#some ambiguous spoilers for the manga

[fumifooms]

Falin who cares too much and too little - analysis

Been stewing on Falin thoughts for a while, I know I have an interpetation on her that differs from many but I’m jumping into the fray. I think there’s a lot to be said about what we do see of Falin. This shorter Falin analysis I made is heavily encouraged prior reading. This analysis mainly explores her complex relationship with caring and so it’s sort of structured in two halves, with Faligon at the crux of it all.

Falin cares too little :

A lot of people assign Falin a people pleasing mindset and I… Don’t agree. We never see her care at all about people in her town or at the academy not liking her.

We do see her worrying about what people think of her… ONCE. And Laios comforted her, told her they didn’t matter and she should be proud of herself. She latched onto that hard. That’s why this scene was so important to be included during the dragon fight, relationship-defining; it’s always been them against the world. She grew to not care what others thought, to only focus on her close loved ones. No one else matters.

Laios’ words were her world. Her older brother who taught her how to feel comfortable with herself, who told her, you’re great, others are the ones in the wrong to not see that, I’ll always be with you, always be there for you. Older brother who always made great plans, who always knew more, who was better at wrestling to name the dogs, who she has always idolized. Laios who always spoke of traveling the world, to which she always said she wanted to follow. And she would, she’d follow him even if it meant leaving the academy and all she knew behind, she’d follow him to the ends of the world, and that’s what she did.

She didn’t care about showing to her classes or keeping up such appearances, she doesn’t even think of toning down her jumping into bushes when Marcille recoils, etc. She acts like an obedient pawn often, to her parent’s directives and then following Laios around no matter what he decides to do, but I don’t think the motivation is people pleasing, rather it’s being with & caring for her loved ones, and her go-with-the-flow attitude enhances the impression. Not that it’s as simple as that, mind you, but let’s talk about this for now.

Falin is perceived as selfless because we, the audience, have our perspectives revolving around the main people in her life (Laios, Marcille). They’re the ones she’s devoted to and people who care about her back a lot too, but to people like her classmates or the towspeople she probably must have seemed like someone who didn’t care about the people around her or her surroundings a lot, who just went on alone and did her own thing.

What matters to Falin? From what place does her kindness come from? Is a part of her keeping up appearances? And I think that’s the point, the horror of Faligon as well, that we can’t tell just how in control Falin the person is as the chimera (because we are shown that she’s in there, we just don’t know at what degree), that we don’t know her enough to be able to tell when she’s at her most genuine, her most raw. That even if you do settle on none of her being present as Faligon, we have to at least consider it, consider that she may be able to do something like this and have a part in it, brutal and uncaring. That even the lenses we see her through, the people who love her, may be unreliable.

And this is what’s very interesting about her too, she truly is so idealized by people around her as a saint. She’s so good and kind and caring to everyone etc etc etc. Laios, Toshiro and Marcille all see her as the paragon of goodness in the world. More cynical characters like Namari and Chilchuck have more layered opinions on her, the latter finding her somewhat unnerving because he can’t read her well. But then with that one flashback scene we see that… Her priorities are intensely focused on Laios and Marcille, she doesn’t care all that deeply about anyone other than them (+ maybe her parents). The rest of the party is in the same danger here but only Laios and Marcille who she’s speaking to get the special ,ention, and if they don’t cross her mind then of course she’d be ready to sacrifice strangers through a risky teleportation. That doesn’t make her not kind or caring!! Just that greater good isn’t exactly her priority. Any means is alright if the end result is her loved ones safe, it usually takes the form of healing and caring, but we see she’s ready to fight and make dangerous calls too. To me there’s this aspect to her that she isn’t as pure and magnanimous as everyone thinks she is, both in-world and interestingly enough meta wise as well, and there’s something interesting to that.

People pleasing implies a need to be liked, needs for the motivation to be that. A yes-man, etc. But if we analyze Falin, her general kind, smiling demeanor is more a matter of passivity I yhonk. Conflict avoidance is easier, so she’s friendly and hopefully things’ll be smooth sailing. It’s easy to be kind to classmates even if they act wary and rude if you don’t care about what they think either way. Of course she prefers good things happening to people over bad things, she is genuinely kind, but I think people tend to assign her a very grand altruistic way of life when to her the motivation is pretty self-centered. She doesn’t do what she does because she loves them, but because she loves them.

One situation that’s interesting to dig into for her way of thinking, and what I’m trying to get at, is Shuro’s proposal to her. I’ve seen people saying she hesitated because she didn’t feel comfortable saying no even though she wanted to, "I can’t say no, I don’t want to hurt him", something that sounds sensible and familiar, but it’s actually canon in the Adventurer’s Bible that the reverse was the case, that she didn’t feel comfortable saying yes. Because the offer was tempting, but it’d have been a loveless agreement on her end. And it makes sense she’d want to say yes too, like we see with the Toudens, marriage is very much a political strategical economical thing in their village, there’s even a bit on it on Laios’ Adventurer’s Bible profile about dowries, and both siblings were engaged very early. They lived poorly for a long time, it’s an enticing idea to marry rich, to have not only yours but your brother’s needs met forevermore easily, which at one point in their careers was their main worry and goal. Why shouldn’t she accept a life of leisure and wealth handed to her by a lovely friend?

So her hesitance was "yeah that’s convenient for me, but where it’s everything to him and heartfelt I’m able to be detached because I don’t care about it that much… Can I do that? I’m not reciprocating, not saying yes in the way that matters. Can I do that to him?" Very caring even though it’s not what you’d expect, isn’t it?

And central to my analysis, where I’m going with this is, I feel like that’s the thing with her character, that she doesn’t feel as strongly as she "should" sometimes, or feels a different way than she "should", or at least that she feels that way and others say she does. She didn’t mind suddenly leaving the academy, leaving Marcille behind and not seeing her for 4 years. She acted like it was no big deal that she sacrificed herself after getting resurrected after the red dragon fight. And in both those cases it upset the people around her greatly that she didn’t seem to get why it was such a big deal, didn’t seem to care about how they’d experienced her choices.

So it’s a tendency… And it’s not that she doesn’t care, it’s just that the way she measures what’s good for the ones she loves isn’t the same as what they themselves think it is (like Laios and Marcille not wanting to be apart from her). It’s an overt but quiet kind of care, it’s doing things like following them around and making sure they bathe and have a meal, even if that means she has to be dragged into misery too.

So yes she probably would know "not caring enough/the right way" is one of her perceived flaws, and that informs how she tries to handle her response to Shuro’s proposal. Her not wanting to accept like her first gut instinct, is because she’s thinking about reciprocity, about if it’d be right to go into this knowing that they have different priorities and she might not be able to keep up with the type and amount of emotions he wants/expects from her. And that’s a big part of her character isn’t it, having expectations pushed onto her. Her trying her best, but in her own way that may seem odd or even unfeeling. Not unlike when she exorcised the ghost as a kid too, unblinking and matter-of-factly, and not seeming to understand why people stared the way they did.

Even though she answered his proposal only post-canon, she’d been pondering it for a while even pre-canon and the Adventurer’s Bible explanation was released midstory, so I’m hesitant to assign her much growth about her hesitation and what I went on above, since she still didn’t react "right" with Laios after the red dragon fight (even if she apparently doesn’t remember sacrificing herself) and put herself in that situation in the first place. She hasn’t finished her arc on that flaw of hers is what I’m saying, she for sure still has it, but I certainly think her thoughts on Shuro’s proposal shows awareness, both of herself and social.

And awareness is a big analysis key word with Falin, especially here it can be hard not to conflate not caring with not knowing. How socially aware is she? It’s rather layered, because canonically she wasn’t aware of her ostracization in her hometown at all, and we’re not sure if she knew Shuro was interested in her before he proposed, but she generally seems more socially aware than Laios. She tags along on his caravan job to make sure he isn’t being mistreated (though doesn’t ask he get a salary), she catches social faux-pas more easily like in the genderbend magic mirror omake with Shuro, and interestingly enough she’s very good at empathizing with her parents and understanding their perspective. We see when she’s worried about Marcille coming that she does know about propriety and how appearances shape impressions. Being a chief’s daughter must at least have taught her a thing or two on that front.

She never stands up for herself, but when it comes to defending others she worries, strategizes and explains.

And this sort of understanding is part of why I think she’d notice the expectations pushed onto her like I was saying earlier, notice how she makes people feel when she’s careless. But if she changes anything about herself in response to noticing is for her to choose, and generally I think it’s a sort of inbetween of yes and no: that she becomes more complacent but also more reserved, complying but by hiding more of herself passively. She’s not sure wether to accept or reject Shuro’s proposal, doesn’t want to lead him on? She’ll just be taking a while to silently consider it, try to keep things as they are for the time being. The third, less conflicting option. She doesn’t feel heard by Marcille who keeps infantilizing her? Just bear with it. Retract yourself emotionally. Settle for it.

We see that when she was young she had a tendency to not read a room, and I think that’s here too. She doesn’t get why her nonchalance upset others but that doesn’t change that she doesn’t want them upset or hurt, so she tries, albeit in maybe a roundabout way. She always had a hard time deeply connecting with people, often keeping herself some amount of emotionally distant: erasing herself from the equation, from the two-way trade that relationships are and making it a onesided thing instead, where all their needs and emotions are directed towards her but she only lets out a bit of her own show. She takes everything upon her and deals with it and tries not to give others this same burden, though not on a conscious level, it’s just that she’s learned growing up that she doesn’t have much agency.

Like I went into with my analysis linked at the beginning, I think Falin is used to just taking what she can get and not asking for more, when it comes to social bonds. She’ll take spending time with her mother no matter what it is they do, she’ll follow Laios to the graveyards and stick by him even when he’s pushing her away (because he doesn’t want her borrowing his book or "No copying!" or such). Her father was always distant, cold and uncommunicative, her mother was considered sick from anxiety and the exorcism attempts were the main way they spent time together, at dinner tables there were only her and Laios. The dogs picked on her too even if she loved them— And so did the townspeople, maybe that being normal to her at home is why she didn’t notice the ostracization she suffered.

She’s always been the last to be asked about decisions or what she wants, never asked to play with at recess, neither her father or Laios asked before sending her to the academy or leaving the village. At home, in the hierarchy she was considered to be below the dogs by the dogs themselves, as someone they can disrespect. Dogs learn from example and behavior, so this means Falin must have been pushed around a lot, and that the family didn’t try hard to rectify the dogs’ misconception, likely worsened by Laios regularly wrestling with her as a competition.

So for example when Falin showed Marcille food, it was her way to implicitly ask to have lunch with her without voicing that question, without daring to take up space. Someone’s presence isn’t something you ask for, it’s something that’s bestowed upon you, you can follow them around but you can’t ask them to stay or to come with.

She’s used to her needs and wants not being listened to, so she’s learned to have less wants. Caring less about herself, caring less about other people beyond her safe zone, was a defense mechanism in part. She has a sense of learned helplessness too, like how when Marcille came to take her away from Laios, even though she didn’t want to leave with Marcille it felt so determined and unshakable to her that whatever Marcille decided Falin would have to comply with.

And still, it’s the "marrying you would be awfully convenient if it wasn’t that I’d feel guilty for not loving you back, the way you wanted me to when you proposed to me" and the "I don’t regret leaving the academy and leaving you behind without goodbyes but I’m sorry that you’re so much more upset about it than me". It’s the guilt of not loving people back the way they want to be, with the same intensity or fervor.

It’s the autism it’s the aroace of it all, it’s the emotional stunting and confusion but the pit in your stomach telling you you did something wrong again. The no object permanence even for people you love even for 4 years, it’s the feeling like you’re somehow at fault for someone having fallen for you and not knowing what to do with any of it. I’m not joking btw it isn’t uncommon for autistic people to not see their close friends for a long while, not having missed them all that much and for that to be really hurtful for the other if they notice/ask about it. "Hiii bestie! Oh umm you’re uh more emotional about this than I expected, hopefully you won’t feel alienated by me not feeling as intensely about it…"

So… Yeah. I think she thinks of things and relationships in a different way than most people, and beyond "good things happening to people is good" I don’t think she actually cares about people all that much. I’d argue that Laios shows more desire to connect with others and make relationships. And just like with Laios and his own issues with humans, that doesn’t mean her kindness is a lie or ungenuine or worthless! It just means that like, well it’s pretty straightforward really, she’s not all that social and doesn’t see casual bonds as meaning all that much and whatnot. She does want to see people happy, but it’s not as much like… A conviction or goal. She’s too laser focused on a select few people. "It’s not that they’re bad people, they just aren’t interested in humans."

And sometimes it feels like people get defensive about Falin in a meta way too, like if you ever so much as imply Marcille isn’t her whole world or that she isn’t the kindest soul out there then you’re saying she doesn’t care at all or she’s evil. And that’s actualy exactly the sort of vibe I wanted to get through with my analysis above here actually haha, that she does care and she is kind but it’s not in a way that’s quantified or understood in a way that makes people feel comfortable. In a way, that makes people feel insecure because they don’t have the same logic as her, don’t show love the same. And I think this is another stellar depiction of autism, of parts of it that feels unpalatable to many, if I’m making sense. The fandom idealizes her as well, which isn’t uncommon or surprising for the character embodying the trope of the perfect beloved to rescue.

And disclaimer, as I said in the tags I feel like the details of Falin are pretty vibe based when it comes to analysis, there’s absolutely a valid angle where she does super care about everyone always, feel free to disagree with me on the overarching angle of my analysis. There’s enough supporting evidence to tip the balance either way I think, and the reason I’ve chosen this angle is I feel it’s more compelling for the themes in Dunmeshi of idealization and being different, of desires vs wants, and because I think it neatly ties up Falin’s character arc as I’ll go over throughout the next section…

So.

Not feeling as much as she should. And……. Is this not Faligon pushed to the max?

You can’t tie down a dragon. As the chimera, she gets to just not care about everyone else and be on her merry way.

Part of it I think is finding comfort and freedom in the mindlessness, in not having the burden of feelings and connections and a consciousness (despite still ending up seeking those in a stranger, Thistle). Like when she’s dead in the purgatory as well, she gets to just… Hang around and do whatever. Similarly to when she played in the forest instead of going to class in her academy days. That’s what freedom and peace of mind looks like to her. Why she decides to roam post-canon, if only now with the goal to find herself instead, with her mind in tow and somewhere to go back home to.

There’s excellent analytic framing out there about how of course, Dungeon Meshi has a big theme of grief and letting go, and… Falin was always a symbol narratively, idealized by characters and often underconsidered by them despite their love. It was Falin’s choice to sacrifice herself for Laios, she thought it was worth it, knowing that it would be her end. Her resurrection and the process of it intertwining her soul with a dragon’s wasn’t done with her consent, and the subsequent opening it gave her to become a chimera puppet. She’s stripped of her agency consistently, and so… It’s very noteworthy that the final choice, of wether to go back to life or to stay dead, in that purgatory scene, was up to her. And she chooses life, but I do think about her in those fields and how at home she seemed there. Peaceful, by herself in a vast calm expanse she could explore, free.

Personally, I think freedom is Falin’s own subconscious selfish desire. And though to us becoming the chimera is obviously a shackle, I think it felt like freedom to her somewhat, too.

And if you think I’m going wildly off the rails here I want to talk about Laios’ wish of becoming a monster. And to be clear before getting into it, being mentally a monster is absolutely a big part of the appeal for Laios, it’s something that’s consistently referred to, something especially pointed out in the werewolf monster tidbit with Lycion. Right panel is from that, but left panel is from the extra with Izutsumi where Lycion talks about suppressing souls in a beastkin body, the human or the beast soul.

Finding comfort and freedom in being mindless, less sentient, less aware? While being unaware in her hometown might have saved Falin a lot of heartache although perhaps stunted her emotional growth, it’s always been Laios’ curse.

Actively, through his choices, he seeks to grow closer to people, to form deeper bonds, to understand and be undertood, but… On a deep seated level, what he desires is to leave humanity and civilization behind. He has an irrational hatred for humans, born from the trauma of ostracization, being different, being beaten up and rejected consistently through his life. Running away from problems is easier. He wants to be free from being a social animal from a social species who has deemed him the black sheep, he thinks it’d be simpler to just leave it all behind, people and his own humanity. At its core, to Laios becoming a monster is a power fantasy, a coping daydream of "if only I could be strong enough to never be hurt again, the power to destroy anything I want, the power to go somewhere better, if only it was possible for me to never feel hurt again. If only I could be someone, something, that can never be hurt". "If there’s someone you don’t like, you can gobble ‘em up in one bite. If you could fly, you’d be able to leave this village right now." It’s a childhood fantasy, from a deep sense of being misplaced and a desire to be able to stand fearless, thinly covering up resentment that Laios represses.

But you’ll notice, when the Winged Lion is enticing him in the last page, even now with his lifelong wish of becoming a monster on a silver plate, he still cares about his friends. He still has that sense of responsibility to his friends, doesn’t want to leave knowing they’ll be in danger and alone. The offer that his friends may be left unharmed is already good, but Laios also visibly flinches when the Winged Lion offers to specifically care after Marcille and rid her of her biggest fear. Laios’ care runs that deep. Not unlike with the succubus, he resists temptation until he gets reassured that everyone will be okay. But see, what he desires isn’t to stand alongside Marcille until her last days, it isn’t to stay and see how well his friends will live, it’s to go. It’s to leave. It’s to fly away, a monster both in body and mind. He wants to be free from caring here, wants to not have to worry about his friends, wants to just go do his own thing, but for that he needs to feel safe in the belief that said friends will be safe even without him being there to see it, because despite everything else he cares, he does. It’s again that dichotomy about caring and wishing you didn’t, or not caring and wishing you did.

In the end, it’s Falin who achieves that wish. Both by becoming a chimera during canon, and by going traveling post-canon. In the latter, being both free of human relationships as something chaining you while still being uplifted by them, by the knowledge that there are people out there you love and that love you. It’s a theme that can also be connected with Marcille, because she gets anxious over people she loves getting out of her sight, worrying they’ll get themselves killed, that time is passing while they’re away from her. But before she can get to the point where she can both have her freedom and being uplifted by her social bonds, regaining both her individuality and her connections, she has to get a taste of just one at a time. Before they can find balance in her life, she has to see what it’s like to have what she’s never had on its own. Unapologetic freedom, and power.

No one can blame you for not caring enough or caring right if you’re a fricking dragon!!!! You make the rules when you’re a beast and you can just… Fly away. From anywhere, from anything. And if a dog bites you you can just crush it. Instead of being pushed around by the dogs because you’re at the bottom of the hierarchy, you’re now at the top, the one with the power to be heard and do what you want without consequences.

I think she’s on autopilot. I think she’s on autopilot a lot of the time, even before being a chimera, and it’s partly why her will is so weak compared to regular dragons. (Again, read my shorter analysis.) It’s familiar to slip back into the role of following someone around unquestioningly. And that’s what is weaponized when she’s a chimera, that instinct she’s been nursing all her life to unconditionally support, defend and follow someone. Only now, that someone doesn’t matter in itself, only the symbol of it. She doesn’t mind, either way is fine. Her will is weak after all, because she’s trained it to take as little place as it could.

Falin cares too much

She spends all her time caring for Laios and Marcille alternating that none of her care and emotional energy is left for others, including herself. So she had to get relieved of all of that for a bit, becoming the chimera so she could reset and recenter and remember that she, too, indeed, is there and an important part of her own life.

So you’re probably seeing the duality I’m talking about here, Falin is very self-sacrificial but for specific people in ways that they often don’t recognize or appreciate. She cares but selectively, both in people, putting all her eggs in the same baskets, and in the ways she cares after them. She doesn’t care a lot, but when she does she cares a lot. Falin doesn't have a lot of earthly attachments, but when she does, they're her world.

In canon her arc, especially post-canon, is to grow beyond Marcille and Laios. Her caring for her close loved ones held her back from looking after her own self-fulfillment needs. And this is what I mean when I say she cares too much; she could gain from caring more about the world besides Laios and Marcille, both lands wise and people wise. She cares too little, but her arc centers her flaw around caring too much instead. Her pitfalls that Kui highlight over the course of the story, while of course her selflessness is appreciated for how she saved Laios and everyone, on a personal level is shown to be self-effacing and damaging. She’s undermined by Marcille, without the courage to voice her thoughts and wants, she would dedicate her whole life to Laios. And I mean, it’s text, in the response to Shuro’s proposal extra no less. And she’s so laser focused on her most loved people that she’s fine with being callous and risking others’ lives, even.

Post-canon, she needs to leave to find herself, away from them.

Herself. What if she wants to just be with herself for a while.

And this is me reaching but I feel like, not unlike Izutsumi who learns to feel this sense of never being alone, always having someone on your side what with having two souls, the dragon in her would make her consider herself more. She finds it easier to care after other people after all, and in the purgatory fields sequence she takes care to bring the bit of dragon left with her… Not unlike with Izutsumi, having two souls forces you to think about your identity and figure yourself out. Besides being this sort of duo now, where if she wants to care after herself she can channel it to that other side of her too… In meta dragons are symbols of greed, and I think the bit of dragon would push her to want more and listen more to her desires, primal and self-serving as they might be. The dragon soul which warped her human body with feathers and draconic features, her image of perfection marred, her weirdness externalized in a way that’s not palatable. But she doesn’t care, about if her appearance is palatable for most people, she hasn’t for a while now, and that’s great.

Notes & nuance

I’m struggling with the structure of this post, making my points organized, concise and strong at once. It’s difficult to make any statement without going "things are generally like this, but there’s this time that this contradicting thing happened too" or "it’s ambiguous enough that you should just follow my interpretation for the time of this analysis" haha, so this is the pit where I put all the stuff that wouldn’t fit well in other places but are interesting for Falin’s character. This section is pretty separate from the main thesis of the post, it’s just more Falin observations. The post has reached the 30 pics limit so I can’t just pull it up whenever it’s relevant but I really encourage scrolling up to read the stuff I highlighted in her Adventurer’s Bible profile if you haven’t already.

I think with the shy-looking loner type autistic kid archetype, and knowing she didn’t seem to mind others ostracizing her, it’s easy to lose sight of how she was by no means an unemotional child. In all the bits we see of her as a kid she’s bursting with energy and emotions. Canon confirms Laios leaving the village did affect her and make her lonely and she cried a lot, too. She may not be social in the traditional sense, but she was clingy with her brother, and she also never was all that shy about who she was, wearing her heart on her sleeve.And okay. Okay okay okay. Speaking of appearances. About what I said of her not caring about what people think of her, even seeming defiant with the caravan leader… There’s one istanxe of her caring actually, and it’s about how her face blushes easily. I remembered it as being because Laios’ said it and as I rambled Laios’ words are her world, but actually it’s ambiguous. It’s only Marcille imagining up this scenario where Laios says Falin looks weird because of it, there’s no evidence Laios said or thought that at any point. And on the other hand…

Her Adventurer’s Bible says: "5, Lovely Skin. She isn't particularly careful with it, but Falin's skin is fair and beautiful. Possibly as a result, her cheeks seem to flush easily. Marcille's always saying she's cute, and she secretly has a sizable complex about it." The phrasing makes me think the complex she has over her blushing might have developed because of Marcille more than Laios. "Marcille's always saying she's cute, and she secretly has a sizable complex about it." It could be related to how Marcille gets swept away and infantilizes her, calling her cute wanting her to wear cute feminine outfits etc. Again this feels like it relates to Falin’s struggle to be seen for who she is and what she wants to be seen as, her struggle to be recognized, having ideals and perspectives pushed onto her. Here Falin is insecure over her blushing implicitly because she doesn’t like being called cute over it, but that’s not how she wants people to see her. She doesn’t want Marcille to always see her as her 10 years old adorable friend. Like if your friend said you had puppy energy, it can be flattering, but it can also make you insecure.

Here’s a link to what I mentioned about her being uncomfortable wearing feminine outfits. It does seem to be more about comfort than the aesthetic perse, to me. Interestingly the shirt & shorts don’t seem like they show much more skin than her beach outfit, so maybe it’s more about the shirt and shorts being tight-fitting. Like the skirts and heels they feel stifling. Again a bit with themes of freedom and not wanting an aesthetic pushed onto her. So yes just to reiterate, I think this is more about self-affirmation and how her identity and self-image gets shown to others, rather than wishing to hide parts of her body like her blushing etc for people pleasing reasons. Makeup was a way for her to appear how she wants to and feel more confident. It was a way to take control over her own image. She didn’t keep doing it, the narrator stating the process to be ‘troublesome’. Ultimately she still prioritizes her comfort, and it was a lot of recurring efforts to go through.

And on the topic of appearances… A friend once asked me: "Does she really hide herself or not? I keep thinking about "falin is herself first and foremost" (in her Adventurer’s Bible profile) it’s just so. Hmmmmmmmm... I just keep seeing people say she hides her real self from people when I feel like the issue is more about her charitable traits straying too far into becoming flaws but people around her dont realize that..."

Imo the thing is, I don’t think she hides her identity, but I do think she suppresses her individuality for others’ sakes if that makes sense. In the way that only post-canon does she allows herself to go see what the world is like, but that’s not personality wise it’s needs and wants wise. And I do feel like that’s the closest interpretation of canon, she says it herself she doesn’t know what she wants because everything she’s done was always about Laios or Marcille, but she doesn’t change her demeanor or personality for others. But she *will*, like, not ask for things she wants directly, like sharing lunches with Marcille at the academy, she suppresses her wants, doesn’t ask things from people and doesn’t hope for more, hope for better. I don’t think we ever see her actively repress her personality, except like what, being more laidback than enthusiastic but I do feel like unlike Laios with her it’s less ‘appearing stoic to fit in more’ and more ‘yeah i’ll just chill until I’m needed or something activates my enthusiasm’. To which said friend quoted: "to feel like you belong you need to be useful. when you can’t be useful the next best thing is being convenient."

And speaking of passivity… I want to speculate about Shuro’s proposal some more. Shuro and her got along well though we don’t know how much, or how often they hung out, she even saved him from a nightmare. Why did she take so long answering Shuro’s proposal? Was it an effort to preserve or was she really just that conflicted? Procrastination probably yes, but what is the core motivation of itl Considering she ended up saying no to travel the world instead, I don’t think it was as simple as ‘she wanted to say yes for convenience’. Logically it’s what would have been best, but it’s not what she wanted for herself, but it was and still is hard for her to even know what she wants. Probably, since like she states it was a great offer and she doesn’t think she’ll get proposed to again, it’s that self-effacing tendency that yes it’d be convenient and logical, and that makes her want to say yes even if her spirit isn’t in it, because if it’s convenient then that’s more important than her feelings on the matter. Man also… Obviously Marcille is very vocal about how she shouldn’t get with Shuro, but imagine how Falin’s whole perspective on marriage must have felt when her only friend ever is a Romantic with a capital R who gushes about idealized romances and grand gestures and True Love and doing things with fully pure feelings all the time.

AND speaking of passivity!!! How much Falin is "there" as the chimera, just how much she’s master of her actions, is left ambiguous and intentionally so imo, but she’s for sure there & influencing the dragon’s action to some degree. Having a dragon’s foot on her in purgatory that keeps her from moving for sure visualizes how it must have been like, but there’s Falin calling out to her brother Laios, there’s the kind attentions towards Thistle that are so Falin-like, and most explicitly there’s the Adventurer’s Bible stating "Even after becoming a chimera, she has a soul that's as kind as ever", which I honestly dislike, a fantranslation puts it as "Even as the chimera, her caring nature remains" and either way to me it feels like confirmation that it’s her giving those berries to Thistle. Now, wether or not she has the mental capacity of a chicken or something closer to human Falin, no clue, there has to at least be some kind of mind bond between monsters and the dungeon lord, compelling or forcing them to go along with orders, or calling her to him in distress like with the fight on the first floor. But yes, it’s interesting to wonder what it is that a Falin, with her kind soul but without her human mind, would willingly do. On her profile, she’s described as Thistle’s guardian and servant. The power dynamic between the two are very interesting, I already went into how it might have felt like freedom to her while being fake so I’ll reign myself in and just mention it again. She’s still at the heel of someone, only now it’s someone who doesn’t care about her back. Going from being cared for so strongly that it’s suffocating and they would defy death and the world for you, to being devoted to someone who has not one feeling about you besides your utility as a paw . She has all this care to give and to focus onto others and he has none to send back to her and I think that’s part of it. In a way, being left with only her own feelings and a void, without expectations or feelings or ideals pushed onto her, it might have been soothing in itself, and eye opening. But yes the way I think of it, her care for Thistle isn’t unlike the care she gives the ghosts.

Interestingly, the care she extends for the ghosts is sending their soul to a peaceful death, freeing them, of life and any earthly attachment. Take that as you will with the themes of freedom and burden of life and mind, immortality and becoming a warped version of who you were, and such and such.

But going back on the topic of connections and bonds for a bit, I think academy days Falin & Marcille is super interesting bc we’ve never really see Falin form a connection besides with Marcille and even that is kept pretty ambiguous. When was the point that Falin started seeing Marcille as a friend and seeking her out? When was the "I’ll lay down my life for you" point? I’m so fascinated by how she wanted to share lunches with Marcille but never truly asked, only made little "hey want this? I found it isn’t it cool?" gestures of showing things to her… It’s the only way she knows to ask, or maybe it’s the only way she feels comfortable to. In all the scenes of young Falin and Marcille Falin seems comfortable in her friendship with Marcille, but at the same time… I think we see Falin at her most insecure around Marcille, because she really does care about Marcille and what she thinks of her so much, and while Marcille is a bit of an unstoppable force tornado style (affectionate) Falin is something of a doormat. I’d usually say showing her berries was her earnest way to connect and be like "Hey bestie look at this! :]" , but there’s a real possibility that she was self-conscious and holding herself back.

Friendship and Marcille! Involving Laios into this too but, again with the autism thing of not showing you care in ways that others understand, Marcille being very overtly affectionate and clingy was so so soo important… Marcille keeping on hanging out with Falin and caring after her, and being undeterred/unbothered by Falin not always seeming like she cares all that much back in the conventional way, as in Falin acts nonchalant and a bit like she didn’t mind wether she was there with her or not during her outings to the cave dungeon. Caring and being clingy and so affectionate despite that in such a classic Marcille way is soo needed, because so often people will get discouraged by say, their friend not keeping in contact regularly/well, seeming disaffected or as happy-go-lucky as ever even if you haven’t seen each other in a while or when they’re alone, and yes there’s potential for a strong friendship there but someone like Falin won’t be committed enough to reciprocating attention the same way… I hope I’m making sense but yes this angle in particular strongly correlates to autism. And the way Marcille always initiates physical affection, both Toudens being awkward about initiating touch because they don’t know if that’s allowed, if they’re going about the social interaction the right way, if they’re allowed to ask that out of someone…

Another fun observation to make is about the 4 years Falin and Marcille spent apart. Marcille despite being of a long-lived race treated these 4 years of separation with more gravity than Falin did. Falin brushed it off very dismissively to say the least. But then you remember that the amount of time Falin and Laios didn’t see each other after he left the village was 8 years. Double the years, double the time. And that reminder makes Falin’s actions so starkingly understandable. Of course she wouldn’t see 4 years of separation as a long time if 8 years of separation with her beloved brother is her point of comparison. Of course she’d see it as worth it to leave Marcille for 4 years if it meant ending those 8 years instead, especially if she was worried about him (the reason why she followed him into his caravan job).

A friend always says that while Falin is the center of Marcille’s world, Laios’ is at the center of Falin’s, and I tend to agree.

It’s fun to think of how her career dreams had always been shaped by Laios, even when they were kids. Of course there’s how traveling the world began as a dream they talked about and shared, but there’s how he reassures her by listing cool jobs she could do like traveling exorcist, etc. And then of course, she gave up on her magic academy and career path to follow him and do odd jobs, etc etc.

I should go into the violence of Faligon more tbh, because I think there’s an interesting parallel to how she has no problem wacking things with a mace, wether a ghost when she was a kid or a walking mushroom as an adult. Something that often surprises fans when they remember, I don’t really want to get into the whole " Falin hates violence and hates seeing people in pain to an intense degree. ‘If you die do it somewhere where I can’t see’ style’ interpretation, it has some weight but on the whole I don’t vibe with the theory she has a particular aversion to violence, she seems to be fine resorting to it as much as any other adventurer as long as it isn’t needlessly against ghosts. And Falin’s sudden mace hits are fun to me too because it’s not her becoming a berserker when the need arises as much as her becoming active because something she cares about is threatened, and that brings her out of her passivity from 99% of the rest of the time. Thistle included. Falin always could be violent, she just dislikes senseless carnage. The Shuro party vs chimera fight is a bit ambiguous on it, because you can argue she only attached after being provoked, presumably offscreen as well while the ninjas went off to fight the harpies. Falin becomes the most active when she needs to protect someone, she has no qualms doing whatever’s needed for that, wether it be leaving the academy & Marcille without notice no matter the consequences or what her parents think, or teleporting the party, etc.

I’m working on a post specifically pointing out all the differences between Falin and Laios, but yes I think both of them selfishly desire freedom in different yet similar ways. Falin’s dark secret is "Ethics and risks are optional if it means I can protect those I love" like the teleportation, and Laios’ is "Ethics and risks are optional if I can be free of all this bullshit" aka humanity aka his wish with the winged lion.

Conclusion

Flighted birds have hollow bones. With freedom and wings there comes risks and sacrifices.

Tldr: Falin doesn’t care all that much, she’s very go with the flow. For example if someone hates her she doesn’t really care because that’d require her caring about what they think of her in the first place, and she only cares about her loved ones. She smiles, but it’s more a state of being rather than out of active goodness: she’s canonically very genuinely kind, but it’s more out of a general want for pleasantness than active care itself. She’s passive, and softspoken because that’s just how she seems, but she has no problem hopping into bushes or getting heated if something calls to her enthusiasm or calls for action and a hit of the ol’ mace. Her loved ones needing tending or protective is what makes her go from passive to active. That familiar autopilot mode of making someone the center of her world and following their every move is what made her so easy to be controlled as the chimera, even ferociously defending him with her life. Faligon is most interesting to me with the theme of freedom. She’s shackled to Thistle and out of her mind, but there’s also a sense of empowerment and freedom from expectations and society. She spends all her time caring for Laios and Marcille alternating that none of her care and emotional energy is left for others, including herself. So she had to get relieved of all of that for a bit, becoming the chimera so she could reset and recenter and remember that she, too, indeed, is there and an important part of her own life. There’s a way of caring after others that can be selfish, not unlike Marcille being overly coddling and not listening to Falin. In Falin’s case, I think it was so selfless that it ended up looping back around to erasing her sense of self. In losing sight of herself, that devotion becoming neither quite selfish or selfless but a fact of life and a state of nature, muddled by its lack of direction.

She’s sooo used to never being able to ask things out of others, you get the crumbs of affection and approval that others offer to you unprompted and that’s it don’t hope for more don’t ask for more. (Also reflected in how she follows her loved ones around without complain or personal opinions and how she’s not willing to rock the boat and affirm herself in her relationships like with Marcille during canon)

Falin cares so much, so much and so laser focused on her few loved ones that it blinds her and she loses sight of everything else, she ends up neglecting herself and the rest of the world. As Kui puts it, Falin is herself first and foremost. She just had to remember the importance of that.

-

I see her as an enneagram 9, which can be surprisingly accurate and fun to research through the lense of Falin. Excerpt below from this book, but like my god, good way to put it

That’s it, ty for reading. Even if it’s a bit of a mess, hopefully you’ll have gained a thing or two from it. Falin is a character hard to pin down, but it is very gratifying when you find the way that the puzzle pieces fit together right for your own understanding of the story. Fantranslation of the shuro proposal comic by @/thatsmimi here.

Here’s my spotify playlist for her if you’d like

Sometimes love is about letting go, a lesson a lot of the cast needed to learn. Self-love’s important too, and just like with diets we need a healthy balance.

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

SxF Crack Theory: The Identity Of [REDACTED]'s Father

Hear me out here.... but, maybe, Twilight's father could be Yuri's boss, aka, the SSS Lieutenant.

Now, this might be a crack/joke theory, but here is the evidence I have to back up my claim (yes, I'm presenting it because I'm just Like That):

(Warning: Manga spoilers ahead)

Exhibit A: Physical Characteristics

Here is a picture of Agent Twilight:

Here is a picture of Yuri's boss (who, from now in, will be referred to as YB, for my own convenience):

We can see that Twilight and YB have very similar facial characteristics: bluish-grey eyes, blond hair, and a similar face shape (nose, jaw).

We never see Twilight's father's full face: only the lower half, because he has presumably forgotten his face, along with his mother's (King of Emotional Repression™️), but we can see that his jawline and shape of his mouth are very similar to Adult Twilight.

Oh, and look at that- rather pronounced cheekbones, if I do say so myself. Where else did I see those? Hmmm

Exhibit B: Ambiguous Fate

During the War Arc, we're never told about [REDACTED]'s father's fate. We just know he never returns to his family: and the reason why he left for the very last time, was that, "Things have been heating up at the border. I need to take a little business trip." The fact that his, a (presumably) rather important man's, body was never recovered: nor were [REDACTED] or his mother informed of his death. Of course, his body could have been lost in the bombings, or the part of [REDACTED] finding out about his father's dead could have been omitted, but for most of the part, we're left to assume about his father's dead. And... this sounds familiar to another instance...

Like the instance of [REDACTED]'s friends. He (and we) assumed they'd died in the warehouse as children, but later we see that they're alive and in the army (only to die a second time, RIP), but this time, for their deaths to be confirmed: for [REDACTED] to only receive their dog tags after the failed campaign.

This may have been a setup: for Endo to reintroduce [REDACTED]'s father, later in the story, as YB.

Anyway, one thing I've learned after reading and watching so many books, comics, and TV shows: never assume a person's dead, not unless their body/proof of their death has been explicitly shown. This belief was only reinforced after [REDACTED]'s friends.

And, [REDACTED]'s father's last known place was around the Westalian-Ostanian border. He could have escaped in the crossfire, theoretically...

Exhibit C: Fatherly Nature (?)

We all love a good found-family dynamic in the workplace. It's there with WISE, it's there with Garden, and it's kinda there with the SSS.

My main argument about this stems from the chapter which focuses on Yuri's work.

We see YB continuously worry about Yuri's physical health, in panels like:

Obviously, this doesn't happen only in this chapter. Whenever Yuri's there, YB is also there, yelling at him to a) go to sleep, or b) STOP GETTING HIT BY BUSSES OH MY FUCKING GOD IT CAN'T HAPPEN SO MANY TIMES TO ONE PERSON-

And, of course, there's the Yuri Sick Fic chapter:

Not gonna lie, this point is extremely weak, if I brought this up in court I'd be laughed out of there-

Anyway, I just wanted to put this in.

If it does turn out that YB is [REDACTED]'s father then. Bestie. Buddy. How are you managing to be a better father-figure to some insolent kid who gets hit by busses than you were to your actual son, like 20 years ago. Maybe he learned along the way.

Exhibit D: Symbolism (???)

Oh, look, another point I'm pulling out of my ass! But whatever, you're reading it <3

During the War Arc, we see Twilight sustain two major injuries:

One, as a child, when his home is bombed:

And two, as an adult, in the army:

and these injuries are both to his left eye.

Of course, this has given rise to theories of him not being able to see his left eye, it being his blind spot, and Yor guarding his blind spot on missions, etc., etc., which I love bc ✨Twiyor✨

Getting back on point, if we look at YB, we see that he has injuries too... or rather, remnants of them, what with the scars he has...

which, are also on his left eye. Huh! Interesting... this might just be me, but could this be parallels to how similar he and his father were? Are? His father also wanted peace between Ostania and Westalis: but he taught his child that in a very harsh manner (by slapping him), but Twilight wants to teach Anya that in a kind manner. Whenever we see him teaching her, he never loses his cool with her (of course, he loses a lot of hope, but this man's a pessimist, what can we do).

Also shows how much kinder Twilight is, compared to his father.

---

Of course, these points are very weak, and it might just be that Endo reused some character designs for efficiency, but let me be, ok!! This is a crack theory!!! Let me be a clown!!!! AKDFJSJF

If I'm being honest, this post was inspired by a convo I'd had with my friend, around the time Chapter 86 was released. She was theorizing that [REDACTED]'s dad is the Shopkeeper, and I was theorizing it was this dude. Of course, our theorizing was sidetracked by Chapter 86, and a certain panel within it, but... WHATEVER.

So, what are your thoughts? Obviously, my own theory is very weak (for example, why would the SSS accept a Westalian citizen into their ranks? Why would he even join the SSS? Could he have defected? Abandoned his wife and kid?), but this was fun to think about, lol. What are your theories? I think the Shopkeeper-is-the-dad theory and the YB-is-his-dad theory are both cool, so, what do you think?

(Also, yeah, I know, his dad could very well be dead. I just refuse to believe it, bc I'm just Like That <3)

[stsgooo]

moonlit goddess.... maybe jinshi is wondering why his dear maid continues to pull away from him... and maybe gao shun lets it slip that "they shouldn't have been close that day anyway".... and jinshi pesters him until he folds n explains.... IDK I JUST WANT A HAPPY ENDING FOR THOSE TWO :((((( (not forced ofc!! i jus love ur writing!)

Bridge the Gap.

✩࿐ summary: life and death really makes a girl wonder.

warning(s): idiots in love, chapters 61-65 manga spoilers, master/servant like relationship, description of near drowning, suggestive content, ambiguous ending. wc; 9.3k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader.

a/n: tysm for reading my fics means the world to hear ppl actually enjoy them, anon!!! ;') i wasn't really going to make a 2nd part of moonlight goddess as i thought it was okay to leave off there, but i love jinshi sooo i'll take any excuse to write him. this was initially going to be a part 2 of clumsiness, but i figured my plans worked better with what you were envisioning! im not entirely sure how to feel about this, but i hope this lives up to the standards! i apologize for any mistakes, this was written mostly in the early mornings when i had time!

part i. m.list

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

"Y/N, please, stop asking me that."

"Oh, yes. My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry."

This were, admittedly, not going well. Both of you soaked, hair dripping, and standing in the cave behind a rapid waterfall, and a dull ache in your chest as you recovered. Partly your fault, partly the fault of some crazed marksman that was hiding in the forest, trying to slaughter Jinshi and, by proxy, you.

To understand how you two ended up in this situation, we would have to back up a bit.

"Oh? Y/N, I didn't know you'd be attending this as well?"

"It was a last minute switch with Suiren and I."

"You... enjoy these hunts?"

"I've done everything I could to avoid them in the years past."

Your lack of excitement was apparent and clear. It appeared to bring no ease of mind to Maomao who dragged her rather disgusted eyes from you towards Gaoshun. The older man just kept his attention on the moving scenery outside, a distant glaze over his eyes.

Maomao obviously wasn't optimistic. Just like you. You were almost proud that she had caught on so easily.

The sweltering heat outside seemed to seep into the carriage, cooking you alive in your rather formal wear. Something that you were spotted in far and few, having been years that you truly cleaned yourself prim and proper. You had been on the edge of declining even going when Jinshi, with a grin and a certain glitter in his eyes, had too happily informed you that it was a direct invitation from Shishou.

Your fate had been sealed.

Maomao peeked at you from the corner of her eye, head tilted, "Do you mind me asking why you avoided these events?"

You don't even spare her a glance, "I fear if I spoke my honest opinion, I'd stain Jinshi-sama's reputable name with my foul mouth." You reply flatly in return.

"Please don't." Gaoshun said softly from his seat, looking particularly tired.

You decided to ignore the slump of Maomao's shoulders as if disappointed by the swift interruption and decline on Gaoshun's part. Turning your eyes towards the shifting world outside.

It'd been exactly five months since Jinshi had danced under the moon and you came to the conclusion that any impure thoughts you held for your master would be safely tucked away in the back of your mind (and heart). Forever your secret. Only to be heard in your dreams and upon your death, when you repent for any ill thoughts to the Great Man above.

Everything had returned to its normal routine. You would get up in the morning, prepare breakfast alongside Suiren, eat, then proceed with any chores the woman gave you for the rest of the day, then repeat. Equally, your relationship (or lack thereof) with Jinshi had remained the same. Conversations filled with pleasantries. Simple things that had always lingered between the two of you since you were children. Pleasant and simple. As the world shall ever be.

It got a bit ruffled with Jinshi had cornered you and practically ordered that you come to the hunt instead of Suiren.

In the middle of scrubbing away at the floors, he had found you. Stood above you with that grin, “Y/N, you’re one of my most loyal servants, hm?” He’d begun with an inflection in his tone that made you horribly hesitant.

You had faltered in your scrubbing to stare up at him with confusion, “Uh…well, I suppose, Jinshi-sam’s.”

“Why don’t you join me for the Hunt this up coming week?”

Your had heart dropped. And, by the look Gaoshun had dawned, his had too. The Hunt, in your humble opinion, was a glorified weekend for the men in high positions to rub one off while killing animals. It wasn’t something you found interesting in or much grace. That’s why you had declined Suiren’s question on whether or not you’d like to take her place only three days prior. You had no interest in watching anyone, even Jinshi, size each other up while a defenseless animal bled.

“Jinshi-sama, I believe Suiren—“

Ever the gentleman, he had cut you off, “No worries, Suiren agreed to take over matters while you’re gone! She’s the sweetest, right?” He had appeared all to eager and all too himself for you to ignore.

So, with a heavy heart, you’d sighed, accepting defeat and his invitation.

Now, you would find your torture for a multiple day retreat with a bunch of men with their c—

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, bringing an unruly end to your thoughts as you all carefully exited and were greeted by the sunshine. The humid air heavy with the condensation of the area and already making a sweat appear on your brow. But, ever the lady, you pleasantly tuck your hands into your sleeves and follow behind Gaoshun and Basen.

You were a little surprised as Maomao stuck closely to your side; but not all too surprised to find her attention on your surroundings, vague surprise in her eyes. The area was as equally as beautiful as it was a burden to you.

The buildings weren't anything for you to revel at. Spending an entire lifetime within palaces and in buildings as equally or above standard to those, it just wasn't anything special. The nature surrounding the area, however, was something to stare in awe at. Lucious trees, beautiful grass, and beautiful array of plants and flowers. It almost made you regret all the time you had spent away from this place.

But it wasn't like you had the chance to truly return since the last time you were here. Nothing could bring back that little girl.

You deterred your thoughts away as Gaoshun slid the door open. Immediately, you were hit with a wave of heat that you made you tense up. It was apparent that you wouldn't find your much needed cool down you were desperate to find since you were confined in the carriage days prior.

You were the last to enter and when you did, you faltered at the sight before you.

Jinshi was sprawled across the couch, wisps of his dark hair framed his sweat glistened face, eyes closed in contempt. A small dent appeared between his eyebrows and a frown adorned his face. However, your attention was caught on a drop of sweat that made its way from his hairline, down his cheek, his jaw, his long slender neck, and past his— his collar.

His modesty was of no worry, apparently, as he laid with his robes parted open to reveal his chest. Itself was glistening with sweat. Delicate skin on showcase for all to see. It brought a soft blush to your cheeks, as you blatantly ogled him. Pressing your lips together to contain whatever thoughts you had about him from burst from your seams.

"Y/N," Jinshi's voice hit your ears, tender and smooth. You're suddenly hyperaware that he's staring at you with raised brows, lids peeked open to stare at you.

You straighten your back and offer a bow, "Jinshi-sama. Do you require anything?" You had to get it together. It was inappropriate to behave in such a scandalous way. "Request for ice? Tea?"

Jinshi shook his head, sitting up, "No, rather I'd like for you to rest after such a long journey."

You falter, your arms wavering from their position in front of your face, "Uh.... Wouldn't the room be more tolerable with some ice?" You spare a glance around the room and grimace. The windows are shut tight, only bits of sun peeking through the cracks. Basen looks rather miserable, but trying to appear his usual stern self. While Gaoshun and Maomao seem rather okay with showcasing their small discontent with the heat. A nice cube would help at least cool down a bit.

You also couldn't stand another second seeing Jinshi like that. As if he were some type of nymph testing your faith.

"Really, it's fine—" Jinshi attempted, but you were already turning on your heel.

"I will return with ice." You didn't miss the way Jinshi's face fell and his eyes cut to Gaoshun who shook his head in return.

Your fast paced adventure led you to the main hall, where people were moving in and out. Various officers and servants filled the area, finding their rooms or helping their masters and fellow officers to their own rooms. Everyone appeared to be feeling the heat as they wiped their brows. Much like you, they appeared to be attempting to defeat the heat.

You found your way towards an attendant who helped you get something situated for Kousen. Something that brought you both distaste and irritation. Something to be addressed at a later time.

Joy filled you as you turned around, ice would soon be in the room and you could crowd around it like it was a new lover.

As you were about to make your way back to the room, you ran into someone.

You were about to apologize when they whirled around and you let out an audibly sigh that conveyed your unwavering exhaustion for them.

"Hey, watch where— Oh, hey, " Lihaku blinked, kind face twisted up in vague recognition. “You’re that lady-in-waiting. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m on loan from Jinshi-sama,” you answered rather flatly, not missing the small frown accompanying the man’s face.

You were vaguely familiar with Lihaku. What with Maomao getting involved in the problems within the inner and rear palace, you were bound to make new acquaintances when she was dragging you around. Lihaku was the first one you had ran into. On orders to accompany the girl from Suiren, you had gotten to see her investigative skills firsthand. You were impressed, surely, when she had made the discovery about the potatoes. But the impression was overshadowed by Lihaku, who had spent the entire time chatting your ear off.

He was kind, handsome, and smart when it called for it. But you could tell that, like most officers, he had an airheaded vibe to him. One that deterred you from making things too complicated with him.

Friendly enough, and one of the few people that didn't seem to disinterest Maomao, you accepted his very vague and shadowed feature in your life.

"Well, that's nice of him." He said, clearly disinterested in where this conversation was going. "I'm glad to see a friendly face, though."

You offered a small smile, "As am I. Not many kind faces around here often."

"You can say that again." You hear a loud inhuman snort and a tug on your gown, taking a large step back, you look down. A large dog with drool leaking out from the sides of its mouth stared back at you. "Oh, hey, boy, no!"

"O-Oh my." You uttered, slightly breathless as you looked at the large beast.

Lihaku glanced at you, offering a withering smile, "Eh, sorry, he gets excited around new people— not a great trait in a dog like this, you would think, but he's a real gem. Just has his moments. Hey, now—"

Lihaku pulled out something metal and brought it to his lips, then blew. It emitted little to no sound, at least, any you could truly hear, making your perk up when the dog tilted his head and sat respectfully before the officer. He blew again and the dog laid. Again, and the dog stood on all fours.

You smiled softly, watching in wonder as it obeyed whatever silent orders it was getting from Lihaku.

"He's very smart." You observed as the dog sat down again.

"Right?" Lihaku beamed, "I can get him to come running from kilometers away if need be."

"Useful when you're in a bind."

"For sure!" Lihaku's demeanor reminded you of a proud father as he puffed his chest and looked distastefully towards the cages lined up outside. "He's real smart, yet they still want to use those birds in the end."

You didn't want to point out the various problems that could come with using a dog; as there were probably another list of various pros to actually use the dog. The hawks had been used for years and you doubt that some dogs would be taking their place any time soon. It'd probably be a long time before these arrogant men came to their senses and found better means. Despite dogs being loyal and determined to their cause, the hawk would always be chosen.

Or, the better alternative, they didn't do this hunt anymore.

But you knew that was a longshot.

It wasn't long after that you bid Lihaku a farewell and good luck on his duties, making your way back to the room. You exchanged pleasant smiles and greetings with familiar faces, but nothing that kept you from relaxing much longer.

When you returned to the room, everyone had found their own areas and activities to occupy themselves. Gaoshun and Basen were playing Go near the windows, Maomao was reclining on the floor where a sliver or air was flowing through (from where, you weren't completely sure). Jinshi was back to sitting on the couch, a book in his hands. Something that was quickly disregarded as you gently closed the door behind you.

"The ice should be up soon." You informed the room with a respectful bow.

Jinshi didn't look at all interested, "What took you so long?" It sounded like contempt. Irritation if you had to really dig. Something that made you falter.

You look up and see the pout on his lips— childish, as always. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jinshi-sama. I happened to run into a friend and got caught up in conversation." You apologized softly. The last thing you wanted to do was bring him more annoyance and disturbance.

He straightened considerably, "A friend?"

You didn't like the way it was spoken. A touch of disbelief was enough for you to eye him with your own distaste. Even if you and Lihaku were nothing more than strangers with vague familiarity with one another.

"Yes, a friend." You confirmed with thin lips. Despite your inner voice telling you to reign in your attitude, you upturn your nose and decide to join Maomao— whose eyes were shooting between the both of you with trepidation and vague sympathy. "He was being kind."

Jinshi huffed, "I didn't know you had any secret friends."

"Not a secret. Just don't find any time to speak about it with you, Jinshi-sama."

That made the man falter, a darkened shadow over his face. "I suppose." He frowned heavily now, squinting at you with something unreadable. "Who is this friend of yours?"

You, finding no reason to lie, continued on, "Officer Lihaku."

In an instant, three heads snapped to you with varying degrees of emotions. Maomao looked shocked, but welcomed the information with a shrug. Gaoshun looked pale and overwrought, for whatever reason you weren't entirely sure, but you had an itching feeling it had to do with Jinshi.

The same Jinshi that was now face down on the couch, letting out a miserable sound. Speaking into the fabric of it all, unintelligiable. But you swore you heard something along the lines of— "that second rate, again?!" As he continued to rant and cry.

With that, you decided it best to not involve yourself with whatever Jinshi was battling. You wouldn't win anyway.

You'd always hated Kousen-sama.

He almost always seemed to loom in the shadows. An masked man who held no personality or words of his own. Pleasantries offered out of necessity and not because that was simply the right thing to do. He was mysterious. He hardly appeared, but he was always there. A reminder for what things would return to one odd day. A symbol for exactly where your loyalties and master lied.

Kousen-sama was to always appear before others with his mask on. To avoid them seeing the ghastly sight of scars and blemishes that adorned his skin because of his sickness (whatever that may be) and spare him the indecency of stares. He was unmoving. Stone amongst he lively environment that ate away at their lunches and softly conversed with one another.

Prince. The respectable Kousen-sama. The great son of the empire. The brave prince against all odds.

Oh, how much you hate Kousen-sama.

But you still had woken up early to help him pin his hair back. To slip his robes on. To delicately place the mask on, fingering the bangs out through the slits to allow some type of familiarity. You were his confidant. His reliable and kind servant.

As always, you and Basen stood behind Kousen-sama with your backs straight and eyes ahead. A pleasant servant on loan and stern guard, you both were familiar faces against the unrecognizable figure in front of you. It reminded the people exactly who was before them. Exactly who had decided to grace their presence.

Still, it brought you discomfort.

You still eyed Gaoshun in the corner of you eye. The older man sat at the other end of the table. Maomao standing behind him with a distant look in her eyes, obviously not paying attention to the things happening around her. Not entirely surprising, but you felt the overwhelming urge to scold her for her lack in etiquette.

Oh, you're starting to think like Suiren, aren't you?

Suddenly, Basen is tensing up beside you and Kousen-sama is turning his head away from a scowling Shishou. Your eyes snap between the two with a scowl of your own. Whatever that man had said—

Kousen-sama's hand clenches. So tightly that his knuckles turn white and he shakes. You know something isn't right. You had missed something. Something so obvious and you were too concerned about Gaoshun.

The man stands from his chair, the legs loudly clattering against the tiled and stone floor. You watch uneasily as Kousen-sama raises, takes a moment to collect himself, then practically speeds away from the room. You don't waste a moment to bring your sleeve covered hands to your mouth and make your own exit.

As you pass a concerned Maomao and Gaoshun, you hear a barely uttered whisper from the girl— heat. Food.

You try to hide your confusion and worry as you follow behind your master.

It doesn't take you long to find him.

Down the path, up against a tree, the masked figure was hunched and obviously breathing heavily. You draw closer, outstretching a hand to gently press it against the large expanse of his back.

"Kousen-sama, are you quite alright?" You ask softly, hunching slightly to capture a glimpse of his eyes from that slit in the fabric.

When you do, you're almost breathless. His violet eyes are alight with something distant and scornful. Eyebrows furrowed as he meets your own gaze.

"Y/N...?" He sounded vaguely surprised under it all, breathless himself. As if he couldn't quite believe that you were here in front of him.

You nod once, reaching out and grabbing ahold of one of the ties keeping the mask all together. "I'm going to remove this. No one is around."

His hand is suddenly wrapped around your wrist. Not tight or unrelenting, but enough to make you freeze. Warm and clammy skin against your own to make you feel scorched. You don't need to see his entire face to know that his jaw was clenched now.

"I can't," he said in all his self-assuredness, "Someone might still come."

What a pain. You thought to yourself as you draw in a heavy breath.

You don't waste a second to slip under his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders and allowing him to lean most of his weight against you. "No worries, sir, I'll just find us some place where no one else is around."

You gently guide Kousen-sama from the line of trees and deep within it. Finding an oddly familiar path created within your mind to follow that takes you towards an overflowing waterfall. A loud crash of water hitting the rocks and body of water below that brought you a distant sense of comfort. The refreshing smell of the water hits your nostrils and you take a deep breath.

With Kousen-sama against you, you felt the sweltering heat hit you tenfold. But the mist from the waterfall brushed against your skin like a gently caress from an old lover.

This is it.

You stumble over to one of the few trees next to the waterfall and gently guide Kousen-sama to sit up against it. The man took a heavy breath and you finally felt a little at ease. Reaching forward, you moved to take the cloth off once again and then—

A loud thud and chunks of dirt hit your cheek.

You frowned, looking to the ground only a could feet away and saw a small crater. A sharp smell filled your senses and you stiffened. It was an unkind and almost putrid scent. The smoke from the small crater was the main cause.

"Eh—?"

You were suddenly cut off as Kousen-sama wrapped his arms around you, jerking you upwards and away from the tree. You would've basked in the way his body was pressed against your back or the way his fingers seemed to mold into your abdomen— you would've if it weren't for the loud crack in the air then the pieces of bark that flew through the air around you.

The tree that he had been pressed up against only moments ago was now split open with a piece of metal imbedded into the wood. It looked eerily similar to the same that had been in the ground moments ago.

"Is that a feifa?!" His voice pierced through your thoughts, oddly frantic and uneasy as he moved quickly from the tree and towards the river.

You glanced up at him and found him already staring down at you. Eyes narrowed and, if it weren't for the mask, his entire face would be scrunched up in that familiar distaste and panic. Yet he seemed eerily calm as he dragged you through the trees and into the water.

"Sorry, but this is gonna get a bit dramatic." His voice was soft against your head, warm breath caressing your hair as he wraps a protective arm around your head.

Your eyebrows raise, "Dramatic— WHAT?" You should've known his tone and choice of his words were a warning for what was to come, but you were still caught off guard.

He gave no indication that he was going to jump off the cliff.

"Jinshi, you goddamn idiot!"

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

The water was oddly clear. Even with the mix of the overflowing waterfall, under it all was peaceful and calm. Fishes and water like insects lived in harmony.

Cool and calm. Always.

You are there to serve your master.

The little boy's head burst from the water with a big grin, short hair flat against his head and dripping. The sun reflecting off his violet eyes and almost blinded the little girl curled up on the side shore. Her face set into a scowl, clothes drenched, and a looming unimpressed older man behind her.

"It's so nice out, why don't you come in!" Beckoned the boy from the water.

The little girl shot him a nasty look, "You know why, you jerk!"

The boy's grin faltered, tilting his head at his friend, "Eh? Why are you being mean?" His voice wavered on the ends, still just floating in the middle of the basin.

"I'm not mean! You're mean! You're the biggest meanie!" The little girl stood up to throw an accusatory finger at the boy, her sleeve heavy and uncomfortable as she moved.

The boy's face reddened, eyebrows scrunched together, "I'm not mean! You're mean!" He repeated.

"No, you are! You're the biggest meanie in the whole wide world!"

"No, you are!"

"You are! You pushed me into the water!"

"You are! You should swim!"

"I hope you drown, meanie!"

The boy's expression fell completely. A heartbroken glint in his eyes flooding them. His lips trembled. But, before he could do something like cry, he was already swimming deeper

Nothing less, nothing more.

"Now, now," a large hand rested on the little girl's shoulder and gently tugged her back, turning her around to face the man. He seemed to be trying to appear as tender as he could to try calm down the girl's high nerves. "No need to get angry."

"But, Gaoshun—" The little girl whined.

Gaoshun shook his head, patting her shoulder, "No, we don't argue. Try to forgive and forget, yeah?" He reminded the lessons that he'd attempted multiple times to teach the two children. "No reason to walk around with resentment for others, right?"

The little girl scoffed her shoe against the ground, a pout on her lips, "Do I have to, Gaoshun?" She knew what this would call for. Exactly how this would end for her.

The man heaved a sigh, nodding, "Yes, you do. Now, go reconcile. I'll wait here."

The girl faltered as the man raised to his full height, cupping his hands behind his back. She dragged her feet through the soft soil and found her way towards the boy once more. He was grasping onto the edge of the bank, sniffling and snorting. His shoulders shook and his face was stuffed into his arms.

The little girl frowned. "Um... Are you okay?"

The boy stiffened, not turning around as he answered, "No."

"I'm sorry, I said something real mean." The little girl uttered, stepping closer as she clutched her wet clothes. "I just... You pushed me into the water, I can't..."

"I thought you were my friend!" The little boy whirled around on her, face red and eyes filled with big tears. He looked enraged but incredibly disheartened. The girl blinks in return as the boy glares. "You say such mean things to me. Friends aren't supposed to be mean!"

The girl clenched her jaw, "You were mean to me first!" She accused.

The boy sniffled, wiping under his nose with his forearm. "You're my friend." He repeated as if that cleared up any anger.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The little girl slowly sat beside him, her feet dipping under the water. "It is nice." She whispered.

The little boy dragged his eyes upwards, looking hurt but hopeful. "Right?" he asked, equally as quiet.

"You're my friend too, Jinshi." The little girl nudge him with her leg.

Jinshi's eyes twinkled, wide and all too bright, "Really?"

"Really." The little girl confirmed with a toothless grin. "My friend forever and ever!"

Jinshi positively beamed, the water sloshing as he jumped happily. "Forever and ever, and ever!"

"And ever!"

"It's no longer... appropriate for you and Jinshi-sama to be friends."

"I don't... I don't understand. He's my friend."

"His mother no longer finds it appropriate for you to concern yourself with Jinshi."

"But, Gaoshun—"

"No, Y/N. It's over. Come along. Suiren has a present for you."

"He's.... He's my friend...."

"I'm so sorry."

You are to give your life to your master.

The woman paused, back pin straight, as she entered her master's office, finding him curled up in the corner, muttering nonsensically to himself. The guard of said master was watching on with a pitiful expression of his own, only breaking his eyes away when the woman entered the room. His expression only seemed to deepen.

She didn't need to ask. There was an unspoken understanding as to what their master's breakdown was regarding. The Apothecary. The one that had gotten the attention of everyone in the palace as of late. The one that had been causing her great grief as of late— and was about to create more.

"Jinshi-sama?" The woman called softly, stepping closer.

Jinshi's lifeless eyes continued to stare at the floor below him. A gentle rocking seeming to soothe himself from the rages of his mind. "I don't need anything, Y/N. Thank you, kindly." He uttered just as lifelessly.

The devoted servant's chest clenched. Her face flushed as she reached out a wavering hand. To place it delicately against his hunched back. To offer her best comforting words that she could. To distract him away from her.

Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

She faltered. This wasn't her place. This wasn't a part of her duties unless Jinshi said so. Inappropriate behavior wasn't called for. It will be punished severly.

Retracting her hand, she stands, and offers a respectful bow. "Please call me if you need anything, Jinshi-sama." And left him in his dark corner.

"Gaoshun, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Jinshi-sama."

"You have been in my life for as long as I can remember. You remember more than I possibly could about my younger years. Whatever happened to cause me and Y/N to fall apart?"

"...."

"It had to be around the time I was eight that I noticed we were growing apart. Even now, I see it so clearly."

"It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. You're no longer children."

"All the more reason to know, isn't it?"

"I don't know...."

"Gaoshun, nothing will come of it. I'm simply curious."

"..."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position. Please return to what you were doing."

"Jinshi-sama.... you might not like the truth..."

"I usually don't."

"Where to begin.... Before her eighth birthday—"

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"H....E—"

Everything felt so muffled. Faraway. Featherlight.

Was that a pressure against your chest? A thump that came into quick successions, then stopped. For something soft and ever so delicate to press against your lips?

Everything was distant. So far away from your grasp. From your state of being. As if you were already long gone from whatever reality you were in moments ago.

"H—"

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It was almost like floating. A gentle sway and a crack.

A joyful gliding against the sky that soothed you away from worries and woes.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

Repeating endlessly. Happily. Wetly?

Thump. Thump. Lips.

You welcomed it. Whatever it was. Whatever kept the rhythm. The wonderful rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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THUMP. THUM—

You shot up with a cough.

Your throat burned and head ached terribly. Your eyes almost felt like they were about to pop out of your head and roll away. You felt horrible.

It didn't help that you were drenched from head to toe either.

Beside you, there was a heavy and loud sigh of relief as he fell to his backside. He let a silence fall over you both as you recovered, hand pressed against your throat and heaving.

Jesus. Had you almost...

The thought alone almost made you sick.

"I'm sorry. I thought.... I didn't think you still couldn't swim." His voice was soft, barely heard over the waterfall. Kind and cautious, worried and terrified. Things that seeped from his tone as if it were bleeding out and bearing all its insides to you.

Exposing him to you.

You peeked over your loose strands of hair to glare viciously at him. "When would I have the time to learn to swim?" You shot back ruthlessly, not entirely caring from etiquette in this moment. "You've lost your mind."

"Right." Jinshi immediately agreed, almost looking fearful as he watched you.

You push yourself up and take in a deep breath, coughing slightly at the burn of your throat. Taking in your surroundings, you swore that this was that—

"Are you really alright?"

You glanced back at the man and found him still sat on the damp ground. His eyebrows are furrowed and a small frown on his lips as he stared up at you. It made you uncomfortable. To see such a glittering violet staring back at you earnestly. Honestly.

You instead clutch onto your dress, "Suiren is gonna kill me." You scoff, tugging the garments apart.

You could hear Jinshi sputter behind you. The gravel and dirt below him crunching as he probably scrambled up from his spot.

You spared a feeble look over your shoulder to find him with his eyes clenched slowed, hand covering your body from his gaze. You snap your gaze back around and tug the fabric a little too hard as you scoff.

You wouldn't deny the pang of hurt that clenched your chest.

"Don't worry, Jinshi-sama, you won't have to see my unruly body of mine for long. I just want to make sure Suiren doesn't slaughter me when we return."

"I— No, I'm just— okay." He finally muttered.

You are stripped down to your underthings, placing the dress and various pieces on the ground as delicately as you can to avoid too much dirt being stained into the fabric.

As you place the last bit of clothing down, you hear the flutter of fabric behind you.

Jinshi is a bright red, gently tossing his robe down behind him. His back is facing you and you know its for whatever mock sense of modesty he wants to give the both of you. You instinctively reach out and take his robe in your grasp, twisting it and squeezing it to watch out a fair amount of water drip out.

"You worry about mine later. Take care of your things first."

Yeah, right, You think as you twist it with an unrelenting grip. You are there to serve your master. It's one of the first things you learn. His needs came before your own. His needs were your needs.

Jinshi snatched the robe away and squeezed the fabric tight, an overflowing amount of water released from the cloth and into the ground.

Okay, so maybe he was better at it than you.

You nod, turning your attention towards your own garments and try to ignore the overwhelming feeling that you had eyes on your rear.

"So, um—" Jinshi cleared his throat when his eyes dragged away from you, cheeks a bright red. "What now?"

"Well, we could attempt at trying to swim back—"

"You can't swim."

"I was going to say that."

"Oh, sorry."

There's a soft silence between the both of you as you finish up. Gently redressing, you make your way towards the entrance of the cave, where the waterfall is blocking it from any negative eyes. You press your lips into a thin line and regard it bitterly. You remember this waterfall.... you could recall the times you whimsical pondered what it'd be like to ride down it like in those stories.

Jinshi had promised such when you both were too young and too dumb to realize how naïve dreams like that were.

You couldn't really judge that mini-you, for you had your own dreams of—

"Remember when Gaoshun first brought us here?"

You hadn't realized that Jinshi made his way over until he was standing beside you. Robes lose over his shoulders and tugging on his top layer. Violet eyes were watching the water as if it were a canvas of memories in the long distant past. Something to be admired and viewed with daisies and smiles. Not to be addressed as anything but good or amazing. Not to see the truth of it all.

You press your lips together, drawing in a heavy breath, "I remember you pushing me in the water and Gaoshun having to pull me out."

Jinshi's face screws up slightly, a faint blush on his features as he almost looks around with shame. "Right...." He straightens, "I'm sorry."

You blink, "Huh?"

Jinshi glances at you with a small smile, "I, uh, never really apologized back then. Made you apologize like you did something wrong." He explains weakly.

You raise an amused brow, "I told you I wished you would drown."

"I kinda deserved it!" Jinshi counters, his lips cracking into a grin. That charming grin he gets that makes your heart flutter. Make you hopeful for terrible and wistful. "I'm real sorry."

You smile softly, eyes kind and soft as you regard him, "I forgave you a long time, Jinshi-sama."

Jinshi's expression faltered, "Don't call me...." He trailed off awkwardly, turning his attention back to the unrelenting waterfall. You watched him for that moment. That split second where it looked like he was actually going to say something that would make you lightheaded. His jaw working and the muscle jumping as he seems to contemplate his next words.

Say anything and I'll cling to it, You think, watching his lips part, I always have. I always will.

"I'm surprised you were the one that followed me out. I thought the Apothecary might've done it."

You tense. That was certainly not what you expected him to say. Of all the things he could say? The Apothecary.

The waterfall in front of you is suddenly much too loud and violent. The cave seems to darken and your eyes drag from Jinshi to stare at your bare feet. Of course. Of course. Why wouldn't he want Maomao? Why had you even came here? Who were you to get between whatever silent signal he was trying to send to the other girl.

Him and Maomao. It was nicer than him and you. Jinshi and Y/n.

You straighten, pushing down any ill thoughts and heavy feelings into the dark pits of your chest and mind. "I apologize for the intrusion. I thought it'd make more sense for me to accompany you, Jinshi-sama."

"Why are you apologizing....?" He trailed off and then made a noise that sounded eerily similar to that of a caught man. "No, wait, I'm really glad that you're the one who came! Like really glad!"

"You don't have to spare me, Jinshi-sama. I'm a woman now, not a little girl."

"I'm not—" He visibly slumps, closing his eyes and trying to collect whatever thoughts he has and place them appropriately. He draws in a breath and faces you, looking oddly serious compared to his usual self. "I'm not trying to spare your feelings. I was just trying to say that— Well, it's not— I want you here, Y/n."

He's sparing your feelings. He's being kind. He doesn't actually want you there. You can't be friends.

You don't spare him a response. Instead, walking further into the cave. You raise your eyebrows, looking at the gaping hole above you where light and the sounds of nature filtered in. What could possibly get you both out of there...?

Whistle. Sit.

Of course. Him.

Jinshi sighs, "I spoke to Gaoshun before we—"

You place your fingers in the corner of your mouth and blow. A loud whistle bounces off the cave walls and out of the hole. You wait and hope to hear a bark or see the familiar tall man, but there's nothing.

"What are you doing?" Jinshi asks slowly, glancing between you and the hole above.

"Hello?" You cup your hands over your mouth and shout as loudly as you can. "Is anyone out there?"

Jinshi frowns, staring at you uneasily, "Y/n, please, we don't want to attract them this direction."

In the mess of almost drowning and seeing peeps of Jinshi's bare skin, you'd almost forgotten that you both had been chased down here by some violent assassin. Rather foolish, if you were honest.

You place the tips of your fingers against your lips and try to force the blush spreading across your cheeks off. "Sorry." You offer a bow of your head, despite the position you both find yourselves in.

You receive no response which causes you to peek at him. The stare that he's leveling you with doesn't bring you any type of comfort. It usually meant he was about to say something that—

"Hop on my back and see if you can reach up there."

—you wouldn't like.

Your eyebrows shot upwards and you stared at him with wide eyes. If Suiren was here and knew what he just proposed, she'd positively lose her mind. No matter how long she had known you— she'd think it improper. He was your boss and you were his lowly servant. To be in an position above him or treating him like a mat, it was...

It was simply ridiculous.

"But—"

"If you're the one below, you'll get crushed." He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Do it."

And that's how you ended up here. Legs wrapped around Jinshi's shoulders and heads, hand reaching out for the dirt above. You dig your fingers in and glance down at the man below you.

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

Jinshi sighed for what seemed the hundredth time that day, his hand on your thigh squeezing gently. "Y/N, please stop asking me that."

You grimace, "My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry." You shakily raise from your place, ignoring the soft and deep grunt Jinshi gives as you stand on his shoulders.

You dig your nails into the damp dirt and begin to tug yourself up.

This is it. Finally, you could get into the open forest once again. You're not going to be suffocated by his presence. Everything will return back to its rightful places—

You froze when it smacked you in the forehead.

You tried to keep calm as you felt the slimy breathing thing rest on your skin. Body tensed up and eyes staring widely at the bright sky above.

"Y/N?" Jinshi softly called, noticing the way you tensed.

"F—Frog." You utter, jaw clenched tight and you felt it shift as you take a deep breath. "A frog."

Jinshi blinked, looking up at you with his own wide eyes, "Hey, don't-don't freak out! Just shake your head and it'll hop off."

You shake a little, but follow his instructions. However, you may have overestimated the shake as you lose your grip on the dirt and begin to fall back.

"Hey!"

The tumble down is short and not all that hurtful, like you had been expecting. You had closed your eyes in anticipation, fear of having to watch the ground quickly approach too much for your tiny heart. You expected to feel the damp mud to be seeping into your clothes and little bits of stone and bark digging into your skin. However—

Nothing.

There was nothing except the soft silk under your fingers. The scent that resembled a sweet fruit, one that you had smelt quite often in the mornings. In the noons, the evenings, the nights, repeat. You knew that smell and that familiar beat against your own chest.

Peeking your eyes open, you find that Jinshi is already staring back at you. The first thing you notice is that you both are extremely close to one another. His breath fans against your dewy face, making goosebumps raise off your skin and a shiver sent down your spin. Next is his tender expression, Eyes gentle and twinkling. His expression isn't filled with pain or anything that would indicate that he was uncomfortable with the very short distance between you both. The last thing you notice is the fact that your body is pressed against his.

Your complexion flushes and you blink down at him.

He's warm. Incredibly warm. A sharp contrast to his damp clothes, which are open and pooling under his shoulder blades, revealing his bare chest to you. Your breath is ripped from you as you stare at the plump skin. You've seen it a million times. Every day as you help him get ready for the day. It should be normal. Should be something that doesn't make you lightheaded.

But it does.

He's right there. Right against you. You can feel his heartbeat ramming against his chest and into yours. You can feel every small breath he takes—as if hanging onto this moment with, what? Trepidation? Unease? You weren't entirely sure but you knew that you felt light.

Was it so bad that you felt nice in this moment? That this warmth was wrong? Was it so out of your reach that you simply couldn't imagine a man wanting to embrace you in a way?

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

Yes. It was.

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the tender look in Jinshi's eyes as you try to bring your mind into the present.

The frog.

It wasn't anything that you wanted to touch, but Jinshi was your master. Your discomforts and fears must be pushed away for his sake and needs.

Reaching down, you feel for any signs of the frog. It wasn't large, but it wasn't entirely small either. It wouldn't be hard to find in all it's slimy and— There it is.

Your hand brushed it and you feel almost elated to find it. Your hand cupped around the bulge from Jinshi's robes. It feels much bigger than the average frog that'd been on your forehead. It was unmoving to, except for the small twitch it gives as you rest your palm down. You gripped it.

"Hng," Jinshi grunts, his eyes close. You're a little shocked as his hips shift, his hands at your hips dig into your flesh, almost too eager. You snap your eyes upward to his suddenly sweating and flushed face. "I-I'm sorry, but... but could you move your hand? It's making things, um, rather difficult."

Difficult?

You grip onto the twitching frog below you—

"U-Uh—" Jinshi moans in a deep and guttural way that would make anyone, especially you, malfunction. It doesn't help that his hands latch onto you harder, pressing you closer and releasing a stuttering breath against your ear.

Why was he squirming so much? Why was his face so red and dripping with sweat? Why was his chest heaving and his hands flexing around your skin? And why was this thing twitching and getting bigger in your hold....

Oh.

Oh.

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

You felt a little sick at your intrusion. At the gall. You couldn't believe yourself. You had violated one of the single rules you were ever given. You violated Jinshi's space. His entire being. You were to be punished and hated— ousted from your position.

Disgusted with yourself, you slowly stand up. Jinshi's softly panting from his position on the ground, running a hand through his mused hair.

"S-Sorry, I haven't— I'm a bit—" Jinshi's obviously embarassed and uncomfortable. Look what you've done. You've ruined it all. "Hey, where are you going?"

Before you could think much more as his hands grip your hips once again and pull you down.

You're sat on his his lap and you could feel it.

"J-Jinshi-sama, I'm so-I'm so sorry!" You tucked your head down, shaking with trembling lips.

Jinshi's hands fall to your thighs, limp, "Eh...?"

"What I did was truly inappropriate and-and I will take any and all punishment!"

"Punishment...?" He sounded terribly confused, still a bit breathless. You keep your head ducked and he remains unmoved. "Why would I... you're not getting punished."

"I give my life to you. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished." You repeated softly under your breath, tucking your hands against your face to hide away from his gaze. From the judgement and hatred. "It's only just."

There's a longstanding silence between the both of you and you're hopeful that he's coming to his senses. That you'd be released and freed. That you would finally accept the gap and space between them. To fall away, finally, to the shadows.

It was tarnished the moment Jinshi wraps your hands around your own, gently prying your hands away from your face.

He doesn't look vengeful or angered. No. No, he looks kind. As he always has been. Kind and considerate. Honest and open. He'd always been so...

He'd never really been angry with you. Not without sadness being overbearing. Always so quick to forgive you. To push everything away with a smile and crinkle of his eyes.

"Y/N..." His words are as soft as his expression.

Your hands shake, "Please... Please hate me." You pleaded quietly, pressing your forehead against his hands as if he were a monk to be begged to.

"I'm not going to punish you or... or anything of the sort. Why would you want that?"

You draw in a watery breath, shoulders shaking, "It's easier to let go that way." You admitted.

"Let go of what?"

"Of my love for you."

"What?!"

His shout echoed off the cave walls. Your humiliation and embarrassment was quick to follow once it bounced back at you. Made you flinch back and try to push yourself back from his lap. Why did you say anything? Fool. Disgusting fool.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jinshi's hands wrap around your wrists and tug you forward a bit. You refuse to meet his eye. You refuse to be humiliated and demeaned— "Don't do that. Don't close off."

You clench your jaw and try to push the humilation deep within you, taking a deep calming breath as you stared at his bare collar. "You're so kind and so... you. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable or disgusted, but I need to tell you. And then I would hope that you would let me go."

Jinshi's eyebrows shot up. "Let you go?"

You've been thinking about this for some time. That it all would be better if, in the end, you were to serve someone else. That you were pawned off for some soldier instead of this slow torture. This uncomfortable, unbearable tiptoeing.

"I would like for you to offer me to a soldier or anywhere else."

The reaction is instant. The way Jinshi's complexion darkens and he stares at you with wide eyes. He slumps into the damp ground and almost turns into putty. His hold on you slackens and gives you ample opportunity to move away. But you're frozen in your spot.

"Why would I do that?" Jinshi's voice is quiet, slow, "You're... You're mine."

A blush takes over your cheeks, "Jinshi-sama, It's not appropriate! I shouldn't be like this with you."

"What if I like it?"

You blink at him. "Huh?"

Jinshi leans forward, his thumb gently skirting against your skin. "What if I have some love for you too? What if I don't care about what's appropriate or follows the rules."

I would ask who you are. You were tempted to say but your mouth was clamped shut in shock. Following the rules had been completely him. He was put in his current position now to ensure the rules in the rear palace were being followed diligently. The thought that he would love someone like you when there were people like Maomao or princesses out there. People much more deserving of his devotion. It wasn't right.

As if sensing you're not believing him, he pulls away and presses his lips thin. "Okay, I'll convince you." He straightens up and takes a breath. "I spoke to Gaoshun not too long ago. Before we came here and I know everything now."

A pause. Everything. He knew everything now? Everything is so much. Everything is... well, everything. What exactly had Gaoshun told him?

"What's everything?"

"That my mother didn't want you around anymore. That Gaoshun told you that you weren't allowed around me anymore. That you stopped being my friend and became my employee."

Your stare up at Jinshi with wide eyes. "That's not...Us being friends wasn't right anymore."

Jinshi frowned, shaking his head and his hands slide up to your arms. "If I had my way, I would've had you by my side all that time. Not as some lady-in-waiting, but as my equal."

You shake your head, ignoring the erratic beating of your heart against your chest. "Don't say that. Don't say things you don't mean, Jinshi." You beg softly.

Jinshi reaches out, wrapping his hands around your own, pressing it against his chest. "I mean it with everything in me. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have ever been separated from you. Forget what my mother said." His words were sweet, tempting. They made you lightheaded. So did the sudden brightness and tender smile on his face. "That's the first time you've called me Jinshi since we were kids."

"What? I've always called you Jinshi."

"No, you've always called me Jinshi-sama."

"Oh."

You suppose you had.

"Jinshi," You utter, unsure of what else you both could say.

Jinshi's expression, if possible, softens further, leaning forward an inch. "Yes?" He whispers back just as softly.

Your eyes trail between his eyes before moving to his lips, parted and glistening, "Jinshi..."

Jinshi's hand slides up your thigh and his lips are ghosting against yours, "I'm here. I promise." He whispers before pressing your lips together delicately.

Your heart soars. Your hands shakily press against his cheeks, drawing closer as his own press your hips together. He's soft. He's tender. He's cautious and all encompassing. Filling your senses and making you lightheaded.

As you both part for a breath, he flips you onto your back. His hand grips the underside of your thigh and presses you close enough that he lets out a soft and broken sound.

His eyes are heavily lidded as he gazes down at you, lips pink. "I just want you. No one else. I promise." He utters.

You twist your hands into his hair, eyes fluttering. "You're it." You pass back.

His lips are back on yours. Wet and eager. This is sudden. Fast. But you've been waiting for so long. Had been clinging onto the smallest of things. Desperate to have this closeness that you had now. To feel his skin against yours. His breath mixing with your own. Everything him and everything you intertwined.

You just wanted to cherish this—

WOOF!

You and Jinshi both tense up, jumping. Looking over his shoulder, your eyes widen upon finding a familiar dog staring down at you both, wagging tail eager and happy to see you.

Jinshi's eyebrows furrow, "Huh...?"

There's not much warning before the dog is jumping down. Landing straight on Jinshi's back, causing the poor man to let out a pained sound. He's squishing you against the ground as the dog stands on his back, happily lapping his tongue against your cheek.

Vague disgust and disappointment wash over you, but you smile all the same. "Oh, boy!"

He barks again. A greeting you're sure.

Above, Lihaku and, surprisingly, Maomao appear. Both of them stare down at you with varying degrees of emotions. Lihaku looked excited and kinda like his dog, while Maomao.

Well, Maomao looked all too knowing.

"Well, you look rough!" Lihaku called down with a grin, "Glad to see you're not dead."

"As am I!" You huff out a laugh, then look to Maomao. "Hello, Xiaomao!"

"Hello." Maomao said flatly, she looked lower and her face screwed up distastefully. "Is Jinshi-sama okay?"

Lihaku then he spots his dog and slightly pales, letting out a sharp whistle. "C'mon, boy!"

The dog eagerly jumps off Jinshi, going to sit by your head and wag his tail. The man above you sighs in relief, pushing up off you. He sits up and you try not to focus on the bright blush on his face.

"Why did he do that?" The royal asks.

"Must've thought something was wrong." Lihaku rubs the back of his neck, frowning down at you both. "What... exactly where you two doing?"

You and Jinshi glance at one another, furious blushes flushing over you both. Despite anything that Jinshi said, there were things that you weren't allowed to do. Rules and laws that forbid something like this form happening the public eye. For a man like himself from being with a woman like you. A servant with a beautiful prince.

Protecting him was the priority.

"Nothing!" You shout back, ignoring the eyebrow raise that garnered from both Jinshi and Maomao.

Everything was better left alone. A secret between the both of you. To cherish and hold for however long it may need. You could deal with the anger and longing later.

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ aurora borealis — loving — part 4/5 ⋙ A snapshot over five years of how your relationship with Satoru Gojo develops.

ft. satoru gojo / fem!reader wc. 10.7k cw. nsfw - minors do not interact, explicit language, explicit sexual content (blowjob, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, very minor (blink and you'll miss it) feet kink, submissive-ish gojo), alcohol, friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, sexual tension, sexual jokes, some details are intentionally ambiguous, mention of children/pregnancy, ⚠️major character death⚠️, potential manga spoilers, second person POV

Previous ⋆ Masterlist ⋆ Next

2016.

“Satoru Gojo?”

He makes a strangled sound in his throat—a mixture between a gasp and a groan—and throws his forearm over his eyes. Satoru falls back onto the bed as if wounded while he clutches your phone tight to his chest.

“My government name?”

He rolls back and forth on the bed in feigned agony, curling up into the fetal position on his side and moving his hand away from his eyes to cradle the phone close to his face. He blinks down at the screen, eyes wide and trembling, before flicking up to meet your face.

You stand at the side of the bed with your hands on your hips and a frown on your face, but you’re not mad—not really.

“You couldn’t have given me a cute nickname? Pookie? Love of My Life? Satowoo?”

Your angry facade breaks and you snort. “Satowoo?”

“I dunno—literally anything would be better.”

You reach down and snatch the phone from Satoru’s grip, scrolling away from your text screen with him and back to the messages from Utahime from this morning. She said they were going to come pick up the two of you on the way to Suguru’s house for the party. 

“Because I know that idiot is going to beg me for a ride five minutes after I’ve already left the house,” Utahime’s message said.

You respond with a quick confirmation and set your phone down on the nightstand before crawling onto the bed and on top of Satoru. He accommodates you with ease by rolling onto his back, stretching his long legs across the mattress and making room for you to settle onto his lap. 

His porcelain skin is marked with dark purple bruises along his collarbones and lines of red scratches across his biceps from the night before. The view makes your heart thud a little harder against your ribcage and you move to press your palms into his chest as you loom above him.

“What’s my name in your phone?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Snookums? Sweetie Pie? My Soulmate?”

“My One and Only.”

Satoru’s expression softens as he speaks. His face relaxes and his eyes widen minutely as his hands come to rest on your hips. The corner of his lip twitches against his cheek as he fights back a smile, but even with all of the theatrics, you don’t let yourself fall for it.

“Liar. That’s your name for Suguru.”

His features sharpen in an instant—grin splitting across his face and gaze turning sinister while his fingers press hard into your skin. Satoru runs his tongue across his teeth, catching on a canine and pressing into it with devilish delight.

“You caught me,” he says, and he can’t hide his excitement. “Whoops! I guess I need to be punished for being so bad.”

Satoru’s voice deepens into a growl and you lurch forward when he presses his hips up into you. He’s already hard against you and you can see more signs of his arousal from the pink flush on his cheeks, slowly crawling down his face, his neck, and down to where your fingers are sprawled across his chest.

“Really?” you say, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on,” he whines. His impatience is evident from the way he drags your hips along the length of his cock and the quickened rise and fall of his chest. “How am I supposed to make it through tonight if I don’t get my rocks off at least once?”

“How are you going to make it through… a night with your friends?”

Satoru nods. His face softens again as he pleads, his brows pitching into the centre of his forehead while he juts his lower lip out in a pout.

He’s determined—you’ll give him that. Willing to try any strategy he can to get you out of your clothes. 

Unfortunately, you’re in a bit of a time crunch this morning.

“Uta said they were coming by in a few hours and I still need to finish making my dish for dinner—”

“It’s not going to take you hours to do that.”

“—and I still need to shower and get cleaned off from yesterday—”

“I’ll join you! I bet I can get you extra clean with my tongue.”

“—not to mention the fact that I haven’t picked out an outfit for tonight yet, either—”

“Don’t wear anything! Or better yet, just wrap yourself up in some ribbon so I can unwrap you under the tree.”

You quirk a brow. “In front of everyone?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I’m sure Nanami could use some pointers in the bedroom. Consider it a live demonstration in the art of lovemaking.”

“And Shoko and Suguru?”

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.” 

Satoru shoots you with another wolfish grin and you’re painfully reminded of Satoru’s embarrassing run-in with Shoko immediately after eating you out, as well as Suguru demanding that the two of you find your own place to live after catching the two of you hooking up in the living room when Satoru was staying with him.

Despite the excitement in your veins from the press of Satoru’s cock against your core, you give him a gentle pat on the chest and swing your leg off of his lap and step back onto the floor at the side of the bed.

“As romantic as that sounds, Satoru, I’m going to have to decline. Now, I’m going to take a shower while you go… take care of yourself—” you gesture down to the tent in Satoru’s pants, “—and while I’m getting dressed, can you wrap the presents for me?”

“You’re really going to leave me here to jack off by myself?”

His voice follows you out of the room as you make your way to the ensuite.

“Just don’t get cum on the sheets,” you call back before closing the bathroom door behind you and getting ready for your shower.

You and Satoru have been living together for a few months now—dating for almost a year—and it’s been so…

Easy.

Everything with Satoru is effortless—natural. Not that you thought it would be hard—of course, not—but things with him are just so much easier than you ever expected. Maybe being friends for so long beforehand helped.

(Or the unspoken, mutual pining.)

The flirty banter you had as friends has continued, although the stakes are higher now that you know he’ll make good on all his threats. His touch doesn’t linger on your skin anymore the way it used to. Instead, he holds you tight every chance he gets. Like he’s constantly trying to make up for lost time by smothering you with his love.

It’s nice. Waking up every morning wrapped around his body. Feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The way his lashes flutter when he dreams. How his skin turns pink when you touch him.

You never thought that you could be so happy with someone like this.

Under the stream of warm water, you hear the familiar click! of the bathroom door opening. You still, listening to the slow patter of Satoru’s bare feet on the tile as he approaches. He pulls open the shower curtain and seems surprised that you’re already staring over at him, expecting his entrance.

Satoru ducks his head under the shower rod and he steps in behind you, already stripped naked and still sporting a half-hard cock.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence as he reaches past you for his body wash. “I need to shower, too.”

“I thought you were jerking off.”

“Nah, that’s boring.”

Satoru squirts a generous handful of shower gel into his palm, setting the bottle back in place before pressing his hands together to lather the soap. “Want me to help you soap up?”

You level him with a skeptical look, which he returns with a wide grin.

“No funny business.”

He gasps, hand to his chest. “I would never!”

When the two of you make it downstairs, you’re in a panicked rush, certain parts of your body are much cleaner than others, and there’s a dull, familiar ache between your legs as you walk.

“They’re going to be here in less than an hour!” you say, stepping quickly to the fridge to pull out ingredients for a dish that you, realistically, should have prepped last night.

Satoru scoffs, unbothered, as he tugs on an oversized black hoodie. His hair is still slightly damp and beads of water drip from the ends and litter across his hood and shoulders.

When he looks like this—hair floppy on his head and his cheeks flushed pink—it reminds you of the night you first met him. You get a twinge of nostalgia in your chest when you look up from the cutting board and feel a sense of calm wash over you.

“Just tell them we’re running a few minutes late,” he says, leaning back on the kitchen counter beside you. He crosses his arms and rests his head on his shoulder, pursing his lips. “They’ll understand. They were young and in love once, too.”

“I’m not telling our friends we’re running late because we spent too long fooling around in the shower.”

“Why not?” he frowns, and his surprise seems genuine. “Honesty is important.”

It takes you a beat longer than you’re willing to admit before you realize that he’s joking. With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you nudge him in the side. He takes the hit with an exaggerated giggle before he scampers away, leaving you to work on the dish alone.

“I’ll go wrap the gifts,” he calls from over his shoulder.

This is the first time all of you have found the time to get together in almost a year. Since Nanami and Utahime got married, they’ve been spending a lot more time with just the two of them, (“Making babies”, Satoru always says, waggling his eyebrows.)

Shoko’s new position has her working weird hours, so it’s difficult to find time to see her that isn’t in the middle of the night. She works twelve-hour shifts that are both mentally and physically draining at the ER of the new hospital in the city, so you don’t blame her for ignoring Satoru’s incessant texts in favour of getting some well-deserved rest.

But you always find time to see Suguru.

You’re not sure when he stopped being Geto and when he became Suguru to you—the transition was so seamless that you struggle to remember a time when the two of you weren’t as close as you are now.

The dynamic you have with the two boys—Satoru and Suguru—is a fun one. There are times when you and Suguru team up on Satoru for acting immature and doing something needlessly goofy. Other times, Satoru and Suguru team up on you. Teasing you like childish bullies in the schoolyard—poking at your sides and pulling your hair (Satoru) or holding things just slightly out of reach (Suguru).

The real fun is when you and Satoru team up on Suguru.

When you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug while Satoru tries to climb onto his back. When Suguru laughs at the two of you, his eyes wrinkling in the corners in a boyish way that makes your heart feel warm. When he just sits back and watches the two of you playfully bicker, his favourite mug in his hand and a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It’s rare these days to see Suguru really smiling. He’s experienced a lot of loss this past year—first his father in the spring and then his mother shortly thereafter. The girlfriend you thought was perfect for him ended up cheating and breaking his heart in the fall, so now you and Satoru have taken it upon yourselves to take care of him.

Just like how he used to take care of the two of you.

You’re only partway through cooking your dish when you hear a knock at the front door and then your panic spikes. You try to talk yourself into packing up the half-cooked casserole for the car ride, but when Utahime and Nanami walk in, you see panicked looks on their faces, too.

“Our apologies for arriving early,” Nanami says with a soft, embarrassed smile. He walks around the kitchen island to give you a hug and presses a chaste kiss to your temple before pulling away. “We were hoping that you would have some icing sugar so Uta can finish her cake.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” you say, and you gesture to the pantry.

“We tried calling,” Utahime says. She huffs as she sets her dish down on the counter: a plain, undressed cake. She lifts another bag from her feet, where Nanami had set it down, and you can see the rods of a standing mixer peeking out from the top. “All the shops are closed and I’m missing the key fucking ingredient for this goddamn cake.”

You laugh and let her pull you into a one-armed hug. She presses her cheek into yours with a heavy sigh when Satoru’s voice rings out from the other room.

“Is that Utahime I hear?”

“Nobody would blame you if you left him,” she whispers, only half-joking as her face falls at the sound of Satoru’s voice growing louder.

“I said: is that Utahime?”

“Gojo, I don’t—”

When Satoru rounds the corner, he tackles her with a hug, lifting her feet off the ground and spinning Utahime around in a circle while she shrieks at him to let her go. You raise your hands defensively, guiding Satoru out of the small kitchen and into the adjoining dining room.

With any luck, if he keeps spinning around like this, he’ll knock over Utahime’s cake and then he’ll really be giving her a reason to scream at him.

“Uta - hime!” he cheers, bouncing her up and down while her clenched fists pound at his back. “Happy Wedding Anniversary!”

“Put me the fuck down!”

“Aw, come on—I haven’t seen you in ages, Utahime.”

“And you’re never going to see me again if you don’t drop me right this instant.”

“Why?” he coos, but he sets her back down on her feet before leaning into her face. She snarls with disgust and pushes him away, but he returns with a vengeance. “Do I need to be careful with you, Uta? Is there something you need to tell us, hmm?”

“We’re not pregnant,” Nanami says, his voice deadpan as he sets a bag of icing sugar on the counter.

Satoru’s shoulders slump forward. “Aw, really? It's been like a year. Don’t you want to fill that big, lonely house of yours with some mini-Nanamis?”

“You shouldn’t ask people that sort of thing,” Utahime chides, but her back is to him now as she fishes out supplies from her bag. “What if we’re having fertility issues? It’s not any of your business whether or not we’re even trying to conceive.”

Satoru slides back over to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. His body is warm and his hoodie is soft against you and when you tilt your head to the side to accommodate him, he presses his lips softly into your skin.

“Should we spoil the surprise?” he whispers not-so-quietly. “I know you wanted to wait until the party, but I’m just so excited.”

Nanami’s attention shifts to the two of you, his brows up in his hairline. “Do you…” his eyes shift down to Satoru’s hands, which have moved lower to press protectively against your stomach, “have news to share?”

“Yeah,” Satoru says, voice turning serious. Even Utahime looks over at him, eyes wide with excitement. “Came in her this morning—”

Nanami frowns. Deep, long lines form on either side of his mouth as he shakes his head.

“—we’ll see if it sticks this time. Although, the birth control might be an issue.”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Utahime groans, clenching her hands into fists as Satoru cackles. Her gaze shifts over to you, this time, exasperated. “I really don’t know what you see in him.”

You laugh and raise your hand to cup Satoru’s face. He hums in happiness, leaning into your touch as he holds you tight against his body. “Unfortunately, I’m in love with him.”

“Unfortunate, indeed,” Nanami sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“They’re right though, Satoru,” you say, patting his cheek. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that.”

“Aw, come on—I’m just teasing, they know that.”

Nanami and Utahime shift their attention back to the undressed cake and they pull out the remaining ingredients and set up her standing mixer. You’re grateful to have a bit more time to finish making your casserole.

“Did you finish wrapping all the gifts?” you ask, pressing your lips into Satoru’s cheek while he hums against you.

“Yeah, I just gotta put a bow on Shoko’s gift then I’ll be all done.”

“Can you help me clean up the kitchen then? I should be ready to go once Uta’s finished with the cake.”

“Anything for you,” he coos, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek before pulling away. He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing his forearms, as he walks over to the sink to start washing up your mess from earlier.

You join him at his side, grabbing a towel to dry off the dishes as he cleans them, and then setting them aside to be put away later. By the time everything is cleaned, dried, and put away, Nanami and Utahime are finishing up by piping buttercream icing onto their cake and your casserole only has a few minutes left in the oven.

“We don’t need to fully cook it, I guess,” you rationalize with yourself, reaching for the oven mitts. “We can finish cooking it when we get to Suguru��s—we won’t have dinner for a while, still.”

“Do you think Shoko will attend tonight?” Nanami asks, watching Utahime with amusement as she makes perfect flowers onto the surface of the cake. Her tongue is peeking out from between her lips and you can see the adoration in his eyes as he looks at her.

“She said she’d try to swing by before work.”

Nanami sighs, shifting his gaze from Utahime to you, watching you as you set the oven-hot casserole down onto a trivet to protect the countertop. “It’s unbelievable that she’s working on Christmas Eve.”

“She works almost every day,” Satoru snorts, stepping to peer over Utahime’s shoulder as she pipes the icing. He reaches out from behind her with a single finger, looking to scoop some icing off of the cake but she elbows him in the stomach—hard—and he doubles over with a grunt.

“Ow! Uta, that’s—” he coughs, “—that’s not very ladylike of you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Gojo,” she seethes. 

After what Utahime would call, an excruciatingly long twenty-minute drive, the four of you arrive at the home of Suguru Geto with food and presents in tow.

Suguru doesn’t greet you at the door but he leaves it unlocked for you to let yourself in. The second you pass through the doorway, your senses are assaulted with the warmth of his home.

The sight of Suguru’s home decorated in tasteful Christmas-themed decor. The smell of dinner cooking in the oven. The soft sound of atmospheric ambient music playing throughout the home and the even softer sounds of the fireplace video crackling on Suguru’s TV. 

You can’t help but grin as you step into the house. You immediately feel at home.

“Suguru!” Satoru yells, cupping his hands around his mouth as he leans over Utahime’s shoulder. She flinches from the volume and shoves at him with her elbow. “We’re here, Suguru!”

Suguru steps around the corner leading to the kitchen with a tea towel in his hands. He’s wiping off food from his fingers but otherwise is dressed in a fitted knit sweater with his hair tied up into a tight bun, akin to the style he used to sport at school.

“I thought you weren’t going to  make it.”

“Gojo held us up,” Uta huffs, pinning the blame elsewhere, despite the fact that she was just as much the cause for the delay as Satoru was.

She kicks off her shoes easily and steps past you to greet Satoru. She presses onto her toes to reach his face, but he still has to duck his head for Utahime’s lips to connect with his cheek. She presses a firm kiss to each cheek as she holds the cake between their bodies.

“It’s good to see you, Geto,” she says, her voice soft. “You look like you’re doing well.”

“I probably wouldn’t have gotten out of bed today if you all weren’t coming over.”

Suguru smiles down at her to punctuate his teasing words, but the lack of warmth in his face has Utahime shifting awkwardly on her feet.

He’s not joking.

“I’ll go put this on the counter,” she says, and you follow her into the kitchen just in time to avoid Satoru’s charge toward Suguru.

“Suguru!” he cheers, and even as you step into the other room, you can hear Suguru’s laughter.

“Is he…?” Utahime speaks to you out of the corner of her mouth. She sets the cake on the counter to free her hands as she looks at you through the reflection of the kitchen window.

“He’s better… but not great.”

She nods solemnly and brushes both palms down the front of her dress. The two of you linger in silence in the kitchen for a moment, allowing the boys outside to greet one another as you share sympathetic looks.

“It’ll just take some time,” you say finally, your voice just a whisper. “I think tonight will be good for him.”

“I hope so,” she says, glancing over to the doorway of the kitchen. From here, you can only see Nanami’s back and Geto’s palm resting on his shoulder. “I’ve grown fond of him over the years. I hate to see him in pain like this.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, and this time you smile. “It’s a shame Satoru hasn’t grown on you yet.”

She groans, rolling her eyes and breaking the tension. “Honestly, I don’t know how you live with him.”

“Does that mean you’re not interested in a husband swap?”

You’re only teasing her and you both know it, but she feigns anger. “I knew it. You’ve always wanted him for yourself.”

“I was there long before you were, sweetie,” you coo, leaning into the bit, “and I’ll be there after you, too.”

“Stupid bitch,” she says, but her tone has lost its bite and she brings a hand up to her mouth to muffle her laughter. “In all seriousness, I’m happy to see you again, too.”

Utahime pulls you in for another hug, this time squeezing you tight around the middle. 

“And I hope you don’t think my comments about Gojo are legitimate concerns. I know how happy he makes you and I wouldn’t want to cause you any feelings of doubt.”

She’s lying—you know how much she genuinely hates Satoru. Even before the two of you were dating. Back before she was with Nanami.

But you appreciate her kindness and you’ve never taken any of the snide comments she’s made about him to heart. Besides, Satoru doesn’t even realize how much Utahime truly hates him—he thinks it’s all playful banter. 

If it doesn’t bother him, it doesn’t bother you.

“Thank you, Uta,” you say, returning her squeeze before pulling away to look at her face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Nanami walks in as the two of you step away from the hug and he greets you both with a warm smile, his gaze lingering on Utahime. He moves beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close at his side.

“The boys went upstairs to check out Geto’s… lights?”

“Smart lights,” you explain, shaking your head with fondness. “He’s set up LED lighting in his room and has it all connected to his phone so it changes colour. He’s been chatting about it with Satoru for the past few months, he’s really excited about it.”

Nanami smiles. “That’s good, even if I don’t fully understand the concept.”

“I don’t either, to be honest,” you admit, “but it keeps him busy and helps keep the demons at bay.”

He nods but doesn’t pry. He’s never been one to gossip, especially about someone’s mental health, and he’s heard about what’s been going on in Suguru’s life from the man himself—

Nanami’s firm helped Suguru with his parents’ wills after they passed.

“Geto said that Shoko promised she’d make it here for dinner,” Nanami says. “She told him to have a bottle of whiskey ready in the freezer for her.”

You laugh. “Must be a tough day.”

“I wonder if there’s an increase in injuries and accidents near Christmas,” Utahime says.

Nanami’s attention draws to her like a moth to a flame. Even from behind the shine of his glasses, you can see his gaze soften when he looks down at her.

“I would imagine so, right?” she continues. “People drink more… have to deal with their families—their in-laws … I can picture someone driving off in the snow, drunk on a few too many rum and egg nogs, after a blowout fight with some family member with different political views.”

“That’s a pessimistic viewpoint,” you say with a frown. “Maybe there are less hospital admissions because people want to spend more time with their families. Rather than rush to the ER because of some chest pain, they try to tough it out to enjoy the holidays with their grandchildren.”

“Interesting point,” Utahime says with a nod. “We’ll have to remember to ask Shoko when she gets here.”

“Ask me what?”

The three of you are greeted by the sight of Shoko standing in the doorway of Suguru’s kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a reusable bag of presents in the other. She looks tired—exhausted—with bags under her eyes and dry, chapped lips. She’s still wearing her white coat from the hospital. 

“Shoko!”

Utahime steps toward her first, prying the items from Shoko’s hands so she can pull Shoko into a crushing hug. Shoko laughs and her hands come up to press against Utahime’s back to pull her closer. 

“Where are the idiots?”

“Upstairs looking at lights,” you say, stepping to pull her in when Utahime steps away. Shoko smells like a mixture of tobacco and hand sanitizer that you’ve grown to love. Since she’s been trying to quit smoking, the smell of tobacco isn’t quite as strong as it usually is.

After greeting all of you, Shoko tells the three of you about her shift at work—all personal identifying information redacted, of course—seated at the coffee table as she pours herself three fingers of whiskey into a short glass, giving the bottle to Nanami to put in the freezer.

“Did Suguru put one in there for me already?” she asks, looking past you as Nanami pulls open the fridge.

He gazes into it for a moment, searching, before turning back to Shoko. “Doesn’t appear so.”

“That little shit,” she hisses. “He’s got no faith in me, I’m telling ya.” Shoko’s fingers press to her lips, miming a cigarette, before she returns her hand back to her lap. A nervous tic. “I told him to stick it in ages ago, but he never believes me when I tell him I’m coming. I should just do it myself.”

“Have you been visiting often?”

Shoko nods—presses her fingers to her lips, sets her hand back down—before speaking. “Yeah, I come by most nights after my shift.”

That makes sense. You know Suguru hasn’t been sleeping, so of course Shoko would come by to stay with him.

When you and Satoru can’t be there.

“Oh!” Utahime misinterprets Shoko’s explanation, glancing between you and Shoko with excitement. “You spend the night… with Geto?”

Shoko doesn’t even blink. “In his spare room, yeah,” and Utahime visibly deflates. “Suguru’s like my brother, Uta—don’t be gross.”

Your conversation comes to a lull just as you hear the familiar sound of Satoru and Suguru’s feet against his carpeted stairway, moments before they come into view at the kitchen doorway.

“You know,” Suguru says, nodding back toward his living room, “we aren’t kids anymore. We don’t need to cluster around the kitchen at parties, we can sit in the den.”

The group files out of the kitchen to relocate to the living room after Suguru’s prompting, but you linger at the back of the pack so you can finally greet him for the first time this evening.

You step onto your toes to help reach as you wrap your arms around his neck. Suguru places two warm palms against your lower back and pulls you into him until your bodies are flush. He holds you there for a beat with his face pressed into your neck.

Suguru’s chest expands as he takes a long breath, drinking you in and pressing you tighter against him. “Thank you—all of you—for being here today.”

“I haven’t spent Christmas Eve without you since we first met,” you say. “Why would I start now?”

“Thank you for encouraging me to host this tonight. It feels like old times.”

“I promise Satoru and I will stay off the roof tonight.”

He laughs at that and pulls away, turning his face from you to hide his expression and he steps past you and into the kitchen. “I’ll grab some wine for everyone,” he calls, and you join the group in the living room for some drinks and lively conversation before dinner.

The group of you chat amongst yourself throughout the evening. Reminiscing on stories from when the Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko trio were in high school and their drunken recklessness. Silly stories from a drunken Utahime about Nanami from their honeymoon in beautiful Malaysia. And you and Satoru share the trials and tribulations of trying to buy a home together and all of the mindless open-house viewings you’ve been to.

You feel so grown up with everyone here tonight—nothing like the kid you were when you first met them. The Nanamis are married, Shoko is working on finishing her residency, and you and Satoru are about to become homeowners! It almost feels surreal.

At this age, you thought that you’d already be married and pregnant, so you’re a little behind on your life plans, but oddly enough, it doesn’t bother you. You’re happy with how things are in your life with Satoru and he knows what you want, so you feel no sense of urgency to check off items on your life plan.

Suguru smiles throughout the entire evening—really smiles—and it brings such a feeling of warmth and ease in your chest that you don’t want this night to end.

You keep the drinks flowing. Pouring whiskey into Shoko’s cup before she’s even finished what’s left in her glass and topping up everyone else’s wine, even though the more Utahime drinks, the louder she becomes.

Satoru stays sober along with Nanami, the designated driver. But Satoru acts like he’s drunker than anyone else in the room with all of his hooting and hollering and by the way he eggs on Utahime to yell louder and louder.

Dinner goes by in a drunken blur, but after getting some delicious food into your bellies, the group seems to sober up a bit as they grow drowsy from their gluttony.

Nanami and Utahime sit together on the couch in Suguru’s living room, the same couch they sat in together when they first connected at Satoru’s party all those years ago. Even though there’s plenty of room for them to spread out, Utahime is curled against Nanami’s side with his arm casually thrown over the back of the couch. With his free hand, he helps cradle the wine glass in Utahime’s hand, careful not to let the liquid spill as she sways from side to side on her seat.

Suguru reclines back in his armchair, hands clasped together behind his head painting him the picture of relaxation. Shoko sits on the armrest of his chair, leaning into his shoulder every time she laughs.

You and Satoru sit together on the floor. He’s found a way to curl himself around you completely with his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulders while long, lanky legs trap your body on either side.

Your cheeks are warm from the drinks and the company and they hurt from smiling so much. It’s been so long since all of you have been able to get together like this and you selfishly wish that you could stay in this moment forever.

Utahime leans forward, resting her now-empty wine glass on the coffee table and reaching forward for the bottle. She tries to pour more into her glass and wails when only a drop rolls out.

“We’re out of wine!” she cries. “This is a disaster!”

“I’ll go get more.” You volunteer with a laugh, untangling Satoru’s arms from around your body so you can sit up. He whines in your ear but lets you stand up without a fuss.

“I’ll go with you,” Shoko says before downing what’s left of her drink. Her cheeks are flushed dark red, but otherwise, she seems completely normal. She’s always had a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol. “I need a refill.”

Utahime gasps in childlike delight, reaching her hands out for both of you as her chin wobbles. “I love you—I love you both, so so so so so so so so so—”

“Yikes, now I see why you guys don’t want kids,” Satoru teases, grinning across the room at Nanami.

“—so so so so so so so so—”

“Alright, alright,” Shoko scolds, reaching out with a hand to squeeze Utahime’s cheeks. Her lips purse together into a pucker as she blinks up at Shoko. “We get it—you love us. Thanks a ton.”

“I jus’ wanna make sure you know,” she says, speaking around Shoko’s grip.

Shoko grins as she releases her and Utahime slumps back against Nanami’s side. Utahime turns to look over at Suguru on the armchair and he regards her with a raised brow.

“And I love you, too,” she says, and you can already hear the waver in her voice as she turns to look at Nanami. “And I love you, most of all.”

“Hey, what about me?” Satoru calls, raising a hand.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she yells, keeping her back turned to Satoru.

You and Shoko share a look of amusement before stepping out of the chaos and into the kitchen. She grabs her bottle of whiskey and sets her glass down on the counter as she twists the bottle cap, watching you choose from Suguru’s collection of wine for a replacement bottle.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you two are still going strong.”

You pull a bottle of red from Suguru’s shelf and take a look at the label to make sure it’s not too expensive before uncorking it. “Hmm?” you ask from over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“You and Satoru,” she says. You look up to see her taking a slow sip of her drink, levelling her gaze on your face. “We were all tired of the whole, will-they-won’t-they shtick after all these years, but I never thought you two would ever actually end up together.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. Shoko must be really drunk if she’s saying something like this, you reason. She’s typically positive-to-apathetic about your relationship with Satoru.

“Why would you say that?” You turn to fully face Shoko now, crossing your arms over your chest.

She shrugs noncomittally, suddenly appearing disinterested in the conversation, but you push.

“No, Shoko. What do you mean by that?”

“I just mean that I always thought the two of you were more interested in the chase than you were in each other.”

Shoko doesn’t even seem guilty about her comment. 

“The one girl that isn’t immediately enamoured by The Satoru Gojo is the one he’s going to obsess about the most,” she continues. “And Satoru really doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What’s my type?”

“You know,” she gestures vaguely at the other room. “The Nanami-type. The Higuruma-type. The guys that own more suits than casual wear and don’t show emotions on their face.”

“I’m not interested in Nanami,” you say, taken aback. “And things between Higuruma and I didn’t work out.”

“But he broke up with you,” she says, pointing her finger at you. “If he hadn’t, I bet you would’ve married him.”

You start to feel a cold sweat on your back. Shoko is one of Satoru’s best friends—from long before you were ever even in the picture. Unlike your banter with Utahime today, this conversation feels serious—loaded.

You straighten your spine, tilting your chin up to try to feign confidence as your heartbeat pounds against your temples. “Did Satoru say something to you or…? I just don’t understand why you’d bring this up all of a sudden.”

Shoko shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. She looks away from you, into the party in the other room as she rolls the liquid in the mouth. After a thick swallow, she returns her attention to you.

“I just think that you have a really rigid life plan—you always have. House, married, kids… you’ve got it all figured out.” Her face softens, “That’s not a bad thing. I think that’s great that you have those aspirations, but—”

The dreaded but.

“—Satoru is a kid at heart. I know he’s happy playing house with you right now, but when it comes to buying a real house together? Proposing? Kids? I just… I think the two of you need to have a serious conversation about that.”

You think about all of Satoru’s snide comments about kids from today—jokes and mocking comments to Nanami and Utahime. Does he really not share the same desires as you?

You’re shaken up by the conversation, but you feel trapped here. You can’t leave without Nanami and the others, and if you go into the other room and request that everyone leaves, it’s going to draw questions.

So, you try to brush off the unease. Shoko is drunk—she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She doesn’t know what your relationship with Satoru is really like. She’s just making assumptions.

“Thanks,” you say, even though nothing Shoko said to you is deserving of it.

You stay for a few more hours. Until Utahime is falling asleep on Nanami’s shoulder and the group finishes another bottle of wine.

You kiss Suguru goodbye on the cheek and give him an extra tight squeeze when he holds you close. To Shoko, you just offer a chaste brush of your lips against her face and a side hug.

“Another year without the lights,” Suguru comments, tsking as he points up at the sky. It’s a clear night, but you still haven’t seen the fabled northern lights that Satoru and his friends constantly rave about. “Maybe next year.”

Usually, you would quip back with a witty comment—”Maybe we should be looking for them on other days, too”—but your tongue feels dry in your mouth and you’re only able to respond with a forced smile and a nod.

You’re still rattled by your conversation with Shoko as you walk outside with the others. You settle into the backseat with Utahime even though she yells at Satoru for getting shotgun in her own car (“Do you want me to throw up?” Satoru challenges. “Ruin your beautiful upholstery? Get it in your hair and all over your pretty dress?”) and you all buckle in for the ride home as Shoko and Suguru wave at you from the entryway of his house.

The drive is relatively peaceful. Utahime is fighting sleep against your shoulder and Nanami is quiet, as usual. Even Satoru seems tired from tonight’s events, as he’s silent as he sits up front with Nanami.

The warmth of your home feels hollow when you enter. Spending the drive in your head, thinking about what Shoko said, wasn’t the best way to calm your nerves.

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Satoru’s distress until his hands cup around your face, lifting your head to look into his eyes.

“Is everything ok?” His eyes are wide with worry, his face panicked. “You started acting really weird all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?”

Your reflex is to deflect his concerns. Whenever you get moody or upset, it’s rarely Satoru’s fault, but you’re used to him blaming himself for your bad moods. Ever since the fight that you caused at Nanami and Utahime’s wedding—as a result of your own insecurities—Satoru is quick to fall on his sword to keep you from running away from him again.

But right now, he is at fault. At least partially.

“Do you ever talk about me with Suguru and Shoko when I’m not around?”

He frowns. “Uh, sometimes, yeah.”

“Do you ever tell them things that you don’t tell me?”

“Maybe? I don’t know—nothing serious, but maybe like, little stupid things I know you wouldn’t care about—”

“Do you want to have kids, Satoru?”

He jerks back in surprise, blinking down at you. “Uh, woah. That’s quite the left turn—”

“Do you want to get married? Do you even want to buy a house?”

Satoru cocks his head to the side. He stares at you for a beat while his thumbs brush against your cheeks, wiping away the tears that would be there if not for your stubbornness holding them back. 

“I want to be with you,” he says.

“Did you tell Shoko that you don’t want those things?”

“I told Shoko that I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he says. “I’m not sure what I want in life—I don’t think about it the way you do—but I want whatever you want.”

“We talked about it,” you counter, “when you and Suguru were overseas. We talked about it.”

“We talked about you and Higu-what’s-his-face.” Satoru scoffs, leaning back to his full height and waving a hand in the air in dismissal.

You frown and cross your arms over your chest. “But even then, you know what I want, right? I’ve been upfront with you since the beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Kids before thirty.”

“I’m twenty-five, now, Satoru.”

“I know.”

“We don’t have a lot of time left.”

He snorts. “You want us to start trying now? Say less, babe.”

“Satoru, I’m being serious.”

“So am—” he groans, lifting his hands up into his hair and tugging on the strands with his fists. “We’re literally in the process of trying to get a house right now, isn’t this what you want?”

“But is it what you want?!”

“You are what I want!” he insists, growing frustrated. “I’ve always wanted you—from the first time we met and then every day after that. If you want a house—I’ll buy you a house. If you want to get married—let’s get fucking married! And if you want to have kids… if you want kids, then we’ll have kids, ok?”

“Kids aren’t some sort of joke. We’d be bringing a new life into this world.”

“I know that.”

“You can’t just agree to have kids just because I want them. You need to decide for yourself whether or not it’s something you really want or else… or else—”

“Or else you’ll leave me?”

Satoru’s voice is quiet and meek. You’ve been avoiding his gaze throughout the conversation—it’s been too hard to look into those piercing blue eyes while you talk—and now when you look up, you see the worry etched in his face. 

“No, I…” you stumble around your words.

“If I decided next year that I don’t want to have kids, would you stay? Is it really that important to you?”

“I—no… it’s not.”

“I won’t leave you if you want to have kids. I’ll be right there with you, raising those brats,” he grins down at you and your shoulders relax. “And if you decide you don’t want them anymore? I’ll be there, too—hanging out with you in our lavish mansion in all of our DINK glory.”

“DINK?”

“Dual income no kids.”

Satoru steps forward, pressing his palms into your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. He wraps his arms around your body once you’re close and his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

“And yes, I’m freaked out at the idea of having kids—but I’m not scared about our future together. I’ll figure it out by the time you’re thirty, don’t worry, and we can have all the little Gojo’s you want.”

Your hands lift to loosely wrap around Satoru’s body and he squeezes you tighter in response. “I just feel like I’ve had all these plans about how I wanted my life to be and I expected you to want them too… but after talking with Shoko today, I’m scared that I’m just forcing you to do what I want.”

“Let’s just get married and then we can figure out the rest later.”

You snort, finally relaxing in his arms and pressing your face into his chest. His hands are cool on your back as they rub small, gentle circles.

“I think you need to propose first before we get married.”

“Ok, I propose we get married.”

You groan and playfully shove him away. He steps back enough to create some distance between the two of you before grabbing your hands and pulling you back into him, this time with your chin pressed against his chest so you can look up at his smiling face.

After all this time, Satoru’s gotten good at calming down your insecurities. You spent most of the latter half of the evening in mental turmoil about the future of your relationship, but Satoru can put you at ease with a few honest words and physical touch.

You love him.

“I’m sorry if my friends said something stupid to you at the party, but let me make it up to you, ok?”

You smile and close your eyes as Satoru leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why does everything with us always have to be so dramatic?”

“You’re forgetting about all of the boring days we have together,” he says, lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Remember yesterday when we had a perfectly normal day? We ate food, watched tv, and then fucked—end of story.”

“Pretty boring story. Nothing like today.”

“Right—today, we’re fucking twice!”

Satoru scoops you up into his arms, lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrap instinctively around his tapered waist while your arms lock around his shoulders, allowing him to carry you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You giggle into his neck while he huffs up the stairs, feigning effort despite the fact that he carries you to bed every night with ease. He walks until he’s right at the foot of the bed and then launches you onto the mattress and out of his grip.

The blankets are soft against your skin as you fall back into them, bouncing slightly from Satoru’s toss. Your eyes rake across his body as he moves his hands to grab the bottom hem of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his head to expose his naked torso.

Satoru throws his hoodie off to the side with a sigh before ruffling the hair on the top of his head. “What do you think?” he hums, reaching down for his belt.

Your mouth waters as you watch the tendons in his hands flex when he pulls at his belt, pulling it from the buckle with a metallic clink! Satoru clicks his tongue for your attention and when your gaze swings up to his face, his brows are raised—expectantly waiting for your response.

“Huh?” you say, dazed.

Satoru laughs. He languidly pulls the belt free from the loops of his jeans before working on the button—then the zipper—before sliding his pants off of his hips and onto a heap on the floor around his feet.

“I said—”

He grabs at the bulge in his briefs, squeezing it with a grunt as he settles his knee onto the mattress near your feet. The bed dips from his weight and you sink in his direction. Your face feels warm and you can already feel your breathing deepen as you watch Satoru’s eyes darken.

“—will you let me take care of you tonight?”

You hum in thought, rolling your head to the side until your cheek rests on your shoulder. Satoru’s long, lithe fingers wrap around your ankle and bring it up to press into his chest. His hands curl around the top of your stocking and pull it down over your foot, exposing your skin the to cool air. He lifts your foot to his face and presses a tender kiss to the arch of your foot.

“So?” he prompts. He brushes his lips across the sole of your foot, moving to the top of your foot to press another soft kiss.

“I dunno, Satoru…” you say, pursing your lips into the corner of your mouth.

He trails his lips up to your ankle, kissing there.

“No?”

Satoru’s hands move up the length of your calf, following his touch with his mouth as he slots your leg over his shoulder. The position has your legs spreading open for him, exposing the lacy panties you have on underneath your dress—the ones that Satoru helped you pick out—until you can feel the cool air against the damp patch on your crotch.

“You don’t want me to—” he presses a kiss to the side of your knee, wet and slow while his gaze stays fixed on your face, “—worship you?”

“I feel like I haven’t been fair to you.”

His brows twitch in intrigue, but he continues his ascent up your leg as he leans in for another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he teases your skin with his tongue and a small amount of pressure as he sucks on the skin. The action makes you squirm and his eyes light up with delight.

“S’ok.” Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he moves to brush his cheek and nose along your inner thigh. The skin on his face is soft and smooth, adding to the heat and need building between your legs.

Despite your desire to have his face move higher and higher still, you reach down with your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He purrs against your skin, lashes fluttering when you tug on the white strands and pull his head up to face you.

“Let me take care of you tonight, Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

He crawls up the length of your body, keeping your leg over his shoulder as he slots between your open thighs. Your body curls in on itself as he leans forward and the warmth of Satoru’s breath against your cheek when he presses his forehead into yours has your mind swimming.

Satoru nudges your nose with his while his hands move to the bottom hem of your dress. “You wanna take care of me?” he coos.

His hands drag the fabric up your body—up up up—tracing the curves of your body with his palms until he’s pulling your dress over your head and exposing you to him completely. His breath shudders when he looks down at your matching, lacy set.

“Fuck, princess—you can do whatever you want to me.”

You giggle, pressing forward to meet his lips with yours. Satoru returns the kiss with fervour while you adjust the position of your leg, moving it off of his shoulder and wrapping it around his hips. His heart pounds under your palm when you press it against his chest and you use the momentum of your kiss to roll Satoru onto his back with you straddling around his hips.

Satoru’s grinning with excitement when you pull away. He’s flushed pink from his cheeks to his chest and you can feel the firmness of his cock beneath you. 

“Take care of me,” he purrs, moving his hands down to your hips to rock you against his length.

This moment feels reminiscent of this morning. The two of you wrapped up in the sheets together, fighting off a sleepy haze as the arousal builds in your gut. You run your fingers down his chest, watching his body shiver with goosebumps in their wake until your fingers curl over the waistband of his underwear.

You shift your position and drag Satoru’s underwear down with you. His cock springs free from the confines of the fabric until it slaps up against his stomach. The tip is flushed red and shiny with precum and it twitches when you move onto your hands and knees between Satoru’s spread thighs.

He tucks both arms behind his head, propping himself up to watch as you grab the base of his cock. You give him a few slow, experimental strokes, and watch as the tip leaks more translucent precum.

Satoru’s breathing is strained—ragged—as his gaze follows your movements. You run your tongue across the seam of your lips as your hand moves the length of his cock toward your mouth.

You start by blowing cool air through pursed lips and watch as Satoru’s abs flex hard in response. He groans when you bring your hand up along his length, thumbing at the spilled precum and smearing it across the soft tip of his cock. 

“Put it in your mouth,” he says, voice wavering. “Please, please—I need to see you sucking on it.”

You respond by opening your mouth and letting your tongue hang out. You lean forward, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock and Satoru’s head falls back with a throaty moan.

He flops his gaze forward as you rub your tongue along his length. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, the skin turning white from the pressure as his lids droop. Satoru looks like he’s in a daze as he watches you lick along his cock.

“Come on,” he urges, sitting up on his elbows to get a better look. “You said you weren’t being fair—don’t tease me.”

You grin. “Yeah, ok. Sorry.”

Your free hand comes up to cradle his balls, the weight of them settling perfectly into your palm as you hover your lips over the tip of his cock. Satoru’s chest is heaving with want, hands balled into tight fists against the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

“Please.”

The head of his cock is slippery when you slide it past your lips. When it hits your tongue, you taste that familiar saltiness of skin and precum. Satoru’s jaw falls slack, brows pitching up into his forehead as he watches—mesmerized—as you take him in, inch by thick inch.

Your tongue smooths along the underside of his cock as you bob your head along his length. Your body tries to resist the intrusion as you poke and prod at your tight throat with every movement and drool spills down from the sides of your mouth, over your knuckles, and along the veins of his cock.

Satoru whimpers, his usually bright blue eyes turning hazy from his arousal. “Ohhh, fuck—just like that, holy shit.”

His hips buck up into your mouth, urging himself deeper and deeper and pushing past the tight ring of your throat as you press your nose into the white hairs at his base. Satoru’s thighs twitch when you swallow around his cock before you pull back up to cough for air as thick strings of spit trail between you.

“Please, baby—it feels so good, keep going.”

His hand lifts from the bed to press against the back of your head, guiding you until your lips are wrapped around him again. He moans, keeping light pressure against the back of your head to hold you in place as he fucks up into your face.

“Shit, I wish you could see yourself—my pretty girl with spit all over her chin and my cock down her throat.”

He bites hard around his lower lip as your hand starts to move in tandem with his hips. His cock pulses against your palm as you slide along the shaft and you can feel the pull of his balls towards his body as he gets close.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he whines, cheeks turned completely pink. His stomach flexes hard, twitching as he fights back his orgasm. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to cum in your mouth?”

You hum around the tip of his cock before pulling off of him completely, swatting his hand away from the back of your hand as you rest both hands on his hips.

“No, no, no—” he whimpers, his hips rutting uselessly against the air as his cock slaps against his stomach. “Come back—please, please, please.”

You lean down to press a soft kiss to the underside of his cock before sitting up on your knees. Satoru watches with rapt attention as you climb into his lap, sliding your palms up his torso as you do so until they land on his chest.

He falls back against the mattress with the lightest touch, letting your weight hold him down as you straddle around his hips. Satoru’s hands flex and twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t touch you.

“You wanna ride it?” He asks, breathless.

You don’t answer but lean forward instead. Your chest presses against his and he tilts his face up expectantly, mouth open and breath shuddering. His white lashes flutter against his cheeks when they fall closed and he nudges your nose with his, searching for your lips.

When you finally meet, Satoru’s hands come up at last—one clutching the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist. The kiss is rabid—frenzied—just a blur of lips and tongue and teeth as Satoru’s hips grind against yours.

“I love you,” he says against your lips, “I love you.”

Your hands slide up from between your bodies, ghosting across the ridges of his collarbone, along the length of his neck, until they burrow amongst the strands of his hair. Satoru moans into you when your fingers weave around him, tugging against the hair at its roots.

“Fuck—” he hisses, nipping at your lip with his teeth. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“I know,” you hum, grinning as you pull your lip free from Satoru’s bite.

You sit back up on Satoru’s lap, shifting your hand between your legs to reach for Satoru’s cock. He grunts when you take hold of it and it kicks against your palm—still sensitive, you note.

“Are you going to last, Satoru?” you purr, guiding him until the soft head slides against the mess between your thighs. You ache for him, too.

“Probably not,” he admits, teeth clenched. “Consider it a compliment.”

“That’s ok—”

You lower yourself down and Satoru’s cock presses into you. You both suck in a sharp breath at the feeling, and your body takes over as your hips roll against him.

“—I want you to cum, Satoru.”

He closes his eyes, face twisted in agony as you sink down completely until your hips are flush with his. You’re so wet, you can already see the slick arousal coating the hair at the base of his cock. Satoru twitches inside of you and your body squeezes around him in reaction—he feels so big, so thick, so satisfying.

“Don’t say that or I’m gonna lose it,” he says, voice strained.

You roll your hips up—and then back down again—landing with a wet squelch! in Satoru’s lap as your pussy squeezes and drools around his cock. You moan at the feeling and every nerve in your body seems to come alive, burning from your toes to your fingertips as you rock in his lap.

“Oh shit—” he groans, stomach flexing as his back arches off the mattress, changing the angle of his cock inside of you, and you feel another surge of electricity shoot up your spine, “—fuck, please stop sounding so fucking sexy.”

You bounce in his lap, feeling the slap of his thighs against your ass with every movement and Satoru’s hands shift up to grab your hips. You think he’s going to stop you—hold you flush against him until the tide of his orgasm subsides—but instead, he digs fingers into the meat of your hips and helps guide you along his length.

With Satoru’s help, every bounce has the tip of his cock brushing directly against your sweet spot. Combined with the way Satoru is writhing and fighting back an orgasm beneath you, you feel the telltale surge of your own climax rapidly approaching.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice thick with arousal, “you’re squeezing me so tight—ahh, holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please,” you beg, feeling the haze creep into your mind as you chase your orgasm. “I want you to cum, Satoru—need it—please, I love you.”

His grip turns painful—blunt nails biting into your skin as Satoru’s body tenses beneath you. He babbles out your name, squirming and whimpering as you feel each pulse of his cock deep inside of you, spilling and filling you with the warmth of his cum.

But you keep going—bouncing in his lap, rolling your hips, grinding your clit against him—as you feel the pressure building in your gut.

Satoru’s whimpers turn into panicked hisses and his squirming to jerky twitches as his cock turns sensitive from the stimulation. He pants beneath you, his chest expanding in collapsing with every deep breath as he moans out.

“Oh, fuck—”

He can hardly speak between each breath. Between each guttural moan as your pussy squeezes around the length of his cock.

“—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t stop—fuck, it’s—so much—”

His feet kick out behind you, toes curling as his face twists. The mess between your bodies becomes thicker— sticky —from his cum and the slide of your clit against the hair at the base of his cock turns sinful.

His abs tighten when your hands move to rest upon them, using the leverage to bounce harder in his lap.

“Satoru—oh god— I’m gonna cum—”

Satoru can only offer you a strangled whimper in response and you feel the kick of his cock inside you as he cums again.

The feeling of being flooded by his seed has you in a daze. Through sharp, staccato breaths you moan out his name, each syllable punctuated by the squeeze of your pussy as you cum around his cock. You curl forward as your stomach tenses, your body quaking from the tremors of your climax.

Your knees squeeze around Satoru’s hips and his hands lift up. One arm wraps around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—much like before—and he pulls you close into his chest. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and his skin, even hotter. Your chests press against one another for space as you each take heaving breaths until the haze of your arousal finally clears.

Satoru’s cock, soft and soaked, slips from between your thighs when you sit up. His eyelids are heavy, his gaze dreamy, and he’s got a goofy grin painted across his face when you look down at him.

You brush away the sweaty, white strands from his forehead and he crinkles his nose up at you in delight.

“So?” he says, voice still airy and weak. “How’d I do?”

“Not your best work,” you tease.

You swing your leg over his hips and settle into the bed beside him. Your thighs feel sticky and your body is covered in sweat, but you still curl into Satoru and let him pull you into him.

“Liar,” he tsks, nose brushing against your cheek.

You laugh to yourself, burying your face into his chest. “Ok, fine. It was great—amazing, even!—The best lay I ever had.”

Satoru presses a tender kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin, “That better be my name in your phone the next time I check it—The Best Lay I Ever Had.”

🏷️taglist: @luvsymai @pdacex @jaegersity

[clownwritesfanfic]

Wake Up Mr.Sleepyhead - Touya Todoroki x GN! Reader

I just…I had to write something. I have so many feelings about him.

Spoilers for Season 7 Episode 8

I am not caught up with the manga so I only know as far as the anime. If there are canon things that haven’t been revealed yet in the anime then it will not be in here, I’m using headcanons and my own interpretations.

Summary: The boy everyone had affectionately called “Mr. Sleepyhead” has finally woken up from his three year coma. You never imagined things would go down hill so quickly.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Reader is emotionally fucked, Reader has a quirk, Reader has hair long enough to run fingers through

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word count: 6,460

Disclaimer: Reader is kept as ambiguous as possible. This fic is safe for plus size readers and readers of colour. If you find something that contradicts this, please let me know. No use of (Y/N).

Reader and Touya are both 16

———————————————————————

It’s been three years since he showed up.

You still remember that day so clearly.

You were thirteen when he arrived. You had been there since the opening of the children’s house. A man approached your parents when your quirk got out of control when you were eight and offered to enroll you in his newly built “school”. It felt more like a daycare than anything else. You learned a few school subjects but there was a lot of quirk training as well.

You were terrified, but persisted. Since you were one of the first, you got to witness other kids joining, and some of them got to leave. No one knew where they went, and Mr. Sunny wouldn’t disclose any information either. He’d always try to change the subject. You learned pretty quickly to let it go and not think too hard about it.

All the new kids always flocked to you. You were one of the few left from the first group, and kids were always so curious, so they always pestered you with questions. Because of this, you became one of the unofficial helpers. Mr. Sunny was the only staff, other than the doctor that would come in every few months for check ups or if someone got injured passed what a simple band-aid could fix. And then of course there was the House Master.

He never showed up in person. He always spoke through a screen. You were probably one of the few people that actually saw a glimpse of him back when he propositioned your parents.

Because you were so popular with the kids, it was easy to help care for them. They all saw you as an older sibling, even calling you as such sometimes. Although, over the years, you got tired. You hated this place. And you slowly started to hate the people in it. You hated how needy some of the kids were. How happy they all seemed to be despite never being allowed to see or talk to their parents. All the intense quirk training and unwanted child rearing wore you out. You slowly started to become a shell of a person. You were able to fake a smile in order to please the kids and throw off any suspicion Mr. Sunny had of you, but deep down, you couldn’t feel emotions anymore. You didn’t care about any of the kids that adored you.

And that included him.

You knew, once he was wheeled in on his bed, comatose, that you were going to have to help out. And you were right.

Mr. Sunny took care of any bathing and dressing issues, and the doctor took care of any medical ones such as replacing his IV and monitoring his healing. But you were in charge of keeping him company whenever you could and shooing away any stray children that snuck in to his room.

You hated it. You thought it was stupid. He’s in a coma, what sort of company would he need?

You mostly sat by his bed, staring at him. Waiting for some kind of movement so you could do anything else but this. But the only movement you saw was his chest slowly rising and falling and the only thing you could hear was the beeping of his heart monitor.

He looked awful when he first showed up. He had reconstructive surgery on his jaw, and third degree burns all over. They did manage to have someone with a healing quirk try and speed up the recovery, but they could only do so much. You weren’t gonna lie…you didn’t want to be near him at first. Because of his burnt, dead, skin he smelled awful. He needed to be bathed regularly but that could only do so much.

As he healed, and fresh new skin came in on some parts of his body and face, he started to look (and smell) better. You watched his healing process from start to finish. Talking to him sometimes as there was nothing else to do and sitting in silence can only get you so far with out wanting to rip your hair out.

You talked about anything and everything. The weather, the other kids, training, any trouble you had with the little school work they actually provided, how curious the kids were about him, etc. Over time, you started to enjoy the time you had with him, even if he never responded.

It was nice to get away from the rest of the “family”. Plus, it was an excuse to get away after a particularly hard session of training. Everyone here had powerful quirks. A lot of them had bodies that couldn’t adapt to their quirk. That was supposedly the purpose of this place. To help people cope with it all.

Luckily, you weren’t one of those people, your quirk didn’t effect your body much. Over use would exhaust you but it wasn’t as bad as some of the other kids. And definitely no where near as bad as this kid.

It was a normal day at the school when he woke up. You were watching over some of the older kids while Mr. Sunny took the younger kids for nap time. Most of them were doing some kind of arts and craft or playing, others opted to catch up on some school work.

You were helping a girl with her writing when you heard one of the new kids shout.

“Oh, the sleepyhead’s awake!”

You didn’t pay attention to what she was saying, more so the volume at which she spoke.

“Keep it down. You know the young ones are sleeping.” You scolded not looking up from the paper the girl was working on.

“Mr. Sunny!” A different girl yelled. “The sleepyhead’s awake!”

“Oi!” You shouted at her, still not noticing what everyone was yelling about. “He’s busy. Sit down and be quiet.”

“Where…am I?” A deeper and raspy male voice spoke. Now, that got your attention.

Your head snapped up towards the door where the voice came from and stared directly at an all too familiar face. Holy shit…he’s awake. His eyes are so…blue. You don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes that blue before. Seeing him awake and standing was weird.

You were released from your thoughts when the new girl spoke to him.

“This is our home! You slept for…let’s see…three years! You slept for three whole years! I just arrived, so I don’t know much, but that’s what Mr. Sunny said.” She explained. He looked shocked and upset at the news.

You stood up abruptly, your chair squeaking loudly on the floor. “Caroline! You can’t just spring something like that on him! You’re just confusing and scaring him.” You reprimanded as you walked over to the two.

“Ah…I-I’m sorry…I just…” Caroline tried to explain herself.

“Go sit down. I’ll handle this.” You sighed.

“But shouldn’t we tell Mr. Sun-“ another voice spoke up from the back of the room but didn’t get to finish when you interrupted them.

“NO! Don’t say anything to him yet. I’m handling this.”

You grabbed the white haired boy by the wrist, he was breathing heavily at this point and seemed to have zoned out.

“Come with me, quickly.” You dragged him out of the room and down the hallway. This seemed to snap him out of his trance as he tried pulling against you.

“W-wait! Hold on, what-“ he started before you shushed him.

You opened a closet door full of cleaning supplies and shoved him inside as he kept protesting. You shushed him every time. You slid into the closet next to him and shut the door.

“What the hell is going on?!” He practically yelled at this point.

“Shut up!” You whisper yelled at him and grabbed his shoulders. There wasn’t much room in the small closet but this was your best shot at being hidden for a while.

“Listen, I don’t know much about you myself, I don’t even know your name. All I know is that one day, three years ago you were found covered head to toe in third degree burns and had a missing jaw. You went through surgery to fix what they could and for three years you’ve been in a coma here. I don’t know why you specifically are here, it must be something to do with your quirk, because this is a place for kids with powerful quirks that they can’t control so they can get help. This is all I know, the grown ups don’t tell us much. I’m sorry…” you quickly explained, keeping your voice down.

“I…” He tried to process everything. “A coma? Surgery?!”

“Shhh! Not so loud. I know you’re freaked out right now and confused and I wish I could tell you more but I genuinely do not know anything else, but if it makes you feel any better…you weren’t alone. I was tasked to sit by your side basically since you arrived here.” You tried your best to calm him down.

“Really?” He still sounded like a child and you supposed he still was one, mentally he’s still 13 and everything must be so terrifying to learn. You don’t really know why you were trying to comfort him. You don’t like him anymore than the other kids. And you didn’t like them at all. You pitied him, you guessed.

“Yeah…I talked to you almost every day. Look, you’re safe here. As long as you follow the rules and don’t cause too much trouble you’ll do fine.” You sighed.

“No, I…I have to go home.” You felt despair at his words. You knew he was never going home. No one that came here ever went home…not if he could help it.

You were about to explain that to him when the door to the closet opened, blinding you both with the shitty fluorescent lights from the hallway.

“Ah, there you two are. Now, sunny, I know you’re excited that your friend is awake now, but you know why kids aren’t allowed alone together. I’ll take it from here. Please join the others in the activity room.” Mr. Sunny smiled down at you two.

You blushed furiously at the implications of his words and ripped your hands away from the boys shoulders and crossed your arms.

“You know damn well that’s not what was happening.” You muttered as you stomped past him.

“Language, sunny!” Mr. Sunny sing songed.

——————————————————————

It was night time now, all the younger kids were fast asleep, having been put to bed an hour ago, and the older kids were winding down for the night and getting ready for their bed time.

You however, were lingering outside Mr. Sunny’s office. The door was wide open…so it wasn’t like you were eavesdropping, but you were staying out of sight.

You felt like something was wrong. Like something bad was about to happen. Touya, you learned his name was at dinner, seemed adamant that he was going home. You just wanted to be there when the news was broken to him. You’d gotten used to being the therapist all the kids come running to.

“I have to get home!” You heard him plead.

“You can’t do that, sunny!” And there it was….the ball has dropped.

“Why not?” Touya argued.

“You’ll be living here with everyone else now, sunny! This is your new family! I’m sure it’ll feel like home soon!” God, you hated that fucking flower freak. You were told the same thing and you know how much it stings to hear that.

“Wait a minute! I have to get home! My dad…He probably just had work and couldn’t come. I’m sure he’s worried! I did…and said…some terrible things. I need to apologize to Mom and the others…I need Dad to see what I can do.” You could hear the pain in his voice, and yet…he still sounded like a child.

“I’m gonna be a he-“ He got cut off.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that can happen anymore.” You flinched at the voice. It’s him.

“Your burned up body was extremely hard to repair. The missing parts were filled in with regenerative tissue. Your face makes you look like someone different, but even so, you survived.” The voice cracked through the speakers.

“What are you saying? I don’t understand…someone different?” Touya whimpered.

“You can’t use your power like you did before. There was damage to your organs. Your senses, including your sense of pain, has been dulled. Your body is weakened. It will never go back to how it was before.” Damn….you didn’t know it was that bad. You felt pity for the boy.

“We would have liked to receive you in full health, too.” He continued. You could hear Touya’s shaky breathing. “We did our best, but unfortunately, we failed.”

You could hear him trying to hold back his tears. You peeked your head in and saw him bent over, clutching his face.

“It’s hard, isn’t it? You poor thing. But WE might be able to make your flames go back to normal! How about it? Will you try joining our family and learning together with us?” You wanted to punch that asshole. He ruined countless children’s lives. He ruined YOUR life. Who knows how many more of these places he has running.

“Shut up.” Touya spoke. You could hear the anger boiling in his voice. “I don’t want to learn from anyone else. The only one who can teach me is…” he threw the keyboard at the computer screen “my dad!”

“Don’t do that, sunny!” Mr. Sunny intervened, grabbing his shoulder that stupid smile on his face.

“Be quiet!” He yelled as he fought back, activating his quirk. You could feel the heat form the doorway. “Shut up!”

Suddenly, the whole room was ablaze. Touya turned and stopped when he saw you standing there. You stared back at him blankly. He huffed and ran past you down the hallway. You knew you could stop the fire. You knew it would’ve been the right thing to do. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care, this was your one and only chance at freedom. So you ran after him.

You caught up to him when he tried pushing open a locked door. You grabbed his wrist again and started pulling him towards the front enterance.

You both ran out the front doors as the entire building was quickly engulfed in flames. You let go of his wrist and let him lead the way. You could’ve gone your own way, but you followed him anyway. It’s not like you were dying to go home. As far as you’re concerned, you lost any family you had when your parents gave you up.

You stayed next to him as he slowed down. Soon, he was trudging along, both of you now in the middle of the city. The streets were lit by restaurant lights and the hanging street lights.

“I have…to go home.” He spoke more so to himself. You weren’t even sure he knew you were next to him. Your hands were shoved in your pockets as you looked around. You remember him saying he lived in Musutafu. That was the next city over. Not too far that it was impossible, but it would take a few hours to get there on foot.

He finally snapped out of his trance about an hour in. Most stores and restaurants were starting to close now, leaving only izakaya’s and yatai open. You passed a few with drunk patrons sat around on stools loudly chatting and laughing with each other.

You were surprised you hadn’t seen a single hero yet. In a city like this, you’d think there would be a bunch crawling around. Especially at night. At least you two were being left alone.

“Why are you following me?” He spoke up. He sounded tired. Ironic, considering he slept for three whole years.

“So you don’t die. Besides….I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I wanted to see this home you kept whining about.” You answered with a shrug.

He huffed and it was back to silence for a few minutes. He seemed to be deep in thought again as you two walked the streets.

“I killed that guy didn’t I?” He suddenly spoke up again.

“Probably shouldn’t say something like that out loud. But yeah, most likely. Bastard kinda deserved it though.” You replied.

“The whole place caught fire…oh god I probably killed everyone else…” He started to freak out.

“Nah…probably not everyone. Some of those kids have quirks that could be useful in a fire. They probably saved a bunch of the others. You probably only killed a few of them.” You realized that wasn’t a very helpful thing to say but it was too late.

“Why are you so nonchalant about this?!” He yelled, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. You were now both stopped on the sidewalk as he hyperventilated.

You sighed and scratched the back of your neck. “Touya…I never gave a shit about anyone in the damn place. I was never attached to them. Everyone there annoyed me. I wanted to be left alone, but the kids liked me so goddamn much that I was put in charge of them against my will when that freak was busy. They became attached to me while I felt absolutely nothing for them. They were never my family, no matter how hard that idea was pushed. I was given up by my parents because they were terrified of my quirk. I lost all sense of a family when I walked through those doors for the first time. I don’t care if they lived or died. I’m just glad that place is burnt to the ground and I’m out of there. So if anything, I should be thanking you.”

Touya was shocked at your lack of care. He started to notice how dull your eyes were, how tired you looked. Now he was the one that started to pity you.

He let go of your shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. He sighed and turned to continue walking. You followed a pace behind him silently.

——————————————————————

Hours later, it was the next day. It was dark and cloudy even though it was around noon.

Touya had come to a stop in front of a rather large traditional looking estate. You stood beside him as he stared at the huge double doors that lead to the front yard.

“Jesus…no wonder you were so desperate to get home. If my home was as nice as this I’d have burned the place down myself years ago.” You joked.

“I told you…I’m a Todoroki.” He looked at you confused.

“Am I suppose to know what that means?” You lifted an eyebrow at him.

“My father is Endeavour? Number two hero in all of Japan?” He looked bewildered.

“Ah, right…not gonna lie…I thought you were lying about that.” You laughed.

He sighed, exasperated as he looked back at the doors and took a deep breath before swallowing.

He slowly pushed open one of the doors and walked through as you stood by and watched the boy you had been next to for the last three years.

He turned to you when he realized you were still stood outside the property.

“Are you coming?” He asked.

You flinched. “Do you…want me to?” You replied, confused. You thought this would be the end of the ride for you, you’d finally be alone after this.

He nodded. “I’m sure my parents will be able to help you. They would probably let you stay for as long as you want, or help you find a place to stay if you’d prefer that.”

You felt a blush ride to your cheeks. No one ever gave a shit about you like that. You didn’t know how to feel as you felt your heartbeat speed up.

You tsked and glared at the ground as you walked through. “Whatever.” You mumbled.

He smiled softly and closed the door behind you then made his way to the entrance of the house, you following behind him, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

He opened the door and let you in first.

“Mom? Dad? I’m home! I’m sorry for worrying you all but I’m back and I’m okay!” He called into the eerily quiet house. He stepped up from the genkan not bothering to put on any slippers that were near the door. You noticed that there was only two pairs at the front. You remembered him saying he had three siblings and both his parents lived with each other. But if only two people were out…why did no one answer?

You followed behind him as you looked around the spacious and very traditional house. You wished you lived in a house like this.

That’s when you both heard a childlike scream followed by an older male voice cursing and yelling commands.

Touya took off down the hall where the noises came from and you followed close behind. As you got closer you could smell smoke and wood burning and you could feel the intense heat.

He stopped at an open sliding door and stared in. You couldn’t see in from where you were standing, but you could see the flames covering the inside of that room.

Touya was stiff as he stood there, his hands clenched into tight fists. You could see tears falling down his face. Whatever he was seeing…it obviously effected him quite negatively. He silently took off down the hall as he wiped at his face with his sleeve and you stepped forward, the floor underneath your feet still warm from where he stood. You looked in and saw a young boy, probably around eight, hunched over on the floor. Perfectly split red and white hair covered his face. That must be Shoto. Touya told you about how much he resented him as a kid. The huge man standing over Shoto, holding a piece of wood must be Endeavour. Looking at him now…he doesn’t look like a hero.

You slowly went off in the direction Touya went, careful not to make too much noise. You came across an open door and looked in. There stood Touya in a nearly empty room. The most prominent thing in the room was a huge wooden shrine, intricately decorated, that he stood in front of, his hands held up in front of him in prayer. He stared blankly down at a picture frame sat in the middle of the shrine.

You debated walking in or leaving him in peace. You thought it safer to join him incase his dad left the room and saw you. You slowly and silently slid the door closed behind you and stood next to him. You looked at the picture he was staring at and noticed a younger white haired boy in a school outfit. That must’ve been him before the accident. You couldn’t help but think he looked a little cute.

You sighed and matched his pose. Bringing your hands up in front of your face in prayer. You didn’t know why, but it felt like the right thing to do.

You both left not long after that, climbing out a window in order to not be seen. You let him lead the way, going wherever he felt like.

It was an hour or so by the time you both came across an abandoned building. It looked like an office of some kind, it was also clearly the victim of a villain attack of some kind. You doubt normal robbers would attack an office and make this much mess.

Touya came to a stop in front of some fallen junk and sat down. He hunched over with his arms resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. You both stayed silent until you heard his stomach groan quite loudly. You chuckled breathily.

“I’ll go get some food. I saw a convenience store a block away. I’ll be back soon.” You spoke softly, not wanting to break the silence too harshly.

———————————————————————

When you got back you noticed he was laying down, an arm laid over his eyes.

“M’ back” you muttered, not sure if he was awake or not. You placed the two plastic bags full of food and drinks onto the nearby table. You noticed a laptop with a charger attached, the cable running off the table and onto the floor where it was plugged into an extension cord that was attached to the wall. He must’ve found it while you were out.

You heard shuffling and looked over at him as he slowly sat up. He was looking down but you could see the tear stains on his face and his bloodshot eyes. You didn’t comment on it.

He slowly shuffled over to you and looked through one of the bags. “How did you get this much stuff?” He asked.

“Stole an old ladies wallet and took the cash before she noticed.” You answered, pulling out a warm steamed sweet potato and handed it to him. You didn’t know what he liked but it was a popular choice so you guessed he wouldn’t mind. You also pulled out a water and handed it to him.

He took both items from you and went to sit down. He pushed down the paper wrapper and took a bite of the sweet potato.

“That’s pretty illegal ya know.” He said with his mouth full.

“So is burning down a school full of kids.” You retorted, a little annoyed due to being hungry. You pulled out a pork bun and bit into it.

He scoffed and you both sat in silence as you ate.

You finished the last of your bun and took a sip of your own water. You sighed. You felt bad for snapping at him, now realizing he was just teasing you.

“Touya-“ you started before being cut off.

“That’s not my name…not anymore.” He said dejectedly.

“Oh…” Now you know what he was really doing at his shrine. Touya is dead…now all that remains is the shell of a boy. “What…uh…What do you want to be called now then?” You moved over to him and sat down next to him.

“I don’t know.” He sighed, crumpling up the wrapper and chucking it across the room.

“Well…whenever you figure it out, lemme know. I wanna be the first one to call you that.” You placed a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at you and smiled softly, a light blush across his face.

——————————————————————

You woke up to the sound of typing and soft cursing.

You stretched your whole body, groaning at the feeling of your vertebrae snapping into place.

Your new friend looked over his shoulder at you. “Sorry.” He cringed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He looked back at the screen.

“Hmm…it’s fine. What time is it?” You yawned as you slowly stood up. Your body stiff from the pile of semi comfortable debris you piled together last night. You lifted your shirt and scratched your side.

“7:26am” he responded after glancing at the tiny clock in the corner of the screen.

You hummed as you walked over to the table and looked through the bags. There was a single small bag of chips left. You weren’t able to get much filling food yesterday and you both ate through everything else, him especially. You knew teenage boys ate like they were starving but damn was he hungry. Although you gave him some slack considering his body was forced to survive off the bare minimum to keep him alive for three fucking years.

You opened the chips and ate one anyway. You were regretting not buying toothbrushes and toothpaste but whatever.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you shoved another chip in your mouth. You tilted the bag towards him in a silent offer.

He took one and answered as he chewed. Normally you’d find that gross but you can’t be bothered to care right now. “Trying to connect to the internet but the connection is shit.”

“Trying to look at baby name sites to find your new name?” You teased.

He glared at you out of the corner of his eye, making you chuckle.

“How long have you been awake?” You ate a few more chips before leaving the rest for him.

“About an hour.” He mumbled as he tried connecting to the internet again.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go get some more food. Hopeful something better than just snack food.” You said as you stretched your arms over your head.

“Uh…” He said as he looked up at you, his gaze going to your stomach that showed from your shirt riding up.

“Hm?” You fixed your shirt, not noticing he was staring.

“Your hair…” He trailed off looking at your hair all tussled from sleep. He thought it looked…cute.

You tsked and ran your fingers through your hair trying to fix it. “Better?”

He gave a thumbs up and looked back at the screen.

“Get cup noodles.” He said more like a demand.

“How the fuck are we going to eat noodles?” You questioned.

He lifted his hand and activated his quirk, small orange and red flames dancing on his palm, all with out looking up.

“Ah…right…” You forgot he could do that.

“Don’t steal money from an old lady again!” He called after you, teasingly.

You simply flipped him off as you left, not looking at him.

When you returned, more bags than last time with more than just food this time you saw him still looking at that damn laptop watching something.

You could hear the yelling and brutal sounds coming from the device. You set the bags down on the table.

“What are you watching?” You rounded the table to his side to look. There you could see videos of Endeavour fighting off villains, his flames taking up a majority of the screen.

“Oh…why are you watching that? I would assume he’s the last person you’d want to see right now.” You walked back over to the bags and shuffled through them.

“I’m studying his moves. He never saw what I could do, so I’m going to show him I’m better than his precious favourite. That I can be just as powerful as him.” He growled as he stood back and set his arm on fire.

“Ah. Well you can do that later. Eat first.” You muttered. You pulled out two cup noodles like he requested. You had more for later too.

“Steal more money from an old lady?” He smirked as he grabbed one of the cups.

“No.” You mocked. “…it was a salary man.” You smirked. That got him to let out a loud laugh and shake his head.

You opened your cup noodle and dumped the powder packet in then grabbed one of the water bottles you bought and opened it, pouring some water up to the fill line then handed the bottle to the white haired boy to do the same.

He grabbed yours first and held it with both hands wrapped around it. “Sure you won’t burn the whole thing?” You teased.

“Shut up. I’ve done this before.” He hissed as he concentrated on getting the temperature right. You watched in awe as steam started to steadily rise from the cup.

He put yours down and you placed your wooden disposable chopsticks down on the lid to keep the steam in.

“It’s not boiling but it’s hot enough. You just have to wait a little longer.” He explained as he did the same to his cup.

“Fine by me. I’m just glad to have a hot meal.”

When you both finished your noodles you both had some broth left over. Which made you ask him, “Do you think you can cook eggs with your quirk?”

“What?” He looked at you, puzzled. “I mean…I dunno…I never really tried but…probably. Why?”

You stood up and walked back over to the table and fished around in one of the bags and pulled out a small container of two eggs and walked back over to him and sat back down.

“There’s this hack I learned where you can make a sort of egg soufflé with the remaining broth from cup noodles so you don’t have to dump it out.” You explained as you took an egg out and cracked it into your cup. “You’re supposed to microwave it but we obviously don’t have that option right now.” You whisked the egg up into the broth with your chopsticks.

You traded your cup for his and watched as he repeated the same thing he did to cook the noodles. You could both see the egg starting to cook along the sides and you both exclaimed in joy.

“This way we can get more protein.” You cracked and whisked the remaining egg into his cup.

It took longer but he managed to cook the egg enough to your liking so you switched back and he started on his cup. You had to let yours sit for a while to cool down so you both made small talk.

When you were both finally finished eating, your friend wanted to practice his quirk so you sat near by and watched.

He punched his fist out and orange flames burst around his hand and up his arm. He lift his hand and you watched as the golden flames changed into beautiful blue waves of heat.

“Woah…” you gasped. It made him smirk.

“Cool, huh?” He gloated cockily.

“I’ve never seen anyone have blue flames before. Does it hurt?” You questioned.

“Not as much as before. That guy said my sense of pain has been nullified and I can definitely tell.” He responded as he looked at his arm.

You scoffed at the mention of that asshole.

He turned off his quirk and looked at you. “Who was he by the way? Why did he only speak through a computer?”

“Fuck if I know. He was always communicating through that thing. Never bothered to show up even though he owned and created the damn place.” You seethed. “He was called the House Master. You couldn’t call him anything else, I swear it had to be some kind of ego boost or fetish.”

“He never showed his face?” He asked.

“No. Not while I was there…but I did get a glimpse of him once when he approached my parents about boarding me there.” You picked at your nails.

“You said that it was a place for kids with powerful quirks…what is your quirk? It must be insane if you were asked to be one of the first students.” He realized he never actually asked what your quirk is before.

You stood up and walked towards him and stood a few feet away. You gestured for him to activate his quirk.

He lifted his arm as orange flames burst through once again. You lifted your hand towards his flames and soon they reached towards your hand away from him. You moved your hand around and made the flames dance around in the air. You brought your hand behind you and the flames followed, jumping to your other hand behind your back and following in front, bringing them in front of your face and letting it sizzle out leaving little sparks, revealing his shocked face.

“Woah.” He was in awe.

“It’s called Elemental Manipulation. I can manipulate and maneuver any element I want. There are limitations though. I can use it on any element found on the periodic table, meaning it’s basically unstoppable considering everything in the universe is made up of something. However, I can’t use it on living being like plants, animals or people, and I can only manipulate something if I understand it’s elemental makeup. Water for example is two hydrogen and an oxygen. So I can pull hydrogen and oxygen from the air and combine them to make water, but it takes a lot of energy and time. Fire is a little trickier though since it’s primarily oxygen. I actually can’t create the elements myself, meaning I can’t produce fire like you, cause while oxygen helps fire spread, you still need a heat source and fuel to really start it. It’s easier for me to just move already existing elements than create it. But you can see how dangerous it can be if worked on enough.” You explained.

“Wow…that’s…really awesome.”

You shrugged.

You spent the next few hours watching him train, giving him suggestions every once in a while and making him take breaks if he looked like he was over exerting himself.

The day went by quickly and soon you both found yourself laying next to each other in silence, sometimes chatting about something the other thought of, but you were both content just laying there.

“I think I found a good name.” He broke the silence.

“Oh yeah?” You answered. You were laid on your back, hands folded together and your eyes closed.

“What about Dabi?” He asked, slightly looking for your approval.

You opened your eyes and stared at the dilapidated ceiling. “Dabi…” you tried it out. You smiled and looked over at him. “I like it. Sounds cool and mysterious.”

He smiled back at you.

———————————————————————

For the following years you stayed by his side. You both met Giran and he took you both in for a while. You helped staple his peeling skin and scolded him every time you noticed his scars spreading. You helped dye his hair black. You even helped give him his nose piercings, and you were there when he joined the League of Villains, consequently, joining yourself.

You grew yourself, too. You got better at using your quirk, still not to its full potential, but much easier to handle than when you were younger. You helped fight for Shigaraki’s cause, although you would always keep your entire loyalty to Dabi.

You both found comfort in each other, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s why you agreed to help him when he asked you for a specific favour.

“You ready?” You asked as you stood over the shirtless man, sat on the couch. You softly cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with your thumb.

“I’ve been waiting for this for years. Of course I’m ready.” He grabbed your hand and brushed his lips on the back of it as he made eye contact with you. His eyes still as blue as the day you first saw them.

You smiled and went over to the video camera that was pointed towards him. He sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, fingers pressed together in front of his face.

“Go.” You whispered.

“Sorry to interrupt.” He looked into the camera through his fingers.

“My name…is Touya Todoroki.”

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 1) • l.s.m.

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

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

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin. 

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

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

You shiver. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obviously."

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

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

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

"And that's why you'll be the —"

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

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

"Technically, that's true."

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

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

"Well —"

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

" — Think fast!"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

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

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

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

"Hey… thanks."

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

"Mm-hm."

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

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

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

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

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

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

"Goodnight, Chan."

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

But tomorrow never came.

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

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

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

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

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

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

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

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

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

"Nothing guarantees —"

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

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

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

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

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

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

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

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

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

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

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

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

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

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

"Chan?!"

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

"What about you?"

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

"But —"

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

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

"Chan, what's —"

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

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

"You hate those kinds of things."

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

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

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

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

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

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

What was going on?

Boom!

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

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

It's gone.

"No…"

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

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

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

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

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

For now.

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

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

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

"Don't. Move."

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

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

"Go ahead and shoot."

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

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

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

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

"I —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt.

"I — I —"

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

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

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

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

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

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

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's stale too.

Fucker.

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh-huh."

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

"Hey, now —"

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

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

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

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

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

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

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

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

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

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

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

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

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

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

You feel a funny sensation.

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

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

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that's anything new."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except you're on edge.

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

"Now who's staring?"

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

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

Hope.

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

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

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

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

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

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

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

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

"'Lo, Wonu."

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

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

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

"Oh, Lina…"

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

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

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

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

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

"I am strong!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

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

"I swear!"

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

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

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

"Really?!"

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

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

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

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

"Choi!"

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

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

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

"Dunno, cute?"

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

"No need for apologizin', man."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

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

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just a bounty hunter."

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

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

"Oh? Same here."

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

"He's…?"

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

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

"Yeah, tell me about it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

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

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

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

"M-maybe."

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

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

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

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fill me up again?"

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

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

But you know the truth.

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

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

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

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

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

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

"Hey, you."

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

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

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

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

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

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

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

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

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

"'Cause that's what he is."

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

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

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

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

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

"Only if you get one, too."

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

"As you wish, m'lady!"

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

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

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

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

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

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

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

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

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

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

"'Kay."

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

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

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

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

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

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

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

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

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

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

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

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

Splash.

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

"Let's begin… the killing time."

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

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

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

Rem Saverem.

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

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

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

"What's got you making that face?"

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

"What face?"

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

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

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

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

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

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

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

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

"… Yeah. I like you."

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

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

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

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

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

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

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

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

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

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

"I'm not the only one!"

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

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

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

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

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

"You're right. How dare I?"

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

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

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

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

Yet, it hurts all the more.

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

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

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

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

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

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

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

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

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

Don't leave me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

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

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

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

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

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

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

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

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

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

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

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

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

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

How typical.

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

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

"Soonyoung's coming."

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

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

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

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

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

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

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

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

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

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

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

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

Antagonize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really, 'Kwan?"

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

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

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

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

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

"All that does is make me cringe."

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

"Who's acting like what?"

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

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

"There's no way!"

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

"Uh-huh."

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

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

"The hell did you even throw for?"

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

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

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

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

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

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

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

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

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

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

"Don't recall!"

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

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

"Aw, see? You still care!"

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

"Sure you do."

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

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

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

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

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

"As far as we know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

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

"Dokyeom. DK."

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

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

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

"… Deadly Knives?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

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

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

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

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

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

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

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

"… Mistake?"

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

You wonder how long he's known.

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

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

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

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

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

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'Course they would."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Surely you know what —"

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

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

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

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

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

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

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

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

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

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

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

Click!

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

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

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

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

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

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

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

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

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

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

"Why you —"

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

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

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

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

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

"You don't want this."

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

"We do."

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

"He's not a monster."

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

To us?

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

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

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

"… Excuse me?"

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

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

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

"Because you took a bribe!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…. I —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You mean…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

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

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

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

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

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

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

"Hm. But I think you do."

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

Lina.

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

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

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

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

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

"… Wonu?"

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

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

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

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

It doesn't end there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

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

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

"Seokmin, switch!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bang!

Bang!

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

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

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

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

Nails.

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

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

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

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

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

Drip.

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

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

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

Click.

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

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

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

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

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

Someone.

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

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

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

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[nevertheless-moving]

binged dungeon meshi anime + manga after numerous tumblr posts and leg injury. thoughts based on fandom > manga> anime ride:

[SPOILERS FOR MANGA]

senshi pantyshot fanservice much appreciated but... should really be more lingering and inexplicably glistening if its gonna match up to fanservice in other animes

no yeah TOTALLY get why toshiro just said fuck it and went home after... all that. days of no food. blase dark magic/you were too late reveal. long repressed slapfight that he probably felt equally guilty and angry about. girl he loved appeared as GIANT MONSTER and BRUTALLY killed HIS FAMILY.

girl he loved STOPPED TO PULL HER TITS OUT midway through BRUTALLY KILLING HIS FAMILY.

i'd go home too

also , Maricelle, all the love in the world, but i get why everyone was mad about the dark magic. i mean it looked bad. WE know that thistle interfered but the situation looked BAD ngl maricelle i would not want you healing me either after falin appearance.

feel like changeling maricelle should have been half half-foot/half-dwarf or something like that. would have been fun half-elf reveal to party. actually bothers me that she wasn't? the more i think about it. i mean itzumi was still cat/kobold.

incredibly belated but looking back at changeling episode...is senshi shirtless the whole time???

okay nevermind did some extensive research and i'm fairly sure he wasn't

also thinking back about senshi — he absolutely knew what he was doing with setting off the traps and pissing chilchuck off...my man was living here for decades.

kabru/laois is both more and less textually present than i would have thought based on fandom.

like on one hand they barely interact. on the other hand they barely interact and Kabru is VERY much obsessed . they have ONE (1) conversation. much hilarity has been observed about that dialogue so i digress

and there is ZERO new information between that interaction and kabru planning on putting the man on a THRONE. at some unclear point his career goal becomes having his lips at this man's ear and a dagger at his neck ???

i cannot stress this enough: he invests SO EARLY in king Laios. willing to sacrifice his life for this to be realized. goal oriented. unhinged. good for him.

you could say it's just him being practical and choosing the best option based on available information but incredibly relevant new information becomes available and Kabru is STILL locked in

i'm crying over kabru 'compressing' mithran's backstory. sure as a meta framing device fine. but in universe? BONKERS. narrative critiquing clinically depressed man's tragic backstory. Super normal move.

so much nuance and different perspectives on fantasy interracial marriages and adoptions and its SO SO GOOD.

gnawing on the walls kinda worldbuilding seriously

so thistle was a teenager when this all started. that's what i'm getting. that's... man there's a lot of layers of tragedy.

wait so if elves and half-foots look ambiguously young do tallmen look ambiguously old?? wrinkly gangly old old wrinkly fuckers??? or burning the candle at both ends terrible looking tall child???

hey i'm starting to think that the monster who controls all monsters... might not be a good guy

'Delgal' holding thistle at the end ... i'm not crying. you're crying.

impossible to say if laois won the final battle on purpose or not

genuinely no idea

11/10 no notes about that fact

[frythatrice]

Otherside Picnic Rant

I'm coming off the high of shotgunning what there is of the manga and then the entire novel in about a week, so it's hard to gather my thoughts. It's incredible. I'm probably not being very objective about it right now, yesterday around midnight I wasn't even reading anymore, I got to volume 8 and it was less like reading and more like drinking the story. Just vacuuming it up like a burger on the brink of starvation. I don't know how coherent this rant is and I don't care, I just had to get it out there. Spoilers for the whole series below.

Seven volumes of romantic and sexual tension culminates in an entire book of romantic catharsis. A whole book dedicated to Sorawo's feelings. It's not even out of place, it's a horror series and there's nothing Sorawo is more afraid of than human emotion. It's so fucking smart. Every single deflection, every single longing look, every single comment, every single "I love you", every single moment of romance prior to vol8 pays off.

Sorawo falls in love without realizing. She can't take her eyes off Toriko and doesn't understand why. She gets jealous and protective. She rationalizes it using the "accomplices" label. She doesn't think too much about it, but knows Toriko is special.

Then, Toriko confesses her love. Initially, Sorawo genuinely doesn't even understand the implication of it. She realizes Toriko is acting like a boyfriend, and doesn't understand why. Slowly, Toriko shifts from "special" to "the most important person in her life". She still doesn't understand they're in love.

Then, Toriko keeps pushing, and Sorawo picks up on what's happening. She starts deflecting. She goes from being genuinely unaware of her and Toriko's feelings, to actively supressing them. At this point, she still acts like she doesn't get it, but understanding is slowly creeping in. As she continues to act like she doesn't get it, she starts purposefully ignoring these feelings, and it gets harder and harder. She sees all the pieces, and knows what the puzzle would look like if she put them together. The Otherside is terrifying, but that's never stopped her from trying to understand it - these feelings are worse.

Finally, enough is enough, and Toriko pushes one last time - 7 volumes of rising romantic tension come to a head in volume 8. Toriko doesn't know what the fuck is going on anymore, and asks Sorawo to sort out her feelings. Sorawo can't run anymore. Her fear of these feelings influences the Otherside in the most blantant and direct way so far. She is being directly haunted by her feelings for Toriko. It's barely even metaphor at this point. The Otherside has targetted Sorawo before. Satsuki is used to prey on Sorawo's fear of losing Toriko, as well as her jealousy and, to a degree, fear of becoming evil. The Red Person manipulates her through isolation and loneliness. T-san makes her fear losing her connection to the Otherside. All of the phenomena Sorawo encounters, in some form, prey on her emotions and insecurities, but it's at least somewhat obfuscated - they feel like evil monsters with a vague connection to her. They feel like tangentially related phenomena that just so happen to fit the bill.

Satsuki and The Red Person haunt Sorawo specifically, but you could easily make arguments for them haunting others as well. Vol 8's Mujina is different. It's a phenomena that is directly targetting Sorawo and only Sorawo, it's directly targetting her feelings for Toriko, in a way that leaves no doubt or ambiguity about what's happening. It's not even that scary, objectively speaking. Just one volume ago, Sorawo brutally exorcizes Satsuki in a triumphant, cathartic slam dunk against the horrors of the Othersie. Even before that, at this point, she's faced off against countless, unimaginable horrors and has come out on top. The Mujina is one of the simplest, most basic phenomena Sorawo has encountered. It's incredibly mundane. It's not some crazed serial killer, or an eldritch abomination, or some inhuman chimera. It's not some deep reflection of her past, it's not some sort of mind bending apparition designed in a lab to terrify. It's not a 20 stage haunted house with twists and turns. It's a scrap of paper passed to her during class, and all it says is "you love her and you know it". It's fucking genius.

Vol 8 is a mad dash and a chaotic scramble to sort out her feelings. It's never been this hectic before. She pulls out all the stops. There are stressful moments throughout the series, but for the first time, it feels like Sorawo genuinely might break under the pressure. She goes as far as asking her classmate for advice. I think vol1 Sorawo might choke out vol8 Sorawo for even thinking about doing that. She's scrambling through town asking everyone everything she can and all the way throughout she's being haunted, tormented, tossed around like a plastic bag through dimensions. She's fighting for her life.

All of this culminates in the single greatest chapter of any romance story I've ever seen. The 80 or so pages that have potentially ruined all other romance for me. If you got your hands on the original manuscript, tore out Accomplices No More and processed it into a drink, I'm certain you'd have made a love potion. File 26 feels like a fucking galactic event. A nuke could have dropped on them during their talk and I doubt it would have made into the footnotes. Any burglar trying to break in would be torn apart on the atomic level by the sheer level of desperate love on display. I'm surprised neither of them had a heart attack. I'm not surprised by the lack of Otherside interference - whatever it is, whoever it is trying to make use of it, at this moment, even God knows better than to try. Calling it cathartic feels like an insult.

Sorawo and Toriko sit down, pick up volumes 1-7 of Otherside Picnic, and take a leisurely stroll through every second of their time together, from the moment they first met, to the Big Bang of yuri currently occuring. It's love. It's always been love. Toriko lets her into her apartment. Sorawo doesn't care anymore. She accepts that she's not like other people. She accepts that she doesn't love like others do. She accepts that she doesn't think of people like other people do. She accepts that she loves Toriko. Their feelings fly off the page like a meteor shower.

Sorawo has never been interested in Toriko's past, because Toriko's present is so radiant nothing else matters. That's fine. She loves her.

Sorawo has never thought of Toriko in a sexual way, and how could she have? Have you ever wanted to fuck the sun? Even if Sorawo wasn't ace, I don't think she could have felt differently in this moment. That's fine. She loves her.

Sorawo has never wanted for them to become lovers, because, in her eyes, they were far, far beyond that point. That's fine. She loves her.

Sorawo has seen herself through Toriko's eyes in the past. It brought her to tears. I wonder, how Toriko would react to seeing herself through Sorawo's eyes?

Toriko's love is a lot more typical in comparison, but she loves her just as much as Sorawo loves her. Sorawo confuses her. "This girl keeps staring at me". "She wants to spend all her time with me". "She gets jealous of me". "She protects me at the cost of herself". To Toriko (and literally everyone else who has ever seen the two together for more than two seconds, including the fucking esoteric eldrich beings from beyond the realm of human imagination who don't even know what the fuck feelings even are), the way Sorawo acts towards her can be nothing but love.

Written from Toriko's perspective, Otherside Picnic is a romcom about a Canadian lesbian who progressively goes more and more insane over the fact that her hot, nerdy crush won't go out with her despite not even trying to hide the fact it's mutual, with a mild subplot about some monsters or whatever. At this point, I could argue that Toriko isn't even especially fearless or anything, and that the reason she handles the Otherside so well is because she's too thrown off by the densest lesbian to ever walk the earth to spare a thought to whatever the fuck the Otherside is trying to do. Maybe she'd be more shook by her ex being turned into the Grooming Devil if she wasn't busy writing a 50-page essay titled "What The Fuck Am I Doing Wrong" in her head at the same time.

Jokes aside, Toriko's love for Sorawo really is just as big as Sorawo's love for her. Toriko might be a bit rough around the edges, and she herself admits she's not great with people. Toriko got books on childhood trauma so she wouldn't hurt Sorawo by accident. Toriko has been agonizing potentially having overstepped Sorawo's boundaries. Toriko knows she's hurt Sorawo before, both on purpose and by accident, and she hates herself for it. Toriko lets her into her apartment, something she's never done for anyone else before, and she tells Sorawo everything she's afraid of telling other people.

She loves Sorawo. Not the cool, smart Sorawo, the fearless Sorawo, the Sorawo that treats the Otherside like an adventure. She loves Sorawo. The cool, smart, fearless, weak Sorawo. The jealous, pathetic loner Sorawo. The dense, ovethinking Sorawo who can't hold her composure. The heroic Sorawo. The Sorawo that says she doesn't care about people. The Sorawo who faced hell for her. The Sorawo who wouldn't let her go. The Sorawo she wouldn't let go.

The moment Sorawo and Toriko sit down in her apartment, all doubts of whether or not they love each other are incinerated. All that's left is to clear up any misunderstandings, and figure out where to go from here.

Toriko places lovers above accomplices, Sorawo does the opposite. Misunderstanding resolved. Toriko says she loves Sorawo, Sorawo responds in kind. All clear. Sorawo thinks that maybe it's not romantic, Toriko isn't buying it, in the end, the label feels meaningless. It's love regardless. Toriko is worried her advances went too far. Sorawo doesn't get much out of the kissing, but absolutely doesn't mind it. We're getting somewhere. Before a label is decided for their relationship, Toriko admits she wants to have sex. Sorawo doesn't get the hype, but she's down. They have boring, normal, incredibly disappointing sex, and get nowhere.

If this is as far as it went, I could see Sorawo compromising and labeling them as a couple. I don't think sexual incompatibility could ruin their relationship. Toriko would be disappointed, but they'd happily work out some kind of compromise and end up a happy couple. Happily ever after.

Thankfully, Toriko is horny as hell, a bit mean, and a sore loser. Turned on, next to her beloved, her pride as a second generation lesbian having suffered critical damage, she mutters about taking care of business herself, something I'm sure is partly just an actual idea she had, but also as a bit of a mean jab against Sorawo.

Sorawo's internal monologue following this statement is the best string of letters and symbols I've ever seen in my life. I'm fully aware I'm still riding the hype and not being objective. I don't care. As of writing this, I don't think anything I've ever read or ever will read will ever reach the heights of Sorawo discovering what a kink is. 16 hours later, I'm staring at it, and I'm still floored. I imagine I still will be a week later. I would do deplorable things to get Iori Miyazawa to write a version of this scene from Toriko's perspective. I'd go as far as watching Hibike Euphonium if it made him put his pen to paper.

Toriko's offhanded remark leads right into the most insane sex (???) scene I've ever seen. I could wax poetic for days, words just don't do it justice. To begin with, it's beautiful, romantic, erotic, absolutely hilarious, as well as just a touch terrifying. It fits thematically, both in the obvious sense of it being kind of horrifying, but it also touches on the overarching themes of the story.

The horrors of the Otherside are often used to represent abuse, and a big part of Sorawo's character is coming to terms with her abuse by both claiming the Otherside for herself, as well as fighting against the horrors representing her abusers. Using these powers in such a loving, passionate way that stands as a direct counter to the Otherside is an incredible middle finger to their abusers as well as the powers that be. Come what may, they can't be broken, and together, they can heal.

It's also relevant to the struggles Sorawo has throughout the series. She's not like other people. She doesn't think like other people. She struggles with societal expectations and labels. On top of that, both her and Toriko have been irreversibly changed by the Otherside. Sorawo is pushed by others to label their relationship, she's pushed by Toriko to conform to typical sexuality. Of course the normal sex was terrible - neither of them are normal, and once they accept that, they're rewarded with reality breaking sex that puts the horrors of the Otherside to shame.

Lastly, it's also the final piece required for them to fully accept each other. Throughout the series, they push and pull each other through various misunderstandings and such. Once the misunderstandings are cleared up, the issue that remains is that they're incredibly scared to hurt each other. Sorawo is scared of driving Toriko crazy with her eye. Toriko is scared of… whatever the hell her hand can do to Sorawo. The thing that finally clicks is simple - they're scared of hurting each other, but neither of them are scared the other would hurt them. They're scared of hurting each other, but the thought of being hurt themselves doesn't even occur to them, and since they trust each other with their lives, there's no reason to be afraid.

Rationally, I can look at this sequence of events and understand that it's only four pages or so long, but I don't think I'll ever be able to wrap my brain around it. It's a masterpiece.

Once they're done inflicting permanent mental damage on me, the Otherside, as well as everyone in a 5-mile radius, they go back to labels. Suddenly, the idea of normal is a lot less interesting for the both of them. At this point, it doesn't matter what they call each other. With the nerdiest justification ever put to paper, they label themselves after some weird, esoteric Japanese beast. Why not?

I'm usually not a fan of the "we don't need a label" trope in yuri, as it's usually used as a copout to avoid labelling the characters as queer. Otherside Picnic is like the polar opposite of that. It's not trying to avoid labelling the characters as queer. I think it just invented a whole new brand of queer. I'm exceptionally happy about how it handles the topic of sexuality, from Toriko's lesbian mothers, to Toriko herself, to Sorawo's asexuality, to whatever the fuck they did to each other.

Given that Iori Miyazawa could be called the father of "yuri of abscence", as funny as the memes are, and as sure as I was that he was mostly joking, I was still a bit worried that Sorawo and Toriko would end up being ambiguous. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Iori Miyazawa really said "a bench by the sea with room for two is yuri. You know what else is yuri? Two women having sex". What an incredible man. What an incredible story. I don't know what I'll do with myself once it's over.

[nanamis-bigtie]

Promised Lullaby

a/n: 1.5h of sleep, sheer awe of battle mode Gojo design, trauma after chapter 236 leaks... it couldn't end only one way - and for once it's not smut 😂 canon timeline is nothing but a bad dream and Gojo himself is here to reassure us everything is going to be alright!

Character: Gojo Satoru Reader: gender neutral (no gendered pronouns, ambiguous body descriptions) Word Count: ~700 CW: manga spoilers past chapter 223, canon divergence, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, Gojo has tons of unprocessed guilt, I lost count which arm in the end he lost, sorry! jjk masterlist // ao3 version

"Are you crying?"

No darkness can deceive Gojo's eyes. But even blind and powerless he would recognize the desperate clutch of your fingers, clenched on his shirt so hard he feels your nails scratching at his skin. Tangled in sheets, you're nuzzling to his side like a little bird, curled, pressed into the tight space between his chest and stump. 

"Hey, Y/N, are you awake?" Gently, he nudges your shoulder, looks for your eyes amidst the night but he doesn't find a satisfying answer. Groaning at stiffened muscles, he reaches over you, for the switch-key of the bed stand lamp. He almost fails and falls on top of you—his disability is fresh, he's still not used to different balance and the lack of arm by the right side. 

"Y/N?" He tries again, voice soft and full of concern. With some squirming, he manages to roll on side without pushing you away; he scoops you closer, fingers soothingly tracing at your scalp and the back of your head. As always, his heart melts at the soft sensation of the size difference between you two; you're an adult but in comparison to his huge hands—hand you sometimes seem fragile like a child.

It does feel like cuddling a child at that moment, with your dry sobs cutting through grave silence, and trembling of your curled shoulders. And like with children, Gojo is patient with you, untying the knots of your nightmares one after one, until your breath eases and tension melts into oblivion. You're pressed so close to him he feels your eyes opening, your lashes tickling his neck when you blink the sandy numbness away.

"I'm here." He reassures you and kisses the top of your head. "I got you."

With a loud gasp you jerk in his embrace, both hands reaching for his face, frantically tracing scattered scars, tangling into soft locks falling far past his eyebrows. Shock fades into relief, relief into ecstatic happiness, tears pooling in your eyes, and soon falling all over your cheeks, all over his t-shirt and scarred chest underneath. 

The sight breaks his heart into a thousand little pieces.

"You're—" Another sob cuts through your words, turning them into unintelligible wailing, soon muffled by his chest. He welcomes you with a low, sensuous hum, big, warm hand at the back of your neck, thumb drawing aimless lines and circles down your spine. 

Gojo doesn't need your words. He knows, he always knew even without choked-out extracts of your nightmares you sometimes shared. You've been like this since you reunited; he can only imagine what you went through when he's been gone—and with each tear he feels falling on his chest, he just hates himself and his weakness more.

He swore to protect you, to protect everyone, and even if in the end he came out on top, he hasn't been with you for too long. Way too long.

"Yes, I am here. I'm real." Gojo promises and peppers your head with more kisses, his voice calm and warm in reverse to the state of his soul. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Liar, liar, liar a hundred times—and the most honest he's ever been in his life. It will not repeat, Gojo is sure of that, and repeats his promise with each slow and gentle stroke against your back. The mistakes won't be repeated, brecks in the plans won't be overlooked. As you are safe in his embrace now, you will be wherever you go, with him by your side, physically or not. 

Your sobs eventually fade, fatigue wins over anxiety and torturous remains of nightmares. Gojo listens to your breathing easing, doesn't cease with soft touch and reassuring praises until go limp against him, swallowed by peaceful, or at least blank, dreams now. Not until then he dares to roll on back, pulling you with him, and covering the both of you with a blanket. Whispering his name, you rub your nose against his collarbone, your hand blindly looking for his.

He squeezes it, reassuring. It's so small, so fragile against his palm… Oh, if his soul wasn't already shattered, it would crumble this very moment. How could he let go of that beloved hand? How could he make you think he was gone?

To your last breath, at any cost, he won't leave you alone like this ever again.

[theturncoattournament]

Do you love a character with a good redemption arc? Or a corruption arc? Or even just seeing the kind of storylines that emerge from a character who was formerly aligned with an enemy side decide to join a different one?

Then welcome to...

The Turncoat Tournament!

This is a tournament for characters who have changed sides at some point in the story. It can be from good to bad, bad to good, or from one morally ambiguous side to a different morally ambiguous side, as long as the change in allegiance is still clear. Characters can change sides multiple times, and ultimately end up returning to their original side, and still qualify for the tournament!

Due to the subject of the tournament itself being inherently spoiler-y, I will by default not be tagging posts with spoiler warnings. However, below I do have a list of all the pieces of media that have characters in the tournament; if you see something on this list that you do want spoiler tagged, please let me know, and I’ll start tagging it with spoiler warnings!

Media list:

(Arranged in alphabetical order)

2001: A Space Odyssey/2010: The Year We Made Contact

Ace Attorney/The Great Ace Attorney

Animation vs Minecraft

Arthurian legend 

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Bamse - Världens starkaste björn

Bones

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Bungo Stray Dogs

Centaurworld

Chess The Musical 

The Chronicles of Narnia

Code Geass

Critical Role (Campaign 2) 

Cult of the Lamb

DC Comics (Batfamily, Flash characters, Shazam family)

Devil May Cry

Doctor Who

Dog Man

Dragon Age: Inquisition 

Dragon Ball Z

The Evillious Chronicles 

Fable III

Fairy Tail

Fake Princess

Farscape

Final Fantasy XIV

Game of Thrones

Genshin Impact

The Good Place

Gravity Falls

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

Hannibal

The Hunger Games

I Expect You to Die 3

The Incredibles 

Just Dance

Kingdom Hearts

Kinnporsche 

Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts 

Kirby series

The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords manga

The Librarians

The Locked Tomb

Machineries of Empire

Maleficent

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Marvel Comics (X-Men, Avengers) 

Megamind

Merlin

Mistborn

My Little Pony: Equestria Girls

Nan Quest

Once Upon A Time

One Piece

The Owl House

Pandora Hearts

Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Person of Interest 

The Pirates of Penzance

Pirates of the Caribbean 

Portal 2

Power Rangers: Dino Fury

Pretty Cure (Fresh Precure, Kira Kira Precure a la Mode, Suite Precure, Hugtto Precure)

Provost’s Dog

Princess Tutu

Raya and the Last Dragon

RWBY

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Smallville

Sonic the Hedgehog OVA 

Soul Eater

Soul series (Soul Calibur/Edge) 

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Star Wars (Prequels, Original trilogy, Rebels, Clone Wars, Knights of the Old Republic) 

Steven Universe

The Stormlight Archive

Sunless Sea

Tangled: The Series

Teen Titans (2003 series) 

Teen Wolf

Terminator films 

Transformers

Tron Legacy

Vorkosigan Saga

Warrior Cats

Wings of Fire

Wolf 359

Worm

Young Justice

Yu Yu Hakusho

[telvess]

Record of Ragnarok Poseidon (relationship headcanons) 🔞

My first attempt in writing anything in… eternity. I’m not a native English speaker but trying to improve myself, sorry for all mistakes I've made. I didn’t write any major spoilers but used knowledge from manga. Also + still no clue how tumblr works.

Poseidon is such a adorable idiot.

SFW Not gonna lie, to catch his eye (not to mention eye-to-eye contact) there will be needed someone really specific. Someone similar to him in general, but unique in details. I think Poseidon is really good observant. Just because he’s indifferent to others, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t pay attention. He would notice nuances in behaviour, manners and gestures. His future s/o must be elegant, self-contained and pride. Maybe not in the haughty way but undoubtedly confident in her position as a goddess. Definitely not ‘damsel in distress’ type, she has to have guts to rule her sphere, protect her opinion and status. No other god or goddess shall stick their nose in her business. Unless they’re ready for harsh words or worse. In summary: a less extreme version of Poseidon. On the other hand, I don't think these qualities are enough to draw Poseidon's interest. It’s good base but potential s/o must get under his skin. Intentionally or no, she has to do or say something that would get his attention, and annoy him… He wasn't seeking her subtle chitchat, nor did he want to end up witnessing her fight! Congratulations, miss! You accidentally annoyed Tyrant of the Seas! Choose a burial place. Jokes aside, the best thing s/o can do here is ignore Poseidon. He thinks he wants that, but hey! Looks like he played himself. Now s/o annoys him even more and he cannot understand why. Such a useless bottom feeder and he can’t get over her?

She was like a sea: capricious and unpredictable in nature, always remained resistant to the expectations of others. But sea bend to his will like tamed puppy. He stamp his foot and it humbly part before him. That’s what he couldn’t stand - how little control he had over her, how unbearably free this woman was compared to other gods who ran away in terror as soon as he merely frowned.

Poseidon would catch himself thinking about her in the least expected moments. He used to almost never leave his realm, now suddenly is more present in social life. Still doesn’t care much, usually just staying in loneliness that nobody dare to disturb and observing from distant object of his contempt. As if nothing had changed, yet it did. Probably the only people that would notice he’s different will be Hermes and Hades. When first one won’t act on it nor share his observations, the eldest brother definitely won’t resist to make some ambiguous comments.

— Well that’s unusual of you, dear brother — said Hades. He toyed with his glass of wine, watching carefully Poseidon, who looked as unconcerned as ever. However he honoured him with one short glance. Hades couldn’t stop the corners of his lips to lift up. Did his little brother seem… disturbed? Or was that just his imagination? If Hades could pick one thing out of everything known in the universe that was unshakable and untouched by time or any other matter Poseidon would be his choice. Unaffected stability that did not leave any room for doubt and yet… something… someone push his stern brother out of his safe zone. Hades couldn’t wait to see what else the future may bring to them. He just hoped the intruder will be able to keep up with the challenge.

It will actually take a lot of time for Poseidon to realize that he isn’t annoyed with s/o but himself. Idea of being attached to another person is almost physically uncomfortable. It’s new and suspicious. The moment of understanding is the flash point of the relationship. At this point Poseidon would abandon distant admiration and start acting. He is still slightly annoyed but what’s more irritate him is the absent of that unbearable mouth of s/o. Poseidon would sit next to her or stand much closer at any events. At first she won't notice, but over time she'll start to connect the facts. She’s not dumb. Quiet neither. If she point it out, he may mock her.

— Why don't you just ask me to dance instead of deterring others? It would be a graceful way to start a relationship. Poseidon gave her almost cold look. — Such a audacity — his voice teetered on the verge of indifference - he thought so. She snorted. Her eyes weren’t darkened with anger, sparks of mirth still shone in them. Maybe even more after his refusal. Then she turned to face him and, with a subtle but promising smile, began to close the distance between them. Poseidon remained calm as she came within inches of him. He could feel the warm breath of hers, the smell of fresh air… — You know you want me — she whispered without hesitation. Something unbearably nagging was born in Poseidon’s belly. And that annoying heat under it… almost as someone wounded him. He frowned but didn’t move away. — How are you going to win me over if you can't stop fighting with yourself? — she asked innocently and didn't wait for an answer - just left him on the balcony.

Truth be told, Poseidon wasn’t made for small talks so s/o is doing most of the part and - to provoke a reaction - teasing him a bit. After a while, they both find the silence in their presence pleasant. Poseidon’s seduce tactic would mostly navigate around small gestures such as gifts. However he won’t send them like every normal suitor. If his s/o lives near the ocean or is often near it, she would probably find many beautiful pearls by chance. All of them in her favourites colours of course. Is she basking on the beach? The finest shells surround her. Is she admiring shoal of fish, coral reef or just the sound of the sea? There are no storms. And go on… It’s hard for Poseidon to overcome his pride and openly talk about his desire. When he finally bring himself to it, he’ll sound angry as if he’s doing something unworthy of him. Once s/o assures him that she wants to know more, Poseidon would relax.

— I want you to remind me every day how unbearable I am. How capricious… how impertinent… — she kissed his hand without taking her eyes off him and then put it to her cheek. Poseidon liked the cool touch of her skin — And still watch me with that quiet yet deep fascination.

Yeah, s/o has to make it official by saying out loud how she feels and Poseidon generously accept the offer…

NSFW For Poseidon to be in any relationship, especially romantic is almost impossible. He doesn’t get involved with others because, in his opinion, they’re not worth it. So nobody would force on him arranged marriage. He must be the one choosing that path. That’s why I don’t believe he would ever degenerating his s/o. The reason is simple - he would treat his wife with the same level of respect he treats Hades. Otherwise she wouldn’t be his wife; she cannot be someone less. I also don’t think he would praise her much, probably only when he’s in right mood she would hear complement here and there. His s/o must be good at reading his minimalistic facial expressions and body language. She may notice how his eyes widen in admiration, how he holds his breath for a moment or tightens the jaw muscles when feels really good. He’s not vocal; purrs or growls only on occasion. Poseidon has his moments where he shows desire for s/o. He won’t say it loud but won’t take his eyes off her as she undress in the evening. Yeah, she definitely gonna feel that burning look on her back. The only place where he become caring and warm is in bedroom, in private, far from servants’ eyes. These kind of moments are rare. Mostly because they both take their responsibilities seriously, which means they've been separated for a long time. Poseidon is calm, methodical lover. He’s detail-oriented - would leave no curve or plane untouched from his hands or tongue. He’ll enjoy every sound, shaking and blush s/o make, and act in accordance with the mentioned gestures. Poseidon prefers variants of missionary position to share eye contact though he wouldn’t say no to his s/o if she wants to ride him. In intimidating moment he enjoys challenging her to not close eyes when he thrusts deep into her. He starts with slow and almost annoyed pace that soon becomes raw and firm when they both chase their release. Afterward they usually lay in bed in silent, both satisfied and tired. Poseidon won’t say it loud but he really likes when his wife show him affections at that time. Slowly almost lazily massaging his chest, touching his neck and jaw, putting small kisses on his ear or cheek. Her tender words soft him. Poseidon doesn’t entirely return the favour but when she does all this to him, he caresses her back, pretending to be indifferent.

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: In Which Chilchuck Begrudgingly Has Feelings for his Coworkers, and Kabru Has...Something. He Sure Has Something Going On Over There.

Before we continue, I feel I should clarify 2 things:

I've been trying, ish, to avoid spoilers for this comic, but I've watched through the Golden Country episode and more importantly I'm so bad at not reading spoiler-y but interesting- and insightful-looking analysis. So, much of this commentary isn't wholly original and any particularly genius theories of future events are likely made with actual foreknowledge.

When I said on the first post that I was starting the comic because "I need to know what happens", what I specifically meant was "I need to know how the Laios-Kabru dynamic ends up, and the general geopolitical situation, so I can accurately daydream what sort of tariffs they'll set in the kingdom of which Laios is definitely not going to be the one managing the political, economic, or social minutia." Tariffs are going to be important, okay. They're a key way a nation-state interacts with other nation-states, especially one with rare materials to trade, powerful neighbors who want them, and the natural barrier of an ocean. Truly, every fantasy series ever should be required to have an epilogue or many an additional book/season/etc of a The West Wing-style depiction of day-to-day governance of whatever resulted from the story's climactic finale.

Okay, back to the liveblog.

.

Inch resting. The manga characters, having met the Mad Mage, keep using she/her pronouns for them, where in the anime they used he/him. I assume one of these is just, like, wrong - some translation choice was made before truth was revealed later in the course of publication?

But it makes SENSE that the characters wouldn't necessarily know, at this point! The Mage's appearance is pretty gender-neutral, especially as an elf, an notably gender-ambiguous race. So the characters in the manga picked one guess and stuck with it, and the characters is the very slightly alternate timeline of the anime picked another and stuck with that!

Now: having used they/them throughout this musing and previously he/him because a) the show and b) that's what I saw in fandom, I think I'll switch to referring to the Mage with she/her pronouns now. Because A) that's how the thing I'm reading apparently will be doing it, and B) they still call her "Lord of the Dungeon", which is obviously the greatest gender option of all.

...however, the manga does keep saying "lunatic magician" rather than "Mad Mage" (caps mine), which is a TOTAL failing in drama. Always alliterate, preferably archaically.

.

Orc woman: Ugh, this halffoot sucks. I'll tolerate his company only as a favor to the vegetable guy.

Orc woman after listening to Chilchuck complain about his coworkers for an hour: Nvm, this halffoot is a worthy and loyal friend of the vegetable seller, and I guess those other guys too. He's just emotionally constipated about it.

.

Laios just has these soft little fond smiles sometimes and I? want to hug him?

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MY MAN IS BACK!! Kabru wink count: 1 this chapter, 4 total [updated as I read]

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Corpse Retriever: If you don't report us for trying to get you guys killed so we could collect a retrieval fee, we'll let you kill those two of our guys who are already unconscious and collect that fee yourselves. We'll just take 30% of it, for not telling on you.

Kabru, internally: Hm. Well, I'm not king of this dungeon yet, but nonetheless I feel comfortable passing and executing a just judgement upon you for your many known, presumed and planned crimes. Emphasis on 'executing.'

Kabru aloud: I accept!

Kabru: [starts killing them with a classic faint, wide-eyed smile]

What a guy. He's even holding that knife so well. Look, next he's analyzing social trends and acting ruthlessly to adjust them toward the direction of the greater good!

What a guy. Truly this is a "so my type that it's embarrassing" situation.

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I can't efficiently crop panels to show all this, but favorite parallels in these chapters full of parallels:

Kabru's breakdown of the Touden party is like Laios eagerly explaining and analyzing the behavior and anatomy of monsters (including, though we don't know it yet, calculations for killing them - though we DO see him saying that humans are easy to kill because he knows all the physical weak points!)

The references throughout these two chapters, by Kabru and his party, to the interconnected socioeconomic dynamics of the island and dungeon - the corrupted system fails to check corpse retrievers, the Island Lord as an annoying but necessary bulwark against the Elves, the dungeon growing hungrier as fewer adventurers go down because there's less money and more risk - are so so so like Senshi and Laiois discussing the dungeon biome's ecosystem and food pyramid.

The whole vibe of the party re: their respective weirdo tallman leaders. We watched Team Laios develop this, recently crowned with Chilchuck's near-tearful argument to turn back for a rest, which means we can recognize it when we're dropped into it with Team Kabru: that "this guy is SUCH a goddamn weirdo, but I already followed him into some level of hell, so I'm obviously not turning back now." Kabru's party does think he's weird - "You remember so much about other people that it's creepy." "Why are you enjoying this?" But they're also pitching in on the speculation like Team Touden all hel cook monsters. Compare:

Also!! Something something predisposed beliefs and presumptions of others... This party is so eager to assume the worst of our party, even though our party objectively saved them from perma-death twice, once from ghosts and once from being eaten by fishmen. Chichuck is greedy and bossy, Senshi smells so...notably...that he's judged to be sketchy af... Kabru is trying his best with what info he has, he knows it's not enough to pass a judgement and he wants more, but it's very...uncomfortable? To see this sort of discussion of people we know are great, when we're so used to watching monsters be killed with exquisite understanding and respect.

...I'll chew on that angle of theme more later. Man, you know how, say, what makes the musical Hamilton so good is at its heart it's just like 5-10 leitmotifs that interweave to create every single song? Dungeon Meshi is like that. Hmm a Dungeon Meshical...

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"Yeah, yeah, we've all heard your weekly lecture about how someone responsible and sociopolitically conscious needs to take the dungeon and the throne or everyone in this region is doomed. None of us can wait to see you flip off the Island Lord to his face. Eat your rations, buddy."

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JUST THE CUTEST, INNOCENTEST, POLITEST, HELPFULEST (WITH NO ULTERIOR MOTIVATIONS WHATSOEVER) YOUNG MAN!! LOOK AT HIS BIG BLUE EYES AND EAGER LITTLE SMILE!

[3 seconds earlier:

I'm obsessed. In the spirit of this comic: I want to eat him with a spoon. I want to take small divots out of him and lick each one carefully off the spoon, luxuriously exploring and enjoying the complex texture and flavor. Like he's a really good pudding. And then I want to see if, if he and Laios kiss, do they both explode in antimatter.

[sleepymaven]

The Bsd "Fyodor is Atsushi's Father" Theory:

My Not-so-Deep, Not-so-Serious Explanation on Why This Could Totally be Canon

Signed: A Sleep-Deprived Idiot

(Spoilers for the Entirety of Bungou Stray Dogs)

So... with Chapter 118 in bsd releasing, I have noticed a lot of Fyodor as Atsushi's father related things popping up and... I'm not mad about.

If anything, I'm happy the theory is getting more attention. People even seem to be taking it as canon fact, even if just jokingly.

Really, I believed the theory was plausible since it first was brought up in the fandom, but I never actually thought it would be canon because that just seemed too crazy. But those were the thoughts of a sweet summer child since the manga has gotten to the point where that might be the least crazy thing possible.

So, here I am at my keyboard yet again, ready to ramble about how, if this does somehow turn out to be canon, this might be actually rather predictable even to those who don't dive deep into the nitty-gritty lore.

Now, I won't ramble on and on endlessly about the book and Atsushi's ambiguous past and how he may be the book or a page from the book and yaddy-yadda. Instead, I'll focus on some key aspects of Atsushi's character design. First off...

His hair.

As I said, this is not all that serious or deep, so take my words with a grain of salt before you start bashing me or something for being ridiculous. You signed up for ridiculous when you started reading past the title.

Anyway, back to Atsushi's hair.

As we almost all know, Atsushi used to have a black streak in his hair that was later removed for unknown reasons, but he also has white hair.

Now, I could jokingly proclaim, "Hehe, biologically impossible Fyodor x Nikolai lovechild," and be done with it, but I am no clown, unlike Nikolai. No, I have a better, probably completely wrong, idea.

Most of us know that Fyodor has a thing for white-haired men.

Exhibit A: Every fucking member of the Decay of Angels

I rest my case.

Also, I feel the need to mention that 3 out of 6 of them have red-ish eyes while the other two have purple-ish/blue eyes. Just pointing out that little tidbit I noticed while finding pics for them.

So, it would make sense for Fyodor to pick and choose which attributes to give to his quote-on-quote "son" when he made him from the book, picking out certain traits he found appealing and pleasing to the eye.

(Also, yes, this could mean that Fyodor could have chose specific attributes that were similar to Nikolai. Boom, lovechild route.)

This could explain certain similarities between the characters who seemingly have no biological connection between one another. Their only connection then only being through Fyodor by just knowing him.

Got all that? Alright, next up...

His eyes.

Now, Atsushi's eyes are rather unique, even for the world of Bungou Stray Dogs. What also sticks out about them is the fact that they are pointed out and focused in from time to time.

Example:

(Fucking gorgeous eyes he has, btw)

To break down the colors of his eyes... While in normal lighting in the anime, they appear to be normally purple and yellow with just a hint of green in it, but under the full moon (as seen here) we can see that his eyes are a light green-yellow at the bottom and purple on the top that fades into blue.

(There are also a few times where his eyes also change while using his ability. Like when they turn almost fully yellow.)

I want to point out the colors of his eyes and the fact that they change due to certain circumstances (i.e: using his ability, being under the full moon), which is clearly not normal in their world seeing as how other ability users don't seem to do that at all.

(Edit here: I actually would like to mention that, in the manga, Nikolai's eyes also change color. The green one sometimes will change to match his normal eye whenever he uncovers it. I saw a theory talking about how it might change depending on whether or not he is lying at the time, which is pretty neat. More Atsushi and Nikolai parallels.)

Now, this might seem like a bit of a stretch just like the rest of this post, but the colors used for his eyes are similar to the eye colors of people Fyodor knows, though they are different shades.

Purple like Fukuchi. Green and blue from Nikolai.

Fyodor's eyes are also a shade of purple, kind of, so... Yeah, that works too, but Fukuchi's shade of eyes are closer to Atsushi's.

Yeah, that's all I can think of now and this is already way too long (if I start talking about Atsushi's mysterious past, I'm going to make this a mile long. Maybe later tho), so I'm ending it here for now.

Alright, bye ya'll.

[lawbin-archive]

Lawbin Wano Analysis Part 2 - you're not alone anymore

I actually want to wait Law to reappear before writing this analysis but we probably need to wait a long time for him to reappear *sigh* So I will just finish writing this :'( this is the last part but also imo the most romantic part haha

Since I have talked about this chapter for sooo many times, so I will try to talk about something that I haven't mention before. But if I said the same thing again, just scroll through haha -> *INCLUDE MANGA SPOILERS*

-> highlighted in purple are my delulu~

-> Again, don't read if you don't like Lawbin. Includes lots of bias.

~LAWBIN DATING PHASE~ ~LAWBIN A LITTLE BIT MORE THAN FRIENDS PHASE~

Chapter 1055: Learning history with you

my bias ass want to say they are literally dating here!!! again I think I have been reading too much fanfic so in my mind, they definitely went on a date after I don't care what other says.

The little bickering they have in the beginning is so adorable! Like Robin knew exactly why Law follow along but she needs to tease him a bit haha

Law searching through the whole palace or the whole flower capital just to find Robin is just really cute to me. You can tell Law really cares about Robin a lot, otherwise he wouldn't notice that she's not with her crew and he wouldn't spend time just to look for her. Like why did people missed that?!

Law trying to explain himself is also so funny, like yea sure...of course she is really suspicious that you need to find her haha I think someone also mentioned he looks like a high school boy trying to get close with his crush so pretend to be interested with the same hobby?! that's so funny

I also did a bit of research about hyena, they have excellent hearing and smell which is what Law referring here. Hyena also have a metaphor for people who are greedy for money or privilege which I think is not applicable in this case. But I'm surprised that there's a lore that hyena have long been thought to be a beast that can change sex. So did Oda put a little foreshadowing here?! (source: https://kotobank.jp/word/%E3%83%8F%E3%82%A4%E3%82%A8%E3%83%8A-112682)

And I think Oda purposely make it ambiguous here, he has a lot of ways to make them find poneglyph together without making Law a stalker (jk) But he has to shown it in this way that seems like Law is interested to Robin. He is definitely stirring something up here!

Robin demeanour is also really different in front of Law. Me and the other lawbin enjoyers have talked about this in the discord before. When Robin flirting with other men, her tone is full of confidence and showing that she is a grown and mature women. And I think she always acting tough and has a "big sister" energy as a habit because of her past experience. She acted like this because that's her mechanism to protect herself. She grew up in an environment that she's afraid people will abandon her or hurt her when she is showing any weakness.

Not that I think her flirting is not genuine or being a "big sister" is not her real personality, she definitely is complimenting the person and she definitely want to take care of the straw hats like a big sis or mom.

What I'm trying to say is she doesn't show her weakness or her soft side to others easily. And I think she will show it only when she thinks she can rely or trust that person. And the only time she has shown her soft and cute side outside of straw hats is in front of Law!!

I have read some japanese readers' comments and some of them is saying usually Robin will say "ずるいわ…" to others (even to her own crew) but for Law, she said "ずるい…" which is a closer way to communicate. I will translate a few comments from japanese fans here: After all, Robin-chan doesn't seem to have her usual older sister vibe when she's with Law, right? Also, this time she said 'that's not fair… (zurui...)' but if it were with someone else, she would have said 'that's not fair…(zuruiwa....)' with a slightly different tone. This difference is quite significant; in many ways, it feels like there's something special. (source: ひさぎ@hisagi_cfa85c) I started shipping Lawbin from Chapter 1055. Normally, she would probably say 'That's not fair…(zuruiwa...)' but with Torao, she said 'That's not fair…(zurui...)' It feels like they have a classmate-like vibe that's different from Franky, Zoro, or Sanji, and I really like it. (source: aria2372)

+ plus one more comment from Chapter 996! It's probably because 'you're the survivor of Ohara and researching the Void Century' that he told you, but even knowing that, the choice of words is surprising. It's like a typical behavior or phrase one would use towards someone of the opposite sex they want to be conscious of, so I was really surprised. (source: user-xk4ru8cv9q)

And yes there are LOTS of comments about Robin's "it's not fair...(ずるい…)" and Law's "I told you because it's you (お前だから話した)" that the wording they chose is surprisingly ambiguous and hinting that they have a close relationship. And they wouldn't act like this with other people. I think that's one of the reasons why lawbin is so much popular in Japan because they can read the tone and wordings with more depth.

Also, as @/cericebelle mentioned we haven't seen Law called Robin since zou so maybe they changed how they called each other already?! Like maybe Law will called Robin as "Robin" instead of "Nico-ya" and Robin will start calling "Law" instead of "tora-o" again.

*BELOW HAVE MANGA SPOILERS* Now that we knew Clover's brother died just because he is a D. And we know that having a D in your name is dangerous which can get yourself killed, can we all agree that Law NEED to trust Robin in order to tell her his full name?! Especially he grew up with a childhood that he doesn't trust people easily. Like Law just tell her you like her! (my delulu again)

Since we are talking about the "true name" culture in Japan, I want to add this in the last analysis. I saw @/happytact reblog that Tales from Earthsea is written by an American author Ursula K. Le Guin. I'm really sorry for the misinformation and putting out the wrong references ><! There are so many anime that have the true name concept and yet I picked out the wrong one -.-

I will add more references to it, in "Spirited Away", the story is focus on true name, Chihiro signed contract by giving her true name and she needs to take her name back in order to go back reality. At the end, Haku also found his true name and he regains his freedom again. In "Natsume's Book of Friends", if you know the monster's true name you can control it. And in "Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle", sakura and syaoran they fell in love and saved each other along their journey, they confessed with each other and only at the end, they exchanged their real name. Not to mention there are lots of anime that express exposing your true name is important or dangerous like "Death Note" or "Your Name" . Telling your true name has a significant meaning in japanese culture, it almost means you're giving yourself to the person (only depends on the context, sometimes it's implied) so when Law told Robin his true name voluntarily, it's really important!!!

When they are looking old wano in the little tunnel and standing really close to each other is way too cute!! When did you see Law self-willingly to get this close with a person that's outside of his crew?! (well maybe except when he is mad at Zoro and trying to fight him haha) Also because Robin teased him in the beginning so he flexed his ability in front of her and try to make her annoyed is so funny. Law act cool in front of anyone but being a little kid in front of his crush is just so him!!! They really show off a classmate vibe here!

so y'all probably know one of the arguments from lawbin haters is "Law is just interested in the road poneglyph" "It's just for the plot" I always laugh at these comments because did you see Law didn't even get close to the poneglyph?! LOL he just standing behind like "I'm good" When Robin stand on a level higher to get close with the poneglyph, Law is also just down there.

And if he is only interested to the poneglyph, he didn't need to the flex in front of her to see the under water wano. He can just stand outside of the tunnel like Sukiyaki.

So in my opinion, Law wants to accompany with Robin. Not that he is completely non-interested to the poneglyph but I think most of it is because he is interested to learn history and find road poneglyph with Robin. Also, it really seems like he wants to get close with her and protect her from behind.

Oh no that's the end of their interactions T^T there is one more from 1056 but I already wrote a long post about it so I wouldn't repeat it again. Hopefully we can see them interact again soon so I can write more analysis!!!

Chapter 1056 analysis:

So some of my future lawbin delulu thoughts are: - they exchanged vivre card - they will meet at elbaf again and will learn more history together - robin will worried about law when she learnt that...you know

hopefully at least one of it will come true haha Thank you so much for reading this!! I really blab a lot haha Please always share your thoughts or comments with me. And also I will promote the lawbin discord group here if you're interested!

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ aurora borealis. [ongoing] ⋙ A snapshot over five years of how your relationship with Satoru Gojo develops.

ft. satoru gojo / fem!reader cw. nsfw - minors do not interact, eventual smut, angst, alternate universe - no curses, explicit language, explicit sexual content, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn, sexual tension, praise kink, miscommunication, emotional cheating, unlikeable main character, some details are intentionally ambiguous, ⚠️major character death⚠️, jjk manga spoilers, POV second person

001. LIKING (7k words)

“It’s funny how things work out like that,” Geto says. “You know what they say about sexual tension.” “What?” Gojo asks with whipped cream on his mouth. “That if you feel it, then it’s mutual.” Gojo runs his thumb over his lips, cleaning off the mess before sucking the finger into his mouth. You feel your throat go dry as you watch him, eyes focused on the way his lips circle the digit, pursing lewdly before he pulls his thumb out with a wet pop! You can see a string of saliva trailing from the end of his finger to his lips. He seems so distracted by what’s left of the cake on his plate that you’re not even sure he’s listening to what Geto is saying. Hell, you’re hardly paying attention to what Geto’s saying.

002. LONGING (7.5k words)

The corners of Geto's lips twitch up into a smile. “He’s been talking about you quite a bit since we’ve been here. He gets excited every time you send him a picture—like a little puppy.” You smile, sitting up a little taller, and leaning forward toward the screen. “He sends me pictures, too,” you say, and your voice has dipped down into a whisper, like it’s a secret. “So, I send him stuff back if I see something that makes me think of him.” Geto nods. “Keep it up, he likes it… he likes you, you know.” Your cheeks burn with heat and you have to shift your gaze away from Geto’s knowing smile. “Oh, I like him, too,” you say, and the words struggle to escape from the tightness in your chest. “He’s a really good friend.” “Friend?” Geto says, chuckling softly. “I don’t think Satoru sees you as his friend."

003. LUSTING (11k words)

“It’s a bit early to be drinking so much,” Geto hisses, “don’t you think?” “Nah,” Satoru dismisses, and he brings one of the glasses up to his lips. His movements are sloppy and uncoordinated and you watch as the red liquid sloshes precariously against the rim of the glass, threatening to spill onto his white dress shirt. He takes a big gulp—you can see his throat bob and rivers of red slide down either side of his mouth, along the curve of his chin—and when he sets the glass back down onto the table, his nose crinkles in distaste. “Satoru, honey,” his date coos, grabbing her napkin at the table to dab at the spilled liquid, “you’re making a mess.” “Honey?” you spit, brows raising into your hairline.

004. LOVING (10k words)

“What’s my name in your phone?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Snookums? Sweetie Pie? My Soulmate?” “My One and Only.” Satoru’s expression softens as he speaks. His face relaxes and his eyes widen minutely as his hands come to rest on your hips. The corner of his lip twitches against his cheek as he fights back a smile, but even with all of the theatrics, you don’t let yourself fall for it. “Liar. That’s your name for Suguru.” His features sharpen in an instant—grin splitting across his face and gaze turning sinister while his fingers press hard into your skin. Satoru runs his tongue across his teeth, catching on a canine and pressing into it with devilish delight. “You caught me,” he says, and he can’t hide his excitement. “Whoops! I guess I need to be punished for being so bad.”

005. ---

[shiroganejpg]

DUNMESHI MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Needless to say, a large part of Mithrun's character is his lack of desire. But what this can actually mean and how that can affect him, that can be a bit more ambiguous I think, so here's me rambling a bit about what I believe and how I write him. It's kind of long and I'm trying to be extra cautious with spoilers for anime-only friends so I'm slapping it under a read more but I think Mithrun is SUCH a wonderful character and a total puzzle to figure out how to write.

The winged lion likes to leave scraps. And although it consumed his desires, one of the scraps he left in Mithrun was the ability to desire.

Mithrun didn't lose his desire for revenge against the demon, although we later find out obviously that that desire was something else: he wanted the demon to finish devouring him. That's a whooole other thing I need to write up about insecurity and desire to be loved etc etc.

Things get a little murky sometimes in regards to 'desire' - for example when we see that despite the Winged Lion getting carried away and consuming all of Thistle's desires, we still see Thistle respond to Yaad. That's probably a topic for a whole other meta but the point is: scraps of some variety still exist.

But without the desire to live, the desire to get up or to eat or to drink, one will die quickly regardless. It's not the consuming of the desire that directly kills you, but what that lack of desire then deprives you of. Left alive, yes, but you will then starve to death if you have no desire to eat. It's the aftermath.

In the 40 years he spent recovering, he was taught things (or people attempted to teach him things) to help him survive with this deficiency: Milsiril suggests he envisions his old self and allow him to tell Mithrun what he needs to do. We know that canonically, he relies on pre-established routines and habits to be able to function independently, but when outside of those routines, he neglects/cannot recognise his own needs.

Mithrun has no desire to live, to eat, to drink, to get out of bed, anything. He does these things (and everything else) with only one motivation: pursuit of the demon. Everything that he does, he does to advance that cause. Then later, when that goal is achieved, we see he’s basically catatonic - because there’s nothing else for him to live for.

He also has extremely poor interoception - the ability to understand what his body is telling him. I believe Mithrun does get hungry, does get tired, does feel cold — it's not that he doesn't physically feel these things. He does, albeit weaker than most people which is one reason why things can progress as far as they tend to (like in the panels where we see his body ‘just stopped working’, and he can't explain why — exhaustion, lack of food, mana depletion, he was unable to identify the problems.) I HC at least that Mithrun experiences these feelings, but struggles to identify these sensations as being hunger, thirst, etc — and even if he does recognise them, he has no desire to resolve them.

But, obviously, Kabru brings him back around - You constantly want new things. Desires can be cultivated, and they are an innate aspect of existence. His story ends on the note that he can develop new desires even if his old desires are gone forever - and I believe that healing will not recover those desires. He is never going to have the desire to feed himself, or rest, or even to get out of bed. In my mind the demon ate his desires, and also a large part of his ability to desire - but, just as we see the demon leaves scraps of someone's desire when consuming them... he also left scraps of the ability to desire in Mithrun. Most of it is gone, but some remains. And I don't think Mithrun realised that until the end of the series: that he can try to want things. He can try to desire things. He might not always succeed, but he has the ability to try.

A way I think this shows up is that, post-canon, Mithrun might ask questions or try to be curious (which we see to a limited degree in canon, outside of gathering information pertaining to his goal) as it is a desire that should be easy to cultivate - even though he doesn't really care about the answer. That sounds bad, but understand that Mithrun does care about people; his manner of showing it is simply different, and both he and others have to learn to recognise it. I have to do a write up on this aspect as well because Mithrun does care, but I think he struggles to identify that fact in himself -- and he may come off as uncaring, if you don't know how to recognise it in him.

I love Mithrun getting a happy ending, but I don’t think the damage that’s already done will be undone. Those desires are gone, they aren’t ever coming back. But he can try to replace them.

And I think another big aspect of Mithrun's story is that he's living regardless of if he has the desire to live or not. I don’t believe that he suddenly has the desire to live, or that he is suddenly regaining the desire to live (maybe that may come with healing, I'd say that is down to personal interpretation); regardless, I don't think the damages that the demon did can be undone.

Instead, he is making the choice to live regardless. And while he will never feel the desires that the demon consumed again, maybe he'll eventually be able to desire other things. He can't right now, and maybe he never will, but he has the ability to try. And whatever he is trying to desire will help him continue to live, even in the absence of the desire to live.

He may lack the desire to live, to rest when he's tired or feed himself when he's hungry -- but maybe if he can learn to want other things, resting or eating won't feel so pointless. So he's trying.