, recite what he wants to say probably? Recall the memories he want to share and his burdens and regret. But what about the letter..?

What letter..?

Woke up early, needing to pack the clothes of your kids, make them breakfast, give them shower and let them choose what kind of stuff plush they’d bring with them. They were excited and Junior probably forgot yesterday’s conversation, he thinks it’s just a silly little dream… But he did share his thoughts with you when he woke up feeling good.

“Jwames became our daddy!” he said that when he woke up first thing in the morning, the kids loved that guy to the point that one by one—they’ll think James is now their daddy.

After packing a one suitcase since the kids also have clothes at your fathers place (gifted and bought by friends too), so you and your kids waited a few minutes outside to be picked up by car by one of your closed friends, when they arrived—they chill for a few minutes, engaged conversation with you and catch up for the times that you had missed with them.

Then they left to with your kids, they’ll be arriving at your fathers place to take care of them and of course, your friends too. And now… You’re alone.

Not entirely… You have James, and today is the day you’ll be accompanying him, getting ready and had your breakfast. You need at least to look good and give Mary a good impression to meet her, befriend even the dead, right?

You heard a knock on your door, you put on your beret hat and smooth out your dress. Heels clicking that even James could hear from outside, the door open and revealed James before you, “hi.” You smiled, “good morning, how’re you?” you asked, taking your purse with you as you step outside.

He tilts his head, eyes squint a little as he points slowly at your attire, “what… uhm… are you wearing?” he asked slowly, not wanting to sound offensive, you huff and put your hand on your hip, “well, if I’m meeting your late-wife, I at least need to look presentable so that she’ll like me as your friend.” He just nodded and whispered, “okay.”

Stepping down to your porch step, turning back and look at him, “what? Come on now, let’s move.” You tut, he shakes his head with a small smile—walking down towards you, guiding you to his car as you sat down on the passenger seat of his car.

“It’ll be a long ride though.” He advised you, buckling his belt as you did yours, pulling out your mirror to tidy your hair, “yeah, that’s fine.” You assure, he looks over to you—finally starting the car and drove off, “yeah? What about your kids?” he asked out of concern, looking at the road and back at the rearview mirror.

You hum, repositioning yourself in your seat—still looking at yourself in the mirror not until you heard some paper crunch or something, “oh, shit. I think I just sat on to something.” You curse softly, completely caught off guard when you heard.

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about the kids, my friend picked them up.” You assured, looking down at your seat and finding the paper that you just sat on, “my father and possibly some friends will help to take care of them.” You added, “ah—ha!” you finally caught the paper you sat on under your seat, “you have a letter, James. Don’t you want to read it?”

He's assured that your kids are safe and sound with your father and friends that’ll love them and take care of them with all of their hearts, “a letter?” he asked, taking a quick glance of it on your hands, “oh…” his face turned gloomy again, the same first look you saw from him when you two first met.

“Are you all right?”

“Nothing… I still haven’t read that letter.” He stop at the red light, a light traffic jam, “oh, you want to read it now?” you asked, “and who is it from?” it piqued your interest, but you wouldn’t open to snoop around and find out, right? James finally drove the car again, letting out a small sigh.

“Mary.”

“sorry what?” you asked yet again, busy inspecting the envelope of the letter, “it’s from Mary.” He repeated, steering the wheel to the right, as he continue, “the nurse gave it to me when… Mary passed.” He cleared his throat, clearly a sign that he doesn’t want to talk about it—you just nod and caress the letter on your fingertips.

A few minutes in the ride, atmosphere a little heavy as silence carried on. You could only watch from the car window—tress, houses nor clouds pass, James could only steal a glance at you from time to time until he finally spoke about the letter, “could you… uhm…” he cough.

You almost nod off, but quickly gathered yourself together, “yeah?” you sleepily respond, yawning a bit and rubbing your temple, “what’s up?”

“could you read the letter for me, so.. you know, I know what Mary wrote before I face her.” He hums, turning left and straight ahead of the road, you nod at his request and open the glove compartment and took the letter to your hands. Letting out a sharp breath because opening a letter that meant to him made you nervous.

Slowly opening the envelope and taking out the folded paper inside—unfold it and cleared your throat as you began to read what Mary had wrote to James, “are you ready?” you asked, you could hear his breath shake as he nod, “ready.”

You finally start from the very beginning…

“Well, this letter has gone on too long, so I’ll say goodbye. I told the nurse to give this to you after I’m gone.”

You stopped for a moment and looked over to James, his knuckles almost turning white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, his eyes quickly glanced at you and assured you silently that he’s fine.

“Which means that, as you’re reading this, I’m already dead.”

Your lips thinned, brows furrow as your heart aches from Mary’s letter, and as if James’ ears had gone deaf and that it’s Mary’s voice is all he could hear.

“But that’s okay. I’m not afraid of it anymore, I just hope that the pain will end soon so that you remember me for who I was…”

Pause…

“and not what the disease made me… I want you to go on, I want you to live… For yourself and for the others, like you did for me.”

Your voiced cracked and held back a tear to shed, you look at James in silence before continuing on—his eyes were full of tears, silently sobbing and trying to focus on the road.

“You’ve given me so much and I haven’t been able to return a single thing. That’s why I want you to live for yourself now. Do what’s best for you James.”

Can’t help but share his burden as tears fell from the corner of your eyes, burning your cheeks as you read the last line.

But you also called his name…

“James… You made me happy.” It said when the letter ended, but even when the letter ended, you also called out to James who seems to park to stop for a while—you reached out and soothe him to his shoulder, his breathing hitches as he inhale sharply.

Scooting a bit close so you could lean close to him, “it’s okay, we can stop for now…” you mutter, stopping your own tears from falling, cooing him and soothing him down as he waves his hand to dismiss it, “n-no.. no…” he cleared his throat, leaning his head back to his seat, “we’re already here…”

You stayed with the car, getting some fresh air after reading Mary’s letter to James, you’ve witness it—how deeply hurt he is and how he regretted everything… But it seems to you that in the letter, no matter what—Mary would always forgive and wait for James.

He walked towards Mary’s grave, he didn’t brought anything with him except some flowers to give her. He knelt in her tombstone and wipe a dust off of it as you watch him from your distance. Since it’s for the best that James do his thing first before introducing yourself as his friend to her.

“Hey..” James called as he knelt down, he looks down at Mary’s craved name on the tombstone as he look for the right words to say, “Mary… I’m here, sorry to keep you waiting.” He smiles as he continues, placing a single flower on her stone.

He searches for something, but she’s not here with him—she couldn’t look at him and meet his gaze, she’s dead. He knew that but his eyes still searched and longed for her presence, how he could tell her that he loved her for the last time, share one… just one more moment with her.

But he never knew that the last moment he would share with his deceased lover would be her tombstone staring right back at him with her named craved on it.

“you know…” he starts, “I was convinced that… I..” he takes a deep breath and continue, “I just… can’t go on without you…” he huffs, touching the stone in front of him in his thumb, “I couldn’t forgive myself for what I’ve done… And… I miss you so, so much.” He sob, sharply inhaling and gathering his thoughts and putting it into words.

As if his mind was playing with him, he could hear her reply to him—engaging a conversation with him for the last time, maybe he’s in denial but it’ll be their last…

“shh, it’s okay, James…” the spirit smiles as he let out a chuckle, he thinks he’s out of his mind but he continues, “I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for what I did… I should’ve made more memories with you, Mary…”

“yet you’ve already given me so much.”

He smiles faintly, tears burning his face as he sniffle, “I’m so, so sorry… I know this isn’t what you’d want.” He scoff to himself, “seeing me like this, but it doesn’t matter anymore… right?” he asked the wind.

Chinning up to the sky as the clouds covered the blue sky, “you’re not here… are you?”

No answer… Maybe his mind is playing tricks with him, maybe he’s just mad and crazy or maybe too depressed than he thought, he looks down at her tombstone again, “you don’t have to keep waiting for me, Mary… Just as you wish, I will try to go on and live…” he murmur, taking out a photograph of Mary and setting it down with the flower.

“for myself.. and maybe for the others too,” he smiled at the smiling photo of her, “I found another home… that made me happy, like how I did for you too..”

He stayed silent for a little while, turning his head around to quickly glance at you, “Mary.” He called, closing his eyes and as if to feel the wind hugging him.

“thank you.”

From the distance, it feels like James is giving his all—doing his best to word it all his burdens out and the problems off of his shoulder, you could only wait for him to call you to introduce you to her.

He’s having the time of his life chatting with her, you could really see that… he really did love her. Oh, how you wished to find a man that would also love you like how James loved Mary…

You’re alone with your own thoughts as you watch the clouds move pass and cover the blue sky, you seem to be nodding off when James came over to you—his hand grasp on your shoulder and snap you back from reality, “woah!” You let out a yelp, got startled a little as you look over and saw James in front of you.

“yeah? Already good?” you asked, brows furrowing with worry but you could tell that his heart feels a little lighter than it is in the past few days. He nod, taking your hands to his as he gently tug you away from his car, “c’mon…” his voice soft when he whispers, urging you to walk with him to her grave.

You knelt down after James did and met with Mary’s photograph with the flowers on top, your heart swells with so much pleasure and honor to finally meet her—even if it’s just her tombstone…

You introduced yourself with four kids that are quadruplets and shared a story that your little devils had taken a liking to James, even joking about how one of them even asked if James is now their daddy. He chuckles at your story and how enthusiastic you are to share this with Mary, he also share some memories with you when he’s still with Mary and that the two met by a mutual friend. He shares the piece of memory that Mary plays the piano and how bad she is.

But even so, James’ told Mary that, “I would still love to hear her play.” With the sweetest smile that you’ve ever seen, it took almost hours just to tell and share a story nor a memory with a friend, you and James bid a final farewell as James asked you to be the first one to get in the car and that’ll he’ll follow.

He took something from inside his jacket… His wedding ring, he kneels down and buried it with her, “I know you wanted me to be happy… And yet.” He turns back and looks over to you inside his car, “I think I’ve found my happiness, Mary… Another reason for me to continue living on with my life, but this time it’s not with you, but them.” He emphasize and thought about the kids and obviously… you.

Maybe it was Mary’s wish to have a family and he granted that wish, she’s still alive in his mind and in his heart—he carried on to her wish for a family and… James found that family, he smiled at her tombstone for the last time, leaving the ring buried with her.

Thank you, Mary… Thank you…

James finally got inside and start the car, you smiled over to him as he backs and drove off, “already accepted it?” you asked as he gave you a smile and nod, “I’ve finally learned to accept it.” He said, now aiming for the two of you to go home…

Where is home to James?

Home is where he’s needed most, which means home is where you and your kids will be…

It’s now time for him to start a new book, new pages and chapters in his life without Mary, but with you and your four devils… And he couldn’t wait what’s in store for him and his fate…

It gone dark, and James parked his car to his garage. He looks over to you and see that you had gone asleep while he drives the two of you back home. Didn’t think that the visit will get you this tired, wouldn’t you?

Still in his car and thinking what will he do… carry you inside and let you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch or… look for your keys on your purse and carry you inside your own home and leave?

But, you know what? He had gone to the first option and carried you inside his home—you only just live next door so it’ll be no problem, right? Carefully setting you down to his own bed, smoothing your dress down so it won’t cripple up and think of him as a pervert. He then takes the blanket and tuck you in while he takes your purse and hat, setting it to the bedside table and taking your heels off too.

His hands on his hips as he let out a huge sigh, you’re not that heavy to carry—it’s just, he got tired too easily and he’s having trouble opening the door with one hand, trying to not wake you up while he’s at it.

You stir and turn to your side, tasting the air as you peacefully have your slumber. He kneels down beside you, brushing off a strand of hair from your face and stared at you for a while…

Maybe… Just maybe…

He had already fallen for you.

But not because you share the same similarities of Mary’s personality, it’s because you’re you… you’re on your own person, why does he have to compare you to another? You’re unique and different.

Maybe that’s why, he has finally gave in to the feeling and sensation of butterflies.

“that’s it… I admit,” he says, smiling at your sleeping face, “you don’t know how far I’ve finally fallen for you.” He murmur.

You heard someone murmur so close to you, but you didn’t heard it quite right, a mumble perhaps and just get your goodnight rest and James on the other hand was true to his word and sleeps on the couch, making himself comfortable.

Shit, maybe this new chapter of his life will be the death of him.

You were at peace, your surroundings are a little too quiet for your surroundings—where are the kids? They usually jump on your bed and shake you awake, a smile spread from your face when you remember that Junior asked if James is now their daddy… It was ridiculous, but what if it’s possible that you two dated..? You didn’t think James would actually agree to it, since well… Being a father is a big commitment for you and for the kids.

Then you remembered, you were suppose to accompany James’ visit to Mary yet you fell asleep. What if he needed your support? What then..?

You stir in your sleep, heart pounding and awake in cold sweat as you heard someone fumble right on the living room, “ow—” the voice said, eyes fluttering as you rub your eyes and temple, sitting up in bed and look around—this isn’t your home.

Well, where were you then?

You groan, feeling a bit heavy as you focus your vision, “James..?” you called, the rearing of something like a vacuum turned off—hearing footsteps come closer and louder as the bedroom door opened, “yeah?” it was James. He’s just cleaning his living room, “oh yeah, sorry. You were uhm…” he looks around and set the vacuum down then came closer and sat on the edge of the bed, he sat in silence as he meets your gaze. You smiled at him, seeing how the spark in his eyes were back.

“Did I fell asleep?” you asked, rubbing your eyes. He then helps you sit down next to him, “I’m sorry, I know I’m supposed to be there with you while we visit Mary.” He hushes you and nod, “hey, hey…” he called, looking down at your tired state, “it’s okay,” he softly smiles, “we were supposed to get home anyway, and uh… I don’t know that if I should wake you up so you could go home and rest but—” he pauses, thinning his lips—feeling a little ounce of shame, “I just carried you inside my house and let you rest on my bed.”

You smiled and let out a big yawn, you mind finally at ease as you meet his eyes, “I hope I didn’t wake you up though,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I was cleaning while you were asleep, didn’t want a guest to see my home in such a messy state.” He added, his white teeth almost showing.

You let out a sigh and pat his shoulder, “it’s okay, big guy.” You snicker, “I get you.” You added, then sat in silence. You two could only have a stare off and the tension is odd, clearing your throat as you get up to your feet and hands on your hips, “I should be going… Sorry for uhm…” awkward, he stands up after you and waves his hand, “no, no. It’s okay, you were exhausted and we both cried our eyes out… so yeah.”

And there it is, the awkward tension between the two like it’s the first time they have met, but why does it feel that James is more of a changed man? As if he’s finally at peace with his own mind now that he’s smiling more often, his eyes even shone a little if you weren’t mistaking it.

Maybe because of Mary, he just needed to let those feelings out and talk to her—she was the reason that makes him what he is now, you smiled and grab both of his shoulder and utter the words you’re meaning to say, “I’m so proud of you.”

Tilting your head to the side, he froze and smiled at your words, “yeah… I’m proud of myself too, you know?” grinning from ear to ear as you look at the time, “wanna get breakfast?” James spoke, cutting you off before you could even speak and suggest that you two should eat breakfast, looking at him—feeling a bit smug as you squint, “all… right, sure I would love that.” Accepting his invitation, you first will take a shower and change into a new set of clothes.

Gathering your shower thoughts and thinking back at Mary’s grave, when you were watching him from the distance—he was pouring his all and heart out, you don’t know whether there was a fog on their or the wind was picking up, but as if you saw someone responding to him… or your mind is just playing tricks?

Nonetheless, it made him at peace finally, learning to finally accept things the way it were—he regret and renew for the better, for himself and as Mary said—and for the others.

Finally got yourself ready to meet James outside, waiting on your front porch, “James?” you called, closing your front door and locking it with your keys, coming down your porch steps as you brush off strands of hair from your face, “yeah? Ready to go?” he asked, eyeing you from your feet up to your face, “so, do I look all right?” you asked him with a small smile, he nod slowly—taking it all in, heart pounding, letting out a sharp breath, “y-.. yeah, you look fine..?” he almost slurs his words from stuttering, his words almost coming out as a question than validation.

You let out a snicker, finding his sudden shyness cute, like how any other guy felt when they had a crush or some type of feels that gives them butterflies, you just nod at him with a grin on your face, “all right,” ignoring the way he talks, he’ll be self-conscious about it, “where to?” you asked, nudging his shoulder.

“you wanna get some breakfast, right?” he asked, raising a brow, you shrug in response, “I mean, yeah, surprise me.” You remark, blinking at him with a cheeky smile—you reach out and grab his arm and tug him towards the town.

For James, it feels like it was meant to be a date—he’s a coward; how would you know he’s taking you out for a date? He’s scared to ask; if he did, then he might chicken out and ditch. But he wouldn’t do that; it’s not like in the past few days that it meant nothing—it means everything to him. How every passing day, he is slowly accepting and falling deeper into the feeling that he had once lost.

A home.

He’s also quite thankful that your kids wouldn’t be here for a week. Then he will try and make you fall for him within a week, not that he hasn’t fallen for you yet. Little did you know… He’s falling very, very hard. As if he’d be willing to drown and swim deep into the ocean for you.

How come you didn’t question that in every shop that you point at, he’ll encourage you to come inside yet when you didn’t find what interested you; he will keep asking you question like; “are you sure?” “how about this one?” “don’t you think this suits you?”

It's like he’s convincing you to take at least one then you two could leave the shop, he pays for everything and even takes the ones you had touch to the counter, and pays for it. You glare and tried to stop him but his response is always the same; “it’s fine, think of it as my repayment.,”

Repayment for what exactly? You asked yourself, as you finally find yourself sitting on a café and he orders lunch for the two of you. You sit in silence, gathering you own thoughts and confront James about it and these… 10 paper bags that’s sitting on the side of his chair, you pinch the bridge of your nose and think about repaying him with all the stuff he bought for you.

He came back with a number plate to have the waiters serve the order to your table, “what’s up?” he asked, taking his seat as he rest his elbows on top of the table, he frowns when he finds you looking troubled, “hey… you okay?” he reached out to brush a strand of hair off from your face.

You shake your head slowly in response with a faint smile, “it’s nothing… It’s just, you bought so much stuff.” You point out, finger-pointing at the paper bags from different stores in town, he looks down from each of it and nodded, “yeah, they’re for you, though.” He utter, tilting his head to the side, “don’t you like it?” he question, his tone a little down and sad—did he go too far and crossed the line?

“No, no… I love it, you’re so thoughtful and generous… I’m just worried about uhm… how much you just spent on every bag…” you murmur, voicing it down so other people wouldn’t hear and assume that you two are arguing. You think about the offer you’re about to give him, and you know what?

Fuck it. You clasp your hands, startling him and making him almost jump up from his seat, “you scared me.” He smiled, the waiter finally had gone to your table and set down the drinks and slices of cakes down. You two muttered thank yous to the waiter with a smile then back at meeting each other’s gaze.

“So.” You start, “how about I repay you?” you hush him before he could protest, “a-upupupup!” you squint, “I’m not finish, like. How about half the price of all these bags?” you asked, “you just spent too much, James. I feel bad.” You frown, taking one of the bags and looking at what’s inside, a plush that you wanted to get but couldn’t and yet James bought it for you.

“No, you d—”

“James, please.”

You plead, his eyes fixated to yours—even your eyes seems to be pleading at him. He finds it so… adorable? Cute, pretty, stunning, and all of the above. His heart racing just hearing your plea. He cough and took his eyes away from you, picking up his fork and slicing his own cake to shove it down his throat.

It feels like he just ignored you and kept eating his slice. You cleared your throat to get a reaction, you sigh when there’s none, reaching out and put your hand on top of his, he flinched and looked back at you—drinking his frappe. You frown at him, pulling his hand to his surprise, pinning it down with your elbow as you took your purse and started to count your paper bucks.

You gave a hundred bucks and closed his fingers around it, as he finally had his hand back, he sucks in his cheeks and counted it in silence—you’re content and start to eat your own slice and sip the drink he had bought you, not until he slides back a few bucks back at you.

Taking it quickly to your hands and counted the money, he only took ten and gave you the rest, you frown and anger rising, “James!” you yelled, he chuckles and put his index finger to his lips and pointed at the people behind him, knowing you wouldn’t cause a scene, though they got startled too and looked back as you shot them with an apologetic look. Widening your eyes at James, finally eating lunch in silence.

After the day ends (which James considered a “date”), he walks you back home with the ten paper bags that he’s carrying, attracting attention from the other neighbors, you open your door and pulled him inside so they wouldn’t be questioned, “you can just leave the bags on the couch.” You advised and gone to your kitchen to wash your hands, “yeah, sure.” He hums, you could hear him gently rummage off the bag from his hand one by one, carefully placing each one down.

You admit, it was fun being alone with James. Being showered with gifts that he voluntarily bought you, buy you lunch and the simple gesture that made you happy. You smiled while you dry your hands, James came towards you and tap your shoulder, “hey.” He called, you turn with a big smile on your face, “hey… uhm… You know, today uhm..”

“No, it’s okay, I know I went overboard but I couldn’t help it.” He sighs and took your hands to his, spreading his own warmth to your own hands, “no it’s okay, it’s just— James, I feel really, really bad that you had spend so much money and not give me a chance to spend my own.” You frown, not liking that one person is spending too much on another.

James smiled and nodded, “yeah.. uh… fine, I’ll calm it down.” You heard him chuckle, it was soft and gentle—you feel your own stomach do the thing but it’s just friendly gesture towards friend, right? Thinning your lips as you nod, you gave him a hug, letting out a sigh, “I’m glad to have you as my friend, James. You made my day… I badly needed it.” You chuckle, pulling yourself from him and pat his shoulders.

Friend..? He’s still considered as your friend… He knew he got to try harder, but not get overboard or it’ll throw you off. He sighs and nodded, “yeah, I figured…” he pauses as you turned around to check your fridge, “oh, I gotta get some groceries.” Mutter to yourself, he caught that and maybe… Grocery date?

“oh, uhm…” James reached out, “Are you free uh—” he cough, shaking his legs and shift his weight, “like uhm..”

“free this week? Yeah, I am but I gotta get some groceries, my fridge is almost empty…” you mutter, scratching your chin with your index finger, “yeah, it’s fine. I could help with that.” James spoke quickly in response, clearing his throat as if its itchy. You closed the fridge and squint your eyes at him, smiling, “okay, I expect some company tomorrow just for buying groceries, huh?”

He pursed his lips and nod, “yeah, I could help you carry them.” He smiles with his eyes, longing and touch starved. He wants to hold your hand for a bit longer, but he resisted; you might see him as a freak if he did.

“All right, it’s set then?” you asked and he nodded, “you should head home, getting a bit dark now.” You added as you escort him to your door, “oh, and James?” stopping him for a second, holding his wrist and looked at him in the eyes, “thank you.” Then let go.

James paused and nodded, his finger brushing a strand of hair from your face and set it behind your ear, “you’re welcome.” He says softly and left.

The next day came and he really did helped you with your groceries, pushing the cart and sort them out when you just throw it in and don’t sort it out so he’s doing the job for you. So that when you’re going to check out, it’ll be easy for the packer to pack and separate the snacks, detergents, raw food, and some cooking essentials—all the hygiene materials you need are on the basket beneath the cart.

He insist paying on the half but fought him for it, smacking his hand from giving the cashier his money—he winces and just laughs about and let it slide, don’t want to cause a scene and for him. The date was slightly at success, his goal was to make you smile and laugh… Enjoy your day and surprised you with a single flower that he picked up from a bush that grew some daisies.

After grocery, he invited you to have a stroll around town and be familiar with it—asking you directions and taking your hand to have a stroll around. Chatting and telling stories of your past as he asked you questions about your favorites along the way, like; “what’s your favorite color?” “roses or tulips? No?” “okay, so. Dresses or..?”

Some common questions that you wouldn’t notice that he’s hitting on you and taking notes of what you love and dislikes, what you’d do on your spare time and favorite thing to do. He’s making an effort—he really is. He just… felt a connection, he really fell hard—too hard that he’ll probably let you suffocate him (with a pillow or with love?)

It took, two days… three to a whole week of spending time with him everyday without the kids, he’s grateful for that but what the fuck—he’s stressing because you always dismiss his romantic gestures to a friendly one, assuming that he’s just being kind and a caring friend.

“Aw, aren’t you such a good friend?”

“why thank you, my good friend.”

“we are friends, right?”

And… he would be lying if it isn’t stressing him out and a week had already passed, the kids would be back home in a few hours, he sighs and waits outside in case that a car would park in front and take the kids per your request to James, you said to him that you two would wait for them outside but you’re taking so long inside your home.

Worried, he steps inside and couldn’t see you on the living room to the kitchen, he saw the door of your room ajar—he pushed it wide and saw you looking at your nose on your body length mirror, “hey.” He called, leaning on the doorframe, hands on the pockets of his jacket, “you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine…” you turn to him, trying to fix your nose contour and adventuring with it, but to him; it looks like you broke your nose from the distance as panic sets in his eyes. You didn’t even get to blink when he dashed towards you, grabbed your cheeks with two of his hands—squishing your cheeks as he inspects your nose, “what the hell happened to your nose?” his tone raised with concern and curiosity.

You groan, having your head tilt with the direction he wants, tilting your head to the side, “ow— James..!” You mumble, lips pouting as his eyes were still wide with horror, it just look like you had broken your nose in such way that’s not possible, “its just my nose contour!” you muffle out, taking his wrist to your hand and trying to pull his grip down, “no, my nose isn’t broken. I’m just having fun with it.” You added, letting out a small snort and laugh.

He rest his forehead to yours and let out a sigh of relief, “not going to lie, that scared me.” He murmur, his breath close to yours as you snicker at him, “I’ll wipe it off and I will do what I usually do on my nose contour.”

“okay, I’ll be right outside okay?” his thumb caress both of your cheeks, tracing circles in a longing and loving way as his eyes bores into yours… the look of being in love, you hum in respond and to him, time and the world stopped just by looking at your eyes.

You two stayed in the same pose for a little while as you notice that he’s been sleeping and eating well, taking good care of himself while he’s admiring you, but before you could touch his face—you heard a small pitch voice coming from your door, “oooh!” you looked as James quickly retreat his hands and put it back to his pocket, and you saw a grinning Veronica from the door of your room.

The kids were already here and witness something that’ll make them go crazy and assume things, “OMG!” yelled Junior, running towards James and hugged the back of his legs, “Jwames is now daddy!” he says, giggling and rubbing his face to James’ jeans.

“Wow.” Says Leo, Kenan on the other hand is sitting on the floor with his stuff plush in his hands—watching his other sibling make a ruckus about the two of you, Veronica giggling and getting butterflies, Junior keeps repeating that James is now their ‘daddy.’

Being a father (well, step-father) is a big commitment, he knew that but… he couldn’t help but fell in love with these kids too, how he feels needed and would look for, they would look for James if he had gone missing, he can take that especially Junior and Veronica would cry if he disappeared.

He welcomed them with open arms, you got down to their level and greeted them with big hugs—running at you with their little arms flying to your neck and giggles and their little aggression roar. Trying to out best you with your tight hug, but they couldn’t, and love your big tight hugs.

You and James did indoor games for the kids, bake them the snacks that they want (and helped in the kitchen too, making a mess on the process), for James—it’s like the family that Mary would want, he’ll carry her wish and fulfilled it with you. Just with you.

~~~~~

Still as dense and oblivious as ever, Leo could even see that James is literally FLIRTING with you with simple yet romantic gestures; flowers, opening the door for you, tying your shoe laces for you, carrying the heavy stuff for you.

But he convinced himself to just wait yet; days, weeks and even a month has passed, flowers bouquet of your favorite type of flowers is almost overflowing to your kitchen, vases and even in your bedroom. He is stressing badly, and yet—he’s babysitting the kids while you were out, Leo’s reading a kids book and the three kids were playing dolls and houses and tea parties.

Leo stared at him, eyes squinting as the boy tilts his head to his side, “ywour in love wit mwommy, aren’t wu?” he asked, asking the question with obvious answer, yet it seems like that Veronica is as nosy as ever and heard it, “I’M TELLING MWOMMY!” she yelled with the most mischievous grin he’d never ever seen to someone.

“shh!” James return her playfulness and picked her up to his arms as James got to his feet, “you’re not telling, mommy aren’t you?” he asked, pinching her nose, making Veronica giggle and pinch him back, “mhmm!” she thinks, pointing her index to her chin and quickly shakes her head, “no!” she said, “but, pay fwirst.” She added with a grin, making the pay me gesture again.

He sets her down, rolling his eyes as he took his wallet out and takes out a dollar, “is this enough?” he asked, giving Veronica the dollar—she grins and nodded, shrieking with excitement, “now, you’ll keep your lips sealed right?”

She nodded and off to play with Kenan and Junior again, as he watches the three kids from the distance, Leo patted your clasp hands and got under and give him a hug, “ywou don’t have to wowwy,” he assured, “I know mwommy likes you too, she pwobably just feels a wiwwle gwuilty about something.” He added, the boys eyes bore into his. Guilty about what?

Guilty for stealing him from Mary if you did.

But Mary’s gone, yet it feels wrong if you answered his silent confession, doesn’t it?

James breath hitches and nodded, knowing what it is—he planned to have an indoor movie date for today, he called the kids and share his plan with them being his wingman’s, they help him with decorating and scattering few petal flowers to the floor and Leo puts the big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table (Veronica took a few and Junior took two snacks along with the popcorn.)

He's making it more obvious, no more low-key hints and just full on saying that he likes you with the petals and romantic shits he could ever think off, the kids then called their uncle to take them away for tonight (James will probably pay for Veronica’s efforts other than just a single dollar).

A few minutes later and the kids were with their uncle, bidding farewell, Leo and Veronica eyed him with a proud glint in their eyes saying ‘good luck’ and that he’ll need it.

“ywous gives us baby?” asked Kenan before being pulled away and his mouth covered by his sister, the question echoes through his head and turned crimson from the thought. A baby is too soon, don’t it? He waits anxiously since the living room literally screams his obvious feelings towards you.

Tapping his feet, holding the bouquet in one hand. Focusing on his breathing as he dims the light, making it more intimate and more obvious since he knew you’re literally avoiding the hints or oblivious about it, and it’s starting to piss him off a little.

He didn’t check the time and it feels like almost twenty-four hours had passed when he could finally hear your keys rattle and the knob turning. He got to his feet and open the door before you, looking down at your purse as you were surprised that James opens the door so suddenly, you smiled and show him the plastic bag you’re carrying, “I bought some fried shrimp to eat for dinner.” You beam.

Noticing that inside was dim, “is the kids already asleep?” you asked, not knowing that their uncle took them out for a while to give James some alone time with you, he needed more time.

“oh yeah, put them to sleep.” He lied, stuttering as he finally opens the door wide enough for you to enter, “is this for me again?” you asked as he handed you a big bouquet of red roses, “uhm…” James took your hand and guided you to sit on the living room couch, “wanna watch a movie?” he asked, taking the remote to his hand and trying to find something that you would love.

Letting out a sigh while you inhale the scent of the roses, you knew where this was going and yet, you’ve always been afraid to answer his silent hints of confession—he is trying hard and you should give him an A for his effort, but in the back of your mind… It just feels so, so wrong.

“James, I know where this is going…” you murmur, placing your hand on top of his, giving him that same longing look that he shows you (he didn’t knew he was so obvious about his expression and couldn’t control it when it’s his feelings), you sight, taking his right hand on two of your hands—giving him warmth since his hands were so cold from his nervousness.

James’ looks over to you, opening his mouth and closing it till he finds the right words to respond, “y-you do?” he stutter, you nod in response and bring his knuckles to your lips, “yeah, but I can’t… it’s just… wrong, you know?” your brows frowned as you utter out, “what do you mean?” asked James, setting down the TV remote.

“is this about Mary?” he asked, cutting you off first before you could answer, you nod faintly as you feel bad about it, he shakes his head and scoots closer to you, “hey, it’s all right. I get it, it feels wrong for you but…” his lips thin, his hand reach out and grabs your chin to look at him, “this.. this is what Mary would want, to move on and continue living my life, to live for myself.”

Silence sets in as you couldn’t find the right words to answer him, “just…” he sighs, hands slowly wrapping around your waist and his forehead resting on top of yours, “give me a chance… please…” he whispers, his tone sincere and loving. Making you melt once you gaze into his green eyes that’s been longing to you, he wished to touch you and have you even be part of your family.

He'll beg and plead for you…

Just, give him a chance.

Please…

The tension was heavy, you let go of the breath you didn’t knew you’re holding back—he’s caging you in his arms while sitting in silence, it feels so wrong to have fallen for a man like him. Yeah, you really did fell for him. Hard.

It’s as if he’s weighting you down to your couch, his right hand around your waist while the other support the two of you sitting up, not wanting to fall and lie down completely. But that didn’t matter did it? Just in a flash, you couldn’t tell who leaned in and finally got each others lips.

Your lips was softer than he thought, his left hand quickly cup your cheek and pull you close—your lips parted as he finds his tongue devouring your lips and mouth, his hands roaming around your curves and thighs, pushing you down completely on to the couch as he’ll lose his mind completely if you keep groaning, letting out soft moans against his lips.

His hands going down to your rear and squeeze your ass, making you shudder and yelp from surprise while his lips were kissing your neck—he pulls back and looks down at you, messy yet beautiful. God, you’re going to be a death of him as he snaps from his thoughts, “sorry, I..” he swallows, “I got carried away I…”

“James.”

“yeah?”

“it’s okay.” You smiled, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him to a fierce kiss, he groans and support the back of your head with his hand while his other roams around your thigh—pulling it close to his hip. He pulls his lips away and inhale your scent, spoiling kisses to your jaw and neck as he nibbled against your flesh.

“Let’s take this to bed.” You just knew that this man will give his all to please you in bed, and that thought made you clench your legs.

He carried you to bed, gently lying you down to your back as he handles everything, taking your hand to his as he slowly kissed each one of your fingertips—muttering how much he waited for this, how you captured his heart and like an arrow shot right through his chest. How beautiful and messy you’d be when he finds his way to your heart… and to your core.

“James…” you moaned softly, he hushes you while slowly kissing his way down from your chest and to your abdomen as he slowly strips your bottom clothes away. Pants and panties, gone. He lifts your legs up to his shoulder as he strips you from your shirt and cardigan.

He chuckles and buried his face to the crook of your neck, “look at you, so pretty f’me..” he mumbled, his fingers circling around you inner thigh; slowly making his thumb to your slit, drawing circles gently to your aching numb, making you twitch and mewl, “J-James..” he loves how his name fell from your lips, drawing pressure from your numb as he lowers himself and faces your wetness.

You could feel your heart pounding but it races more when he blew air over to your core and quickly laps on your pussy without a warning, making you shriek and tense up, hips jerking as you mewl almost loudly, “a-at least w-warn me next t.. time!” your thighs squeezes his face as you felt a vibration while he apologize, “sorry.” Then chuckling, licking your slit hard, his thumb drawing circle again on your sensitive numb.

Your muscle began to tighten up as you could feel your growing release, yet he pulled away to strip himself off of his clothes—jacket then shirt, his belt and unzipping his pants.

He then pulls out a condom from his pants pocket, you squint and asked him in heavy breath, “w-where the fuck did you get that?” he grins and chuckle, “well, I uh… been saving it, just you know… in case something like this happens.” He points down to your naked body, full of sweat and his kisses.

Face turning crimson as you could definitely see that he came prepared.

He pulls down his pangs just eight around his hips, setting his hardness spring free—tearing the condoms packaging and put it on him, you watch him do his job, pulling down the condom to his length and spit on his finger to prepare you.

You hiss as he entered one of his finger, slowly maneuvering hos finger inside you—pressing and stretching you out as you hiss and mewl in response, then putting two fingers in to loosen you more, he wants to shove it inside and fucks you into oblivion but he knew you don’t deserve that, you deserve a slow and careful sex—showing his love for you and make you feel good, not pain.

“I think that should be good.” He mutter to himself, tasting his fingers knowing that you came, he grins and leans down towards you—spoiling kisses to your cheeks and neck, “take a deep breath for me, baby…” he lines himself between your thighs, slowly pushing the tip of his length to your core, stretching you real good.

“J-James!” you mewl out, letting out a sharp moan as he pushes himself deeper till he bottoms himself out. He groans and muffle himself to your neck, letting you adjust and tighten around him, “fuck baby, fuck..” he hisses, wanting to move but he’s waiting for your signal, waiting if it’s okay for him to finally move.

It took a while for you to adjust to him and tap on his broad back, “you can move..” you moan against his ear, he groans in respond as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in—ravaging you deep and slow, taking his own sweet time; hearing you moan his name right beside his ear, your tone pitchy and high, pleading and calling out to him.

What once was slow started to move with desperation and urgency, his thrust became more pressing—he mutter praises right beside your ear while you were already screaming and moaning out loud, “that’s it, baby. Scream it all out…” he mutter, his fingers dig to your hips—pressing you down as he almost pulled out all the way till he slammed it all inside again, making you shriek and tear up.

He hugs you, kissing your shoulders as you desperately clung to him, his hips snapping harshly at your core—the condom feels too tight and yet he wouldn’t remove it, and if it breaks… It breaks, doesn’t matter—he’ll take good care of you, treat you like a queen and do all the chores if he accidentally rip and shoots his load in.

“James!” you whine, a tight coil feeling on your stomach as you have your eyes close, your walls tighten as you scar his back with your nails, he snaps and gives you a few harsh thrust before exploding his load and you get to feel your own peak, and good news. The condom didn’t break.

He grinds his hips, still spilling his load—letting out a small whimper from your lips as he does so, he collapse on top of you while he held you by the waist. He pulls out and skillfully tied the condom and shoots it to the trash bin, “you all right?” he asked, seeing that he tired you out.

He sighs, cupping your cheek and brushing a tear off from the corner of your eye, “did I…” he stops as you shake your head, “n-no… it’s okay…” you assured, nuzzling close to him. Your tired tear shed eyes bore into him, giving him a kiss to his eyelid as you lovingly confessed.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you so, so much.”

He smiles, covering the two of your bodies under the sheet—holding you close and tight as if afraid to lose you, “I won’t be going anywhere,” you assured him, kissing his forehead goodnight. He tired you out and sex makes it easy for you to close your eyes and fall asleep.

Watching you sleep so vulnerable beside him, he snuggles (trying to be the little spoon), as he buried his face to your neck and let out a sigh, “I love you too.” He murmur, a tear fell from the corner of his eye as he finally let his consciousness fade into a deep slumber.

Maybe it was all thanks to her, he gets to have another chance and another love.

Ones once lost and finds acceptance, yet not only did one found acceptance, he also found a home and love.

Lost… Acceptance… And he found love again.

[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 ©

[beauty-and-passion]

TBOB PART 1: OF BILL’S POWERS AND DIMENSIONS (1/2)

FINALLY.

It took me an eternity to finish this post. And not just because I have 32 pages of notes about this goddamn book, but also:

life in general

summer in specific

if I’m supposed to relax, then why do I have so much stuff to do

the goddamn thisisnotawebsitedotcom that I stupidly thought was just a simple website like it was for Lost Legends, ahah how big could it ever be. OH BOY HOW WRONG I WAS WHY DO I KEEP UNDERESTIMATING ALEX HIRSCH WHY

And so here we are, with the first post about this big topic I wanted to talk about. I know that any additional info coming from thisisnotawebsitedotcom can add/disprove my points, but in that case, I’ll just write one more post. I already wrote more posts than I originally planned, so writing a few more isn’t such a huge difference by now.

So, let’s start by analyzing a little closer how Bill’s powers work, how they are related to dimensions and let’s ask ourselves some more questions. Because of course there are still questions: it wouldn’t be Gravity Falls, if there were no mysteries left.

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Obligatory disclaimer

I will talk about the entire book and make spoilers

I will mention all codes (thanks to the Gravity Falls wiki for being so efficient)

I will use any sort of language, but hey, if you have this book I suppose you won’t be shocked by a couple of swear words

I will also mention some of the info available until now on thisisnotawebsitedotcom - or at least the ones I found HERE

And now, let’s start.

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“Dimensional powers”

In the “Reality is an Illusion” in TBOB page, Bill says two important things:

Reality is made of code and madness and microscopic “legos”

Everything big is made of something small and the small stuff can be manipulated

This is a nice reference to the string theory. To put it very VERY simply, this theory suggests that the smallest elements at the foundation of everything are called strings. Strings are incredibly smaller than quarks and, depending on how they vibrate, they can make everything in the universe.

Related to this theory there’s also the M-Theory: to put it even more simply, the strings are not all similar, one-dimensional elements, but they vary depending on how many dimensions they contain, from one to eleven. (Beware: this is an oversimplified explanation. For more details, please check the experts’ ones)

Why those theories are important? Because I think they may offer us an explanation of how Bill’s powers work.

From all I saw in the series and until now, it looks like Bill’s powers are all related to dimensions. If there is a dimension of some kind, Bill can enter, alter or influence it. So if the entire reality and everything in the universe (living beings included) is made of strings and strings have dimensions, than this explains how why Bill was able to:

enter and modify other dimensions (including Earth during Weirdmageddon)

modify other living beings

possess other creatures

see the Third Dimension while he was in the Second

This also may explain the ciphervoyance: if Bill can see the third dimension, then he can also see all other possibilities - and if these possibilities are higher dimensions, then he can see them too.

And yes, this explains pyrokinesis too: if Bill can look into other dimensions and modify them, why couldn’t he modify the strings of one dimension enough to “start fires with his brain”?

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But what about dreams?

Dreams should be different, right? How can Bill look into them? Dreams are not a dimensions, right?

Please, allow me to introduce you to this part from Flatland: the Sphere is talking to A Square about something very specific:

"For I, who see all things, discerned last night the phantasmal vision of Lineland written upon your brain."

It looks like the Sphere has been able to see inside A Square’s dream. A 3D creature has been able to look into a 2D creature’s dreams.

Since Bill’s entire story is heavily influenced by Flatland (we will talk about it extensively in the next series of posts, don’t worry), I think this supports the theory that Bill’s powers are “dimensional” indeed and that dreams are another dimension entirely. That’s why Bill can enter them and possess/read other people’s minds: it’s because that’s an entirely different dimension he can look at, enter and modify.

And, as we saw from the string and the M-theory, it doesn’t matter if we’re talking about a higher or lower dimension: Bill can still look at, access and modify it.

And if you’re not convinced yet, consider that Bill talked about the mindscape as a “liminal basement”. So it’s a sort of “bridge” between dimensions - or a “bridge dimension” that connects the unconscious to the conscious. So if he can enter dimensions, there’s no reason he can’t enter dimensional bridges.

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Powers that would “eat you alive”

All of this seems pretty cool and fun, doesn’t it? We saw Bill using these powers to wreak havoc at O’Sadleys after his breakup with Ford, to switch the function of every hole in Preston Northwest’s face, and to alter reality during Weirdmageddon.

But we also saw him speeding up Ford’s mind when it’s sluggish, calm him down when he’s anxious and rewiring his optical never to see a new color.

And that was exciting, because that’s what I wanted to see. How’s possible that this guy could just enter someone else’s mind and possess it, but not mess in any way with the delicate, complex system of human brains? Humans have a lot of areas and neurons and everything: it’s a perfectly complicated, complex mechanism. Why would Bill miss the chance to do something inside it?

And then, Bill showed Ford a speck of what he’s really capable of:

And that… ooho yes, that’s EXACTLY what I wanted to see. Those are real threats. Rewiring the optical nerve again, not to help, but to entirely alter your perception of reality. Play a tone louder and louder until it drives you insane. Burn neurons, delete memories, push enough switches to make you forget your own name. That’s the fucked up stuff I wanted from Bill! That’s the stuff that makes me think he’s right, when he said the monster “would eat you alive, Sixer”.

Even more messed up, when the next page he said “Oh, those were just practical jokes”. 200% messed up, I love this little psycho, he deserves to burn everything and attend more therapy.

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The questions of how

So let’s recap: Bill is a two-dimensional living creature who has dimensional powers. He can look at, alter and destroy all kinds of dimensions - no matter how big (universes) or small (strings) they are.

Now the rightful question is: how the fuck did he get all these powers? Is this something usual, for 2D creatures to have such godly powers? Of course not, considering no one in Bill’s home dimension was able to do/see what he could.

At this point of my reasoning, I also asked myself: how did he manage to not just look into a dimension but also alter it? Looking into is something, altering is different…

But then, I though about myself. I am a three-dimensional living being. I can look into a 2D world and I can alter it too. I can destroy a flat surface. I can add things inside it. I can intersect it with my shape. I can do a lot of stuff to it. I cannot live inside it like a two-dimensional being, but I can modify it.

So can Bill. He can look and modify other realities - but he can also enter them. Something I, a 3D being, cannot do.

In addition to that, consider that since I am 3D, I cannot enter, see or alter the 4D world. I can figure out a hypercube and try to wrap my head around its shape and how it’s supposed to work, but I cannot actually see the fourth dimension and all higher ones.

Bill, on the other hand, can see any dimension, no matter how high or small it is. He can see them all, alter them all and enter them all.

How? How can a 2D creature do it?

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The lack of a physical form

In the “MY WEAKNESSES” section in TBOB, Bill says something about not having a physical form.

Even in the show, Bill talked about not having a physical form: in fact, as soon as he enters Earth to start the Weirdmageddon, the first thing he does is get a physical form.

That implies he didn’t have a physical form before. But he was also living in the Nightmare Realm, which is “a space between spaces”, a place with no consistent laws “physical or judicial”, and a place in which the realms of physics and reality make no sense. So yes, even a being without a physical form can live inside it.

And even in this book, Bill often talks about himself as “an idea” that never dies. He sees himself closer to a concept, than an ordinary, living being. Keep that in mind for now, we’ll use it for later.

However, now we can ask ourselves another thing: fine, Bill was an idea/had no physical form when he lived in the Nightmare Realm. But what about before that? What happened before the Nightmare Realm?

Before that, Bill destroyed his home dimension.

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In conclusion... for now

I know, it’s evil to end a post like this but stay tuned, because the next one will have the biggest Theory That Might Be Wrong I developed until now.

We've just started.

Next post ->

(How about a coffee? ☕)

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[cryptictongues]

184 Days

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader Series rating: Mature (angst; tw listed below) word count: 13.6K summary: You have a hard time grieving after Clive's passing, even when you didn't need to grieve at all.

warnings:  reader-insert (sorry lol), angst, hurt/comfort, reunions, grief/mourning, slight suicidal ideation, slight self-harm, depression, panic attacks, happy ending (yay!) - this is part of the Flower!Reader series! You don't need to have read the other two but there are references to them if that interests you.

Spoilers: This is post-game stuff. If you haven't played the game, beware.

TW's: This fic contains major themes of grief, so it is heavy. There is minor suicidal ideation and self-harm, not graphic in nature, but it is there. Depression and panic attacks are more common in this fic. If these topics don't sit right with you, please be cautious when reading. You may also reach out if you want to know specifics if you are worried!

Songs: I just want to share that I was constantly listening to When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, Thick Skull by Paramore, and Wicked Games by Chris Isaak.

LASTLY, I am sharing this on my birthday! My birthday gift to you all <3

[AO3 link]

Day 1

The Hideaway is full of people. People from all over Valisthea arrive in droves, coming to grant supplies, donate gil, and help around the Hideaway because today is the day; the day everyone here sends off Dion, Joshua, and Clive for their leave to Origin.

You are working overtime, helping with the final preparations before they take off. The biggest reason, however, for the hard work is the ever creeping anxiety filling your body as the time ticks closer to Clive’s departure; from his friends and family, and from you. This day has been a long time coming, yet now that it’s here you can barely stomach the thought of him leaving. With that thought lingering, every moment together has been even more precious than the next. 

Every moment of free time has been spent together. With today being the day of departure, your last moments together were last night. You both made love all night, and in between sessions would talk about what you two will do once he comes back; creating the life of your dreams together. Yet, in the back of your mind, all you could think was those thoughts were just that: dreams. You don’t know what will happen during Clive’s mission. But it’s fun to play pretend, and to envision what life could have in store for the two of you. 

The sun was in its golden state before its colors showed, telling you it’s almost time. You see everyone gathering on the main deck, Clive and co included, talking with one another as they say their farewells and safe travels. You start your way there, walking slowly as if it would prevent the inevitable. You know the moment you reach Clive, it would only be a matter of minutes before he is no longer within your grasp.

You see Clive talking to Jill, bringing her in for a tight hug as he continues. You see a shake in her shoulders, telling you she feels the same way you do. Just as hard as it is to wish your lover away, it must be just as hard to watch the man who has become a brother figure leave. They grew up together, after all.

You give a farewell to Prince Dion and Joshua once on the deck, giving Dion a firm handshake and a bow, while Joshua brings you in for a hug. You didn’t know Dion for long, but Joshua is a different story. Getting to know your lover’s brother has brought you closer to the both of them. Seeing how happy Clive was with Joshua around made your heart swell. You wonder if Joshua ever felt the same about you two. 

Joshua let’s go of you, a melancholy smile drawn on his face. “Thank you, _____. Thank you for taking care of my brother.” 

You shake your head. “No, thank you for finding each other again. I will be praying for the three of you to safely return to us.”

“I appreciate that, my lady.” Joshua thanks, yet his eyes shift, and he nods. “Here he comes.”

You turn to see Clive approaching you, and you already feel your chest growing tight and eyes water. He is standing before you, looking as beautiful as he always has, but with a sorrowful look that says everything you feel. It’s unfair, really. It devastates you that he is the one to stop all the madness, when in a perfect world he would stay. You keep telling yourself this isn’t the end, yet your gut keeps telling you otherwise. 

“____.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you to stay? To ask to let the world go to hell?”

Clive smiles, solemnly chuckling at your suggestions. “Never.”

You reach for his left hand with both hands, holding it as you rub your thumbs into his palm. “I know it would be futile, all the same.” You utter. “There would be no life worth living for anyone. I just wish things could be different.”

“I am doing this for a better future for everyone. It is what the world deserves.” Clive’s other hand covers your hands in full. “I must do this, so you and I can live the future we’ve always talked about.”

“I wish I could take your place, so I could guarantee your safety.” You choke out, the waterworks starting. 

Clive is quick to react, pulling you into him as you sob softly into his chest. “Knowing you will be safe here will be reason enough for me to make it back to you.” Your hands squeeze his sides, his statement making you want to sob harder. Clive pulls back, taking one hand to lift your head to get a good look at you. “I promise I will be back. Wait for me.”

You nod frantically, sniffling as you take deep breaths to calm down. Clive’s forehead leans against yours, his thumb brushing continuous strokes on your cheek, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You accept his kiss, giving it your all knowing the outcome is unknown. Both of your lips linger, not wanting to pull away because once one of you does, he will be on his way. 

Clive pulls away slightly, his lips still lingering near your own. “I love you, ____.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, placing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I have something for you.”

You reach into the pouch you keep attached to your corset belt and pull out a lily. You thread the stem in between the crease of his corset and tunic, the tightness of his uniform keeping the flower in place. You brush his chest, stalling him a little longer before you accept it is time. “Lily represents reunion. With this flower, you shall come back to me.”

Clive sucks in a breath, releasing with a shutter as if he was on the verge of tears. “I will, no matter what.” 

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Jill still sniffling with watery eyes. She smiles at you before looking at Clive. “We will take care of each other.”

You feel something rub against your thigh and look to see Torgal rubbing his head on you. You smile, rubbing behind his ears. “Torgal will look out for us too.” 

Clive hums, appreciating the sight before him. “This is farewell for now. Till then, we have a god to kill.”

Everyone has now formed a semi-circle around the three dominants about to depart, watching as they walk towards the end of the deck. They pick up their pace, all of them running until they are no longer in sight. A bright light goes off and the next thing everyone sees is Bahamut carrying Clive and Joshua towards an event that will shape the world. 

-

You are sitting on the main deck, legs dangling off the side as you continue to stare off into the horizon. You haven’t left since Clive left, the golden hour long gone and twilight having come and gone, dusk now settling in the sky. It feels like it has been hours since his departure, when in reality it has only been a few. You wonder if they have made it to Origin yet, if the battle has started, if Ultima has been defeated… if they have met their maker for good. That thought makes you shiver. 

You hear footsteps coming from behind you before a presence sits right beside you. You don’t look, but the aura alone tells you it’s Jill and you smile slightly. She puts an arm around you, pulling you into her as you both continue to look into the distance, like they would be back any second. She twists your hair, which comforts you in a way, and you hum. It is silent for a while, watching the sky continue to grow darker and darker until the sky is black with its pearls. 

“Have you prayed to Metia today?” You break the silence with a question. Jill’s fixation that Metia answers prayers is comforting in these moments, especially when every prayer she has spoken through her heart has come true.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t, but only because I wanted you to join me. Our hearts combined will help, no doubt.”

You nod your head, and you both move into a position that faces Metia herself, kneeling before her with hands clasped together. You bow your head, and say your prayer in your head, letting your heart translate it in a way that only Metia understands. You pray for everyone’s safe return with little to no injury. You pray they come back healthy and happy. You pray for the dawn of a new age where you and Clive help build a world you two can grow old in. You pray for everything to be okay. You raise your head as you finish, and you admit that some weight has been lifted off your chest, but an uneasiness still sticks. You turn your head to see Jill finishing her own prayer, and she looks towards you with her hand reaching for yours. You give her your right hand and she grips it with a smile. “Metia has listened to our prayers. Now, we wait.”

“Jill, your faith that everything will be okay is admirable. I wish I had your confidence.” You confess, the sour feeling remaining deep in your body. 

“For the longest time, I thought Clive was long dead. I believed that Metia hadn’t listened. And next thing I know, there he is. Granted, it was years later.” She squeezes your hand, and turns so your knees are touching hers. “That’s why I have faith that they will return to us.”

“Maybe your faith will rub off on me, and not the other way around with my worries.” You chuckle, trying to make light of the night. 

“No matter what happens,” Jill reassures, “I will be here for you. We will be here for each other.”

You nod, and bring her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly which she returns. “Thank you, Jill. For everything.”

You both stay there for a minute, until next thing you know you hear running on the deck. You pull away to see Gav running towards you two, panic clear on his face. “Ah fuck,” he breathes in and out as he approaches. “Edda is in labor. All hands on deck.”

You and Jill gasp in unison, both jumping up to run to the infirmary to help bring new life into this world. And hopefully, a new one.

Day 2

“Alright, one more push, Edda.” 

You are sitting behind Edda, letting her use your hands for her death grip as she continuously pushes and wails out in pain. You, Jill, and Mid are giving her words of encouragement as she continues her labor, and after one final push Tarja fully delivers the baby. A cry echoes throughout the room and the atmosphere is full of happiness and relief. 

“Can I come in yet?” You hear Gav yell from the other side of the door.

“She just gave birth, Gav. Give us a minute.” Tarja yells, eyes rolling hard at Gav’s common sense.

“He’s just excited,” Jill chimes in. “As we all are.”

“Congratulations, Edda! It’s a boy!” Tarja finishes cleaning off the baby, kneeling beside Edda as she passes him off to her. You watch Edda admire her baby boy for the first time, her smile brightening up the room as she talks to him. 

Seeing them interact stirs you with an emotion you wish to experience directly. You and Clive have talked about having children, making it clear you two wouldn’t have any until the world has been set straight. But you two would talk about what it would be like to have a little you or a little him running around or both. You imagine cradling a little boy in your arms, giggling as you shower him with kisses. You imagine Clive holding a little girl, swaying her around while singing a melody. Two giggly children to call your own with the man you have fallen madly in love with. You feel as if your heart could burst from the thought. 

“_____, can you go up to the rear stacks to grab more towels off the lines?” Mid asks, taking you out of your sappy daydreams. You snap out of it, humming in the affirmative before moving away from Edda and heading to the door. You could barely get out the door before almost being trampled by Gav, running in like a mad man. “Let me see! Let me see!”

You chuckle to yourself, exiting the room and heading to the linen lines. Even when things seem dark, you can’t help but keep smiling at everyone’s high spirits tonight. You suppose new life being brought into the world will do that to people because it sure as hell is doing that for you. It’s a good distraction, and you accept it with open arms.

You grab some towels from the line, cradling them in your arms securely as you make your descent to the main deck and up the stairs to the infirmary. You reach the infirmary doors when you are once again almost hit by a body, except this time it was Jill. One quick look at her made it apparent she was crying. She doesn’t spare you a glance as she runs down the stairs, sobs fading as she goes further down. You turn to the open door, shock clear on your face. “What happened?”

Gav and Mid look at you like they don’t know what to say. You look at Gav, tears streaming down his face, and it’s like everything hits you all at once. Towels drop from your arms, your arms no longer working as your body starts to erupt. “No,” you shudder. “No.” You kept repeating yourself, not quite believing what’s happening. No words spoken, and yet everyone is saying your worst nightmare out loud. 

You could see Gav wanted to say something, but before a word could break the glass box you were building around yourself, you ran. You ran right out the door, and ran as fast as you could to Clive’s chambers. You slam the door shut, starting to pace back and forth with your fists yanking your hair. You turn to the balcony doors, and run to them, slamming them wide open before looking out into the distance. You see the moon, as bright and big as ever, yet Metia no longer shines in its vibrancy. You hear a howl and see Torgal and Jill, Jill’s head tilted down as her body continues to shake. Jill’s connection with Metia was enough to tell you that something terrible has happened: Clive is dead.

You back away from the door, utter disbelief and pain seeping into your lungs. He promised. He promised he would return to me. Your mind keeps reeling, and next thing you know you find yourself in Clive’s bed, wrapping yourself in his covers tightly to encapsulate his lingering scent. Sobs devastate your body, almost to the point of not being able to breathe. But you embraced it, for you wish you could stop breathing all together in this moment. 

You fall asleep with choked up airways and puffy eyes, dreams full of a future that’s no longer possible. You dream of him and him alone. You fall asleep in the dead of night, missing the sun greet Valisthea into a new era.

Day 5

Clive would’ve thought he was dead if it weren’t for the loud thumping in his head. He slowly comes to, the first thing he sees being light. It takes him a few seconds to adjust, his eyes working overtime against the strain. He feels sand, and hears the sound of waves. He goes to move his fingers when he notices he can’t move the ones on his left hand. He brings his left arm to his view and sees his hand is completely petrified. He couldn’t see the rest of his arm, but could feel the lack of blood and flesh ending right above his elbow. He pushes himself up with his good arm, hunching over in his spot as he breathes the salty air deeply.

Origin. He had defeated Ultima. The crystal in the sky was destroyed and now he finds himself here on this beach. Based on his surroundings, he concludes he is on the coast of Storm, even though the dark coast was no longer dark, but bright. It could have easily been mistaken for a coastline off of Valisthea, but behind him were still the dead brush of the continent. 

He wonders how long he’s been out for. He vaguely remembers waking up, but not long enough to recollect anything. He reaches up to his face to touch his facial hair, feeling the scruff that has grown out slightly. A few days, he thinks. It was a mere few days ago when he left the Hideaway with Dion and his brother, and now he is the only one left. It burns him up inside knowing he couldn’t save them, and the fact he watched his brother die not once, but twice weighs heavy on his heart. Especially because if Ultima hadn’t chosen him as his vessel, he most likely would have become the Phoenix and Joshua would be alive and safe. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but alas.

Clive knows it does no good to think this way. Just like he would have done anything to save Joshua, he knows just as well Joshua would’ve done everything to save him. He knew Joshua would want him to help bring Valisthea and Storm into a new age. And most importantly, he knew Joshua wanted him to be happy, and deserved as much. I cannot delve into what was, but what can. And what he can focus on is the future, especially one with you. 

Clive suddenly remembers the lily you had given him, and scrambles to retrieve it from his pant pouch with some difficulty due to one available hand. He felt its petals, still smooth and soft, and pulled it out to see it still looked brand new. He lets out a stuttered breath, eyes watering slightly. He almost couldn’t believe that after everything it had managed to stay in one piece, but he knew it was because you had blessed him with it. You had grown it, cared for it, and plucked it for him, and it was his turn to care for it. Just as well, it was time to keep his promise: to come back to you. He has been away for too long, and he must make haste now.

Clive sighs and slowly starts to stand up, gathering his bearings so as to not get too dizzy.  He stands still for a moment, breathing in deeply once more to ensure he won’t collapse before assessing his situation. He will need a boat. He thinks he could find a port somewhere, and worse comes to worse he travels to Waloed to get one there. He will need to eat something to gain some semblance of energy to do said travel. The biggest obstacle for him will be his arm, a heavy weight on his body that doesn’t help his fatigue. He will have to find something to make it more manageable until he can get back to the Hideaway.

He starts to walk up the beach towards the woods; body heavy from his wet clothes, stone arm, and tired eyes. But he will move forward, for you are waiting back home for him and his safe return. No matter the cost, he will make it home to you. 

“Darling, wait for me. I’m coming home.”

Day 14

It has been two weeks since the end of Origin, and to say you haven’t been grieving well is an understatement. You have a hard time getting out of bed these days, and your motivation to do anything is abysmal. You know your numbness is unsettling to other Hideaway members, many not knowing what to say when they see you. It’s like they saw you change overnight; your happy, go lucky self now tainted with expressionless reactions.

Gav has officially transitioned as the new Cid, but has yet to move into what will be his new room. He only comes in to do some paperwork, and read his latest messages. Oftentimes he will come to you, asking if he can get you anything, and he gets the same response from you every time: a subtle shake of your head. You are grateful that he lets you stay here as the smell of Clive’s sheets is the only thing keeping you from breaking all together. 

You had forced yourself out of bed today to go to the Backyard. You sat beside the flower bed, staring at the flowers hoping for something to happen. Flowers were your comfort for a long time, and now it is like they have no effect at all. You look at the lilies that are off to the side, and all you can do is scoff. Reunion my foot. 

You hear footsteps and paws coming down the stairs. You know it is Torgal and Jill, especially when Torgal has been stuck to Jill’s side for the last two weeks. You can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be around you either. 

“You came to pay the flowers a visit. They’ve missed you.” 

“They aren’t very good at showing it.” You shrug. You have been here for a few hours, and your mood hasn’t changed. You feel empty.

“Hortense is holding a sewing class for some new arrivals. You should come and say hi.” Jill says gently, not wanting to make your mood shift further south. 

Deep down, you know you’ve let Jill down. You had promised to be there for her like she had with you, yet your own self pity refuses to acknowledge your lack of empathy. The demon residing in your brain just tells you that no one understands. It doesn’t matter if everyone is grieving about the three’s passing; your happy ending relied on your lover coming back to you. Everyone else can move on, keeping him in their memory. You can’t because a part of you is now dead with him. 

You move to stand up, not wanting to bring her down with you. “They won’t want to see me. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.”

You move to head upstairs when Torgal blocks your walking route, and Jill gets in front of you. She grabs your shoulders, looking at you intently. You can see she is trying hard not to break in front of you, making that deep part of you scream to get over yourself. “Please, _____. You are an important asset to the Hideaway; the Jack of all Trades. I know they would love to meet you. The more kind people like you they meet, the more comfortable they will be here.”

Even since the end of Origin, new arrivals have continued to come in, many wanting to help with the cause. Even though bearers no longer have the power of magicks, it has led to more violence against those with the mark. This has led to everyone working more tirelessly to make strides for a future with new hope reinstated. You have yet to meet many of them, the motivation to do so never in your favor. 

“Clive would want you to continue his legacy.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream how his legacy has taken him away from you. You know your way of thinking is irrational, but the rational part of you is a mountain ready to avalanche. With the last bit you have, you take a deep breath, knowing she is right. He would want you to continue living, even without him. 

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll meet them. I can’t promise I’ll come off as kind. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the strength.”

Jill smiles, brushing hair from your face. “All I ask is that you try. We miss you.”

You three ascend the stairs, Jill locking arms with you as if you’d run away. You make it to the main deck, seeing Hortense and a few new faces sitting in a circle. Hortense waves, signaling you three to join in. “_____, it is so good for you to join us!”

“It’s, um, great to be here.” You say, trying to come off as happy. 

You, Jill, and Torgal join the circle, quick introductions being passed around before Hortense starts her lesson. She is doing a lesson on basic sewing techniques using cross-stitching circles, showing everyone different patterns, styles, and methods for different types of fabrics. One of the new arrivals, Greta you remember her name being, was looking at your stitching constantly. You turn to look at her, and she quickly turns away. You look at her work, and you can tell she is struggling a little bit. 

“Hey,” you say slightly above a whisper. “Try this.”

You show her a trick when it comes to tightening the thread, making it so it won’t want to fall apart. “Okay, now you try.”

Greta follows your method to a T, going slowly as she does it from memory. She smiles, seeing how well it worked. “That’s genius! Thank you so much!”

You nod, going back to your own work with a subtle smile on your face. You remember when you first learned how to sew, and how difficult it was for you. You remember when you had to learn on your own, Hortense having too much on her plate. You forgot how good it was to help others, and even if this feeling is for a moment, you feel lighter. You face Jill to see her glancing at you, a grin on her face as she continues messing with her circle of fabric. You know she is punching the air in success in her mind right now.

The session lasts for roughly an hour, and Hortense puts it to a close. “I’ll hold another class next week. Feel free to practice in the meantime.”

‘Yes ma'am’ is said in unison, and everyone departs to get ready for supper. You and Jill stay behind, helping Hortense put stuff away and create small chatter. As you all finish up, you pull Jill aside, feeling the need to say something. “Jill, I want to thank you. But most importantly, I want to apologize for not being there for you as well. I promise to do better by you.”

“Oh, _____,” Jill coos, bringing you in for a hug. “It’s okay. I understand your pain. We will get through this.” 

You two continue like this, and all you can think is maybe this is a new start. Maybe you can start grieving in a better way than you have been. You know it won’t happen overnight, but after days of feeling like you’ve been dragged into a hole, you sense you can see the light. 

Someone is yelling from afar, and you pull back to see a woman walking quickly to Hortense, a basket of what looks to be freshly clean linens in her hands. You and Jill walk over to see the commotion, only to see another new face. Hortense motions you two over, grinning from ear to ear with the woman beside her. “Ah, _____! I don’t think the two of you have met. This is Willow. She’s been helping me a lot with many of the laundry duties.” 

“Oh Lady _____, it is so lovely to meet you.” Willow says, bowing her head slightly. “Also, lovely to see you again Lady Jill.”

You bow slightly, not used to such formalities towards yourself. Jill chimes in, glee in her tone. “You as well. Thank you for helping Hortense during this time. I know she surely appreciates it.”

“Of course!” Willow chirps. “I was coming over here to tell her the linens for the beds are done. Lady ____, I was able to clean your sheets as well so you will have a freshly made bed for tonight.”

You stop breathing, your ears deceiving you. “W-what?”

Willow was still smiling, not catching on to the atmospheric shift. “Your sheets! Hortense got me to get all the bed linens for a wash, but I went ahead and had your bed made as a good gesture.” 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and your vision is starting to blur. She cleaned the sheets. She cleaned Clives sheets. Not yours, but Clives. The one thing you had left of him, the one thing that still smelled like him, the one thing that made it feel like he wasn’t completely gone from the world, vanishing right before your eyes. You are starting to breathe hard, everything around you is no longer real. It is just you being thrown back into your suffocating glass box, and being thrown back into that dreaded hole. You can hear voices, but can’t distinguish what is being said. It’s when you feel a hand on your shoulder that the glass shatters, leaving you bloody in the dark, dank hole. 

You collapse, the flood gates opening with shrieks and agonizing sobs. You are hitting the wood, small splinters digging into your fist as you continue. You didn’t care because no pain was more painful than what you are feeling right now. You hear running, and more commotion in the background.

“There is nothing to see here, take your leave.” It’s Gav. It fucking Gav.

“_____, please get up. What happened?” 

“This is my fault.” Hortense says mortified. “I didn’t tell Willow that room was off limits.”

Your breathing is now rapid, sucking air and pushing it out because it isn’t enough. Arms wrap around you and you thrash around, yelling and screaming to let you go. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Gav has you upright and the rage you are now feeling bubbles out, turning into hitting his chest. “You are the only other person that goes in there, and you didn’t notice the fucking sheets were gone?! How could you let this happen?!”

“Please, _____. I just got back from Lostwing. I haven’t been there since early this morning.” Gav reasons, getting a grip on you with your arms secure so you wouldn’t do something you regret. 

“That was all I had left of him.” You wail. “All I had was his scent and now it’s gone! It’s all fucking gone! He’s gone!” 

“I got her from here. You three go have dinner.” Gav picks you up bridal style, walking up the main deck stairs. You are still crying, and your vision is blurry but you can still make out what is behind you. Willow is hugging Hortense, both visibly upset. But then you see Jill, who is standing there looking at the ground, none moving. Torgal is nudging her, but she won’t budge. 

I’m sorry, Jill. I broke my promise.

Day 31

One month. It has been one month since Clive’s death, and you are no longer alive; a living corpse that lays in bed for days and days on end. You only get up to use the privy chambers, but other than that you lay there. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. The idea of going to the Backyard, to the Shelves, or even the Ale House is unappealing. Gav usually brings you food, sometimes Jill, but you barely touch it. You eat a little, but your appetite is non-existent; you eat only when your stomach tells you to. 

People don’t visit you like they did. Sometimes Jill, Tarja, and even Jote would come in for a short time. They would try talking to you, they would rub your side to bring comfort, they would brush your hair, yet you wouldn’t react. Those visits have slowly dissipated, and you can’t blame them. 

You hate what Clive’s passing has turned you into. You never thought grief would transform you so poorly. Grief isn’t new to you, just as it isn’t new for most people in the realm. You grieved when your parents passed, you grieved when Hideaway members didn’t return from missions, you grieved when Titan and his Dhalmekian goons killed so many innocent people in the Old Hideaway. But Clive is your one true love; the one man that was able to intertwine his soul with yours. They say once the soul has been torn into two, it never fully recovers. 

You get up from the bed with all the strength you can muster. As you stand, you face the mirror from across the room, and what you see makes you shutter. You walk over slowly, not quite believing that it is you in the reflection. Your fingertips drag along the cool surface, slightly dissociating in the process. What was once full and bright features were now hollowed from lack of sleep, crying, lack of appetite, and the grief that’s swallowing you.

“By the Founder, I look dreadful.” 

You want to heal. You want to get better. Your soul is waiting for your shell of a body to hatch, so it may continue to live. But how can you do that in a place where everywhere you look, you see him? Every corner of the Hideaway is covered with Clive’s aspirations, dreams, and ideas. If you want to move on, to grieve healthily, you can’t stay here. You need to be somewhere that takes you back to a time before Clive.

The moon shines brightly in the room, giving you enough light to maneuver around. You pack a small bag of your belongings, only with things that would benefit your travels, and dress yourself in clothes to protect you from the elements. Once situated, you walk over to what was once Clive’s desk and sit down. You grab the quill and a scroll, and look at the blank paper. Your eyes start to water, knowing this decision will ruffle some feathers, and will create a form of worry you won’t be here to satiate. You think about getting back into bed and forgetting about what you are about to do, but you know this is a must. You are holding everyone in the Hideaway back, and you can’t support the cause if you aren’t getting better. 

You must do this, so therefore you write. 

-

“What do you mean she left?” Jill raises her voice, the shock clear in her tone. 

Gav had come into Clive’s old chambers to send some letters out to town leaders when he saw the bed was empty and made, with a scroll lying on top of the pillow. When Gav opened it, and read the words on the page, he immediately called for an urgent meeting with the main Hideaway members. 

“She left this on the bed.” Gav states solemnly, passing it to Otto who is on his right. “Long story short, she doesn’t want to be found. She didn’t give a direct location to where she was heading. All she said is she will send word when she is ready to communicate.”

“She isn’t in the right state of mind to go out by herself!” Tarja says with irritation. “What is she thinking?!”

“How would she have even left? We only have one boat, no?” Tomes questions.

“We have a second boat in case the one Obolus uses is in need of repair.” Otto mutters, looking at the scroll a tad longer before passing it off to the next person. 

Jill stands up from her seat, huffing as she turns to take her leave. Gav stands with her, already reading her mind. “Where the bloody fuck you think you’re going?!

“Rather than us wasting our breath, I’m going to go find her!” Jill shouts, frustration built into her face. 

Tarja stands up quickly to grab Jill’s arm. “Now wait a damn second. We need a plan before we start going out willy nilly.”

“As you said, she isn’t in the right mindset to be out by herself. She could be dead in a ditch for all we know.” Jill seethes, pissed that nobody seems to be as fearful for her friend as she is. 

“She is strong, Jill.” 

Everyone turns to Jote, who is never one to chime in unless need be. She is holding the scroll, looking at it as she speaks. “I don’t know her as well as you all may, but from what I do know she is very resilient. She wouldn’t leave unless necessary, and this letter proves as much.”

Everyone is quiet, thinking caps on as they process Jote’s words. The first words spoken after the pregnant silence is Otto, turning to Gav seriously. “Gav, you are the leader of the Hideaway now. It is your call.”

Gav ponders for a moment, a bit torn of what action is best to take. You are family and he wants to know you are safe. He also doesn’t want to get in the way of what you need to do to get better. He fears sending Hideaway members out to find you will make things worse. 

“I think,” Gav pauses, sighing in the process. “I will alert town leaders around Valisthea to keep their eyes peeled for her. If she doesn’t want to be bothered, we shouldn’t intrude. Getting a location on her though would be beneficial for us to ensure she is at least safe.”

“Gav is right,” Otto agrees. “She will need to go into towns for essentials and will probably pass through a few.”

“If we don’t hear anything within a month's time, we will start sending out some search parties, but as I said we cannot bother her if we find her. We have to hope she will reach out to us when she is ready.” Gav continues, giving everyone a once over to see if his words are reciprocated.

Agreements are shared, some more hesitant than others, before Gav dismisses everyone to their daily duties. When the last person leaves, Gav collapses into his seat, taking deep breaths as he runs his hands over his face. 

“May Greagor be with you, _____.” Gav whispers to himself.

Day 40

You can’t sleep, constantly shifting under the covers with no sense of relief. You feel hot, which is abnormal for this cool night. You start to burn up, skin flaring until it starts to burn. You sit up, panicking as you throw the covers off of you before you freeze, breath caught in your throat. In the moonlight, there is a figure sitting across the room from you, head bowed down with arms in their lap. You panic in silence, not knowing whether to fight or flight.

“You’re awake.” That voice. You know that voice all too well. 

“C-Clive?” You stutter, not trusting your voice to break the quiet. 

Silence suffocates the room. You wait for a response, but he just sits there. You move off the bed and walk towards him slowly, feeling off about what you are experiencing. He’s dead. Metia’s star went out. This can’t be real.

You are standing in front of him now, your bare toes touching his boots. He still doesn’t move, so you move your hands to his head, messing with the strands of hair from his head. “Clive, is it really you?” 

“You left.” You pause, his tone off. Is he not happy to see me?  

“Clive, I thought you were dead. We all did.”

“And yet, you still left.” He growls, finally moving his hands to grip your waist tightly, on the verge of pain. “You promised to wait for me. You broke that promise.”

“Clive,” you choke. “I’m sorry I-”

“You broke your promise to Jill.”

“I didn’t mean to!” 

“You abandoned the Hideaway, my legacy, like it was nothing!”

“Clive, you’re hurting me.” You are crying now. His fingers are digging into your side hard, and you look to see he is shaking with anger. 

“This is nothing in comparison to how you have hurt me!” He yells, and he lifts his head, causing you to gasp. His eyes are orange, glowing bolder and bolder the more worked up he got. You try to pry his grip off of you, but to no avail. 

“Please, Clive!” You cry harder. “I love you, I'm sorry for leaving! I should have stayed!”

“You are too late, _____.” He seethes. 

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

You shoot up from your bed, screaming in a cold sweat. You look around the room like a mad woman, trying to gauge your surroundings. A wave of nausea overcomes you and you fall to the floor, vomiting from the absolute madness that occurred in your head. You dry heave on the floor, waiting for the next course of nausea to arrive but it never came. You sat up so your back was against the bed, relieved you weren’t going to be sick again, yet frustrated all the same.

You arrived in Dhalmekia four days ago. Originally, you set out to find your childhood home where you grew up with your parents, but when you arrived at the village off to the left of the Northern Velkroy, it had all but been abandoned. Your home, that was left with memories of your old life, ravaged from what you could assume to be bandits. So you kept going, hitchhiking a few rides before traveling on foot. That is when you found a small, two room cottage down in the Fields of Corava, a place you weren’t aware of, having never been south of Dalimil. There was minimal damage; a broken window and some chipped flooring. It was a better place to stay for the time being.

Ever since arriving, however, your mind has conjured terrible dreams with it being the same every time. It was always you and Clive in this room with him degrading your worth. The first night didn’t feel real, knowing that Clive would never act as such with you. But tonight, after having it for the fourth time in a row, your heart is waning.

You stare at the chair you saw Clive in, an increasing amount of anguish washing over you as you look. He’s gone. Your fingers dig into your thighs, trying to ground yourself. He’s gone. You start to choke on air, not wanting the cries of grief released from your lungs. He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s fucking gone!

The shell cracks, the quiet night becomes piercing as you scream. You shoot up to the chair, taking it and bashing it into the floor. You keep screaming, the splinters from the chair and the floor growing with each smack. No matter the ache your body is having, the adrenaline rushing through your it has given your grief new purpose; a cathartic event that is shaping your mentality.

The chair is nothing but wood; the bare bones of it. You get up to open the door, chucking the wood outside the door with rage. The splintered wood digs into your hands, your emotional distress covering any semblance of physical pain. Your screams have turned into wails, angry tears dripping from your face to the floor. 

This rage inside of you stirred by grief makes you feel like you're dying. If anyone told you that Clive’s death would make you transform into the living dead, you’d laugh. How could anyone make you feel dead when you were the cheerful jack of the Hideaway? 

The wood is now dispersed all across the field before you, bathing in the pure light of the moon. You sink into the cottage where the dark swallows you, slamming the door shut and sliding down it as your body continues its assault. Your bloody hands grip at your hair as you rock back and forth, chanting the same two words over and over.

He’s gone.

Day 70

The atmosphere at the Hideaway was the same like any other day. People were up doing their tasks or simply enjoying the day; it has been the same old, same old. 

That is, until the bell on the pier sounded off.

“What is going on?!” Jill yells, everyone looking over the main deck to see the commotion. The bell is only used for emergencies, like if an enemy were to approach the Hideaway. However, Jill sees that people weren’t panicking, but rejoicing. 

Gav runs up to Jill alarmed, trying to get a sense of what’s happening. “Oh fuck me! What’s going on?!” 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Jill says, her and Gav picking up the pace as they walk to see the situation at hand; both ready to take action. The two of them push through the crowd, finally reaching the railing that sees over the pier. The first instant Jill looks down, a gasp is let out with her hand covering her mouth and eyes bulging. 

“No fucking way,” Gav whispers, not quite believing what he is seeing.

But their eyes do not betray them, for the bell has rang not for an emergency situation, but a message that he is alive. Clive is alive. 

“He made it… Great Greagor he fucking made it!” Gav cheers.

“Clive!” Jill yells.

Clive looks up to the main deck to see two of his cherished friends, and right as he makes eye contact with them, he makes a run for the lift. Gav and Jill follow his lead, running in the direction he is to come to officially greet him. The minute Clive steps out from the lift, Gav and Jill are on him, hugging him tightly to make sure he isn’t here to haunt the place.

“You’re alive!” Jill elates.

“I apologize for my late return. I didn’t realize I’d be sorely missed.” Clive jokes, watching as more people gather around them.

“Are you kidding? This place has been falling apart without you!” Gav exaggerates.

It makes Clive chuckle, placing his hand on Gav’s shoulder as he pulls back. “Seeing all the new faces, I doubt that. And that is thanks to you. Thank you for keeping the Hideaway safe.”

Clive feels something rub his leg, and looks to see Torgal rubbing his head against him. He bends down, using his good arm to rub behind Torgal’s ears. “Torgal, have you been a good boy since I’ve been away?”

“Clive,” Jill gasps. “You’re arm.”

During Clive’s travels back home, his arm had become more of a nuisance if anything. He is a strong man; he can wield swords made of the heaviest metals, no problem. But to have an appendage weigh more than the other, well, that is a whole different situation. He had ripped part of his cape and created a sling to keep his arm in place, making travel more bearable.

Clive stands up straight, rubbing his stoned arm. “Yeah… I didn’t get away completely unscathed.” Clive draws out. “But nevertheless, we won.”

“What of Joshua and Dion?” Jill asks, even though the look in her eyes tells him she already knows. All he could do was shake his head.  

“I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.” Clive says, having much to tell. 

“You will, but not before we get your arm sorted out.”

“Of course,” Clive chuckles, and turns to see Tarja with her arms crossed and hip out. He is so happy to be back amongst friends and family, ready to truly cherish his time after a battle where he could have easily perished. But most importantly, he is ready to see you.

Truth be told, Clive’s travels back to Valisthea were consumed mostly by you. All he could think about was how he craves for you to be in his warm embrace, giving him kisses and caresses that would heal him for a lifetime. To be away from you for so long is agony, and what has kept him going was knowing the future is now his and yours; one where you both can live lives worth living. 

He looks around and sees a bunch of familiar faces approach, his original crew gathering around him as they welcome his return. He scans the crowd, nodding to everyone and granting a smile. However, he doesn’t see you within the sets of familiar faces. 

“Where’s _____?” Clive asks, scanning the crowd once more for your face.

Everyone goes silent, glancing at one another trying to communicate. An uneasy feeling settles in Clive’s pit, not liking the reaction he got with his simple question. 

Tarja is the first to speak up, diverting the question quickly with urgency. “We can talk about her later, but first we need to do something about your arm straight away. Jill. Gav. Take him to the infirmary. I’ll be up there shortly.” There was a look in Tarja’s eyes that told Clive she wouldn’t be there for a while, which made that uneasy feeling grow bolder. 

Gav and Jill suddenly hook arms with Clive on either side, walking fast so he had no choice but to follow. Clive could feel himself getting frustrated, having wanted to see you for days upon days and not being granted that wish immediately upon his return. 

He leans down to Jill’s ear, needing an explanation immediately. “Where is she?”

“It is better we explain once we are upstairs.” Jill reasons, although there is a shake in her voice.  

The four of them get into the infirmary, Jill and Gav situating Clive on a cot. Gav whispers to Jill, her nodding in response as he jogs out of the room. Clive looks at her, a million thoughts running through his head at their peculiarness. 

“Jill, what is happening?”

Jill twiddles her thumbs, taking deep breaths as she prepares herself. She looks down at the floorboards, and Clive can feel the tension in the room. “Some things happened while you were away, Clive.” Her breath trembles. “You aren’t going to be happy with what I’m about to say.”

“You are worrying me, Jill.” Clive says, trying to stay calm. “Please tell me what’s happened.”

Jill looks up, eyes starting to gloss over. She places her hands over Clive’s right hand, squeezing it gently. “The night of Origin. Metia’s star went out, and I couldn’t feel you anymore after that. I thought you were dead.

“Jill,” Clive says in a low tone. “I apologize for causing so much grief.”

“We all thought you died.” Jill laughs solemnly. “Seeing you right now doesn’t feel real.” 

Clive squeezes Jill’s hands as a means to comfort her, as well as to urge her to continue. She shakes her head, tears as icy Shiva’s magick slipping down her face. “We all took it very hard. Some held hope, but after weeks of no signs of your return, everyone had accepted it.”

Jill’s breath stutters. “But Greagor, Clive. _____ took it so hard.” The tears started to fall, Jill shaking as she continued. “She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat… oh Greagor she wouldn’t talk to anyone. She would just lay there no matter what we tried to do.”

Clive thinks his heart just tore. The thought of you like that made him ill. And the past tense of Jill’s words make the air all the more suffocating.

“Where is she, Jill? Let me see her, please.” He pleads, needing to show you that he lives and has come back to her.

“I’m sorry,” Jill cries, her head bowing onto their intertwined hands. “I’m so sorry, Clive.”

“Jill talk to me, please!” He begs before hearing the door to the infirmary open, only to see Gav with a small scroll in his hand. 

“Gav, you need to tell me what has happened.” Clive says sternly, knowing another second longer with no answer will send him into a frenzy. 

Gav shows him the scroll, making Clive gently let go of Jill’s hands to reach for it but before he could grab it Gav backed away. “When you read this, know that we have plans enacted.”

Gav hands it to him, taking another step back to give Clive more space. Clive unravels the scroll quickly, the need for answers strong. And he gets his answer, but that answer makes his skin run cold and go hot at the same time.

Gav,

I apologize for putting this on you. I know your transition as the new Cid has been a lot, and I am sorry for making it much harder for you. This space is yours now. Not Clive’s, nor mine.

You know as well as the others I am not well. A part of me died the day Clive passed, and being here has made any progress of healing not happen. Truth is, I see him everywhere. Everything here reminds me of him, and it’s killing me because one moment I see him and the next I don’t. The grief that has consumed me has become everlasting. 

By the time you read this, I will be far gone. Please, I beg of you, do not come find me. Do not send anyone to come find me. I will not come back, at least for now. Any chance of me getting better is for me to go out there, not stay here. I know this will cause worry, and I apologize for being a nuisance, but I have no choice. It’s either I die out there trying or I stay here rotting. 

Tell the others I’m sorry, especially Jill, and take care of her. Once I’m ready, I’ll send word of my whereabouts. Until then, please let me grieve in peace.

Much obliged,

_____

Clive is seeing red. His fist starts to squeeze the paper, crackles and the sound of a tear coming from it. “When did she leave?” 

“It’s been about a month.” Gav mutters, and everything that happens next is a blur. Clive shoots up from the bed, charging towards Gav before slamming him into the door.

“Clive, please don’t!” Jill cries.

“She’s been gone for a month?! And you have yet to find her?!” Clive yells, his fist gripping tightly onto Gav’s leathers.

“We have notified people on the outside to keep us posted.” Gav tries to reassure. “That is what the Hideaway members have agreed on.” His words do nothing to soothe him. If he still had his magick, he is sure hellfire would rain on the Hideaway.

“She needed time, Clive.” Jill rests her hand on his shoulder. “We chose to respect her wishes.”

He scoffs, backing away from the both of them, disbelief clear on his features. “You agreed to this too?”

“You were not here to witness what we did!” Jill yells agitated. “Clive, I understand your frustration, but if you saw how she was you wouldn’t think twice.”

He wants to stay angry, put the blame on someone selfishly. You’ve done so much for the Hideaway, the cause, everyone involved. How could they let you leave? But all he feels is defeat. He came too late, and now he needs to make up for lost time.

“Excuse me,” Clive mutters, walking towards the door Gav is still leaning against. 

Jill shoots herself to grab the upper half of his petrified arm, a grunt forced out at the pulling tension. “Clive, you need to stay right here so Tarja can do something about your arm.” 

“No, I am going to go out and look for her! She needs to know I’m alive!” He tries shaking her grip off his arm, but to no avail as she holds on tighter. Panic is starting to set in, not knowing where you are and if you are safe freaking him out. It is almost as if he is experiencing firsthand what you went through. 

Gav steps forward, putting his hands on Clive’s shoulders shaking him slightly. “We have cursebreakers looking for her daily now that the month of her leave has passed. We will find her. And now that you are back, we will bring her home.” 

“Once you are better, we will go with you to search for her. But for right now, you need to rest. Let the cursebreakers do what they’ve been assigned to do.” Jill reassures. “Let’s get you ready for Tarja. The sooner she can fix you up, the faster you can go out.”

Clive takes a deep breath before nodding, and lets Jill and Gav guide him back to the cot. He sits back down, and all he can do is look down at the floorboards. Anger and defeat have turned into a sadness he cannot fully comprehend; a feeling he hasn’t quite felt before. “Do you two mind giving me some time alone? Please.”

“Of course, Clive. We will be outside if you need anything.” Jill says, before the sound of four feet patter across the floor and the creak of the door opens and closes, leaving Clive completely alone.  

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that; unmoving, eyes glued to the floor. All he thinks is he should have found a way to send a message to you so you knew he had survived. Deep down, he knows there was nothing he could have done given his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop the blame game he is putting upon himself. So he sits there, wallowing in his heartache as his shoulders shake and throat lets out faint sobs.

The letter is still held tightly in his grasp. 

Day 71

Waking up early in the morning before the sun makes its greeting isn’t abnormal for you, not when you dream constantly. Sometimes your dreams would startle you. Sometimes they would make you wake up crying. Sometimes they would wake you up with a smile on your face. But the time is always the same; the moon is always there to tell you the time of the morning and you fall back into a deep sleep before the sun shows itself. However, this time is different. 

In recent days, you’ve had nothing but wonderful dreams. Not ones like when you first came here, or ones about a future no longer possible. They were dreams of the past, deja vu in nature. Fond memories of you and Clive ranging from the first time you laid eyes on him to the last. What’s different about your calling back to the real world is your eyes open to hues of yellow and orange shining through the window. It is not the moon’s beams that greet you, but the sun’s rays.

You get out of bed and go to the door, opening it to step out onto the field. The early morning air hits your skin, the grass licking at your feet as you continue forward. You trek to the spot between the elevated land, a v-shape displaying the rising sun as it continues its ascent. Your hand goes out in front of you, watching your skin transform as the sun’s colors grow brighter. You can’t help but smile at the sight before you because all you feel is peace. For once since Valisthea changed forever, you felt like everything will be okay. 

You think about the first time you and Clive watched the sunrise together, holding each other tightly as you both talk about how it is a new day full of hopes and dreams. You remember him telling you how he has never felt more alive than he did in that moment, and you can understand why; you understand because you feel the same. 

You know Clive would want you to live to the fullest, for that was what he wanted all along. Even if things didn’t turn out the way they should have, he would have wanted you to live for him, but most importantly for yourself. He would want you to remember your time together fondly, and that it wasn’t for nothing. It was everything. 

You inhale deeply, the scents of the morning filling your airways before you exhale. You continue to look out on the horizon, mesmerized by the beauty of a new day; a new start .

“I deserve to be happy, right Clive?” You whisper to yourself. “I will continue to live for you and for me. Starting now.”

This is the start of your new life. 

Day 172

“These are absolutely beautiful, my lady. These are so hard to find in Dhalmekia.” 

You smile brightly, watching the woman before you admire your handy work. “I’m pleased that you love them. Morgenbeards are native to the swampy waters in Rosaria, but I was able to get my hands on some seeds.”

“You must know your stuff to get them to grow here.” The lady continues.

You shake your head, grinning at her. “I have my ways.”

To say things have gotten better would be the greatest understatement in history because you are thriving. It is as if everything has fallen into place. You fixed up the small cottage you are residing in so it felt more like a home rather than a temporary visit. You did a lot of prep work to ensure you’d live comfortably. The greatest thing, however, is you found a way to make a living for yourself, the one thing you do best: grow flowers. 

You noticed how flowers grew in the fields, yet you could tell they needed help; the Dhalmeky dirt too dry to keep them alive for long. You were able to get some books on flower gardening, along with different kinds of seeds, all imported from merchants who graciously accepted the little gil you had. It took some time, but those things helped you open a flower shop out of your home. And thus far, it has been a wonderful success.

You had taken a flower cart to Dalimil to get your name out there, and to let people know where to find your business. You eventually want to move your business within the inn’s market, but when you had come to propose the idea, you found out Lubor had been gone on an expedition. The cart will have to do, you recalled thinking. The people there have been nothing but supportive, offering their business in exchange for theirs: vases, business signs, gardening supplies, etcetera. It was a good system that benefitted you and them. You were grateful.

You are sitting at the kitchen table, having closed shop for the day, sipping on some hot tea as you write down your daily earnings. A hard day’s work is rewarding, and knowing your flowers have made your customers happy makes you happy. To be doing things that feel worthwhile feels good, and the last time you felt this way was when you lived at the Hideaway.

The Hideaway. You stop writing as you reminisce about those times. It really wasn’t that long ago, yet it feels like a lifetime. Have I changed that much? 

You miss everyone dearly. You miss Tarja’s tough love. You miss Mid’s inventiveness. You miss Otto’s gruffness. You miss Tome’s stories of his travels. You miss Jote’s coolness. You miss Gav’s banter. You miss Torgal’s way of comforting you. You miss Jill’s faith. You miss everyone. You often wonder if they miss you too.

You are surprised no one has come looking for you, or have found you if they were. You think about what they must have thought when you left that letter. Were they angry? Sad? Worried? All three? Did they listen to you when you said you didn’t want to be found or did they nonstop look day and night for you? You couldn’t tell. Not unless you find out for yourself. 

You set the daily earnings paper aside, and lay out a fresh one, your quill hovering over the paper as you think of what to say. There are so many words to say, yet you don’t know where to start. Do you share everything? Do you just tell them you are okay? Do you tell them where you are? So many questions to answer with little paper to write it all out. So you write something simple, hoping it gets the message across.

I hope this finds you well. Come see me if you wish. You all know where to find me.

Day 179

Clive’s search for you has been non-stop, days and nights spent looking for trails only to find dead ends. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you could have disappeared without a trace. But that will not deter him. He will not stop looking until he finds you.

Every place that Clive could think of they checked. Areas in Dhalmekia were the first places they looked, knowing you knew the area better than others. The very first place they checked was your childhood home near the Northern Velkroy, but it didn’t look like there were any signs of life there. Different towns within the area were checked but no one had heard or seen you. Hell, they were more surprised to see him alive and well to focus on the whereabouts of a lost woman. He understood, but it grated his nerves. 

Every other place in Valisthea had been scouted and marked as they went, but every location and mark was the same. So here he was, writing letters to town leaders of the cause again to be his eyes. You have to show up somewhere eventually, if you haven’t already. 

As every day passes, his heart wanes further. It yearns for you, calling out its other half to be complete again. When he does rest, granted not for long periods of time, he imagines you are lying with him. He holds a pillow close in his arms, picturing it to be you to subdue his crazed heart and mind. It was nice to pretend, but then he wakes up and is sorely disappointed to see what lies in his arms is just that: a pillow. It’s a cycle because the same thought crosses his mind each and every time: the day you are back in his arms will be a momentous day. That day has yet to come.

He keeps writing the same words over and over on different sheets of paper when he hears commotion from beyond his doors. The fighting instinct in him shoots up, running to the door to see what was happening when he sees Otto, Jill, and Gav running towards him.

“Has something happened?” Clive asks, alarmed. 

Otto reaches Clive first, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. “She has communicated with us.”

Clive couldn’t read the paper fast enough, not quite believing this day had come. He rings out the paper to straighten it before reading her handwriting. “She is staying in a cottage in the Fields of Corava.” 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the lass back!” Gav expresses with full excitement, springs basically on the bottom of his feet with how bouncy he is. 

Jill pats Gav on the back. “Gav, let’s let Clive go alone.” She then turns to face Clive, an understanding smile greeting him. “They will need some time together.”

“Thank you, Jill.” Clive says softly. “I thank all of you.” 

“Well, if that’s the case…” Gav draws out, approaching Clive before slamming his hand on his shoulder, “you better get cleaned up! You have a lady to see.” 

Clive laughs at Gav’s antics, and turns to ready himself; ready himself to return to you once and for all.

Day 184

It’s late in the morning as you gather flowers into your basket, trimming and cutting the ones that have bloomed beautifully. The flower gardens in the field were flourishing more and more every day. The more you work in the gardens, the more fulfillment you feel. You felt this when you helped out in the Backyard, but what you built here is from your own doing. You believe it to be a testament to your growth, showing that you made the right decision all those months ago. You’ve created your own little utopia, and to share it with others is a beautiful thing.

As you cut fresh flowers, you start to wonder if people at the Hideaway got your letter. You would love for them to come visit, and see what you have done with the place. You wonder if they will ever come to see you or if they will send a letter back. It could be any day now, and you will be ready.

You have a full basket of flowers ready to be put in vases, and before you can get up to head inside you see a shadow lingering above your form. “I’m sorry, but I won't be open for another couple of hours.”

There is no reply, and the shadow remains as still as a statue. You sigh, standing up to turn and be more clear with your words. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I still need to se-”

The flower basket falls from your grasp, tumbling out and falling into a heap by your feet. Time has frozen, not feeling real as you look at the person you have longed to see for months. You question if you are hallucinating, having had moments where you would see Clive one second and the next he was gone. This, however, was different.

The man before you was not in uniform; just a simple white tunic that displayed a few of his chest curls at the v-cut and regular black trousers with his leather boots. His face was clean-shaven, the facial hair he had kept for so long absent from his face making him look younger. The biggest difference, however, was his left arm; from his elbow down was gone. How could this be hallucination?

“Am I dreaming or is this real?” You breathe, blinking a few times to see if he’d disappear. He didn’t.

He takes a step forward, grabbing one of your hands to place it over his heart. He is warm, his heart fluttering quickly. He is looking down into your eyes, where you see his baby blues grow glossy. “This is real.” He murmurs. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

Something about his words break you, your hands latching onto his shirt to hold yourself to reality. He’s home. My Clive is home. 

You can’t help the sobs that leave your mouth as you bury your face into his chest, making him wrap his arm around you as you both collapse down into the flower beds. You are feeling every emotion under the sun, and you can tell Clive does too as he holds you in his lap. He cries with you, sharing a reunion so pure that it is overwhelming. You lift your head and bring his face to yours, kissing him so deeply that your lungs shake. Exchanges of small words come out between the two of you as you give each other kisses that have been longed for. 

“I never thought I’d see this day.” You say with a wobble in your tone, kissing him again and again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Clive croaks, and goes back in for your lips.

There you both make up for lost time; holding onto each other in a field of flowers where kisses and touches are continuously exchanged.

- 

You and Clive eventually went inside. You turn the sign on your door to ‘close’, so no one can bother you two. You watch Clive look around the place, taking in your little set up of flowers on the kitchen table.

“I apologize for the mess. I’ve had a lot of requests over the last few days believe it or not.” 

Clive looks at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. You’ve always had a way with flowers. Speaking of which…”

He reaches into his pocket, only to pull out the lily you had given him all that time ago. You gasp, surprised he has kept hold of it. “You still have it? But how?”

“I protected it with my life.” Clive sets it onto the table. “You gave it to me with the wish that I’d return to you. I wasn’t going to lose it easily.”

“You are so endearing.” You say, but you have so many things you want to know and that alone puts a small frown on your face.

Clives sees the shift immediately, grabbing your hand to console you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” 

“What happened at Origin, Clive?” You ask, needing to know what he went through for the time he was gone.

Clive exhales, seemingly knowing that question was coming. He pulls your hand towards him as he walks to your bed. “We should sit down. It is a long story.”

The two of you sit down and Clive still has a tight hold on one of your hands. “Forgive me, for this may take me a second. Thinking about certain events there still hurts.”

You bring your free hand to his face, which feels smooth under your touch. His head leans into your palm, turning slightly to kiss the delicate skin. “Take all the time you need. I am here.” You murmur. 

And so, he tells the tale of Origin. He tells you about Dion’s sacrifice. He tells you about what he found out about Ultima’s plans. He tells you about Joshua’s passing, something he had a hard time conveying without his voice breaking, but he pushed on. He tells you about Ultima’s demise. He tells you about how he woke up somewhere off the Shadow Coast of Storm. And he tells you how throughout his journey back to Valisthea, all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to come home to you. All of it was hard to listen to, hearing what he went through from Origin till now. 

“So, Metia going out was a sign that magick has been lost…” 

“Mmm,” he hums, the both of you lying down now.

“So that’s why you didn’t become wholly petrified? You stopped it in time.”

“Tarja did a great job removing it and ensuring my stub was healed properly, despite my stubbornness.” He jokes, but you don’t laugh. All you can think about is the past.

“If only I waited a little longer,” you start. “I would have saved us so much grief.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.” Clive shushes, kissing the top of your head and pulling you closer into his body. “Jill told me you had a very hard time grieving. I will not shame you for doing something you felt was right.

You bury your head into Clive’s neck, breathing in something that is so undeniably him. “You know, when I first got here, I would have these dreams. Nightmares really.”

Clive stays silent, letting you continue. “It would always start and end the same. I would wake up with you in the room, and the next thing I knew you were telling me I had betrayed you… and that you no longer loved me.” You start to sniff, not liking to recall those dreams. “For such a long time, I felt I didn’t deserve to be happy because I had left part of your legacy behind. It felt like your ghost was haunting me day and night.”

“Oh, darling,” Clive pulls you into him so you are on top of him with legs on either side of him. Clive brings your forehead to his, his thumb coming up to swipe the tears building up in your eyes. “I could never not love you.” He looks deeply into you, burning the truth of his heart into you. “I am yours even beyond death.” 

His words overwhelm you, and you lean down to kiss him with every passionate fiber in your being. Your hands go to his torso, running your fingers up and down the sides as you continue to show him how much you love him. He grunts into your lips, his arm holding you down to him. Your hands start to slide slowly under his tunic, your fingers slowly ascending until they reach his chest only to go down again. The delicate touch of your fingers makes his hips buck right against your heat, a grunt and a moan echoing together simultaneously. Your hands go back up again, only this time you bring the tunic with you. 

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” You say against his lips.

Clive smirks at your boldness, only to flip you over on your back so he is hovering over you. “That we do, darling. Forgive me, though. Having one arm gives me less leverage.”

You hum, bringing him back down to you by his hair. “I’m sure we can manage.”

You two make love into the night and into the morning, not getting enough of one another; making up for lost time.

Day 200

Since you and Clive’s reunion, he had decided to stay for a while. He had sent a letter to the Hideaway to let them know you were well and that he would be staying for the time being, making Gav in charge. 

“He’ll love that.” You had joked.

“He’s his own man. I have all the faith in him.” 

These last few weeks have been sublime. When you wake up, you see Clive snoozing away beside you on your right; always the right so he can wrap his arm around you in his sleep. He has also helped you with the flower shop. You two would go out in the morning before the heat set in to work the ground and water the flowers. You don’t know if the yearning in your body has yet to be satiated, but there have been times when you would come outside to gather more flowers to see Clive with his shirt off, sweat glistening on his burly chest as he works. It takes every bone in your body not to jump his own. Most times, you are unsuccessful. 

You also found out Clive is quite the salesman. When you two would go out to Dalimil to sell from your cart, the way he is able to convince people to make a purchase is astounding. Is it the charm? The looks? A combination of both? You could guess, but it didn’t matter. Every time you made a sale, he would turn to give you a quick peck. 

“I would kiss you for every individual flower we sell, but we don’t want to scare them away now, do we?”

After a long day out in Dalimil, you two are now inside the cottage finishing up dinner. You are cleaning the dishes when you feel him behind you, wrapping his arm around you pulling your hips to his. You hum in a laughing manner, his friskiness showing as he places kisses on the side of your face. “Clive, let me finish these.”

“They aren’t going anywhere.” He hums, his kisses lingering below your ear. 

You sigh but continue cleaning. Clive, on the other hand, was not having it. He pulls you away, soap and water sloshing from your hands as he pulls you to him. He plops down onto the kitchen chair, bringing you into his lap. “Hmmm, I got you.”

“You are such a horn dog. Are you sure Ifrit still doesn’t linger within you?” You laugh, then squeak when he pinches your side.

“In all seriousness,” he murmurs in your ear. “I want to talk about something.”

“About?” You hum.

“About our future.” 

“Go on,” you urge. “What about our future?”

“Well,” Clive starts, “living the way we have the last couple weeks, my mind can’t stop wandering to what I want for us.”

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, only for him to nip at the tips of your fingers causing you to giggle. “Such as?”

“To start the life we’ve always talked about.” He places more kisses on your neck. “One where our lives are strictly ours. One where I come home to my beautiful wife.” 

“I like the sound of that.” You mewl, his kisses making you squirm in his lap.

“One where I get to see you bearing our child.” His hand goes down to your tummy, rubbing just above your uterus. 

“I’ll be surprised if I’m not already with all the love making we have done.” You giggle. 

He chuckles along with you, his hand squeezing your flesh. “You’d look beautiful. You always do.” He continues, “one where I get to raise a little me, a little you, or both.”

“It all sounds so wonderful.” You purr, feeling all warm and fuzzy at his remarks. 

“Then let’s go ahead with step one.” Clive says, lifting you off of him only to sit you back down. He kneels before you, both of your hands in his one. “I don’t have a ring, but I can’t wait a moment longer. _____, will you do me the utmost honor of marrying me?”

You hum, smiling brightly at his question. “Would you have me in a wedding dress? A big ceremony?”

“Anything your heart desires.”

You shake your head, laughing at his insistence. You look at him, letting yourself get swallowed by his eyes. “I’d marry you with just the clothes on my back.” 

Clive grins, bringing your left hand to his lips as he kisses your ring finger. “I cannot wait to marry you, future Lady Rosfield.”

Lady Rosfield. It has a nice ring to it.

[virtues-end]

Your explanation about the Words of Power and if Shea had to use them in the past depending on how we headcanon our MC had me wondering.

Will we get in-game flashbacks about MC's and Shea's first meeting, or is it purely headcanon based with only passing mentions?

Asking because I can't help but imagine my MC just scared of Shea at first, to be honest? Because of how afwul the previous keeper was and all. Like, considering my MC is a barghest, I guess the dog comparisons are all the more accurate, so I'll go with that. It's like the idea that even a dog who bite its previous owner because of mistreatment won't necessarily be bitting any human - it may instead just be scared of other people instead, and once you gain its trust, it will probably be even more loyal and devoted to you than most other dogs. This is sort of what I imagine, but I don't know how much of this is up to our choice!

By the way, if this won't be in the game itself or if you don't consider it too spoilery, what did Shea think back then, if the MC was just genuinely scared of them when they met?

I'd like to include in-game flashbacks eventually. To the MCs time with Shea, or perhaps that first year after they woke up. Or even previous jobs with Shea. I've also considered writing them as separate snippets, but to be perfectly honest I've never much enjoyed writing those (and would much rather focus on writing the game). I also like having everything in one place, available to the reader. :-)

I have written some snippets in the past, however. One from the POV of Shea, and the other from the MC. They're a bit old, but I do still like them. I might even rewrite some of them and add them to the game eventually!

the clearing / imprisoned

Beware that they might contain some spoilers (the clearing specifically).

[ancientmyth]

WRITEBLR INTRO : —

hi! my name is mel, and i'm (trying to) write a high fantasy book. i'm a college student, and i've never written anything before, but this world has been living in my mind for a while now and i want to try and do it justice! i'm hoping that by making a side-blog for this it'll help hold me accountable and actually make progress on this project.

my asks are always open, and i'd love to connect with more aspiring writers!! i have no idea if i'm any good, or if i'll ever make this an actual book, but i really want to try. so any advice would be much appreciated!

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

BOOK STATUS: still just an idea, like massive wip

ㅤin the land of erdemir, in ages long past, an ancient kingdom angered the gods and brought destruction upon themselves. this land is now called the overgrown: dense forest and overtaken ruins, inhabited by strange creatures of varying temperament. the wildlings call this untamed land home, while civilizations are carved into the outskirts of erdemir.

you can see the pinterest account for this wip here— but beware!! it contains spoilers, wip characters, stuff that may get scrapped/reworked, etc.

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

QUICK LINKS:

ㅤbasic info about the lands of erdemir here

ㅤcharacter sneak peaks here

TAGS:

#updates ₊˚⊹ ��� 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦

#erdemir ༉‧₊˚. 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴

#mel talks ₊˚⊹ 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭

#asks ༊*·˚ 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶?

#reblogs & resources ₊˚⊹

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

MISC:

this is a sideblog, my main is @vxlkyries

multi-pov, epic fantasy

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Oopsie Baby 2

I've been scrounging up spoons as best I can to continue with the Jack accidentally getting Alice pregnant idea. I did a small continuation of it in a reblog replying to some tags, but I figured I'd make another proper post for as long as my spoons last.

Let's touch on a bit of the timeline for how this sort of AU might unfold. Beware of spoilers for Sunshine in Hell.

Content Warning: This post contains some spicy talk about sex and intimacy, both positive and negative experiences. I mean, how else is babby formed? There's also discussions about pregnancy, birth control, chronic illness, sickness, contemplating abortion, manipulative behavior, and a dash of overprotective sketchy yandere spice.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

As you may remember me mentioning from previous posts, Sunshine in Hell is my personal alternate continuity of the Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack story and won't follow the games one-to-one. For example, as I've also mentioned in previous rambles such as this one, the relationship that develops between Alice and Jack is more of a slow burn, and that includes being intimate. Their first kiss isn't going to be the same day or just a couple days before they wind up making love for the first time.

Still, the morning after they go all the way for the first time is the same day Shaun shows up to stay at Alice's place. It's just too hilarious to me to imagine how flustered she'd be about the whole thing, especially after Jack seduces Alice while Shaun is there to mark his territory.

So it'd be even more hilarious that this is when Jack accidentally gets Alice pregnant. She was already mortified and upset after she figures out he intended for Shaun to hear them, so why not have that moment cause further drama later~?

Though I suppose their first time could be when it happened as well. I mean, getting knocked up isn't an instantaneous thing. It takes a while for the sperm to reach the egg and what not, and Jack is definitely going to seduce Alice a fair amount of times before the seed that he planted starts to take root.

Which is more reason why Alice kicks herself for not buying Jack condoms. Maybe the surreal and supernatural aspect of their relationship made such consequences slip her mind. Being with Jack is like living in a happy dream, detached from the regular struggles of reality. There's also the fact that condoms are expensive, and she's barely struggling to keep afloat with her meager paycheck.

It's so easy for Alice to forget such troubling details when Jack is there, whispering sweet words into her ear, caressing and kissing her body so lovingly. He makes her feel so beautiful, desirable, perfect, and irreplaceable. It's so easy for her to get swept up by him. She's never felt so loved before. No relationship has felt so right. It scares her sometimes how naturally they fit together, so effortless in spite of challenges they face. It's nothing like her previous relationship.

Not to mention their connection causes his horny urges to rub off on her, increasing her libido. Sex with Jack is actually a pleasure for Alice, unlike previous experiences, and she's found herself hornier than ever after they start getting intimate. She never thought penetrative sex could feel so good, make her feel so connected to someone without any barriers between them.

Granted, Alice was a lot more cautious when she and Ian were together, and she always made sure he wore a condom when he was going in down south. Despite often losing control of himself when horny, and really, really wanting to do it bare, he was pretty good about making sure he was always wrapped.

Though I wonder if Ian remembered to use a condom when he cheated. I mean, he clearly forgot he was in a relationship at the time, so I'd imagine using protection would slip his mind as well. Hopefully he didn't get his affair partner pregnant. That would make things so much more complicated.

Ian and Alice had discussed having kids before, but as a far, far future thing. Though Ian was terrified about being a father, as he wasn't sure he'd be a good one. He never knew his father. The closest thing he had to a father was Alice's dad, Ambrose, and even then Ian felt guilty even thinking about as Ambrose like that, like he was betraying his mom somehow. Perhaps it was because of all his mom's talk about him being selfish with his desires and how all men are cheating scum...

Alice had yet to talk about kids with Jack.. well, outside of him being a kids TV host and being fond of them in general. Certainly, he imagined having children one day with his sunshine, but Alice was taking things slowly with Jack.

Of course now the topic is at the forefront whether they're ready for it or not.

Alice was so distracted by her new relationship with Jack and all the pleasure and complications that comes with it, pregnancy never crossed her mind. Too much is going on for that to come up.

First there's the relationship itself, then using introducing Jack to Shaun as a trial run before Alice tries to do the same with her family. This comes with the whole embarrassing incident of Shaun overhearing Jack and Alice going at it and having to deal with the awkwardness that follows. There's also helping Shaun move into his own place and getting settled in.

It's only after things settle into a new normal that Alice starts bracing herself for how she's going to introduce Jack to her family, though she's started talking about him to them without yet mentioning his supernatural nature.

It'll probably be sometime after Shaun gets moved into his place that things start seeming amiss. Alice suffers from chronic illness, and sometimes this causes her cramps, exhaustion, nausea and food aversion/sensitivity. As such, when these pregnancy symptoms manifest, she just assumes it's business as usual, more or less, even if the nausea gets pretty intense. She's learned she just has to deal with it by this point.

It's only when Alice realizes that she hasn't had her period for way too long that the thought pops into her head.

One missed period is something to take note of, but not necessarily anything bad. Sometimes a period skips a month. Two though... that's when things get dicey.

Heck, Alice could even be as far as three months in if she mistakes the light bleeding that's common to experience in the early weeks of pregnancy for her period.

It's possible Jack noticed something different about Alice. Being a ghost(?) he might possess more supernatural powers than we've seen thus far in the story. It's possible a part of him picked up on some sort of change in her warm light that he can't quite put his finger on. Maybe to him it's like she's glowing even more radiantly than she used to?

Though Jack is more focused on taking care of his poor sunshine while she's sick. Alice has to work even on days when she's throwing up. It's so unfair. If only he could work in her place. If only he could provide more. He spoils her even more to compensate, and she appreciates how far he goes to take care of her, but he can't take away all of her troubles and woes.

Once Alice has the thought she might be pregnant, that's when the fear sets in. She hesitates to say anything to Jack, at least not until she takes a pregnancy test, but it'll be very hard to hide anything from him. Since she's been sick lately, he's particularly keen on going with her everywhere, especially if she's doing something to exert herself. Still, she does manage to talk him into staying home to cook dinner while she picks up "a couple things" from the corner store, one of which being a tester.

Alice doesn't like keeping secrets from Jack, especially since they've become so intimate, but this fear feels... irrational? Like she shouldn't worry Jack about something that might not even be possible.

Like she shouldn't crush his hopes considering how isolated he is...

It's even possible she had a pregnancy scare in the past with Ian and, well... I have a feeling that would've been a very stressful situation involving a lot of tears and fears.

It's better if Alice is the only one freaking out about what might be nothing at all.

Besides... Alice is on birth control. There's no way it failed... right?

Jack does pick up there's something amiss when Alice starts acting dodgy around him. When she rushes immediately to the bathroom after coming home from the errand, he's willing to chalk it up to being related to her illness, but the feeling of panic he senses from her when she takes a while to come out has him soon knocking on the door asking if she's okay.

When Alice gets the positive result from the pregnancy test, at first all she can do is just stare at it in disbelief. She did buy a second one, just to be sure or in case she somehow messed up the first, but the result is the same.

That's when the panic sets in.

When Jack knocks on the door and Alice hears his sweet, concerned voice, that's when she has a bit of a breakdown. She didn't tell him to come in, but when he heard her sob through the door, he couldn't stop himself from rushing in.

Home pregnancy tests in the 80's weren't an easy to read stick, but a whole miniature chemistry set, so Jack isn't likely to recognize the iconic little device Alice is holding in her hand. As such, he has no idea what's wrong and needs to calm her down so she can tell him.

Needless to say, Jack is floored when Alice tells him through tears that she's pregnant.

At first, Jack stares at her, stunned, then when it's clear that he heard her correctly, he's overcome with emotions - disbelief, joy, and worry being chief among them. The idea of being a dad is terrifying, but at the same time he's elated. A part of him wants to spin her around in the air and shout for joy.

It's her fear and tears that mollifies his excitement.

Jack focuses primarily on reassuring Alice, tucking away his excitement and his own worries for later. His sunshine needs him now... as does their unborn child.

Alice is so angry with herself. She should've thought about this possibility. She should've known better... bought condoms, got better birth control, done something! It's all her fault. After all, it's not like Jack can get his own birth control, and he always dutifully follows her lead. How could she have never even thought about this before? She was so reckless.

Jack remains strong for Alice, talking her down from spiraling while cuddling her close. He gets her off the bedroom floor and onto their bed where where it's comfy. She's not hungry for the dinner he made for them, but that's okay. He can heat it up later. Right now taking care of her comes first.

The situation is complicated. Jack understands full well that this is going to be a huge challenge, but he assures Alice they can both handle it. He promised to always be there for her and take care of her after all. He'll take care of her and their child, no matter what.

Alice worries about the logistics of it. This place is too small even for two fully grown adults, let alone a baby. Her apartment in Sunshine in Hell is much smaller than the one she lived in with Ian, with only one bedroom, one bathroom, and a common room sectioned off into a living room and kitchen/dining room.

Her paycheck is pathetic. Even though Alice always makes sure Barry doesn't stiff her on all the overtime she works, it's still barely above minimum wage. She has student loans to pay off, medical bills she has to pay with chronic illness and the like... plus having meals with Jack so he can feel more like a regular human means she's spending more on grocery money. How can that pitiful paycheck stretch enough to handle a baby on top of all that?

Then of course there's telling her family. Alice hasn't even told them about her situation with Jack yet. How is she supposed to explain this?

How is this even happening?

The rest of the day is spent with Jack comforting Alice and talking her through her panic and anxieties. It worries him how upset she is by this news that overall has made him so happy. He does share with her that he's worried too, but he knows that together they can handle anything. They'll be good parents.

Alice does consider abortion as an option, but the idea is too much for her to handle. She can't even vocalize the thought. She's pro choice, but that means understanding herself and what choice is best for her. As hard as having a baby will be at this point in time, the idea of getting in an abortion... she can't even think about it. It's just too much.

Fortunately, she doesn't have to. Jack does pick up on this line of thought and how hard it hits Alice, so he redirects the conversation away from it gently. He gets her to focus on the things they can do to make things work.

It might be happening a little sooner than Alice expected, but she said she wanted to have kids one day, right? It was something she mentioned while they were still just friends (likely when finally spilling her guts about Ian and lamenting all the dreams that were destroyed there). Even if the situation isn't ideal, she has a partner who loves and supports her. No matter what, Jack will be there for her and their baby. He's taken care of her so far, hasn't he?

After quite a long and emotionally exhausting conversation involving a lot of reassurance and love, Jack does manage to coax Alice into eating a little before she finally passes out. They have a plan of action in place, to see the doctor as soon as possible to get this confirmed and make sure she and the baby are healthy. After that, they'll take things step by step.

Money is the biggest issue in this capitalist society. Jack knows it all too well. Though he runs away from memories of being Joseph, the days when he was a penniless drifter still haunt him. He won't let that happen to Alice and their baby.

It's not a good thing what Jack is considering, but he did promise to take care of their little family, didn't he? What kind of man would he be if he just sat back and let Alice do all the hard work?

Still... Jack can't bring himself to go too far (yet). He's Sunny Day Jack! Sunny Day Jack would never consider doing something underhanded and illegal, even if he really needs the money.

But maybe... a few nudges to her boss might help grease the wheels a bit. Barry is such a bully, constantly forcing Alice to come in, especially when she's sick, pushing her to work long hours, trying to squeeze extra free hours of labor from her where he can. He owes her for all of that, as well as all those days off he yanks away at the last minute and overtime he just expects her to do day in and day out.

Jack always thought Barry was taking advantage of his sunshine. He encouraged Alice to stand up for herself more and make sure she got what was owed. He helped on her end, but clearly it's Barry that truly needed the lesson here.

Besides, it's not like a nightmare ever hurt anyone before, or a few sleepless nights for that matter. Jack is just teaching a naughty boss a lesson about respecting his employees and treating them fairly. A hefty raise and some bonuses are the least Barry can do after all the suffering he put Alice through.

If that's not enough... well, Jack will just have to brainstorm more ideas about ways he can take things into his own hands.

What's for sure is that Jack isn't going to let Barry push more overtime on Alice either. If anything, she needs more time off to rest! Pregnancy is hard on the body - especially a body that's already suffering from chronic illness!

Jack doesn't go too far, at least not right away. Terrorizing Barry is something he can excuse as justified in his mind right now. Outright theft or other highly illegal activities to acquire money? Not so much.

At least... not until Ian comes back into the picture, trying to act like the hero and save Alice from her plight.

Ian doesn't find out about the pregnancy until Alice mentions it on her socials. She joined some online support groups for people unexpectedly expecting for the first time, and Ian stalks every single account and who she follows to snatch up any scrap of info about her that he can.

It crushes him. At first, Ian almost believes that it's his baby Alice is pregnant with. It must be.

But that's just impossible. They've been broken up for over a year now.

Not to mention Alice has talked about a new boyfriend in some posts. Ian was going crazy trying to find more than just some drawings she posted about him, but this "Jack" character is like a ghost, with no footprint online.

Ian isn't even sure Jack is real. After all, that face paint and strange outfit look an awful lot like the part he's been hired to play. He actually convinced himself that Alice was stalking him like he was her (which makes it totally okay!) and found out about the part, which means she's indirectly telling him that she misses him by drawing "him" as his new persona that's going to make him a star.

But Ian doesn't say as such to her. No, not with how Alice is stubbornly distancing herself. She's been vulnerable since they broke up. She nearly accidentally killed herself after finding out he cheated. Anyone could've swept in while she was vulnerable to take advantage of her then dip out when she got knocked up.

It boils Ian's blood to think of such a predator targeting Alice like that, especially after he hurt her so badly already. Now more than ever he needs to step up and help her. He needs to cross the boundaries she put up to keep him out, for both their sakes.

So Ian gets in contact with Alice through a mutual friend. Heck, maybe even gets them to trick her into meeting with him someplace where he's waiting with a bouquet of flowers and a tearful apology.

Which isn't going to go over well. Alice would be freaking out at the ambush, especially since she'd be very visibly pregnant by this point and extra emotional due to hormones.

Ian was prepared for that though. He manages to keep Alice from running away and puts his metaphorical foot in the door. He apologizes. Not only that, but he offers her money, claiming there's no strings attached. He owes her at least this much for all that he's put her through.

It's a very unpleasant conversation for Alice to say the least, but she knows Ian well enough to know he's sincerely sorry. She knows he's in pain. He might have tricked her with this meeting, but he does care... He knows she wouldn't have the heart to abort or give away her baby. She's so kind, and she'll be a wonderful mother. He always knew she would be.

Ian feels sorry for himself for a bit, lamenting his mistakes, but he's going to make it up to Alice. She and the baby need help, and he'll do that for her... It doesn't even have to mean they're back together as a couple. Conceding this point is like a spiky lump in his throat, but he reminds her how they've always been each other's best friends, and he wants to be her friend again now. He won't push anything on her. He just wants to help.

Of course we all know Ian isn't going to be satisfied with just remaining friends, but he's learned over the past year or so since they broke up how to adjust his tactics. He's had to learn the art of the deal and how to make people want you in order to make it anywhere in his model and acting career.

Is it manipulative? Of course not, Ian would insist! How could it be? He's just making things up to Alice and showing her how sorry he is. He's proving it with his actions and not just his words. If he proves it well enough then he'll be able to make amends and make things right between him and Alice.

Ian doesn't even care who the father of her child is. He's not ready to be a father, but he views it as a sacrifice he's willing to take in order to have Alice back. He'll do his best no matter how scared he is, since losing Alice has been far worse than all the what ifs and fears he built up in his head.

If not for the pregnancy, Alice would turn down the money. She left the big apartment, her old job that she enjoyed, and a lot of possessions behind after the breakup just because they were tied to Ian. She willingly threw away all that money just so she wouldn't be reminded.

But Alice has a baby to think about. Her child is far more important than her hurt feelings or how icky she feels about accepting charity from her ex. Sure, Barry has surprisingly given her a pay increase lately, but it costs so much to get baby supplies and rent a bigger apartment. Plus there's the medical bills...

It... it should be fine, right? Ian owes her for all the pain he put her through and this makes them even... right? But how can she tell him not to contact her again after accepting it? He might claim there's no strings attached, and maybe he believes it, but the emotions tied to it can't be so easily severed.

Naturally, Jack is anything but pleased by this whole thing. He can't do much to stop it, save encourage Alice to leave, but Ian keeps drawing her attention away from him with pitiful attempts to gain her sympathy. Alice is so kind. Even after how much Ian has hurt her, even though this meeting itself is painful, she still doesn't want to hurt him.

Jack does help bolster Alice's resolve to turn down the money, at least initially, but Ian is surprisingly insistent. He drops the money into her account before she can stop him. He still has her account details from when they lived together and had started intermingling their finances. Alice forgot about that since he never did anything related to it since the affair.

When Alice sees that amount hit her bank account, she's just stunned. How the hell did Ian get so much money? Sure he looked good, and he was wearing expensive clothes and product, but...

Then again, Ian has that modeling job now. He's popular. He talked about this show he got a starring role in. It's hush-hush right now, but he'll let her in on the details since she's his oldest friend.

Alice isn't interested in details. She keeps trying to avoid letting this situation get more personal... but Ian has become more confident since he moved away. He's so different in a number of ways that it's hard to recognize him... yet he's also the same in ways that are maddening and make it so hard for her to stop caring about the little bullied boy who was her only friend in school.

Jack helps Alice cut the meeting short, or at least shorter than Ian would've liked. Ian accepts her retreat reluctantly, but offers that she can contact him at any time. If she needs more money, help with anything, a shoulder to cry on, or anything else, all she has to do is ask. He's there for her... always.

Oh you bet your butt Jack has a lot to say about that sentiment.

Unfortunately Jack can't tell Ian off, at least not there. Sure, he could expose himself, write a message like he did with Shaun, but that needlessly complicates things.

They'll just need to have a private discussion later.

For now, Jack focuses on Alice, reassuring her that she doesn't need Ian or his money. She doesn't have to deal with feeling hurt or awful like she does whenever she even thinks about Ian. She has Jack, someone who loves for her and their baby and will move heaven and earth for them.

Alice did make it clear right away that she's in a new relationship with someone else. She's happy now. She even mentioned Jack by name, though that resulted in Ian giving her strange look she couldn't quite understand. He didn't seem as crushed as she expected him to be. He even asked about Jack, and Alice declined to answer, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

Ian caught how Alice winced when he asked to meet Jack, maybe get his phone number or photo. Her avoidance of any of these just felt like proof to him that he was right about the identity of this "boyfriend" of hers.

The entire encounter was stressful, and felt far longer than it actually was. Alice was left feeling a bit conflicted and unhappy with herself for letting Ian get to her like this. Fortunately, Jack was with her the entire time. It was reassuring to have him holding onto her while she had to face Ian. He gave her the strength she needed and made dealing with suck an icky situation just a bit easier with his reassurance that it was okay to just leave Ian behind. Jack continues to reassure and comfort her after the meeting, which she needs badly after being so shaken.

Keeping the money is something Alice is the most torn about. She doesn't feel good about it, and Jack says they don't need Ian's help, but... they do need money. She's living paycheck to paycheck, and the baby isn't even here yet! She's barely keeping her head above water.

Can Alice really let something as petty as pride keep her from giving their baby a good life?

Jack has been helpful the entire time. His help has been invaluable. Alice doesn't think she could hold it together without him. This money doesn't take away from how important Jack is to her or how much she loves him. It doesn't change who her baby's father is.

Jack can't do anything his sunshine doesn't want, and that includes returning the money.

So Jack will just have to take matters into his own hands. As long as Alice doesn't need that money, she won't feel pressured to keep it.

Alice also won't have to feel obligated to let Ian back into her life if Ian is the one who decides to leave her alone once and for all.

Alice was right that a parent can't let their pride get in the way of taking care of their child. That includes Jack's pride in being the flawless role model of Sunny Day Jack.

So what if a law or two is broken? It's not like the law applies to someone who doesn't legally exist. Jack might as well take advantage of this almost nonexistent state he's in to get away with things no one else can.

Ian might have a lot of money to throw around, but Jack can do so, so much more than Ian could ever dream.

Jack just has to figure out a way to not get caught by the only person who can see him. It's not that Alice would reject him for what he did for her and the baby, oh no! It's just not good to stress her out more than she already is.

Alice doesn't need to know, just like she doesn't need to know about the person Jack used to be. He's still clean as long as she doesn't know. Jack can stay clean and perfect and everything Alice will ever need.

Things might've gotten a bit out of control, but that's okay. Jack can fix it. He's quite the problem solver. All Alice needs to do is take care of herself and love him with all her heart, just as she's been doing.

Jack has been given a second chance. He'll never let anyone get in the way of that.

I think I'll wrap things up on that fun yandere note, as I'm starting to run out of spoons. Maybe next time I can go into the King family's involvement and how Jack might try to win over his new in-laws despite a lot of obstacles standing in his way. I hope you enjoyed this ramble about the drama that comes with unplanned baby making!

[u5an5]

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Masterlist

This is masterlist of summaries of things influencing how campaign goes (or at least should), which include trinkets, pacts, curses and sometimes clothes of and things already owned by characters (may or may not include what in-game time it is cause they are NOT keeping track)

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! Fair warning, this post can contain SPOILERS. If you don't want to be spoiled, STOP READING !

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Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 1 | Circus to Circus

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 2 | Requiem for a Clown

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 3 | Let Them Eat Cake

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 4 | Lose Your Illusion

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 5 | Big Top Bop

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 6 | Guys' Night

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 7 | Tainted Love

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 8 | At a Snail's Pace

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 9 | When the Wagon's a Rockin'

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 10 | Raucous Revelry

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 11 | The Pixie Dust Plot

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 12 | Tunnel of Terror

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 13 | An Elf for All

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 14 | Sashay Away

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 15 | Four Weddings and a Funreal

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 16 | Monarch for a Day

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 17 | When the Hares Go Marching In

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 18 | Snakes & Burrows

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 19 | Bump in the Night

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 20 | Hot Jones

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 21 | Running Up That Hill

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 22 | Hare Today, Gone Tomorrow

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 23 | Stumped

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 24 | Slippery When Wet

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 25 | The One Where Fire Gets Purged

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 26 | Don't Lose Your Head

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 27 | Lord of the Flies

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 28 | A Comedy of Errors

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 29 | The Shopping Episode

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 30 | Phantom of the Hoppera

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 31 | Electrum Chef

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 32 | A Feast for Frogs

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 33 | Up the Wrong Tree

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 34 | A Change Of Heart

Of things obtained: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 35 | Beware the Forest Mushrooms

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Extras:

Things important that would be far too long for main posts

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! Fair warning once again, this section contains SPOILERS. BIG spoiler. HUMONGOUS spoilers. If you don't want to be spoiled, STOP. READING !

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Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 12 | Fear Visions

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 17.1 | Delight from a Gift

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 17.2 | Swamp Visions

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 18 | Mist Vision

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 19.1 | First Initiative

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 19.2 | Mask Visions & Dream Vision

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 22 | Hare Fight

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 23 | Fomorian Spit

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 25 | Firefighters

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 28 | Duel of the Honks

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 29 | Unicorn Vision

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 33 | When the Forest Fights Back

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

🌈IRIS: Goddess of Rainbows, Messenger of the gods☮

Author's note: Hello everyone! In lieu of posting the major gods demigod headcanons, here is the minor gods version! As usual these headcanons will contain what it's like being claimed and what it's like for the respective god and cabin, followed by a small story between you, the reader, and the respective demigod of that god. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! [PJO MINOR GODS DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST] Disclaimer: To new fans or strictly TV watchers of the PJO series, future spoilers for the entire PJO series books will be referenced. Read at your own risk.

When you get claimed, rainbows appear over you and cast you like the faint rainbow light you see when the sun hits the window pane. If it’s outdoors, it doesn’t matter what the weather is like, there’s a rainbow overhead that follows you.

If you were around before the Titan war and are there as you hear a cabin will be constructed, Iris doesn’t wait as she immediately claims all of her children. All of them. All at once. There’s a massive explosion of rainbows that flash everyone and you get hit with even confetti and sprinkles for extra touch. There’s even glitter. Your skin is covered with a thin sheen of glitter…or its Iris claim effect. Your skin is absolutely glowing.  If you were indoors with other children of Iris, well…oh gods, those unfortunate poor souls. If you’re outside, the light and rainbows are more spread out and there’s a double rainbow above in the sky. 

You’re colourful one way or another. Inside, outside, outward, inward, it’s genetic.

Have you seen those weapons that have that rainbow-like colour on the metal? Yeah, it’s a signature of a child of Iris to wield one. It’s not only representative of who they are but also the rainbow scheming has a use that only applies to a child of Iris. What is it you ask? Well, you’re going to have to find that yourself. There won’t be an enemy or foe that faces a child of Iris that will be able to tell you.

“Beware the anger of a patient man” except more like “never make an enemy of a peaceful person”? Yeah, never get a child of Iris mad. Much like a child of Demeter, you really don’t want to break the straw over the camel’s back. 

You and your other half-siblings all have a favourite colour, but now imagine having a favourite hue, tint, shade- It’s not uncommon for each colour group to debate that their favourite colour is superior, for then to only debate within that colour group which shade/tint of that colour is superior. Even monochrome colour isn’t off the table either.

There’s a good chance you or your other siblings will have Synesthesia: where stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway, specifically Projective Synesthesia that have a connection with colour.  Like experience colour when when listening to music, assigning colours to the days of the calendar, tasting or smelling colour, etc-

All except for one universal thing though. You know Skittles and their “Taste the Rainbow”? Yeah. That. There’s a reason for that. An Iris child coined that. You all get free, lifetime skittles. 

You just know what photoshop colour code, pantone, and every other official colour assignment on the spot. Very handy at times.

Tye-dyeing is a very common activity at the Iris cabin. You guys regularly hold workshops with the other campers like a normal camp. In fact, dyeing and altering colours is a child of Iris’ speciality. Heck, they can even dye their own hair and eyes at will (within reason tho. Consequences of such things may apply or not. I.e. you may give yourself red or purple eyes but you also might be affected with the downfalls of being albino).

There have been times where such colouring effects have disastrous moments though. It’s no secret that a child of Iris can take away colour as much as they can give colour. One time, a child of Iris got so depressed and angry they made everything and everyone monochrome. It was…a thing. Children of Hypnos were not happy being affected by the lack of colours in theirs and everyone’s dreams, letting everyone experience what dreams were like before colour television was a thing. 

You have great communication skills, one way or another. Whether it’s vocal communication, literary communication, or whatever, you communicate well, and there’s no miscommunication. Miscommunication is the bane of an Iris child and they will not stand for it.

You all get a toll free call with the Iris messages, which is always a perk. But you do have to at least call Iris every so often, or visit/help her at her stores. Call it parent and child bonding time. That and also giving feedback on her organic products. The organic cookies were fine though.

Speaking of Iris, she’s probably one of the most chill, accepting, and free form parents out there. Of course she’s still a parent and you are subjected to the usual parent behaviour, but like dialled back. You can talk to her about anything, and it is usually done with anything. Sure, she may need some time to come around but it's less wrapping her mind around it, it's just her going, “Okay. Okay. Well as long you’re happy and safe” kind of deal. Coming out to her about anything is still nerve wracking but you know she has your support. Given it’s very ethical, not dangerous, and all that. Cause you know, parents. 

Your flag is the rainbow flag. Interpret that how you want and however you will. 

Every so often, you and your siblings will gather together and travel together to the end of the rainbow, to find a pot of golden drachmas. You all came to the consensus that it’s Iris giving you allowances. Though, be prepared just in case there are leprechauns at the end of the rainbow.

You blinked at all the technicolour happening all around you. There was a mini rainbow over you and it shimmered down what looked like glitter. You moved your hands and you caught a faint shimmer on it that was noticeable but not an eyesore. If you didn’t know better you thought you had put on dusting of powder. 

Your ears faintly heard murmuring, some yelling going “I can’t see!”, among the congrats on your claim by Iris. It was slight but you could hear the slight mocking tone that your mother was Iris, the goddess of Rainbows. You made a frown as the feeling in your gut became uncomfortable. 

You went to yell at the person mocking you until you saw this large boy who had a buzz cut haircut step forward through the crowd. He watched him give a scowl at the gossiper who let out a squeaky “eep!” cowering away as they shut up. 

He glared at them a bit longer before his head whipped to look at your direction. The sudden movement made you flinch and tense up, and when you thought he was simply looking in your direction, he looked at the floating claim above your head before looking down from it and landed his eyes on you. 

You felt sweat bullet out of you as he made his way over to you. You wondered who this guys was as he stepped right in front of you. You stood there, waiting for what was going to happen next as he inspected you; you looked at his appearance, taking in his muscular stature and the almost shaved head. Then you wondered: was he a child of Ares or one of the obnoxious demigods? A small flame of rage began to kindle as you remembered something; how people undermine Iris as a weaker goddess because she was the goddess of rainbows. Then you had the thought that he may be a bully demigod, here to assess you and reaffirm that every child of Iris was weak.

You hardened your resolve and it showed in your eyes. You stared at the person in front of you, your spine straightening as you did. You weren’t going to let anyone think you or your godly parent were any lesser because of their perceptions. You would show them. The two of you stared each other down before he let out a smirk. For a moment, you immediately tensed your muscles for a beatdown but then he gave a satisfying nod. 

“Good, you have resolve,” he praised which threw you in a loop and made you confused. He thumbed towards the onlookers and looked back at them with a disapproving look, making them flinch in embarrassment. “Look, don’t let anyone put you down and make you feel any lesser because of our mother being the Goddess of Rainbows. Iris is just as important as the other gods and is responsible for the Iris communication, which everyone uses. Keep your head up proud.” 

You blinked at him as his words seemed to settle the nasty feeling in you. It was still there but…

“I’ll try” you admitted as he nodded, “Um, not to be rude, but who may you be?” you asked. 

“I’m Butch Walker, son of Iris and cabin leader of the Iris cabin” he introduced and stuck out his hand. You took it numbly as you realised what he was saying. 

“Wait, so that means you’re my…?-”

“Yup. I’m also your half-sibling. So if someone has a problem with you, don’t worry about it cause I got your back.” He also leaned closer and gave a sneaky grin, “And Chiron is good terms with our mom too, so if people try something, they won’t just suffer one’s wrath.”

You smiled as you put more strength in your shake. He grinned with more teeth, before he patted your shoulder, a bit strongly I might add, and guided you away from the crowd. They parted before you as rainbows shimmered in your wake. “Let me help you get settled in the cabin, and when we have time, I’ll show you the pegasus.” 

“Pegasus?” you said a bit excitedly.

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, “Pegasus riding lessons aren’t usually allowed for most but since I’m a pegasus rider, I’m allowed to recommend those who have the talent or interest in it” he said. 

“That’s so cool…I’m willing to give it a try though” you admitted. 

Butch looped an arm around your shoulder and shook it, “Don’t worry, I’ll show you the reins.” 

You nodded and you took a few steps before you realised his puns. 

“Hey-”  

Butch let out a laugh as you couldn’t help smiling a little bit at it.in

[absurdthirst]

Ration Cards {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Post apocalyptic setting, drugs mention, drug usage, prostitution, sex for ration cards, protected sex, slightly rough handling, derogatory language (whore)

Comments: You know Joel Miller has ration cards and you need to save up. To get out of the city so you can find your sister. Willing to get them at any price, you offer Joel something he could possibly want in exchange for a few.

A/N: So how about that first episode???? The THOTs are rampant and Joel is hot AF.

**Not technically a spoiler, but whatever. Beware.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList ||

gif by @magnusedom

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He couldn’t say how it started. Maybe it was the pills, or the pills and the booze. Something to quiet the sounds of her panicked, gasping breathing that led to this. Not that he cares. Not that you care either. Both of you are getting something out of this, that’s all that matters now. What he can do for you, what you can do for him. He doesn’t care what that makes him, what people think. Even if the thin walls are barely containing the sound of your moans. Joel hisses, slapping his hand over your mouth when you get too loud, his hips punching against your ass. “Shut the fuck up, kitten.” He growls, that rasp pitched down, trying to keep quiet as his cock spears up into your hot cunt.

You cry into his palm, tears stinging in your eyes from how good he’s making you feel. No one else fucks you like this. Only Joel. The condom wrapper glistens on the side table from the sun coming into the room and you close your eyes, so close to your orgasm when he pushes deep inside of you. You’re not sure how you got to this point with Joel. You only know that you need what he can give you, no matter what it costs. 

**** 

“Please. I just - I need some more ration sheets.” You beg Joel, leaning against the metal fence while he crosses his arms, glancing around the area for any signs of danger. 

“I haven’t got any.” He huffs and you shake your head, “I know that’s not true. You have plenty. I need a few. I - I need them so I can store up. I want to get the fuck out of here. Find my sister. Please, I need the extras. I can - I can give you whatever you want.” You plead and he shakes his head, uncrossing his arms and you admire his profile for a brief moment. Wondering what he looked like before the stress of this entire situation took its toll on the population. He’s handsome now, you can only imagine how handsome he would’ve been without the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“I said no. Okay? Fuck off.” He hisses and stomps off, making you huff and lean against the fence a little more. You roll your eyes and stomp off to your room, deciding to figure out a way to get Joel to give you what you want. 

**** 

After a lot of deliberation, you decided to offer what most men in the QZ, fuck, the world, wants: sex. You clear your throat, making your way to his building, avoiding eye contact as you keep the coat wrapped around your body. Nothing underneath it and you’re suffering the effects of the cold wind but it will be worth it. You knock on his door, holding your breath for him to be in

Knocks on a door are always met with suspicion, but Joel yanks the door open without a weapon in his hand. Guns inside the QZ are forbidden but a handgun isn’t necessary when you can beat a man to death. The scowl on his face slightly only slightly and he hands his head outside the door, looking left and right to see if there’s anyone else with you before he looks back at you. 

“What are you doing here?” He demands roughly. “I told you, I ain’t got ration sheets for you so unless you need something, go the fuck away.” Done with you and ready to pass out after taking the six pills he had just downed with a shot of bathtub liquor, he moves to close the door. 

You stop him, using your strength to keep the door open. “Wait.” You huff and he reluctantly pulls the door open. “I know you have those sheets, Joel. I- I have something I can offer you in exchange for them.” You brace yourself and fumble with the belt of your coat, opening it to display your naked body to those dark brown eyes that seem to burn into your very soul as if he’s trying to figure out your secrets.

His brow scrunches and he stands there for a moment, contemplating what to do. There’s been a lot he’s done since Outbreak, parts of his soul gone and he in no way resembles the man he had been before. He shakes his head and reaches out, grabbing your arm and dragging you closer. “Why are you doin’ this?” He demands. 

“I told you!” You gasp. “My sister is- I need to find her. She’s out there.” 

It’s a plight he understands, his own desperation to find Tommy since he’s gone silent has led to some dealings he wouldn’t normally do. Another couple of seconds pass, staring into your eyes before he lets go of your arm and straights slightly, his own hand moving to his belt buckle. “Turn around.” 

You inhale sharply that he has agreed to this. You are taking a risk, he might not even have the sheets and he’s telling the truth, but you can’t take the chance of not getting them. You are so close to having everything you need. You reach into the pocket before you shrug off the coat, letting it fall to the floor to leave you naked bar your boots. “Use this.” You hold up the silver packet, not even looking over your shoulder at him.

A condom. Joel takes the rubber and stares at it for a minute, trying to remember the last time he saw a condom. He huffs, putting it between his teeth before he starts to unzip, pulling his half hard cock out of his pants and starts pumping himself. You are looking over your shoulder at him and he ignores your slight gasp, concentrating on getting himself hard enough to put the condom on since you want him to wear it. Much better than pulling out so he doesn’t mind it. 

You stare at Joel while he gets himself hard, your stomach twisting from how thick he is. It’s gonna hurt. You’re no way wet enough to take him but you can deal with that. Those ration sheets are worth anything you have to do. Not that you don’t want to have sex with Joel. You’ve always wondered what he would be like in bed. You bite your lip, wiggling your ass as you grow impatient. “Struggling to get it up, old man?” You tease him.

“Fuck off.” He grunts, speaking with the condom still clenched between his teeth. “It's not like you’re sucking my cock.” He finally lets go of himself and reaches up to tear the packet open. “Rub some spit on your cunt.” He orders while he pinches the tip and rolls the rubber down his length. Listening to you spit in your hand while he spits on his own. “So it doesn’t hurt.” 

You roll your eyes, guiding your hand between you, and you rub your clit, trying to work yourself up. You whimper softly at the sensation and don’t notice Joel coming up behind you. He presses on your back and you lean forward, resting both hands on the arm of the tatty sofa. His hands caress your back for a moment until he is gripping his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and you hold your breath while he pushes into you.

He always loves the second that he pushes inside a cunt. The way the lips spread, stretch around him and the fucking heat. He groans quietly, leaning over your back as he keeps pushing until his hips are against your ass. “Fuck.” He rasps out, twitching inside you for the briefest second before he is moving. 

His hot breath hits your back and you shiver, elbows digging into the worn arm of the sofa. “Shit. You’re big.” It’s not a compliment, more of a statement. This is a transaction. You do like the way he curses though, his cock stretching you out as he sets a slow pace and you close your eyes, trying to relax and enjoy this moment of intimacy, even if it’s not even remotely romantic.

It’s not like he has places to be. The sounds inside his head are limited to your soft moans and the steadily slicker slaps of his hips against your ass. The buzz from the pills starting to take hold and his head feels fuzzy, he feels….good. “Fuck.” He grips your hips a little harder, pushing his cock deeper into you when he feels your cunt opening up for him. “You’re- fuck, you’re tight.” 

You like hearing him say that, getting wetter with each rock of his hips until you can easily take his cock inside of you. When he pushes deep against your wall, you let out a moan. Finally, you’re starting to feel pleasure. Joel notices and chuckles, deep and dark, sending a shiver down your spine. “So how often do you whore yourself out for ration sheets?” He asks, tone mocking enough to make you growl. You kick at his calf, pushing him back so his cock falls out of you and you turn to slap him.

“You fucking bastard-” You raise your hand but he grabs your wrist, a mocking smirk on his face, his eyes glassy enough to make you furious.

“Kitten has claws, huh?” He chuckles and you rip your wrist out of his grasp.

“Fuck you, Miller.” You hiss, “I just wanted what you have and I - I had nothing else to offer you. I have no weapons to spare, no drugs or booze. This is all I have left.” You poke his chest, still naked while he stands there with his rubber covered cock out, uncaring of your anger.

He gets it better than he would like to. Understands more than he should. There’s been plenty of people who have nothing to offer, who starve. It’s a life that almost isn’t worth living but you go on for family. Grabbing your arm again, he pushes you towards the bed. “Get on your knees,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. For worrying about someone he shouldn’t. When you don’t move, he grabs you again, hauling you closer to him. “Get of the fucking bed, kitten, or get dressed and get the fuck out.” 

You can’t leave without those ration sheets and honestly? You want him to fuck you. Even if you don’t cum, you’ll get a few moments where your mind is blank to all the bullshit and you can just be. You kneel on the bed, on your hands and knees, the condom wrapper on the side table he tossed it onto and you glance over your shoulder at him. “You gonna fuck me or what?” You want to rile him up, you want him to fuck you hard.

Reaching out, he slaps your ass harshly before he pulls your hips back. “Shut up.” He huffs, pushing back into you with a groan before he starts spearing into you again. His hands are harder this time, squeezing your flesh before he snakes a hand around to pinch your clit hard enough to make you cry out. “Want you to cum for me, kitten.” He groans as he starts rubbing circles on the swollen nub. You’re doing what you have to and you should get something other than a few fucking ration cards for it. 

You moan when he starts to rub your clit, trying a few different motions until you are clenching around his cock. He focuses on that action, working you towards an orgasm, and you pant out his name, unable to stop yourself when you haven’t had pleasure like this in so long. “Oh fuck. Yes. Keep going. Just like that. You feel so good baby.” The nickname slips out, lost in your pleasured haze and for the moment, everything that’s happened to you since outbreak day fades away and you focus on the pleasure, on Joel.

“You like that, kitten?” He groans, working himself into you harder, his cock now throbbing and his entire body starting to feel. “You like my fingers on your clit and my cock in your cunt?” He knows you don’t want him, but it feels good, the wetness of your cunt starting to quelch and he can forget the sounds inside his head for a while. He might even sleep after this. 

“Yes. Oh shit. I love it.” You cry out, head dropping between your shoulders while he pounds into you, the slapping sound filling your ears and fading out the sounds of people outside. “So - so good Joel. Your cock feels so good.” It’s true, you haven’t had sex this good since before the shit hit the fan. Your husband…God rest his soul…was the only other man who made you feel like this. “Fuck. Keep going. Make me cum. You’re gonna make me cum, Joel. Keep going.” You demand loudly, a squeal escaping your lips when his next thrust hits deep.

Joel hisses, slapping his hand over your mouth when you get too loud, his hips punching against your ass. “Shut the fuck up, kitten.” He growls, that rasp pitched down, trying to keep quiet as his cock spears up into your hot cunt. You don’t need to be so loud, his body plastered over your back, one hand over your mouth and the other still working your clit while he fucks you, grunting into your ear. 

You cry into his palm, tears stinging in your eyes from how good he’s making you feel. No one else fucks you like this. Only Joel. The condom wrapper glistens on the side table from the sun coming into the room and you close your eyes, so close to your orgasm when he pushes deep inside of you. Another half dozen thrusts and he sends you over the edge. You shove his fingers into your mouth, moaning his name around them while you clamp down on his cock. You are shaking from the pleasure and you hate that he’s going to take satisfaction in reminding you of that.

Your cunt is tight, making him grit his teeth as he works himself in and out of you. Fingers moving from your clit to your hip, hand around your mouth tightening and he pulls you upright, needing a better hold on you. Now the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass are loud, almost too loud but he doesn’t give a fuck. Chasing his release with every swing of his hips. Thrusting up into you another half dozen times before he breaks. “Kittennnnnn.” He grunts out your new nickname as he pours himself into the condom, hard jarring thrusts as he rides out his high. 

You let him ride his high, short, jagged thrusts as he fills the condom, and you pant, leaning against him. You have a sheen of sweat from the activities and you love it, love the mindless feeling of an orgasm and the following haze. “Joel.” You murmur, turning your head to press your lips to his but he jerks away from you. “I- I’m sorry.” You whisper but he’s already pulling out of you, tying off the condom to toss into the trash by his window. You shuffle off of the bed, legs shaky as you apologize again but he doesn’t hear you. 

Tucking himself away in his pants first, he opens the secret book he keeps on the shelf, uncaring of you seeing where he keeps one part of his stash, and he hands you about twenty ration sheets. “Here you go, kitten, go find your sister.” He rasps out, avoiding your gaze. 

You frown, feeling dirty now that he’s done with you, and you bend down to pick up your coat, tying it around your waist and shoving the sheets into the inside pocket. “So I guess this is it.” You tell him, clearing your throat. You have enough now to get out of the QZ and you know he’s searching for Tommy. 

“Yeah. I guess so.” He still doesn’t look at you. 

“Be safe Joel.” You whisper, making your way to the door, your boots now the only sound in the room. 

“Be safe, kitten.” Joel murmurs just before you close his door. 

You smile against the wood, leaning there for a moment until you get your footing. “This kitten definitely has claws.” You smile to yourself, pleased that you got what you wanted. Now, it’s time to get ready to leave the QZ. What you don’t know is that you’ll be seeing Joel again sooner rather than later.

[crispydonuts]

annotations in fhh without context (may contain spoilers so beware)

[offonaherosjourney]

Stormlight Archive x Pokémon crossover (Part 7)

Renarin's Pokémon Team

Porygon

Pyukumuku

Indeedee

Slowking

Xatu

Espurr

I picked each character's pokemon team by drawing inspiration from several things: spren, companions, personality, occupation, abilities/powers, story events, and last but not least... vibes.

This is part 7 of 12. This series is getting weekly updates so make sure to check the tag #Stormlight x Pokemon for any future updates.

The reasons why I chose these pokemon are under the Readmore. Beware spoilers!

Finding a Pokemon that felt like a good match for Glys was hard, because we haven't seen much of him. Unable to take inspiration from his personality, I went for looks instead. Ice types that looked ice-like didn't quite work for me (and their color schemes never worked either). In the end, I picked Porygon for their cristal like body and because some of their coloring does match Glys

I don't know if I'll be able to explain why Pyukumuku reminds me of Renarin but I'm going to try, hope this makes sense. Simply put, Pyukumuku reminds me of several Renarin scenes: when he jumps from a rooftop on purpose while training, when he joins the duel in Words of Radiance, and the battle with the thunderclast in Oathbringer. For those unaware, Pyukumuku is a pokemon able to spit out its organs, which usually take the shape of a fist, that is then used to punch anything that needs punching. We don't get to see as much of Renarin as other characters, which is why some of his scenes surprise you when you see how ready to throw down he is.

Indeedee, Slowking, Xatu, Espurr are all pokemon with psychic type pokemon that in some cases are also able to predict the future. I find Espurr particularly fitting, because while they may appear calm and collected on the outside, they're often struggling to contain their strong psychic powers (not to mention Espurr's design has big autistic swagger)

[reignoftiramizu]

The Kingmaker Histories S3 EP1: Operation ZUWIEbreaker (Because my brain is in shambles. Its so good)

The kingmaker histories SEASON THREE EP1 "OPERATION TIEBREAKER" IS OUT And I live reacted...... Per ushe. I am suffering from nuttybrain. The Cause, The Affliction, The Reason Why: The Kingmaker Histories. If anyone is interested in reading my "flipping the fuck out" for 35:23 mins then look below the cut. Spoilers beware. BEWARE!!!!

Ohh my god that transition of: “but to those who may be less familiar – Miss Culver?” SO COOL

The chair creaking as Ariadne leans closer on the “Since you-know-what” OHHHHHHHAAUAGHH WHAT A GOOD LITTLE DETAIL. I SHIVERED

What a cool fucking death for Schultz. Also Im obsessed with Addison’s delivery on “No you don’t. Not before I get that information!”

THE THEME SONG IS PLAYIINNGGG WELCOME BACK THE KINGMAKER HISTORIES. WELCOME BACK!!!! OH ITS GOOD TO BE BACK

Wow this second scene with the main three, AND Baldinotti (HI AUSTIN) AND MARIA (LIZ PLANT NATION!), IS SO FUCKING FANTASTIC Oh it has so much soul. It holds the soul of Kingmaker. Especially the set of lines where Maria is like “What the hells wrong with you??” And they all list down what happened, and then in-tandem, all go “YES” to extra strength. KILLER S3 START. I CANNOT CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT AND IM ONLY 10 MINS IN

LOVE MARIA SOOO MUCH. Because Liz is incredible & melds with the returning cast so much. ITS SO GREAT TO HEAR TAQI & BLYTHE & JOSH WITH NEW MATERIAL!!!! THE GANG IS BACK!!!! I also fucking love Maria to death. I will shout it forever.

Gonna make myself a prussian army doctor

“Hey Telsie” “What” “Matching bullet wounds” “Normal couples get wedding bands” “One of us should shoot Colette so she doesnt feel left out” “If you even think about shooting me Ill kill you” I LOVE THEM SO MUCH FANTASTIC LINES AND FANTASTIC DELIVERY. ALSO “Trouble sleeping?” “OH my god. Could you not–“ THIS SCENE IS AWESOME TOO. FUCK. I CANT STOP TYPING. Love hearing Colette somber.

MANDEL!!!!! MY FAV!!!! (FUCK YOU HOLMANN) MANDEL!!!! <3 <3 AND I LOVE ROXANA!!! OMG!!!!!! I LOVE ROXANA’S VOICE

“Beat. Mandel starts to suspect he’s fucked.” Oh the transcript treat. Listening along w reading the transcript is a treat.

What a tense scene between Mandel and Holzmann WHAT THE FUCK!!!! THAT WAS GOOD!!!!!

Ariadne and Winston fucking Churchill are interacting canonly. Only in Kingmaker. Oh my fucking god. Also “What circle of hell did you pick her up from again?”LMFAO

THE KINGMAKER FUSION SPELL SOUNDS. OH MYFUCKIGN GOD. IM SO TENSE THIS WHOLE SCENE. OH MY GOD!!!!!!! A SECOND KINGMAKER FUSION SPELL!!!!!!!! HARLOW NO!!!!! NO!!!!!!O  HMYGOD!!!! BONBON!!!!!! MORE LIKE BOMBOMB!!!!! WE HAVE ANOTHER COLETTE ADJACENT KINGMAKER HOST ON OUR HANDS!!! FUCK!!! THIS IS BAD!!!! THIS IS REALLYFUCKING BAD!!!!! HELLO!!!!!!

"HARLOW: (shaken to his core) Can I leave? ARIADNE: Of course. Give me a call if you want it taken out." Insane. Love this ^ both deliveries

OK. ENDING THIS LIVEREACTION WITH: FUCKING DAVID AULT WAS ALSO WINSTON FUCKING CHURCHILL!!??!?!?!?????

[syntheticavenger]

Fragile AU: A Sleepover

It's been a year and then some since fragile started and we've gotten breakable and splinter as two additional sequels.

So what better way to celebrate than to have a sleepover while I compile a larger masterlist!

How does this sleepover go?

Choose any of the three below and ask away! Beware, there is a chance your ask may contain spoilers if I reply!

💊 Fragile Ask

🧱 Breakable Ask

💣 Splinter Ask

BONUS:

🛠 Since Life in the Fast Lane also somewhat dabbles in this world, you may ask about them BUT it has to be within the fragile AU - like for example - How does Ari know Stark? etc.

If you're looking for a director's cut/review, please use 🎬 in your ask.

Asks will be closed SATURDAY at 10 PM PST. I will be tagging this sleepover as #fragilesleepover if you want to block the tag if it clogs up your timeline.

Have fun!

[m1ndbrand]

╰┈➤ ⚠ May contain some NSFW content so beware ⚠

╰┈➤My writing may contain spoilers for that specific fandom so yes, spoiler warning everyone!

"Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon"

One-shots:

ānogar hen issa ānogar blood of my blood - Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader

"The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes"

On going series:

"all it took was..." - Coriolanus Snow x Victor!Reader

!About me!

Dividers by: saradika-graphics mikeykuns ; anitalenia.

[joeysmuttonchops]

Jericho: Direct Quotes from 1984-1991

Joseph Wilson, AKA Jericho, was created by Marv Wolfman and George George Pérez for The New Teen Titans.

Joe is mute and DC has varied their care in portraying that. In his original appearances Joe is fluent in sign language, and that is his preferred way of speaking. However, even though Joe is constantly signing, the comics do not always translate his signing for the reader to follow.

I set out to collect specifically direct quotes from his original slate of appearances. From his intro in Tales of the Teen Titans #42 to just before Titans: Hunt, stopping at The New Titans #69. This list collects either direct translations of his signing, or quoted thought/bubbles, with their punctuation preserved.

This does not include his ability to talk using the voice, verbiage, and tone of the unconscious person he's possessing (a power used a lot right at his introduction, which then tapers off), or the times when he is shown to be signing but we are not given a direct translations of said signs. 

This also does not contain his narration in The New Teen Titans #47, which is Danny and Joey reading the auto/biographies of the Titans Joe has written. This is only because that would be a transcript of the entire issue, and I don't think I can fit that in a post.

Finally, this list does not include any spoken quotes from Titans: Hunt, where he was inexplicably able to speak verbally. I didn't include those for two reasons: 1. While there are a few moments when it's clear Joe is speaking and not the Souls of Azarath, ultimately they are both influencing eachother, so we can't be sure it is only Joe's words and verbiage. 2. This post is intended to function as an record of how little Joe was able to express himself in his own/preferred language.

I've included the full quotes, issues they're from, and a brief summery of what Joe is referring to, so beware of spoilers. Where I could not summarize the conversation, I have included Joe and the person he's talking with's dialogue.

I've tried to organize these quotes chronologically, but I may have made a mistake or missed a few. If you spot any, let me know; I'd love for this post to be as accurate as possible.

"Mommy! … Daddy?" — Tales of the Teen Titans #44 — Baby Joe's dialogue when Adeline and Slade arrive where Jackal is holding him hostage

"Will you marry me?" — Teen Titans Spotlight #3 — Joe asks Penelope Lord to marry him

"No! I won't!" — Tales of the Teen Titans #44 — Joe tries to refuse to hurt Dick while possessing him

Dick: "You want to help?" Joe: "Yes." — Tales of the Teen Titans #44 — Joe offers his help storming H.I.V.E. to rescue the Titans

"No." — Tales of the Teen Titans #45 — Joe says he's not ready to show his paintings in a gallery show

"Yes!" — Tales of the Teen Titans #56

"No… I'll help." — The New Teen Titans v2 #10 — Joe says that he'll be the one to help Kole.

"No. Yes. Friends… Not lovers." "Don't be. Stay… Talk… Cry…" — The New Teen Titans v2 #10 — Kole propositions Joey after Adeline finds her father. He turns her down

"Everything's fine." — The New Teen Titans v2 #12 — Joe responds to Kole

"I want to join… to go. Please take me with you." — The New Teen Titans v2 #13 — Joe asks to go with Kory on her return to Tamaran

K: "If you're going, I'll come with you." J: "No… please don't." K: "Why not? I - - I thought you loved me… like I love you." J: "I care… very much… Please understand… please." — The New Teen Titans v2 #14 — Kole tries to convince Joe to stay on Earth

"No." — The New Teen Titans v2 #16 — Joe tells Ryand'r that Kory isn't doing so hot

"Friend." — The New Teen Titans v2 #18 — Joe and Ryand'r agree that they're friends

"I stayed with my mother last night. She told me. I… cried through the night." — The New Teen Titans v2 #18 — Joey has heard about Kole's death after returning to Earth

"Kole is gone and nothing can be done. Go to Dick. His pains have just begun." — The New Teen Titans v2 #18 — Joey tells Donna to comfort Dick, who is reeling from the breakup/Kory's marriage, instead of staying with him after Kole's death

"No." — The New Teen Titans v2 #22 — Joe turns down shooting pigeons

"Yes." — The New Teen Titans v2 #22 — Joe agrees that either he misses the Titans or they've disbanded, it is intentionally unclear

"Yes." — Teen Titans Spotlight #4 — Joe agrees to help Penelope Lord

"Where… is… she… ?" — Teen Titans Spotlight #4 — Joe wakes up after being knocked out defending Penelope Lord

"Yes!" — Teen Titans Spotlight #4 — Addie asks if Joe still wants to be a pat of the mission knowing Penelope might be using him

"Yes." — Teen Titans Spotlight #5 — Joe says he has the promethium blueprints

"I - - agree." — Teen Titans Spotlight #5 — Joe and Adeline agree that the Lords are using them

"Why, Penny - - Why?" — Teen Titans Spotlight #5 — Joey sees Penny working with the H.I.V.E.

"I know." — Teen Titans Spotlight #6 — Joe tells Adeline he knows the Lord's plan

"Home." — Teen Titans Spotlight #6 — Joe explains why the Lord's haven't blown up their base yet

"I have you, my painting, friends. Nothing else is important." — Teen Titans Spotlight #6

"What about Dick, Kory and Raven?" — The New Teen Titans v2 #24 — Donna and Joey are talking about rejoining/reforming the New Teen Titans

"Thank you." — The New Teen Titans v2 #24 — Joe is replying to Wally's compliments

"Donna, turn to me… I can phase into you… Free myself that way." — The New Teen Titans v2 #27 — Joey has been tied to a lightning rod by the brotherhood of evil, Donna is trying to rescue him

"Im going to help or die trying!" — Action Comics #584 — Joey is teaching sign language at a street school when he hears the Titans are fighting Superman

"Down, Starfire." — The New Teen Titans v2 #33 — The bridge by Titan's Tower is collapsing, Joey wants to get into the water to start rescues

J: "Worried." D: "About What?" J: "You." — The New Teen Titans v2 #33 — Conversation between Dick and Joey, when Dick picks Joey up at his apartment. 

"Okay." — The New Teen Titans v2 #33 — Joey confirms Raven's medical status.

*I can't tell if this is Joe or Sarah signing "I mean, he's not the first guy I broke up with, huh? What are you signing?" — The New Teen Titans v2 #41 — Joey is talking with Sarah Simms

"I know… I know…" —The New Teen Titans v2 #46 — After Vicki assaults him, Chris King is worried about what Vicki would have done to Joey if she had caught him

"And I have a date with Tish… at M.O.M.A." — The New Teen Titans v2 #47 — Joey turns down an invite to go to the movies with the Titans

"I don't know." — The New Titans v1 Annual #5 — Joe's answer when Dick asks him where Raven is.

"Night-night!" —The New Titans v1 #52 — Joey tells Vic to knock out the guy he's possessing

"D-I-C-K. R-A-V-E-N." — The New Titans v1 #61 — Joe fingerspells Dick and Raven's names.

"I do." — The New Titans v1 #63 — Gar asks Joe if he knows he and Slade are friends