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onlyseokmins · 9 months ago

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$$60 billion (part 2) • 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: 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, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | 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 hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

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

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yuri-is-online · 1 year ago

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Hi hi, Can you please to prompt 4 with Malleus,Vil, and Riddle?

4. You met someone really wonderful at the Masquerade Ball and have been ranting about how he was totally the love of your life to your abnormally quiet friend. Actually wasn't he invited too? Maybe you should ask him how that went.

Hello hello and of course I can, and I agree with the first ask you sent me. I was not really thinking of Malleus specifically when I wrote that prompt but it really does suit him doesn't it?

Oh also, welcome to the hell site. I noticed you're new from the few asks you sent me (I was so confused as to how a blank blog was talking to me), I hope you have fun with the content on here. New people are always welcome with me, I know all about being shy and uncertain of how to interact with people. I'll answer the other Malleus prompt you sent in after I have done some others, it was my bad for not realizing you were the same person haha.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, full shojo manga lack of self awareness here in Malleus's part (it is implied to take place before the Ch. 6 reveal), just don't think about it is Yuu's middle name. The rest of the requests can be found on my masterlist here.

Malleus

"Tsunotarou, you know a lot about gargoyles, right?" Such a foolish yet welcome question. Truly your unawareness of just who you are conversing with never ceases to amaze and infatuate him.

"Of course, I am something of an expert." He smiles, trying to keep it from showing the whites of his teeth.

"Oh well then you must be very happy to be in Diasomnia." Your eyes are sparkling, and he pauses. Yes he is very happy to be in Diasomnia, but not for the gargoyles. Briar Valley has long respected the legacy of the Thorn Fairy, and what better house could there be for the noblest of nobles than one that's very core is the spirit of nobility? But these are not exactly things he wishes to speak with you about, it would require detailed revelations he fears the consequences of.

"And what makes you think that, child of man?" Still there must be cause for your reasoning, and he does wish to hear it.

"Well your housewarden is one, isn't he?" You seem very pleased with yourself, but your mind is clearly very far away. Malleus stares at you, eyes wide in shock as he attempts to piece together what logic might have drawn you to such a conclusion. "I met him last night." Your dreamy sigh fills him with jealousy, just irrational enough that the thunder crack above you is quite small enough that he can convince you to remain outside of Ramshackle in conversation with him.

"Your mask is really impressive!" Your eyes always shone at the simplest displays of magic, it filled Malleus with a joy he could never quite find his fill of.

"Mask?!" Roars Sebek, his volume matching the pride rapidly feeling Malleus's chest. "Foolish human, this is more than a mere mask! This is a display of my lord's skill! A perfect recreation of old Briar Valley Masquerade tradition! His artistic talent has been woven though magic to bear his true face for the world to see-"

"That's quite enough Sebek." He does enjoy his retainers praise, but he has a task in mind that the over excited boy might- no will definitely endanger if he speaks further.

"But my lord!" Poor Sebek is torn between embarrassment, jelousy, and concern as he watches his precious lord observe you in the same manner one might a particularly expensive jewel.

"They have given me a most treasured compliment and I wish to reward them in turn." He bows, making sure to flourish his hand as he extends it, taking great pleasure in the little shudder that he only sees unaccompanied by fear in you. "May I have this dance, prefect?"

"Y-yes. You may." You seem in a daze as he takes you to the floor, just as unaware of the others around you as he is. It's wonderful, no matter how many times he visits you he has never had such a good excuse to hold you as this. Your scent, the weight of you in his arms, the way he can better familiarize himself with the subtle movements of your face is all much more real and overwhelming than he had ever imagined it being. It's all Lilia can do to drag him away, whispering teasing things about impropriety and duty to soothe the storm at his fingertips as he sees your friends scoop you up where he left off.

"He is a very handsome gargoyle. And so polite! But then I guess he is royalty so that makes sense..." The continued thunder has you inviting him in, mentioning something about tea he really can't be bothered to think about.

"No he isn't." Malleus pouts. "The nobility of Briar Valley has a reputation for being extremely dour and irrational."

"Oh. Well no wonder he seemed so happy I danced with him. Poor fellow must be very lonely." Oh if only you knew.

"Enough about my housewarden." Malleus declares without a hint of irony, bowing in a familiar fashion to prevent you from entering your kitchen. "He isn't the one you are talking to now is he? He isn't the one who you will be thinking about when you dream tonight." In a slight daze you take his hand, the living room fills with green fireflies as the storm outside slows to a halt as kinder, not softer emotions fill the young lord's heart. "He isn't the one your last dance is for, so focus on me, won't you?"

Vil

"This is why I told you to make sure whatever costume Crewel gave you came with a coat." Vil is beyond angry, with you certainly, but mostly at- life? The fact humans have an immune system that doesn't always work? You have no clue and your head is much too stuffed up to care. What you do care about is that Vil is here, and he really shouldn't be. Colds are contagious and Vil has so many things that he should be doing other than fussing over someone who is not in his dorm and not his responsibility.

"You could get sick." You say and he laughs, if you could see him, if he was not sat behind you on a bed in one of Pomefiore's empty rooms, you know the look he would have on his face. You would see his stupidly beautiful smug smile he has when he has something particularly cutting to say; instead you have to close your eyes and picture it as he pats your head dry just a bit more forcefully.

"Not my responsibility you say? You certainly seem to have a funny view of this." Vil has a word on the tip of his tongue. A word that's ambiguous, a word that would make his manager have a fit. If only she had been a fly on the wall during the Masquerade last night.

"My my, you seem a bit out of place." The tall stranger must be confused at your staring, but he seems more amused than offended. "Does my costume enchant you that much?"

"It reminded me of something." It would hard enough to explain to a friend what you are thinking of, harder still to a stranger. The scarlet costume could have been taken from a playbill, you find yourself looking him over for any sign of a folio. You highly doubt it's you the Red Death wants to capture tonight, but you cannot say you will protest too loudly if that's what he decides. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Quite the opposite," the stranger does not ask you to dance, merely extends his hand and gracefully leads you off to the side when you take it, "so long as you praise me out loud you can look as long as you like."

"It's not like you got me sick." You sneeze into your tissue and Vil frowns, satisfied with your care but not with your answer. He had his suspicions that you may have made a... mistake in your assessment of your time at the Masquerade. But it did hurt him slightly to think that you did not know his essence well enough to have recognized him at once. "And I did get a costume with a cloak, I just gave it to the Red Death because it was too weird to see him without it."

"Mhmm I don't know." you say. It's such a shame Vil can only see your lips, he loves it when you tease him so much already it isn't fair he has to focus on something so tauntingly close and yet so far out of reach. "I think your costume is incomplete."

"Oh?" Vil makes sure to hold you close to him as the song ends, daring anyone to come close enough to try and steal your attention so he can laugh at the attempt. "What's your reasoning for that? Depending on what you have to say, I just might agree." You back out of his arms and make a frame with your fingers. "Kiss me." He begs silently. "Kiss me and leave a mark." But instead you unwind your cloak and fix it to his shoulder.

"Perfect. Now you really look like the portrait." And to his great despair you are gone.

Despite your earlier stated worries, you fall back into Vil's chest, tilting your back to look up at him. "When I'm not sick remind me to tell you about the Phantom of the Opera? I wanted to spend more time dancing with him, but I was feeling too much at home and got scared he'd vanish." Vil's eyes shine with a strangely familiar light, and he gently guides you under the bed's covers. Just before he leaves he kisses your forehead so gently it's all you can do not to cry.

"I think your phantom might be closer than you think." He murmurs against your skin and leaves you to sleep, tucking you under a mysteriously familiar red cloak as soon as your eyes are well and truly closed.

Riddle

"You will be too tired to do anything after the ball, so make sure to shower and go directly to bed."

It was good advice based off of a reasonable assumption, and technically you were not in fact physically doing anything. You were also quite tired, you had expected to spend most of the ball on the outskirts observing the display of feathers and paints but that was far from what actually happened. You don't think you had ever danced in your life as much as you had in the past six hours. It would be extremely reasonable to assume that after scrubbing yourself free of makeup and sweat you would be down for the count.

But you weren't. Your mind was running a mile a minute, eyes constantly glancing at your phone on your nightstand. It's an odd feeling, wanting to call someone and not being able to. It is also a feeling you have become deeply familiar with, the ache it produces might as well be permanently woven into your heart, you should be immune to the pain at this point.

This time though, this time the person you want to call could theoretically be within reach. This person was someone you could touch, someone you could hold, someone whose touch still lingered against your hands.

The little knight was just as awkward as you were, if he didn't immediately stutter out a protest you would have thought he was just as inexperienced with the whole formal party thing as you were.

"I know what I'm doing I just-"

"Then can you show me how to dance? I've been practicing but I'm not great at it." He stares at you, and you are worried you said something wrong until he laughs, it sounds smug you think but you can't be sure.

"That's the proper way to ask for a dance." He takes your hand in his as he bows, kissing it so gently you half think it was your imagination. "This is."

You pick up your phone before it buzzes, immediately sitting up in shock when you see just who is messaging you at 3:30 am on a Friday.

[Riddle] Are you still awake prefect?

[Yuu] Ace is that you.

[Yuu] I'm not covering for you if Riddle finds out you took his phone again (¬_¬)

[Riddle] What do you mean again?

The little knight's dance is stiff at first, but he relaxes as you continue. He has been guiding you to the center of the room, you belatedly realize. You must have looked frightened once you did. "It would be rude to stay in the corner during the slower songs." He squeezes your hand to bring your attention back to him. "It isn't against the rules to be bad at dancing, but it is to monopolize other people's space."

"Aren't you doing that right now?" You tease and he stops leading you, almost as if he hadn't even considered that.

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" He almost sounds afraid and you find yourself having to take over the direction of your movements.

"I didn't say that." Your knight almost seems to grow ten feet tall at your praise before he becomes aware of himself again and gets a bit bashful. But he does not take over again, content to let you set the pace of your dancing for the rest of the night.

[Riddle] Actually disregard that. Since you are awake, would you mind coming to your window? I understand throwing rocks is considered romantic but breaking a window would be most unfitting behavior for a housewarden.

You are tempted to tell him you are waiting for a message from someone else, but the unusual behavior has you at your window before you can even full form the thought. You almost drop your phone at the sight you see below you.

Riddle expected to have difficulty making eye contact with you. He expected to be teased about his failure to follow his own good advice, his costume has got to be a mess between the dancing he did with you earlier and the pacing he did once he got back to Heartslabyul.

But neither of those happen. Neither matters, instead you see him and the familiar scrap of paper you had given him with your number and a heart and fly down the Ramshackle steps into his outstretched arms.

"I'm so glad it was you I danced with tonight."

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #500 followers celebration #malleus is just delulu enough to be jealous of himself and you cannot convince me otherwise #also i understand that malleus and vil's voice actors were actually in a production of phantom together before being in twst #as the phantom and Raoul respectively? or did i hallucinate that #anyway i just think vil suits the phantom role and will be making more references to that in the future

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a-dragons-journal · 1 month ago

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hey, i know you’re na’vi link so i wanted to ask something. i’m questioning na’vi kin right now but can’t talk about it on my main blog because one of my friends follows me. they know about my alterhumanity and i post about it on that blog. however, i am white. very white. i’ve seen some people say that na’vi kin is cultural appropriation? i’m worried my alterhuman friends will try to accuse me of cultural appropriation if i confirm this kintype. any advice?

Okay, well, first off, I'm also white, so let's get that out of the way. However I have had this conversation with and have heard the opinions of Native American people with both opinions, so I can pass on my conclusions from that conversation, and if other people have opinions they want to add I welcome them to, especially Indigenous folks of course.

Thing number one: if it's not a choice, it can't be morally wrong. End of. You can't apply morality to things that aren't choices. You can engage with it in moral vs immoral ways, but simply having an identity that you didn't choose cannot be immoral.

Now obviously that doesn't apply to me, and it may or may not apply to you, so here's the rest of it:

Someone who's Na'vikin/link isn't claiming to be Indigenous here and now. We're not claiming to have direct experience with those struggles or the same amount of voice as Indigenous people do with regards to them. Na'vi are similar to and based on Indigenous people, but they aren't actually Indigenous people.

The Na'vi aren't based on any one Indigenous culture - although the Metkayina are much more heavily based on the Maori than anything else, the other clans we've seen aren't as specific, and are intentionally a mish-mash of dozens of Indigenous cultures. So... who is allowed to be Na'vikin/link, exactly? If the answer is "only people from the culture they're based on," then the real answer is no one. And about that:

This is really just a variant on the old "is kinning outside your race problematic" argument, and we came to a community-agreed-upon conclusion on that years ago: no. For a lot of reasons, including the above, and also the fact that if you're saying it's okay to identify as a wolf but not as a character of a different ethnicity than you... does that not imply that it's easier for a white person to connect that deeply with an animal than with a person of color? Is that not pretty damn problematic itself?

As a bonus round, if your answer then becomes "well, I guess you can be Na'vikin/link, but you shouldn't talk about it/engage with it in public": we know that suppressing kintypes is bad for you. We have learned this the hard way - how many stories are out there about how incredibly unhealthy that is for most people? You're now advocating for a known harm in order to avoid a hypothetical one. I don't think that's fair to anyone.

For what it's worth, I do think there are probably ways to engage with being a Na'vi that are appropriative, racist, and weird toward Indigenous people - just like there are plenty of ways to be a fan of the Na'vi that are appropriative, racist, and weird toward Indigenous people. But I don't think being a Na'vi is inherently that way. I don't think it's that hard to be Na'vi and be respectful of real-world Indigenous cultures that the Na'vi have parallels to. As long as you're not claiming to be Indigenous here and now, or have some ~special connection~ to Indigenous cultures because of your Na'vi 'type, or appropriating Indigenous things because they have Na'vi vibes, then I think you're fine.

But, as I said, I'm more than willing to hear other opinions if people have them! Please, add on in the notes. (I also feel like I'm forgetting a major point in my argument as to why it's fine for some reason, but can't get my hands around it, so hopefully I'm wrong and if not you might see an update to this post in the future when I remember. I've got a bit of a headache right now, so I'm a little bleary.)

#navikin #navilink #otherkin #otherlink #copinglink #alterhuman #apostrophes break tags sorry </3 #rani talks #asked and answered #anonymous

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nevermorgue · 3 months ago

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hello i'm asking another question

what do you think the main cast's mbti are? i don't really agree with personality database's assigned mbti, like I don't think Lenore is an ISFP, and I think Eulalie is rather extroverted to be an infp 😔

oh i’m so ass at these. Tbh the only way Id be able to confidently answer is if i took the quiz as all of them, and i’m not doing that because not only would that take ages, but it would be a pain in the ass to read for you too LOL

so let’s discuss each letter and maybe think about who fits where!

Extroversion (E) vs Introversion (I) So my definition of this is how you get your energy. Do you thrive more doing solitary activities, or do you recharge by being with people? I can see Eulalie being both, or an ambivert. She likes social gatherings/spending time with friends, but doesn't mind doing things on her own either. People like Duke thrive off other people, getting their energy from social interaction. Montresor may be a very "social", outward person, but definitely prefers leisure time on his own with nobody bothering him. So using these as examples, I'd do this: E - Duke, Berenice, Morella, Eulalie, Lenore, Ada I - Pluto, Prospero, Annabel, Montresor, Eulalie again Will is a wild card because I think he craves social interaction, but it doesn't really "energize" him. And being alone means being alone with his thoughts/feelings that he can't understand. Next: Sensing (S) vs Intuition (N)

So I’m using the MBTI website for reference here. “S is for the Sensing preference. People who have the letter S in your MBTI type tend to process things in a step-by-step linear sequence and observe and remember specific information. They also tend to focus on the facts and what can be observed via their five senses.”

“N is for the Intuition (because we already used the letter I for Introversion) and people who have a preference for Intuition generally learn by seeing the big picture and themes, and thinking about how specific information is connected.”

Using these definitions, here’s the people I think might fit with each.

Not to say that these people are incapable of intuition, it’s just how I categorize them based on how I think they naturally…well, think. Of course, everyone’s capable of doing the opposite one that I put them in. It’s not so black and white.

S - Berenice, Lenore, Eulalie, Prospero, Morella, Ada, Duke

N - Annabel, Pluto, Will, Montresor

Berenice and Lenore are more straightforward. I think they’re very similar in terms of how they carry themselves. They want to rely on their bodies and senses to perceive information. What they see, hear, taste, etc. Eulalie is the type to observe things in order and pick out specific things to focus on. Prospero is the same. Morella also likes to use her own senses to perceive, wanting to be able to connect to whatever it is using her own body. Ada does something similar to Morella, aching to connect with whatever she is perceiving and therefore by using her own senses, feels smarter. And Duke, as a performer, uses all of his senses ALL THE TIME. When on stage, he has to be aware of every single thing to avoid a mistake. The big picture is the show- he cannot afford to hyper focus on one little thing, because everything else will suffer in quality.

Annabel I put in N because she tends to overanalyze- she will look at EVERYTHING to come to a proper conclusion. Will because he has to look at every single factor in terms of studying others- he has to maneuver very carefully in general to avoid being tossed aside. Pluto is vibes tbh. Montresor I put because he’s chaos. He isn’t gonna look at something in a linear way and come to a conclusion based on facts. He’s going to jump around and pick out what interests him.

Next: Thinking (T) vs Feeling (F)

Pretty self explanatory. Decisions based on logic vs feelings.

T - Prospero, Annabel, Eulalie, Will, Duke

F - Lenore, Berenice, Pluto, Morella, Montresor, Ada

Prospero and Annabel are self explanatory. Eulalie because I think she is more of a blunt thinker. Like she’s more inclined to say something because it’s true, not because of a feeling. Will is an over thinker; his feelings don’t matter. And I think Duke is honestly a mix of both but I put him in Thinking because of his tendency to want to be perceived as someone who isn’t bothered/consistently charismatic. So he might disregard his own feelings to make a decision.

Honestly I think everyone else is self explanatory. Montresor in Feeling because he makes his decisions based on what HE wants.

And lastly, Judging (J) vs Perceiving (P)

Using the website definitions again. Judging = people who have preferences for plans, lists, structure.

Perceiving = They crave flexibility, more open minded to spontaneous decisions, make sudden decisions, more likely to do things last minute.

J - Annabel, Prospero, Pluto, Morella (but wants to be P), Will

P - Lenore, Eulalie, Berenice, Duke, Montresor, Ada

Now a lot of these are self explanatory again but I’ll explain Will’s. I think having a strict plan/everything set out in front of him puts him at ease because he knows he’s prone to messing up.

So mix and match these and I guess you get what I’d think their types are? Maybe!! This was honestly so fun so thank you!!

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calitsnow · 2 years ago

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Let’s talk about the end of Canto IV and the identity of Dante

Summary :

-Introduction 1.New perspective on the character of Demian 2. Dante and Saint Exupéry 3.Sinclair and the snake: symbol of his incoming death 4. The stars = people 5. Make connections, find friends 6. But in the end what about the sheep?

At the end of canto IV (which was extraordinary) we were treated to a very interesting little “post credits” scene: Dante and Demian talking together and the latter saying a very interesting sentence:

« Just draw me a sheep later »

This sentence just awakened flashbacks of my high school years because this sentence is of course a reference to one of the most famous sentences of Saint-Exupery's Little Prince. In the “Little Prince”, the character of the same name asks the author, who is also the narrator and a character in the book, to draw him a sheep to protect his rose.

But what does this mean for Dante? It is still too early to come to a conclusion, but we can still look at several elements that this new information could highlight.

1. The character of Demian

Although Demian is, of course, inspired by the character of Demian from the book “Demian” by Herman Hesse, it could be possible that he is also inspired by the character of the Little Prince.

Why?

First, the sentence quoted above is a sentence resembling one that is spoken by the Little Prince in the book, as I said at the beginning. However, this is not the only resemblance between Demian and the Little Prince.

Just in terms of appearance we can see a similarity: the scarf that Demian wears around his neck could be a reference to the Little Prince's scarf which is often represented as floating, like Demian's.

Demian is also related to a character who is related to a snake. I am of course talking about the character of Emil Sinclair where we can see a snake behind him in his image.

Although the snake is mostly a reference to the original sin in Hesse's work, I can't help but think that this snake could also be a reference to the snake of “The Little Prince”.

2.Dante and Saint Exupery

But then if Demian is like the Little Prince and he asks Dante to draw him a sheep, would Dante be inspired by Saint-Exupery? Since it is him who draws a sheep to the Little Prince. Maybe…

It is interesting to note that the interactions between Demian and Dante are very similar to that of the Little Prince and Saint-Exupery:

Demian says cryptic things and responds in the same way to Dante's questions, who remain perplexed in front of him. Sometimes Demian ignores or does not even answer Dante's questions. It's very similar to the many scenes between the author and his blonde-haired friend, one asks many questions while the other responds in a "strange" way or ignores them altogether.

What is interesting is that Saint Exupery is the author and a character of his book which makes him a unique case. Plus it should remind you of someone: Dante from “The Divine Comedy”. Where the other 12 sinners are either inspired by a character or the author of their respective works, they are never inspired by someone who is both. Only Dante find themself in this case.

Another element supports this theory linking “The Little Prince” to Dante: the sentence they said to Sinclair when the latter was about to join Kromer:

These sentences are, I’m sure, a reference to a famous quote of another very important character in “The Little Prince”: the Fox

« Here is my secret. It is very simple: we only see well with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye. »

The fox explains that the true perception and understanding of things is not done through the eyes, but with the heart. He emphasizes that the very essence of things, their true value and beauty, can only be perceived by having an inner vision, an emotional connection.

But then, Dante would be the Fox?

As you can see I am more of the opinion that Dante are inspired by the author and not by the Fox but then why do they pronounce words belonging to the Fox. Well I think Dante said the fox’s words because they remembered them unconsciously because it was a moral that touched the narrator in “The Little Prince” and could have touched them in the same way. The Fox could belong to Dante’s past.

This would be why, I think, Demian repeats these words before intervening against Kromer, he recognised them.

3.Sinclair and the snake? A symbol of his incoming death?

A brief parenthesis on Sinclair. Demian says a very enigmatic sentence to Dante regarding Sinclair:

“When he becomes one with beautiful stars…”

Although I think this phrase refers to the fact that when Sinclair will able to see entirely with his heart and not his eyes, then he will "be one with the stars" I also have another interpretation.

This turn of phrase strongly reminds me of a passage from the book (WARNING! SPOILERS REGARDING THE END OF THE LITTLE PRINCE):

At the end of the book the little prince dies from the bite of the snake, thus leaving his body and now able to join B612 — his star. At that moment, the little prince joined the stars and "became" his star. In the book it is mentioned that when a person dies they become a star in the sky. This suggests an idea of continuity and eternal presence beyond earthly life.

This supports the idea that the stars represent each existing individual but also that the stars symbolize the immortality of the soul.

So Sinclair should become a star and one with all the others by dying? Does this sentence announce his death?

Small additional detail: Sinclair strangely resembles the Little Prince from the little we know about him. The only physical detail we have of the Little Prince is that he looks like a child and has wheat-blonde hair.

So yes, blond hair is not the ultimate proof that Sinclair would also be linked to “The Little Prince” because it is not difficult to meet this criterion, as a proof Don Quixote could also very well correspond. But taking into account that Sinclair is already linked with Demian and has an element that distinguishes him from other sinners: the mark of Cain + these mysterious similarities between him and “The Little Prince”, it was worth mentioning.

Additionally, Sinclair is associated with the color green; the color that is often associated with the Little Prince because of his clothes. And the color green used for Sinclair is named: immature green, although this could be a reference to Sinclair's egg, hatching, self-development theme associated with Demian, why not considering that "immature" is a reference to the character of the Little Prince who can be seen as immature because he does not sound like an adult and behaves like a child even in the face of serious situations. I think it's worth looking into.

Also I thinh that this "theory" could also highlight a moment of Hell Chicken: I'm talking about when Sinclair's team (Faust and Outis in particular) comment on Sinclair's height and the various reasons why Sinclair isn't likely to grow taller than that. This comment about Sinclair's height implying that Sinclair remains small even for his age could be a clue to his connection to the Little Prince by making him look like "a child"

4. The stars

I would now like to address the theme of the stars, which is a very important element in the book as in Limbus Company, as Canto IV was able to confirm.

For the Little Prince, the stars are more than just bright spots in the sky. They symbolize the infinite and the inaccessible, awakening in him a feeling of wonder and escape. They offer him a sense of connection with something greater than himself, transporting him beyond.

If we want to connect the phrase "seeing with the heart rather than the eyes" and the stars, we can mention this passage:

The Little Prince observes the stars and says: "All these stars are mine. To me alone. They make me laugh every time I think about them."

It shows how the Little Prince finds meaning and a deep connection with the stars by seeing them with his heart, which allows him to feel joy and wonder. Strangely this is exactly what we saw in Canto IV, and at the same time its exact opposite.

When we were talking about the tale and the "tearful star" singularity, we could see that the stars were also seen as a symbol of hope and joy in the Limbus’ world as is the case for the Little Prince. However, K corp's singularity does the exact opposite of what the stars are for in The Little Prince: it cries in their place. Where the stars of “The Little Prince” are associated with joy, here it is associated with sadness. But is this really the case?

In truth, this star could also be seen as a mean to bring joy or at least to prevent people from feeling sadness by crying for them. This star would therefore be similar to the stars of the Little Prince in this sense.

However in "The Little Prince", the stars can also be interpreted as representing people in a metaphorical way. The Little Prince encounters various stars throughout his journey, and each of them is home to a unique person. It can be seen as a representation of the individuals he meets in his life. By focusing on the stars, Saint-Exupéry emphasizes the importance of human diversity and individuality. Each star and each person has an intrinsic value and contributes to the richness of the universe. The Little Prince himself learns to appreciate the uniqueness of each star, just as he learns to understand and love the different people he meets. This is something Dante are doing: they are learning to know the different sinners (and people) and to appreciate their uniqueness.

Each star, although distant and distinct, has a certain importance and its own identity. In the same way, each person we meet in our own existence is unique, with their own experiences, emotions and perspectives. Which is, I think, a very underlined subject in Limbus Company and that’s not all:

“I wonder,” he said, “if the stars are lit so that everyone can one day find their own.”

For Saint-Exupéry, the object of the quest, the star, is closely linked to the personality and experience of each of us.

“People have stars that are not the same.”

Guides, little lights, problems, precious metal… depending on whether you are a pilot, spectator, scientist or businessman. But for a star to become ours, for the Truth to make mystery beautiful as the invisible rose makes the star beautiful, it must become the seat of our most personal desire, the receptacle of our hopes and of our memories.

To inhabit our star with a meaning that is unique to us, to make it different and to be able to evoke it in the darkest night, it is essential to seek to know oneself with determination, like the Little Prince who "does not never gave up on a question once he had asked it.”

Knowing how to take the time to explore, to step aside “Straight ahead, you can’t go very far.” to be able to assess yourself.

This work on oneself to populate a star with one's hopes is not done without pain. It can bring more disappointment than pride and lead us, like the Little Prince, to cry over the banality of our character:

“I thought I was rich in a unique flower, and I only have an ordinary rose (...) it doesn’t make me a very great prince. And lying in the grass, he cried. That’s when the fox appeared.”

I find this process of acceptance and self-discovery reminiscent of Limbus Company's notion of E.G.O and Fathom of the E.G.O where each sinner learns to make peace with a part of themselves and break the cycle. He doesn't have to reject a part of himself or keep only the "good" in him. He learns to accept it and live with it to make it a source of light for his star, even if it sometimes has to go through a difficult acceptance of a truth or trying trials.

5. Make connections, find friends

I wonder if the notion of « taming » will be mentioned in Limbus Company?

The word « taming » does not have the same meaning as what we might give it on a daily basis. When the fox explains to the Little Prince what « taming » means, he says to him:

"It's something too forgotten, says the fox. It means creating links..."

Taming represents a process where one establishes a deep emotional connection with someone or something, and it is through this heart connection that one can truly see and understand.

The fox explains to the Little Prince the importance of taming, which involves investing time, attention and affection in creating deep and meaningful bonds with others.

The fox also emphasizes the responsibility that comes with taming by saying,

"You become responsible forever for what you have tamed."

The fox explains to the little prince that when you tame someone or something, you become responsible for this relationship. It emphasizes the importance of caring for those you love and cultivating lasting bonds.

Furthermore in "The Little Prince", the themes of loneliness and friendship take center stage.

The Little Prince often feels lonely during his interplanetary travels, as he is the only one of his kind and finds himself far from his planet and his beloved rose. However, as he encounters various characters, he discovers friendship and the power of human connection.

It is in particular thanks to his friendship with the fox that he understands the importance of emotional ties and the need to bond with others.

The book thus explores loneliness as a universal experience, while emphasizing the vital importance of friendship and human relationships in filling this feeling of emptiness. It reminds us that deep and sincere connections with others are essential for our growth and our understanding of the world around us.

So I may be a blind optimist but I feel like this idea fits well with Dante and the bus members:

Even if it's complicated and there's still a long way to go, each member of the bus are becoming close and are developping a bond that could be seen as a form of friendship. And after all as the fox said; it takes time, affection and attention to create this special bond. Every day Dante can sit a little closer to each Sinners respecting their rhythm as the little prince did for the fox.

However, this would mean that Dante could start to feel a sense of responsibility that accompanies the birth of this bond.

In fact, Dante already feels this responsibility but they associate it with their role as a manager who must guide their employees. However I think that Dante could soon see this feeling of responsibility as a feeling that accompanies what they have "tamed" and thus realize that it is not because they are a manager that they feel the need to take care of the Sinners but indeed because a lasting bond is borned between them.

6. But in the end, what about the sheep?

The sheep represents desire / expectations and creativity.

The metaphor of drawing according to Saint-Exupery tells us that, forced to live in a world of realism, we fail to guess and describe this Truth that attracts us: his attempts to realistically draw a sheep fail to satisfy the Little Prince’s desire.

The Little Prince does not only want a sheep, he wants a sheep capable of protecting his rose by eating the trees. Under the surface of this drawing hides the object of the Little Prince’s desire and therefore of our existence as he says in Chapter IV, strange when we know that Demian also asks us for a sheep in Canto IV

“When you want a sheep, it’s proof that you exist”

Would Demian then ask Dante to give him a solution to his problem of realizing his desire? Is this “Truth” linked to the quest of Dante regarding their memories, an attempt to regain the Truth and in a sense gaining back their existence?

The sheep could also be linked to the sacrificial lamb in the Bible, I don’t really know where this information could take us but since the sacred texts are at the core of Project moon’s works it’s always good to mention. Furthermore, the other common point between the Bible and “The Little Prince” is the fact that The Bible is the most translated book in the world but “The Little Prince” is the second one.

#limbus company #project moon #dante #dante limbus company #demian #demian limbus company #emil sinclair #sinclair #Sinclair Limbus company #The Little Prince #This is a theory / essay #Canto IV #Canto IV spoilers for the end

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lovingperfectionsblog · 2 years ago

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The Worst Date

Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader.

Summary: You and Bob have very different opinions of the date you went on.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2252.

Authors note: I’m not super happy with this but here it is some little bit of writing because I was bored and I am gearing up to write an angsty piece so here’s something silly to begin with.

_____

“How did it go?” Bob had barely stepped foot into the lecture venue before Nat was bombarding him with questions.

Every eye in the room was now turned on him, desperately wanting to know how it had gone themselves.

‘Too many people know my business’ Bob couldn't help but think, but at the same time, eternally grateful because if it wasn’t for the whole team, he would have never had the guts to ask you out, and subsequently had the best date he could have ever hoped for.

Before he could even answer, his smile was betraying him and his entire team was cheering, “You asked her?” Fanboy excitedly asked.

“Even better,” Bob felt a little smug as he took a seat next to his pilot, “we actually went out on the date.”

“Already?” Hangman voiced the shock the entire group had simultaneously felt. A date? Already? They had just convinced the backseater to ask his best friend out on friday evening and he had already gone on the date by monday morning?

“Already,” Bob nodded along, expressing that he was equally as surprised as everyone else, “and honestly,” he couldn’t help the blush that was spreading over his face, “it was the best date I had ever been on.”

“Tell us everything Bobby Boy.” Payback knew that it wasn’t often Bob got the win, not for lack of trying either, but, the kindest member of this team always somehow seemed to be on the backfoot and honestly, he deserved to know how great he was, and he deserved this win, and despite a lot of the shit Bob got from the team, Payback knew each and everyone of them agreed.

“Yeah, uhm, we went to that cute place down from the hard deck.” Bob began recounting the date before he was interrupted again by Hangman.

“No Big Bob, from the beginning, we wanna hear how you asked her out and everything.” He would never admit that he was excited for Bob, but Hangman was, Bob deserved love, was one of the best out of all them and every second of this moment was making Hangman feel better and better about forcing himself into the situation after hearing him and Nat quietly discussing the longstanding crush Bob had on his best friend.

After a beat, after Bob had come to the conclusion that his team, his friends, genuinely wanted to know how it all went, he began his story again.

“Okay, so I took Hangman's advice and took a shot of whiskey on saturday night and gave her a call,” no one missed the smug look on Hangman's face, “and she answered and I panicked and before I even said hello I kind of just asked if she wanted to get something to eat with me.” That earned a chuckle from everyone, clearly being able to picture Bob blurting out the question with no skill or charm whatsoever.

“She literally said yes immediately and asked if I was close by and so I just said yes and quickly got ready and went to pick her up.” Bob just shrugged despite the confused looks on everyone's faces.

“So you just picked her up then and there?” Nat was confused, ready for a date that quickly? Something didn’t feel right.

“Yeah, and god, she looked beautiful.” Bob could feel himself swooning as he remembered how stunning he thought you looked as you swung the door open to greet him. “And then we went and had a perfect evening and laughed and had good food and took a walk on the beach and it was just,”

“You guys kiss?” Bob’s blush only got deeper and he just shook his head in response to Hangman’s question, “Okay, that's fine, there's always next time.” Hangman knew with you it was the slow game, similar to Bob, you were someone who took their time, not someone to fall for a good old pickup line and a little bit of cockiness, he knew all too well that you wouldn’t even bat an eye at something like that, he’d tried, and you’d shot him down not even a split second later and made your way over to Bob.

Before anyone could take the conversation any further, you casually strolled in, throwing a round of greetings to your fellow aviators and a small shy wave to Bob before taking the empty seat next to Hangman. You were completely oblivious to all the looks being shared between your team and it was only a matter of time before the inevitable,

“So how was your weekend?” Nat asked, followed by a grunt from Bob kicking her under the table. No one wanted to outright ask how the date with Bob had gone because technically, none of them should even know, so this was the next best thing.

The frown and pouted lips surprised them all, but nothing prepared them for how you summed your weekend up.

“Honestly, it was okay, I went on possibly the worst date I have ever been on, so there's that.” Bob was going to throw up. You’d hated the date? He had the best date of his life and you’d hated the date? And you’d said it so casually in front of him.

The entire room was filled with silence, and Bob wanted nothing more than to just escape. Quit the navy. Disappear. He could do that. He knew enough people back home that could make sure that could happen. Perks of growing up in Rural North America.

The room was silent, Bob was bright red and everyone was avoiding eye contact with both of you.

Except for of course Hangman, who had taken this as a personal affront.

“What was wrong with the date?” He was looking you square in the eyes and was ready to fight on behalf of Bob if he was just going to sit there and let you be cruel in front of everyone.

“Ugh, it was just, he was awful. Like, didn’t put any effort in to how he looked, didn’t know what to do, made me choose, like, I want a man who makes a choice you know? I don’t want to have to do everything for him.” Bob dropped his head, ready to cry from the shame. You hated the date.

“Well, what the hell did you expect him to do? All things considering I think he did alright? What exactly were you expecting? For him to roll out the red carpet when you’d given him next to nothing to work with?” Hangman was pissed, you’d given Bob absolutely no time for anything and then had the audacity to rip him to shreds in front of everyone? No on his watch.

“This your usual play then Hangman, considering how touched you’re getting about it?” you nudged his shoulder, completely missing the scowl sent your way, not only from him, but from everyone in the room except Bob.

“Pilots, let begin” Mav had unknowingly saved you as he strolled in and you continued your day none the wiser, glad to begin the new week on such a high note.

Unlike Bob, who had just started the worst day he could imagine.

He had to apologize to you. He had wanted to dress up, but you’d given him so little time. No, he couldn’t use that as an excuse. He should have put more effort in. And he should have just told you where he was going to take you, but he was fully intending on doing this right, a reservation at the first restaurant he went to when he moved to TopGun , the food had reminded him so much of home and flowers, he was going to get you flowers too but you’d asked him to get you then and there and there had barely even been enough time for a shower and he had been wracking his brain over where he could take you on such short notice and so he didn’t mean to ask where you wanted to go but, he definitley gave you the option of two places and, fuck, he tried. He tried and you hated it and now he probably lost his best friend along with the woman he loved.

He needed to apologize. Try and salvage what he could.

For once, could Mav not talk this goddamn long.

______

As soon as class had ended, Hangman was up and out of his seat, stalking over towards Bob to give him the well deserved pep talk. Bob had barely even had the opportunity to stand up himself before both Nat and Hangman were both giving their own variations of “Fuck her, you deserve someone who is going to appreciate you.”

Before long, you yourself were walking over to the group of three, wanting to finally have a moment to great your best friend.

Before you even had a moment though, Bob was blurting out an apology.

“I’m sorry you hated the date.”

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for Bob.” Hangman was authoritative, reminding Bob that it was your loss, not his. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Exactly,” you were completely missing the tension in the room, Bob would have almost found it sweet if he wasn’t on the receiving end of heartbreak, “If it weren’t for you saving my night, I think my weekend really would have sucked.”

“I thought you said your date sucked?” Nat was questioning you and Bob wanted to disappear.

“It did, that’s why when Bob called after it, asking if I wanted to grab something to eat, it made my night?” Bob's eyes were now wide, suddenly everything was making sense, why you were all dolled up, why you had done everything to not talk about your day, telling him you just wanted to forget it, not really leaning into his flirting.

Oh, this got so much worse than we was expecting.

“So you went on a date literally right before you went on a date with Bob?” Jake knew he was smart, I mean, you don’t become one of the best of the best naval aviators without being at ;east a little intelligent, but he was well and truly lost.

“I didn’t go on a date with Bob?” You couldn’t help but blush, the idea of being taken out by your long standing crush something you had resigned to only entertaining in your dreams.

“But Bob said,” Now both Nat and Hangman were both looking directly at Bob, waiting for an explanation.

“How exactly did you ask her out on the date Bob?” Hangman was suddenly catching up, slowly but surely.

“I asked her if she wanted to go and get something to eat?” Bob was avoiding all eye contact with you while he recounted all that had happened on Saturday night, assuming he had done all he could right, but apparently he was mistaken if the groans from both Nat and Hangman were anything to go by.

“No Bobby, that is not how you ask a lady out on a date!” Nat was in Bob's face now, trying to explain where he had gone wrong. The bewildered look in his eyes clearly stated he had no idea what he had done wrong still.

“I told you, you need to ask her to go on a date with you, not grab food or hangout, out. On. a date. if she’s your friend, she is going to misunderstand, exactly like she has here.” Hangman was back to trying to coach Bob. He’d been here and he had learnt the hard way, you have to be explicit, you have to be clear, you want a date, not to hangout, or else when you go for the kiss at the end of the night, things get real awkward real quick.

“You asked me on a date?” Your voice was quiet and shy as you broke through all of Nat and Hangmans teaching, watching Bob intently as all he could do was nod, still not fully meeting your eyes. “God Bobby, if I had known it was a date, it would have been the best date I think I have ever gone on.”

Bob’s head was snapping up now, unable to stop the grin that he was now sporting, “You mean it?” He couldn’t help as his midwestern accent slipped through in his excitement.

“I’m pretty sure all that would have made it better is if you kissed me afterwards.” Now you both were blushing, both feeling more and more shy as the two confident pilots stood watching you both stumble your way through this awkward situation.

“Bob, ask her out again,” Hangman loudly whispered.

“And do it properly.” Nat said just a little more loudly, her tone as if she was a parent reprimanding a child.

You watched grinning as Bob just stood there nodding as he asked, “Would you please go out on a date with me?”

And he couldn’t help his grin grow wider and wider as you gave him a confident yes in response. “Only if you promise to kiss me after you drop me at home Bobby.”

Before you could say any more Hangman had his arm around Bob's shoulder, discussing what he should do for the date as he dragged him away, seemingly feeling like Bob clearly had more to be taught, especially if his final question of “Bob, do you even know how to kiss” and Bobs stammer of a response was anything to go by.

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sebille · 4 months ago

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Hi, I was reading some of your posts on Zenos (it’s very early in the morning here sorry if it doesn’t make sense) but how do you think Zenos would react if we show him compassion and care ? True compassion and care? Those things he never received as a child? (I made myself cry while writing this because he is the monster Varis created but what If he was loved to begin with ..)

Hi lovely, thank you for the ask! This is a really difficult question to answer, because other than what we see at the very very very end of Endwalker between him and the warrior of light, we don't really see him around anyone he's built a positive relationship with at all in the game. So i'm just going to ramble on about what we see IN the game and build my conclusions on that: The wol is able to show him an act of compassion in Stormblood, where they're able to tell him that they accept him. However, as we all know he will brush it off and move along - because he doesn't trust the wol to mean what they're saying.

"You and I are one and the same. Together, we could while away the quiet hours, as friend and confidant...if you will accept me?" "- I accept you." "Heh heh...are we to embrace and let bygones be bygones? Do our deeds weigh so little that you would cast all aside? Come. 'Twas plain for the first how this would end." Slowly but surely throughout the expansions he creates this image of who the wol is in his own head - not really understanding what he himself ACTUALLY wants, while also believing that the wol is his "mirror", that they're one and the same. We see the confusion and desperation in his actions in early Endwalker, when the wol doesn't act the way he believes that they would. And how lost he is after the wol gets genuinely upset with him on the moon. In a sense I'd say that Alisaie yelling at him in Endwalker is an act of care and compassion - and we see how he reacts to that: He takes her words to heart and tries to do and be better. And at the end of Endwalker he trusts the wol completely ( we all know about the legendary line " I take it this is your prey. But why does it still live? Surely it is no match for you?" ) and we all know that he gets really vulnerable at the very end and opens up to the wol in a way he really hasn't before. SO with all that being said... I think it's really difficult to say who he would have been had he been shown compassion and care from the start of his life - because other than what we see from him at the very end of Endwalker, he's in a very negative headspace throughout the whole game. And if we go by what we see at the very end, once he trusts that a person is his friend he's loyal, willing to risk it all for his friend, vulnerable, and perceptive. Had Zenos been allowed to live at the end of EW and therefore would have been able to build an actual relationship with the wol (platonic or otherwise) I feel like he'd be very ride or die for them, lol. Also I don't believe that Zenos is a monster. I know that he's called that at least twice in the game, by Varis and Krile - but I don't trust Varis opinions on Zenos AT ALL. And Krile says that he's got "the eyes of a monster." I believe, and I feel like that's more...him looking dead inside? And we know that AT THAT POINT in stormblood he basically is. ( I think his voice actor said that he's basically at his limits at the start of Stormblood. ) tldr I think calling him a monster is unfair - my man is just depressed. He's done some awful and unforgivable things, however. I feel like I did not answer your question but rather just went on a long ramble-session about Zenos - but I'm sure that my Zenos mutuals/followers could answer this question better than me, or build on what I've already said.

#stormblood spoilers #endwalker spoilers #agnes ffxiv ramblings #zenosposting

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polarisbibliotheque · 8 months ago

Note

Are you into MBTI? If yes, may I ask for your idea on DMC characters types? If no then feel free to skip this ask, sorry for bothering you.

First things first, my beloved: DON’T APOLOGIZE. None of you are EVER bothering me by sending an ask – unless, of course, you’re completely crass, deranged, borderline criminal (or full criminal) with your words or just gratuitously rude. Those types are bothersome and will get blocked and ignored.

Unless I’m on an Axl Rose like rampage and want to burn and fistfight people along my way, then I’ll use the stupid being in question to pour all my anger and have a good reason to spend hours in therapy :)

But you are NOT one of those, my dear. That’s a very fun question and do feel free to ask me random things like that, I enjoy answering!

Now, I’m not really big on MBTI – I know enough about mine and my family’s so I can make things work between me and them. I also like to know my friends MBTI’s because the memes are usually freakishly accurate with all our personalities xD

I am an INTP! Quite proud, if I might say so hahahaha I like the weird vibes and I have adopted in my heart Sherlock Holmes as an INTP ‘cause he was my role model when I was a teen (I know, HORRIBLE role model, but it is what it is) – and that’s how I got into MBTI.

(more under the cut, this answer is LONG)

Big introduction for me to say: VERGIL, THIS LITTLE SHIT. INTJ. I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT.

I’ll start with him and then Dante. I won’t share my 2 cents on the rest of the crew because either they aren’t that much developed as the twins or I’m not really trusting my MBTI judging abilities here.

Without further ado…

Vergil

I debated quite a WHILE on Vergil, to be honest, because we all know INTJ is the typical villain archetype used everywhere on media because heaven forbid a villain is not calculating and devoided of emotions.

And there’s where I got a little stuck: emotions.

Vergil does have emotions, and I dare to say his run even deeper than Dante’s, so I got a little sidetracked. But then I took my own personality, INTP, and thought about it for a while. I have the same problem as Vergil: my emotions do run deep and I’m always guarding them in a dark, secret place inside of me so I won’t get hurt, opting for a more thinking, analytical and practical approach rather than the feeling approach. And oh boy does my life get difficult with feeling types like my aunt, my mom and even my sister.

I got to the conclusion, then, it’s not how you feel, but rather how you present yourself. I took the test as if I was Dante (I needed that to figure him out, not sorry) and a lot of questions are more leaning on that. It’s not that you don’t feel or don’t understand feelings, it’s more like you have a different approach when doing things and processing all of that – because it can be quite overwhelming.

So, there we go, Vergil is BLATANTLY Introverted and Thinking. The Introverted I got from what I heard some people saying that it’s not that “oh I like talking to people/I don’t like talking to people”, it’s energy: at the end of the day, do you prefer being alone to recharge or around people to recharge?

Me and my sister are opposites on that. My sister was always quieter and shy when she was a kid, and I was expansive and always came back with a new friend. Lo and behold, I’m an Introvert and she is an Extrovert. How? I HAVE and I NEED time alone, completely for myself, with NO ONE around at certain times of the day and I do get AWFULLY tired when I’m being social for too long, needing some me time with tea and a good book. My sister NEEDS to be around her friends after a long, tiring week at work, famously going to 3 parties in a row, in 3 different days, different groups, outfits and all, exiting one party to go to the other, and then BAM going to work on a Monday completely replenished. I’m an Introvert. She is an Extrovert.

Dante and Vergil seal of approval here hahahahaha

His Intuitive part, though, comes from the art – poetry, philosophy, reading, education. Vergil is obviously BIG on that, loving poetry since he was a child and always being found in libraries, we can all picture him going to art galleries, concerts, operas and such. But, particularly, I extend that to his thirst for knowledge: everyone who enjoys reading the dense stuff he does, tends to fall for philosophy, sociology, the metaphysical part of physics, mathematics, all that. There was a reason why great mathematicians of the past were also philosophers: knowledge walks together.

Loving that deeply, Vergil has to be quite Intuitive. Yes, he will do things with discipline and how they should be done to achieve the result – but he will rebel and do things his own way if the knowledge he acquired so far points him to another direction; he will follow his intuition. He’s not one to dismiss the big questions in life: quite the contrary, I think one of his favorite past-times would be drinking wine along his s/o while talking about philosophy into the wee hours of the night as if they are the only people in the world.

Vergil is an open minded, curious and always searching for the meaning of things kind of person, and I will die on this hill. There is no way a guy who likes learning so much would be against challenging his own point of views: to learn, you have to first be a novice; and to improve, you have to admit there’s much you still don’t know and keep an open mind to fail and do it again, and again, and again, until you master what you are learning. Just the way he fights tells me he is very much like that and I’m still dying on this hill.

And lastly, Judging. No, not because he’s the judgy bitch of the series who’s always side-eying someone and sighing while saying “pathetic” just because they got scared by their own shadow. I have to say I wasn’t too sure on this one when I realized Vergil could end up as an INTP and that bitch can’t be an INTP like me, I claimed it.

Jokes aside, Vergil can be quite Perceiving at times, because, wanting or not, he has had his moments of needing to improvise and spot opportunities that weren’t quite on his schedule… But, I do have to admit, INTPs are a mess and Vergil is FAR from being a mess – and when I say a mess, we are everywhere: reading 5 books at the same time, leaving them scattered all around the house, laying upside down in bed to think and come up with a great idea for something… INTPs aren’t pragmatic or schedule oriented. And Vergil would DIE in an environment like this, I think.

So, my conclusion was: his ability to survive does come from his Perceiving characteristics, but his pragmaticism comes from his Judging – and the second is a lot stronger in him. He would like the schedule, he would do things as he has programmed and, if you interrupt him, he’s counting the minutes to go back to his schedule or else everything he has carefully programmed for the week will be delayed and his plans are all but GONE (read: Verge at the Temen-ni-gru screaming “WHY ISN’T THIS WORKING?!” when ALL the plans he carefully executed for WEEKS so he could get to THAT moment and open the gates of Hell just went down the drain ‘cause he missed something in his calculations. Man is in excruciating pain he missed something and ALL was for NOTHING and he’d have to TRY again).

Verdict: Vergil is an INTJ. Expected, annoyingly villainous personality, but it does fit him wonderfully.

Plus, we are the 'we don't have feelings' types :D

Dante

Oh, Dante. My beloved. My red devil. The man who haunts my dreams.

Seriously, I had a REALLY hard time pinpointing his MBTI.

Remember I said I took the test as him? Yes. I did. To check some things and argue against others hahahahaa

I don’t think Dante is as black and white as Vergil. The blue devil is almost textbook INTJ, but Dante…? I have my doubts on SO many parts of his personality, because, unlike Vergil, Dante does a LOT just for show.

Starting with the Extroverted/Introverted. Most people won’t even think before saying Dante is an Extrovert, but I had my doubts when taking things in consideration. What we usually see is that, yes, he does love being around people – but Dante spends most of his time alone, without electricity, reading his old magazines at his shop, sleeping or eating pizza by himself.

Depression? Yes. YES. This man is more depressed than the San Andreas Fault. This can make people behave differently from their personalities, so I had to think a little more about it. Dante doesn’t really go out of his way to be around people, to party with his friends or just have a nice time with them around. Dante wants to be alone, because he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be with people – and that they are better off without him, safer. He puts them in danger, at least that’s what’s on his mind. So, he isolates himself and prefers to spend time on his own, away from everything and everyone.

That’s where the energy thing comes into play! What gives Dante energy? Honestly, my man looks drained and just the dust of his being whenever they get to his shop and he’s been living in that condition for months. During the games AND after the games, though? He looks a lot better – even if he has been beaten up by a bunch of demons. And that’s because, I think, Dante gets energized by being around people – friends, family, loved ones. Just like my sister, he can conquer the world after going to 5 parties in a row. Vergil, in the other hand, would be drained and dying by the second one, just like Dante is when he hasn’t been around people too much, always isolating himself.

So, despite his depression that makes him behave differently, Dante is an Extrovert in my book.

One that I don’t even think too much about him is the Perceiving trait. Dante is like that, 10/10. He can’t thrive on a schedule, things in his life are Everything Everywhere All At Once, and my man is in his lane with that. Try to fit Dante in a box with a set routine and too many rules, he’s dying. Aside from that, he has a knack for improvising and finding the best opportunities in unexpected situations.

Hence why he has so many freaking weapons and is just using all of them and all of his fighting styles at the same time, taunting demons and dancing Macarena right after – and making it all look like it makes the most absolute fucking sense. No one can pull that off like Dante, king of winging it.

Now, I do believe he is Intuitive. Dante might not be the art and poetry type like Vergil, but he is well educated. He has to be, to do what he does. And I do believe his thing for philosophy shows when Dante is lecturing demons: that WHOLE answer he gives Agnus about what demons lack compared to humans, that is VERY much philosophy. Dante doesn’t just go and takes everything at face value, because, if he did, he would very much say the obvious: demons are, objectively, stronger than humans. But all the heart, all the internal things that make humans stronger than demons… That’s philosophy.

I can see Dante enjoying movies – blockbusters, yes, packed with action and special effects, but let’s remember… Titanic is a blockbuster. And there’s so much heart in that movie, so much philosophy, so much about choosing your own fate and not being tied to the one that was handed to you… Titanic can pack one hell of an existential punch and make you think about so much in your life – you just have to be open to it.

Differently from Vergil, Dante wasn’t the library and heavy books sort of guy. But he was the guy to go to the movies, to watch all of that. To go back home (wherever his home was at the moment, even if just a place for him to crash for a while) and think about everything he watched in the silent darkness of his room. To think about the things Eva taught him – and see the value of all that.

He’s not the type to go to an art gallery, or read philosophy, or go to the opera. But he will go if he is invited, he will discuss things the way he learned them, and he will enjoy it. He’d be more than willing to talk about what makes humans so precious and spend hours doing so, as he would be open to listen to his s/o explaining what makes him so human despite his demonic heritage. And he would spend days thinking about it, always willing to discuss those topics if his s/o wanted to.

He's not textbook Intuitive like Vergil, I think, but he still is, in his very own way. I’d say Vergil is academically Intuitive, while Dante learned his Intuitive trait on the streets – we all say Dante is a safespace for everything, and a man like has to be open minded and curious. If he wasn’t, he would have never welcomed Trish and given her a chance to be human: he would’ve killed her right away for being a demon. And that isn’t our red devil.

Last but not least, Dante is a Feeling. I’m always dying on this hill, even if that one ALSO made me have some doubts.

Because you see, Dante just pretends to be a goof, but he isn’t. He is very intelligent and cunning, very perceiving and observing, but wrapped in a reckless rockstar package. It’s his own way of coping, but that is what makes him SUCH a great devil hunter (sorry, Nero). Even if we might disagree on this, I do believe Dante has his emotions very much controlled.

Which is a little evidenced by the lyrics on his theme song in DMC V, Subhuman (I know we ALL love Bury The Light and Devil Trigger but OH MY GOD, I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT HOW SUBHUMAN IS AWESOME AND FITTING FOR DANTE). The song is VERY explicit how Dante is always controlling his rage and keeping his demon on a very tight leash so he has control over it all the fucking time. That isn’t very Feeling in my book – it’s quite Thinking, like Vergil.

That’s what made me think a little about Vergil’s as well. I have what might be an unpopular opinion about the twins after thinking so much about them and seeing how they react and act in all of the games: Vergil has a tendency to loose control and overkill, while Dante has a tendency to let his rage burn at the exact moment he needs it and use his power just as much as he needs to get the job done. Dante is more controlled with his emotions than Vergil – and in my opinion, it’s because Vergil bottles up and ignores his emotions until they become a storm that can’t be stopped (cough cough personal experience cough cough) while Dante controls things so he can use his emotions and let them be expressed/gets them off his system in “safe” environments for him, which would be killing demons.

So, why the heck is Dante a Feeling in my book? Precisely why Vergil is a Thinking. It has to do with how they present themselves – and that is the point that makes them so different and butt heads almost every game.

The devil on Dante’s leash is his rage, the feeling he allows and wants to run amok and uncontrolled is his love. Dante controls his bursts of anger and the demonic blood who craves for mayhem – but he doesn’t control his human heart that does everything out of empathy and love. He will run to the rescue when his loved ones are in danger, he will protect weak people against the powerful ones, he will lecture corrupted humans who see nothing but power in front of them, he will cry and he will do everything in his power to keep love alive and thriving. He will react immediately, he will understand, he will feel the pain of those who are injured and begging for help – he will let his heart melt and do everything for them.

Therefore, Dante is a Feeling. And I think that’s what makes him and Vergil opposites and always fighting: Vergil wants power and puts logic over feelings, avoiding them like the plague, while Dante wants love and puts feelings over logic, embracing them and acting out of what his human heart tells him is the right thing to do. The whole series is based on this – at least in my opinion.

Verdict: Dante is an ENFP. Didn’t really expect it, but after analyzing with care, it makes a lot of sense to me.

Also, all the memes with ENFP x INTJ relationship dynamics I just checked are basically Dante and Vergil in a nutshell - I’ll leave some of them below and you guys will HAVE to forgive me not really crediting the people who created these memes, I honestly just found on google and wanted to share so you can have an idea of what I’m talking about.

But I honestly have been wheezing for the past hour and I thank you SO MUCH anon for this ask – I hope you enjoyed this little TED Talk about the Sparda Twins’ personalities please Capcom hire me to write official canon about them