#She of all people should get to say what should be done to jimmy.

[anonimato2]

well intentioned as they are, i still personally think that every post saying that 'if anya had told swansea he'd have killed jimmy and solved the problem', and 'curly should've taken initiative and shoved jimmy into the cryopod' still misses the point of anya, which is that even in those scenarios never once do any of the men Ask Her what She Wants done to jimmy.

As relieving as it can be to be ridden of your rapist by someone you trust and confided on, i don't think the subconscious guilt of having someone be killed because of you* would settle well with a person, specially one training to be a medic. Before anyone on that ship takes up arms and axes to jimmy, i think they should all offer comfort, safety, and availability, not make the decision to kill jimmy for anya. Not assume and take this solution for her. Not do what they think is best for her. Even if it was the best, they should not do it themselves without her expressing that that is what she wants.

Jimmy or no Jimmy, Anya is still not allowed agency, not even in the fandom space.

(*in no way shape or form was jimmy killed because of anya, but victims often feel that whatever they went through was their fault. Killing Jimmy wouldn't be the instant healing journey some may think)

[cameatslemons]

mouthwashing post. jimmy is a raging narcissist and im tired of people trying to give him benefit of the doubt. his inability to see two feet beyond what immediately concerns him dooms everyone on the tulpar, and even in the end, he only really cares about himself.

big list of all his narcisstic bullshit below bc im here to motherfucking prove it (mouthwashing spoilers of course)

most obviously: everything is a personal attack on him. EVERYTHING. you can see it most clearly at the birthday party; while everyone else is understandably freaking out about being laid off, jimmy starts telling curly off and insulting both him and everyone else at the table, as if being laid off is a personal attack on jimmy specifically. it doesn’t matter that anya has nothing to go back to, that swansea’s life is thrown away- jimmy is the ONLY victim here, apparently. curly is personally responsible for getting laid off, in his eyes.

i don’t actually know the words for this but the way he’s constantly going “i have to do EVERYTHING around here”- again, feeling like its a personal attack to be asked anything at all. anya asks him to take care of curly because her entire fucking life is falling apart, its her end of days, but somehow shes the villain for struggling.

also the general antagonization of anya. she’s extremely competent for the hand she was dealt! shes too poor to attend med school yet shes very knoqledgable in medication and wound care! and yeah no shit shes struggling now, someone she cared deeply about is suffering immensely and now the ship is being “run” by a man who assaulted her. no fucking shit shes breaking down. but jimmy makes it clear time and time again that this is somehow her fault, all this shit of “shouldn’t nurses EARN their titles?” while she’s having a mental breakdown.

similarly, swansea being villainized for holding the cryopod for daisuke and killing him. like, i get it, but jimmy’s whole thing of saying he can fix daisuke is… c’mon man. he’s a hero to himself, he “always” fixes things the same way he “fixed” the ship, and he will fix daisuke and claim heroism even though it’s very clear nothing else can be done for him.

“someday you’ll thank me” while forcing curly to eat his own leg. the incredible confidence that he is in the right even when literally torturing someone.

MOST IMPORTANTLY: the final scene with curly burning. jimmy doesn’t earnestly believe he has anything to be sorry for. even when apologizing to curly he says “we can BOTH be heroes!” despite everything, he still thinks he’s in the right. he STILL thinks he’s a hero, because he’s right, he’s ALWAYS right, surely. he can apologize and grovel all he wants but in the end he still thinks he’s the hero of this story; he doesn’t genuinely think he has anything to right, he’s only doing this to be freed of consequence. and/or believes a simple “sorry” is enough, that it can fix completely ruining the lives of four people with his own inferiority complex.

i do think the choice to put curly in the pod instead of himself is the only time he recognizes his own guilt, if any. maybe it’s realizing that he DOES need something more than a simple “sorry” to even begin to try to fix things, maybe it’s that he thinks this will cement him even further as a hero. even then, does this fix anything? all it’s doing is making curly suffer more. is this actually a good thing?

to him, he’s the hero here. he always is. crashing the ship is a heroic thing, putting all his crewmates through hell is a heroic thing. all because something nobody can control is somehow a personal attack on jimmy.

not to mention all the “hallucinations” he has- it’s what he thinks should happen, it’s what he wants to hear. curly still calling him a friend, the dead corpses of his crewmates praising him, even in the final cutscene with curly burning where he says “no, YOU take the pod”. none of it’s real. it’s just what jimmy thinks is “right”. despite everything, he thinks everyone should thank and praise him, because he can do no wrong.

conclusion: jimmy is a narcisstic piece of shit.

[linkcharacter]

Really like the recent analysis. I know I speak of curly in a more defensive way than most but I generally try to get the point you made across at the end of the day with my analyses on him and his behaviors.

People love to lock analyses around Curly solely based on what he could’ve done as a physical action and have this avoidance to acknowledging the realistic barriers at play when it comes to those solutions. It’s. The game tries to treat the pre-crash section as if they are grounded in social and organizational realities. So the what if he did this questions about the situation always fall short when the real answer is he either couldn’t or it wasn’t an actual viable option. But then when they talk about what he actually did do it’s surrounded by such bad faith interpretations that his actions were completely intentional or still not affected by outside sources. He’s a very much “road to hell is paved with good intentions” character. He cared too much and that’s a big part of his problem.

There’s such a “perfect victim or nothing” mindset in the fandom where people can’t admit that there are no such things as perfect victims but that also shouldn’t mean that even if there were it would absolve them of the mistakes they made. People want to moralize every action of every character that they don’t realize that some actions are done without any specific morale factor. People just do things, like you said. People assumed failed intentions immediately flip the thought process behind them “he meant to do good but bad happened, he must be bad” and that just is not how people work. It’s how perceptions work but only of the observer.

It’s such a sensitive topic because, yes, you are supposed to be frustrated, even mad, at what Curly didn’t do, but you have to acknowledge the fact these were good intentioned acts even if that good intent did jack squat in the end. That his responses are human and it’s supposed to be uncomfortable and hurt that they were realistic faults of his.

He enabled his friend and it ended bad for everyone including him. No one really tries to argue this fact but everyone seems to think it has to be tied to the morale dilemma and not certain human natures and social factors.

This is all to ask, why do you personally lean towards thinking Curly wouldn’t turn Jimmy in? Are you speaking in the short term of realizing how bad he got or long-term/overall? I feel like he could but it would not be easy and no matter the necessity he’d always have this guilt at feeling bad for doing it.

Ah yes Curly the most imperfect human man character.

Yep yep yep absolutely, people love to assign morality onto characters and call them good or bad and diminishing the depth and nuance of Mouthwashing, filling discussions with bad-faith interpretations or speculating on inconcrete understandings of the incomplete, intentionally vague, context. I adore Mouthwashing to no end for having this oppressive suffocating and constant atmosphere surrounding everything in the game. Really shows off that the environment festers, no one well-meaning guy could create a happy ending with individual actions alone because it's all systematic.

To elaborate from your question tho, at the point Curly was in (if Anya wasn't pregnant scenario), definitely no don't think so (would depend on Anya a too on whether or not she would go to the authorities outside). Curly knew Jimmy was a danger, and I do believe that subconsciously Anya's report to him on Jimmy gnaws at him, but not vividly enough. I want to point out a moment where Anya tells him about the pregnancy, he begins asking "Who would you-", then he's nudged by Anya that she told him and he should know who it is, and he does, instantly saying he's known him a long time and will talk to him. That moment of, for a second not connecting that Jimmy is the assaulter responsible just makes me drag my palm across my face for how much of a man (derogatory) Curly acted like for one dialogue line. Like he just 'forgot' for a brief moment that Jimmy harassed Anya prior? Granted, he instantly believes and takes Anya seriously, immediately dropping the search for the gun he was on in that scene, realizing the severity of the situation and of Jimmy. We also don't know what Anya has told him specifically, how long ago it happened, etc. but the 'implications' of the scene make me believe Jimmy's known sexual harassment on the ship slipped Curly's mind due to him being more invested in "the bigger picture" of Jimmy, not latching onto a harmful and a very serious fucking trivia fact about Jimmy because of his perception of who his friend is as a whole (and with his foggy sleep-deprived mind at the moment), 'losing a needle in a haystack' with how much unknown history Curly and Jimmy shared, so to say.

Maaaybe in some other circumstances, like if Jimmy didn't crash the ship or smth long term I could see him doing it, it would take a lot effort like you said, no matter the necessity. We will never know. If we're going into speculation and imaginary scenarios though, if Anya HERSELF were to try and get justice, Curly would be backing her up undoubtedly (still not disconnecting himself from Jimmy though and feeling guilt on his behalf). But that's all suppositions from my reading of the characters.

[agarafile]

Gem knows that saving the camel gives her no advantage in the game.

Actually, the camel is an active risk.

People go after what you value most, after all. Cleo thought she had done it, when she burned Gem's barn and watchtower. Jimmy used Lizzie to kill Joel and blew up The Car in a previous attempt.

Caring for things, caring for people... it made you vunerable. Made you weak.

Gem wasn't weak. Far from it.

But she still went out of her way to save the camel.

Gem's Camel, she wrote in the nametag. Not someone else's, not something she had to share. Hers.

The camel nuzzled her with its snout, almost as if it knew that if she didn't name it, it would die. Like it was grateful she claimed it for herself.

"You saved it?" Joel asked, when Gem guided the camel into her barn. Not outside, in the pen like the cows. Inside, where Gem herself lived "Of all things, you saved a camel?"

"I find camels delightful, Joel." she petted its neck, golden fur soft to her touch.

"I thought you would hate them. You know. After..." Joel trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

Gem understood what he was trying to say. She should hate them after Pearl, after the 2v1.

"Tango called it the Murder Camel 2.0." She offered instead.

"Of course he did." Joel rolled his eyes "Rumor has it you and Pearl rode together again."

"She got on my camel. Against my will, Joel." Gem scoffed "Not my fault she is obssessed with me."

Joel raised an eyebrow at her.

"And Pearl wasn't even the first one to ride the camel with me. It was Etho." Gem looked back at her camel and scratched behind its ears.

"Yeah, well. Camels are pretty much a you two thing, no?"

"Me and Pearl don't have a thing!"

"You might have to tell Pearl that, then." Joel teased, turning his head to the general direction of the Gs base, in the opposite side of the map "She seems awfully insistent on getting everyone on a camel and showing off to you."

Gem scowls and refuses to say anything back.

The thing is, its easy to look everyone in the eyes and proclaim she hates Pearl. So, so easy.

Especially because it is easier than admiting the truth. Saying she hates Pearl is easier than saying she misses her. That Gem still loves her, even after everything.

And isn't that just the worst? Loving someone down to red when they would throw all you thought you had when there are eyes on you?

Gem's camel shakes her hand off it, grunting. She hadn't realized it then, but her nails had been digging into its fur.

[kerink]

the thing that's been most surprising to me with mouthwashing so far is how little empathy people are willing to extend to curly. and i don't mean this in a piss on the poor way, i'm deeply saddened and genuinely confused by it.

when i first played the game i was at one of the lowest points i've been at in a really long time. my mental health is bad my physical health is bad. i experienced SA a year ago and was recently diagnosed with cancer. i have 2-5 doctors appointments every week with various specialists.

all the while me and two of my doctors are talking about if i need to make a career change that's going to best support my poor health and improve my overall well being. and my family and friends struggle to understand, because i have a doctorate and a good job and live on my own. everyone looks at my life in awe, and they don't understand why i'm unhappy. they tell me so every time i try to explain it.

so when i played i immediately identified with curly. here is a man who's deeply depressed, having hallucinations, trying to reach out to his best friend for support but just has his words thrown back in his face, doesn't want to burden anya with his stuff because she has her own stuff and he wants her to lean on him, he has all these responsibilities and people look up to him and rely on him and have these ideas about him. the highest wrung of their ladder is the lowest of his, and they have no way of conceptualizing why or how he's unhappy and dissatisfied. before the reveal that he's innocent, i completely understood why he attempted suicide.

and then he develops a new disability.

when jimmy goes to crash the ship, he uses curly's unhappiness to try to convince him a murder-suicide is a good idea, and it works. it buys jimmy enough time to get to the cockpit and crash the ship. curly's too in his own head to realize what jimmy meant because jimmy distracted him with how bad his life is. it isn't until the sirens start that curly snaps out of it and it clicks for him what jimmy's done.

i'm not going to re-litigate the issue about if curly could have done more for anya because i've said pretty much all i have to say on it already.

but we really need to highlight that in addition to his lack of tangible choices, he's sleep deprived, deeply depressed, and hallucinating. this is not a man in his right mind making his best choices.

and over and over again i see people refusing to extend him any empathy, to call him a bystander. does a man who says he'll do anything to help and who wanted to be there when anya broke the news and who does his best to play liaison between anya and jimmy sound like a bystander? he let anya keep the gun case! he knew having it would help her feel better!

how good of a friend have you been when you were in your pit of despair? how much were you able to pour into others when your glass was empty?

anya wanted her and curly's support to be reciprocal. if she has enough psych training to do the evals, and having been thru nursing school, she's probably well aware that she and curly need to both be pouring into each other if either of them are going to be any good to anyone. but curly is so determined to defend and protect anya he won't confide in her, despite the fact it's running him so thin that he almost takes jimmy's bait that suicide is a good idea.

i don't think we need to absolve curly of his responsibility. i don't think we should over look his role as an enabler. i don't think we should discredit or discount analyses of his failures. but i'm so tired of people actively avoiding getting in his shoes, getting in his head, reflecting on how they've acted in the past when thinking and feeling similar ways. our worst moments don't make us monsters.

it makes me so sad. and frankly it makes me feel like all the times my family hasn't understood when i've tried to reach out. curly is screaming in agony and just like jimmy we're just trying to keep him quiet because it's too complicated to deal with.

[moomine]

backwash II | daisuke

author's note: totally awesome people should check out part one as well ⍢ also, if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) It's been a little over a month since the Tulpar departed on its 382-day long haul. Anya takes the reader aside to perform her monthly psych eval, where she discusses her experiences with her peers and life on the ship so far. After she's clear to go, she runs into Daisuke who's drawing in the lounge.

word count: 2,291

warnings: mild language? all characters are 18+

now playing: Radiohead - "Motion Picture Soundtrack"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 028—

I’m starting to feel more and more homesick. I miss my mom’s roast chicken. I miss swimming pools and the feeling of the breeze. I miss burning incense. I miss my friends. It hasn’t been that long since we left Earth, but I guess I just never considered how still outer space would be. How lonely I’d feel. The others have been nice, yeah. Especially Anya. And Daisuke. I get the feeling that Captain Curly is still warming up to me. I wonder if he’s ever taken on another apprentice before. I don’t know about Swansea, or Jimmy. They seem to tolerate me at best. But then again, those two kind of just tolerate everyone, except for maybe Captain Curly. It’s only been almost a month. I just have to keep my head. 

If mom were here she’d say: “Everything gets easier with time. Time and patience.”

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN—

“Everything okay, [Name]?” Anya asked in a gentle tone, gingerly placing a hand on the table in front of you.

Your shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice as it filled the otherwise silent lounge. You looked up at her, feeling the tension seemingly wash away by the sight of her face. She offered you an understanding smile, her tired features softened as she looked down at you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Just lost in thought, I guess,” you responded. 

You raised a hand to rub your eyes. It had been difficult to find sleep lately. The groaning of the ship was almost haunting at night. Laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you spent the few hours allotted for sleep thinking about Earth, about what laid just beyond the door to your room, about the ceaseless whining of steel and steam. About the next three hundred and fifty four days.

Anya nodded sympathetically, moving her hand from the table top to your shoulder blade. “It gets easier. I promise,” she paused as Jimmy and Curly entered the room, their voices loud and booming. “Are you ready for your psych eval?”

You nearly didn’t hear her over the sound of the other two. They were reminiscing, shouting stories back and forth of college parties, bar fights, and past lovers.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said with a timid grin. 

Anya nodded once more, motioning toward the door just past the kitchen space. You came to your feet and followed her until the two of you made it to her domain. The medical bay had become a safe haven for you. Over the past month, you gravitated toward Anya the most. She had been kind to you from the very beginning, almost sisterly. When there was no more work to be done, you often found yourself walking straight through the lounge and into her office. Anya didn’t mind. In fact, she had grown to rather enjoy the company.

She walked around the desk before taking a seat in her chair. Behind her was a wall of white shelves and cabinets with glass doors. Inside they held assorted medical supplies and books on psychology and basic clinical practice. To the right of her was a bulletin board, cluttered with posters, a calendar, pictures of her hometown, and notes and reminders. A number of Daisuke’s doodles had made it up as well, namely ‘Yimpy’, a rather horrible caricature of Jimmy. It was pretty realistic.

You sat across from her with your hands interlocked in a tight ball. “Same as last time, right?”

Anya grinned as she organized your file. “Yep, same as last time. Since it’s only your second evaluation, I’m going to go over it one more time. Is that okay with you?”

You nodded.

“Lovely,” she said with a soft hum. Tapping the papers into a neat pile against the desk, Anya glanced at you once more. Her eyes flickered from the page to you, you to the page as she read aloud. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions about your experience, relationships, and general well being during your time under contract with Pony Express. It is your responsibility to answer as truthfully as you feel comfortable and/or deem necessary. Your answers remain confidential unless you give reason to believe you are at risk of harming yourself or others. Do you have any questions?”

“No questions here,” you replied with a shake of your head.

“Perfect. Let’s get started. On a scale of one to ten, how confident do you feel in your capability to complete your work and responsibilities on a day to day basis?” Anya read.

“Maybe eight? I’m still getting a hold of some of the more technical aspects. The Tulpar is an older ship… I wasn’t exactly trained on her special quirks in school,” you said with a nervous laugh.

“You’ll catch on fast. You already have,” she reassured, jotting down your response with that sweet smile still on her face. “Okay, next question. You mentioned last time that you’ve been having difficulty sleeping, is that still a relevant cause for concern?”

“I don’t know if it’s that concerning. I think I’m just having a hard time getting used to the new environment. It’s been getting easier to fall asleep though,” you responded. A little, white lie.

“I’m happy to hear that, [Name]. Your rest is important. I remember not being able to sleep at all during my first haul. I spent all night just tossing and turning, reading my books if I could focus on them long enough. It’s normal, but from the sound of it, you’re doing a great job adjusting.” Her gaze softened as she spoke. It was clear that she had grown to care for you quite quickly, and you did the same for her. “Only a couple more left to go…”

Anya listened intently while you answered each of her questions, taking the time to write down key details of your responses. Between questions, the sound of her pen etching against the paper filled the room. As Anya wrapped up the second to last question, your eyes wandered to the evening window screen. The warm orange and reds of the artificial sunset made the room look like it was on fire. You looked back to your hands, reaching up to take a piece of your hair and twist it between two fingers.

“All right,” Anya spoke up. “Last but not least, how do you feel about your relationships with the rest of the crew? Is there anything I should know about in particular?”

“No, I don’t think so. Everyone has treated me fine enough. Other than you, I’m still trying to get to know everyone better,” you said, still focused on your hair.

Another sympathetic smile graced Anya’s lips as she looked over at you. She knew how it felt to feel slightly out of place. “Look, I’m technically not supposed to tell you this, so you have to keep it a secret. Okay?” Anya let out a quiet laugh as you nodded quickly. She watched amused as you dropped your strand of hair and leaned in closer. “Daisuke mentioned during his eval that he wanted to get to know you more. Maybe you could try talking to him? You two have more in common than you might think.”

You looked down at your lap again, biting at the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I will.”

“Well, you’re all set. You’re free to go.” Anya closed the file and tucked it away alongside the others in her desk. “Thank you for your time, [Name]. I assume I’ll see you here tomorrow. Same time as usual?”

“Same time as usual,” you echoed, beaming as you got out of your chair and left the room.

From the hallway leading to the medical bay, you could tell that the lounge was quiet now. Curly and Jimmy must have wandered off elsewhere. It would have been completely silent if it weren’t for the subtle sound of pencil scratching coming from deeper within. As you entered the room you noticed Daisuke, hunched over the table as he sketched something in his sketchbook. Completely oblivious. You leaned against the doorway and watched from a distance for a moment, admiring as he tucked a tuft of fried brown hair behind his ear. 

“What are you drawing?” you questioned.

Daisuke jumped in his seat like a cat that had been snuck up on. His eyes shot to you, the surprise he felt immediately quelling into a tenuous excitement. He hastily closed his sketchbook —almost like he was hiding something— and smoothed out his hair. His mouth broke out into a wide, infectious smile, the gap in his two front teeth a thin ravine and the dimples on either side of his mouth tiny sinkholes.

“Me? Oh, y’know, just doodling,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if trying to act casual. “Where ya been? I couldn’t find- I mean, I didn’t see you back in the cockpit.”

“Psych eval.” You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb as you pushed yourself from the doorframe. “Can I see it?” you asked, walking up to the table and taking the seat across from him.

“Uhh… see what?” Daisuke asked in turn, voice coy and simultaneously flustered.

“Your doodles,” you responded with a laugh. “Only if you’re okay with that, obviously.”

“Oh! I mean, yeah. That’s like, totally fine. But, fair warning, they’re not that incredible or anything.” Reluctantly, Daisuke passed you his sketchbook. He looked rather bashful, cheeks slightly flushed and smile wavering.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I’ve seen your stuff on Anya’s corkboard. You’re really good.” You took the sketchbook in your hands, looking down at the cover of it. It was absolutely littered in a random assortment of stickers. Only through the few and far between gaps could you see that it was once a pure black. It looked much cooler now decorated with the various games, bands, and whatever else Daisuke liked. “Are you sure you don’t mind me looking? Again, it’s perfectly fine if you changed your mind.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Just don’t expect too much, ‘kay?” he replied, running a hand through his hair.

“No expectations,” you agreed.

You turned over the cover, revealing the first page. In red ink you read ‘if found please return to Daisuke, thank youuuuuu’, alongside it was a doodle of himself looking particularly grateful. Or maybe he was pleading. You chuckled under your breath and began flipping through the rest of the pages. Each one was filled with sketches and those increasingly familiar doodles of predominantly other people. Friends, maybe family, and characters from the different games he liked. His work wasn’t quite realistic, but not the most stylized either. Rather, it seemed to be a perfect mix of the two. Something entirely unique to him. To Daisuke.

The deeper you got into the book you started to spy familiar faces. Captain Curly, Swansea, Anya, even Jimmy, but mostly you. You glanced up at him, seeing that he was seemingly avoiding eye contact with you all together. His hand was still tangled within his hair, head turned to the side, and lips knitted into a fine line. That mole —high on his left cheek— stared at you more than his own eyes.

When you finally got to the last page you realized he hadn’t been doodling at all. Instead, there before you, in soft pencil sketching, was a portrait of you that Daisuke had drawn from memory. It wasn’t perfect, but it was incredibly detailed nevertheless. You held up the book, taking in the details with a look of awe on your face. He captured all of your little imperfections —the tilt of your eyes, the quirk in your smile, all of it. 

“Daisuke, these are actually so good!” you exclaimed, setting the book down and passing it back to him.

“You… you really think so?” He let out a breath of relief, finally looking at you again. “Man, I thought you would find them totally weird. I’ve been too scared to show anyone else but Anya.”

“Why would I think they’re weird?” you asked.

“Shit, I dunno…” Daisuke trailed off.

You shook your head. “You’re really talented.”

“I- Thank you,” he breathed. Daisuke’s face softened as you looked at him from across the table. The flush in his cheeks was barely noticeable, a fair pink dusting the peaks of his features. “Hey, I noticed you brought a Walkman on board with you. I never thought I’d actually see one of those things in the flesh.”

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed lightly. “It was a gift from my mom. It’s outdated as hell, but I’ve got a bunch of custom tapes back in my room. We should totally listen to them sometime.”

“Are you kidding? Dude, I’d love to-”

“Daisuke!” Swansea called from down the hall, cutting him off. He rounded the corner, sticking his head into the lounge with a sweaty brow. “There you are. Get your ass up, break time’s over. We’ve got work to finish up before dinner.”

Daisuke looked noticeably disappointed at the sight of Swansea. “But I-”

“No ‘buts’. C’mon now, I don’t have all day,” Swansea said with a huff before he turned around, walking back toward the utility room.

“Coming,” Daisuke sighed. He stood up, tucking his sketchbook under his arm with a slight frown. “Guess I’ll see ya later, [Name].”

“Yeah! I’ve got to show you some of my mixes, remember?” you responded sweetly, smiling up at him.

Daisuke nodded enthusiastically. As he left the room, he adopted a pep in his step. A smile was glued to his face as he beamed down the hall. The human embodiment of sunshine in that moment.

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

dude- i keep thinking about how the crew would react to reader just flirting with them randomly then cutting themselves off and just saying “WHAT WHO SAID THAT”

MAN THESE GEN Z PEOPLE—Crew Members x Reader who flirts with them and randomly yells WHO SAID THAT???

a/n: sorry guys, ik I've been late on this, especially sorry anon, this ask has been in there for WEEKS now. long story short, life happened. Im not graduating this year, my brain made me do not fun stuff which ended in me getting a concussion and being put on new meds. I chose the meds cuz it was either this or a trip down to the psych ward. tmi sorry lol. dw I'm back to writing tho.

warnings: none, goofy ahh fic

CURLY

He is one those himbos who is also kind of a country bumpkin so he's just confused above all else.

Whenever you flirt with him he is always smiling ear to ear.

"damn curly you're so hot, but i could still eat you without breaking a sweat–,

"awh y/n that's—

"WHO SAID THAT?????"

curly 404 has stopped working

he doesn't understand any gen z memes so he'll just stare at u like this: 😀?

JIMMY

annoyed. plain simple annoyed.

he is no better than curly, "memes are for people who have time for enjoyment". Ahh

He'll be grinning, being proud how you're skirting with him and then you go with that fuckass loud yell.

"jimmy you should let me borrow a kiss ;)".

"you know damn right, c'mere-

"WHO SAID THAT..WHO SAID THATTTTT?????".

Y/N WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

Is annoyed for the rest of the day,

"this is why you don't get kisses you dork ass moron".

ANYA

Her heart just drops in her stomach whenever you yell that in her face😭

You've done it so many times yet she always somehow falls for it.

"Anya you're so sweet i could eat you up anytime".

"hehe y/n you're so–

"WHO SAID THATTTTT????"

she'll just drop on the spot 😭

SWANSEA

He has made you sign a literal written agreement that you will not be pulling off that stupid stunt any further.

Gets extremely fucking annoyed like you can see it on his face.

"lookin' damn fine swanbae ;)– WHO SAID THAT??????

"I am going to SMACK you kid".

Doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day

DAISUKE

You both compete with each other in order to see who can catch the other off guard the most in a day.

So the other crew members basically hear the disembodied yells of WHO SAID THAT throughout the day.

Swansea sometimes has to put you both on timeout when it gets out of control.

[sewerratzz]

im watching another mouthwashing playthrough

the “SYSTEM FAILURE” message that pops up onscreen when the alarm is going off and curly’s running to the cockpit, just before the crash, i wanna talk about it.

if it is just meant to be the warning or emergency screens in the cockpit as they approach the asteroid [its not], it doesn’t make sense. because it wasn’t a system failure that caused it, it was a navigational failure.

SO i wanna talk about what it is.

this message appears on the screen like the other messages that are meant to kind of show jimmy’s state of mind. Take Responsibility. Take Care Of It. BE QUIET. those.

but these big red letters screaming

SYSTEM FAILURE

pop up when we’re playing as Curly. when he now knows what Jimmy has done and can no longer look past it.

Jimmy’s done the most insane thing, crashing the ship, as a result of Curly’s lack of action.

SYSTEM FAILURE

The system isn’t the ship. the system is capitalism, the company they work for not caring enough about the safety of its employees [especially anya, as a singular woman stranded on a spaceship with four men] to put locks in the sleeping quarters. the company not fostering a safe environment to do anything in case of situations just like what Jimmy does to Anya. they all have a group pay package. and i’m sure they will dock credits for anything they can. like if they used a cryopod not in the case of an emergency [such as the crash] like people have suggested they should have used as a holding cell for jimmy, im sure their group pay would have been docked. and this is something the crew can’t have. which is why curly thinks its best to play mediator. and why this leads to the crashing of the ship.

SYSTEM FAILURE

The system isn’t the ship, the system is the patriarchy, and how men protect other men, specifically in cases of SA, abuse, and harassment. Curly looking the other way, only seeing the big picture, when Anya tells him about the dead pixel and how its all she can see. always there, in the back of her mind. Curly telling Anya they can fix this when she tells him she’s pregnant, saying he’ll do anything and then simply not. Curly helping Jimmy get a job on the Tulpar in the first place, it being heavily implied he was in trouble on earth and running away from consequences.

Curly himself is the SYSTEM FAILURE, and he doesn’t see it until it’s far too late.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.

i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/

cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 15k

Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do. 

He’s going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isn’t the first time he’s done as such, but it’s the first time he’s done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.

It’s the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him. 

Is taking on him.

But, he can’t deal with that shit right now. He can’t deal with it because he’s got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours. 

Solo too.

Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Roman’s face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably won’t heal as quickly as predicted given the fact he’s done the complete opposite of ‘taking it easy.’

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

“There was an assassination attempt on Solana’s life last night.” Roman’s sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such. 

Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Roman’s older cousin being the one to ask, “is she—”

“Bullet hit me instead. Didn’t lodge. I’ll be fine.” Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paul’s face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. “Xavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. I’m handling them now.” 

“But sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?”

Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. “Because she didn’t go along with his plan.”

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

Roman’s jaw clenches. “He wanted her to kill me.” 

The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, “she’s a traitor?”

If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. “She’s my wife.”

Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. “Uce, that doesn’t mean she can’t be both—”

“What I’m hearing….” Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. “—is that she can’t be trusted.”

Roman isn’t sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.

“Come on now, this is Soso we talking about.” Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, “pops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ain’t nothing about that girl dangerous.”

Jey chimes in, handling Solo. “And you of all people should definitely know that’s not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.”

Solo, however, simply scoffs. “Like she ain’t hurt her brother?”

“What was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?” Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, “man, that bitch deserved it!”

Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. “I think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.”

“Why would she want to hurt Roman? That don’t even make no—”

“Enough!” Roman’s fist slams down on the table. “The next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.” There’s a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really. 

Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he can’t pinpoint. “Solana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?” He doesn’t care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesn’t give a fuck. “The only person she’s a danger to is herself.”

Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, “is she—okay?” 

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. “Rikishi.” He runs a hand over his face. “Meet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.”

Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. “Roman, the Elders should know—” 

“The Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and I’m handling it. That’s it.” Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. “Wise Man, let’s go.”

The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room. 

Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, “she tried to kill herself?”

Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their ‘Soso’ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious. 

“It’s….it’s a long story,” Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solana’s story is hers to tell and hers only. 

Truthfully, he’s slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the story that Roman left out,” Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. “Like the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.”

“What?” Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice. 

“I was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.”

Jimmy shrugs. “He protected his wife. What’s wrong with that? We all would have done the same.”

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

Solo continues, pointing out. “But, Roman ain’t like us. He’s the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.”

“Careful, son,” Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. “Your Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign won’t be questioned. We won’t disrespect him.”

Solo scoffs. “But you’ll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?”

Jey jumps in, chiding, “man, what’s up with you tonight?”

Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. “Me? I’m not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. He’s not thinking straight.” Solo looks around the room, noticing there’s a brief second of silence. “Ya’ll see it too. I’m just the only one who’s willing to say it. Roman is losing focus—”

“That’s enough, Solo.” Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. “You’re out of line, son.” 

Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesn’t happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.

Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. “Man, he is tripping.” He shakes his head, asking his father, “you want us to talk to him?”

“No.” Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. “I’ll do it….you all just….watch Roman.” He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. “And sons….this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?” Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, “I know you’re both closer with Roman. But, he’s just your cousin. Solo is your brother. He’s definitely tripping, but he’s still your family too, and there’s nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?”

________

Roman awakens with a heavy sigh that’s followed by his eyes closing. 

His sleep has been shit the past few days, and it’s been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because he’s sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed Solana’s soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.

Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking. 

Dulce’s whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that she’s still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solana’s side.

Her empty side.

Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. “Come on.”

He knows she has to empty her bladder, but he’s grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence. 

It’s….an experience, to say the least. 

Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

Suck a weird fucking thing. Something he’s never really understood. 

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

He’s always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.

And then came Solana. 

If someone had told him four months ago that he’d not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, he’d probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least. 

Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day. 

And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than Solana. Doesn’t desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. It’s her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.

Because he loves her.

And it’s a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany he’s certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.

She almost died, was almost shot, and there’s not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. He’d take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime. 

Because he loves her.

He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position. 

Because he loves her. 

And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jey’s mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldn’t think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay. 

Because he loves her.

Roman’s head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest. 

He can’t deny it. Can’t deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

There’s…..there’s no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. He’s the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when she’s writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.

Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. It’s something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now. 

And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solana’s puppy. 

Because it’s this same puppy, he’s learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. “You saved her life….” For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didn’t have such a close, protective bond to her human. “Thank you.”

Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair. 

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. “I miss her too..”

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day. 

Just not this soon, perhaps.

Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solana’s side of the bed, curled into a little ball.

The smile somehow grows deeper.

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t need to come home, really.

Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.

Solana: We’re good. :) 

Solana brings her finger to gently caress her son’s cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see he’s taken on more of her demeanor than his dad’s. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.

Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.

Roman: He’s been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell. 

Roman: Where are they?

She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. It’s more likely than not bound to happen.

Solana: In their playrooms. They’ve been surprisingly quiet too….for now. Lol

Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when they’re together, isn’t usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.

She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when they’re together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solana’s twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.

Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.

This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. He’s done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when it’s something he can do. And if he can’t do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, he’s on baby duty. 

Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.

Not being good enough.

Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.

And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Roman’s been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while she’s appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the ‘office.’ 

She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but she’s been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasn’t and won’t change. 

Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. I’m okay, really. The girls really don’t cause me any issues. And he’s easy.

Solana: Outside of when he’s groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. 😅

Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.

Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low. 

She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign she’s in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when he’s sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, that’s all Roman.

Roman: Smart kid. 

She giggles, sending out a reply that’s a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text. 

Solana: Just two more weeks until I’m….cleared. 

Over the years, and as she’s continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite that’s nowhere near her husband’s nor most women her age, but it’s there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, it’s been on the flowing side.

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

She sighs at his reply that’s not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasn’t anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

Understanding is different from agreeing, but she won’t push him on it. 

Solana: Besides, don’t want to risk another baby.

Solana: Just yet anyway….

Having this conversation over text probably isn’t the way to go, but she has no doubt he’ll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.

That doesn’t mean they can’t start it now, at least, though.

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

Roman: You forget I’m 10 years older than you. I’m getting too old for all these kids, Solana.

It’s true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. He’s older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but he’s still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, he’s exaggerating. 

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating. 

Roman: It wasn’t. 

She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasn’t a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement. 

So his comment would suggest he’s not team no. That he’s open, and his following texts confirm as such.

Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.

She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that he’s unwilling to deny himself. Solana’s love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood. 

She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldn’t adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

Solana: Unless we get another set of twins….😅

Roman: Jesus Christ 

Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasn’t entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.

But, he most certainly was.

A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.

They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, “why does he sleep so much, mama?”

Solana chuckles. “That’s what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.”

The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, “he’s gonna be big and strong like papa.”

The oldest, however, doesn’t hesitate to reiterate. “I’m still gonna be the tribal chief though.”

Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala. 

Or the fact that by his family’s laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects it’s those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.

Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.

But, that’s so far down the line, and Solana doesn’t like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.

Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, “can we still go to aunt Bayley’s house today?”

Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but it’s still very much doable. “Of course.” 

The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Roman’s little twin ends up being the one to ask, “mama, can we go see papa at his office before?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while he’s at work. Something she hasn’t done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.

Solana starts to text and ask him if he’s busy, but one look at the happiness on the girls’ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesn’t need to.

She knows there’s no way on God’s green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy. 

She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, “time to go see papa.”

“Time to get up.”

Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream she’s now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.

Her future.

But, at the same time, it’s a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.

“You up, sweetie?”

Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesn’t hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.

The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, “breakfast starts in twenty.”

Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed. 

She shuts her eyes. 

The past few days have been…..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any she’s been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived. 

Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath. 

It’s a weight that’s lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.

But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, she’s only had women on her care team since being admitted. It’s made such a big difference. 

All of it has.

Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. It’s been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that she’s brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.

That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. It’s a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing she’s learned in therapy thus far. 

But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didn’t realize it would be the same protocol as an adult. 

Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less. 

This is the first time they’ve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and it’s not a fun experience. 

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because they’ve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.

That part sucks, but what hasn’t sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as she’s been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her. 

Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That he’s made it clear there’s nothing she can’t discuss with him. But, there’s something about speaking to another woman, someone who’s also sadly been through something similar that’s….that’s healing, almost. 

Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.

Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. There’s only so much time in the day that’s reserved as ‘free time,’ though being hospitalized doesn’t present a ton of options for one to choose from during said ‘free time.’

However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different. 

Later that day, she’s in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One she’s recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, it’s not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face she’s drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.

“Hey.”

Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who she’s seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.

Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. He’s a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and she’s noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, it’s never been a predatory gaze. Almost…..protective.

“Solana, right?” She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. “I’m AJ, and this is Candice.” She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. “You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but it’s no use in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. “Well, I was gonna ask you how’d you end up here, but I guess that’s an obvious answer.” AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. “I’d try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.”

Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. That’s why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that she’s still coming down from her relapse. 

Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, “you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone?” 

Candice's shock matches that of Solana’s, but the former doesn’t back down. Doesn’t suddenly regret her statement. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.

When he’s the one that saved it. 

AJ, however, doesn’t look shocked. She looks pissed off.

And then she’s smiling. 

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like she’s there but not here. “Your psychopath husband isn’t here to save you—”

“You lay one hand on her, and I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig.”

Three sets of eyes land on the figure who’s way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. “I suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.”

Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. “Of course.” Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly who’s working in a psychiatric wing for women who’ve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.

And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, “you’ll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.” 

Mrs. Reigns…..

Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And that’s when it hits her.

“Bloodline…..” It makes so much sense. Why he’s always seemed to be around when she’s not in her room, the way he’s watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. “You’re Bloodline.”

“Dave.” He offers a small, respectful smile that’s all the answer she needs. “But everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.”

________

“Hey.”

It’s interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.

Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.

She can only pray this time around is different. 

Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.

Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because they’re all in her group. However, she’s never directly spoken to them prior to now.

Solana swallows and offers a small smile. “Hi….” 

Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, “is it—is it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?”

The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesn’t know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that it’s not just him who she catches watching her whenever she’s not in her room. It’s other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.

The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does. 

“That’s pretty fucking cool. If so.” Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. “It was even better seeing AJ put in her place.”

Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. “I—I don’t want to cause any problems.”

The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. “You might not, but AJ does. I honestly don’t know why they don’t put her in the other wing with Victoria.”

“The other wing?”

The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. “There’s two psychiatric wings here. The one we’re in and another for more….severe cases.”

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

“Melina!” The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. “I’m Mickey. This is Melina, and that’s Cameron, but we call her Cam.”

For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat. 

“Solana—”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, girl.” Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. “I don’t—-I don’t understand.”

“AJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.” Melina explains, shaking her head. “AJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. She’s the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesn’t put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.”

Solana doesn’t know much beyond what’s being said, but something tells her she’s most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her. 

However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesn’t exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. “So you all….you’ve been here before?” 

It’s obvious, given the fact that they’re all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesn’t want to assume.

There’s a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.

Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, “demons are hard to kill.”

And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.

Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. “I get that……I really do.”

Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities. 

Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solana’s arm. “You’re really good.”

She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. “Thank you.” An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. “I can—I can help, if you want?” 

Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. “Really?”

Solana’s smile grows as she explains, “I—I love art.”

Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

“You’re quiet today.” Gail’s assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, “are you nervous?”

Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. “I—I haven’t seen or spoken to him since….you know.”

Gail presses her lips together, nodding. “You don’t know what to expect.”

Solana nods, eyes starting to water. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be upset with me.” 

It’s officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. She’s made enemies, made ‘friends’, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where she’s allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almost….it feels too soon.

She’s just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like. 

Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her client’s head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, “are you responsible for his emotions?”

“No, but….but I—” When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.

“Solana, based upon what you know about Roman, what’s more likely? That he’ll be upset with you or that he’ll just be happy that you’re alive?”

It’s such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. “I—I want him to be happy, but…..”

“You’re still struggling with feeling like a burden to him….” It’s an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana can’t verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. “Do you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.” 

Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes. 

“I want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that you’re having now……where are they coming from?”

Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “My…my fear.”

“And if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge she’s learned since her admission.

She takes an ‘efficient breath’, as Gail calls them. “I’d tell my fear that….that you don’t get to control me anymore.”

Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. “What else?”

Silent tears continue to fall, but Solana’s voice remains firm and unwavering. “And that….that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay and….and get better.”

Gail hasn’t felt so proud and pleased with a client’s response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. “Exactly.” She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?”

Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. “A…a little better, actually.” She motions to her chest. “It doesn’t….it doesn’t feel as heavy.”

“Good.” Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solana’s soft voice beats her to it.

“Can…..can I talk about something with you?”

Gail’s grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. “Solana, there’s nothing we can’t discuss here.” She’s pleased to see Solana’s smile grow at this reassurance. “What would you like to talk about?”

Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. “I—I’ve been….I’ve been having dreams since I got here.”

Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, “dreams or…..”

Sensing what she’s asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. “No. Not those. Not nightmares. They….they really are dreams. Good dreams, I—I think.”

Studying her, Gail assesses. “You seem unsure.” 

Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, “they’re dreams of me in the future…..as….as a mother.”

Gail nods. “I see.” She makes note of one of Solana’s nonverbals. “You’re smiling right now.”

Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. “In the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.” She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. “I—I want to be a mom someday, but I don’t….I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

If these dreams have shown her anything, it’s that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesn’t want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma she’s experienced. 

And deep down, Solana knows that she’s absolutely nothing like her father.

But, she knows she’s very much been deeply impacted by her fathers’ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children. 

“Solana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?” She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. “You are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person who’s been dealt some not so  great cards, but you’re here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.” Gail chuckles, pointing out, “that doesn’t sound like a bad future mother to me.”

Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, “do you….do you really think I could be a good mother?”

Gail’s response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, “Solana, I think you could be a damn good mother.” 

Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. “Thank….thank you. That….that means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but there’s another important thing on her agenda for this session. “Solana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning you’ll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.”

Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. “But, there’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

________

Roman doesn’t think twice as he walks into the room that’s suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapist’s office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa. 

He didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.

She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. “Thank you for com—”

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. “Of course.”

“Then get to it.” Roman is quick with the demands, asking, “how is she doing?”

Gail offers a tight smile. “I’m Gail Kim, the therapist on staff who’s been handling Solana’s individual therapy sessions.”

“Did I ask you who you were?” His stare is cold and uninterested. “I asked you how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes she’s happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. “Your wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means she’s denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering it’s only been a week—”

There’s a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, “so, she’s ready to come home?”

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. “You just said she’s not suicidal anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Solana is….she’s an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.”

“Isn’t that why she’s here with you?” His tone is cruel and condescending. “If you’re too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.”

Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isn’t just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and she’s well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach. 

“You know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?” Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. “You.” Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Roman’s eyes at this. “She put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.” 

There’s a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. “So why did she do it?”

Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. “I’ll leave that discussion to the two of you. She’s expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.”

“I’m asking you.”

Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. “It’s okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.” Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. “To actually feel your feelings.”

Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. “Why the hell would I be angry at her?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? She tried to leave you. That’s essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace they’re looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.” She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. “Two truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasn’t successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.”

Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t call me. I told her to tell me if…..if those thoughts ever returned.”

“But she didn’t…..” Gail’s voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. “I think you’ll find talking with her will give you some of the answers you’re looking for. But, they truly should come from her.”

Roman won’t push. He wants to, but won’t. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, he’ll respect that. So long as it’s not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, it’s not. 

Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. “Dr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, she’s responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.” 

Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain what’s otherwise obvious. 

“We’ve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her discharge—”

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?” Roman doesn’t even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. She’s acting like he’s stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesn’t need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou don’t give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life. 

Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. “You know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimes….sometimes it’s what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.”

Roma sits forward. “Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

“Nothing at all, Mr. Reigns.” A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? “But, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supporting—”

“The only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.”

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

“I want to show you something.” She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. “Solana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things she’s explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interesting….”

If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesn’t want him to know.

But something tells him she’s perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if that’s the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what she’s doing and doesn’t trigger Solana further.

She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting. 

Solana’s handwriting. 

He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.

Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?

My husband. He’s the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man I’ve ever trusted.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

He’s patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.

How does this person serve as a member of your support system?

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?

The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But it’s my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my mom’s murder that made me seriously think about doing it. 

He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?

Yes. For the past four months. 

If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?

I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time. 

I was happy.

Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?

The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.

What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode. 

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my rape and my mother’s murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldn’t get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and I’d have to start over, and I didn’t want to put my husband and family through that, as they’re the reason I even started to heal.

I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didn’t want to be a burden to my husband.

Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?

I don’t want to die. I still don’t feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but I’m not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. I’m not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.

 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?

Yes.

Called my husband. 

Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?

Roman 

Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solana’s bitch brother remained..

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.

He’s also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.

And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her. 

But he especially doesn’t know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasn’t been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares. 

“You mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.” Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. “One of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or persons….she couldn’t tell me a single thing she needs from you that you don’t already give her.” Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. “Now, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. She’s extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.”

Roman doesn’t pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesn’t care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, she’ll get. 

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

But, he’s certain what he’s feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.

And he hates that shit.

Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps it’s the fact that it’ll be the first time in a week that he’s actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That he’ll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but it’s better standing here feeling fucking stupid and—

“Roman…”

He wasn’t sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came. 

It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before she’s running toward him.  Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.

Roman’s eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly she’s holding him back. 

Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you….”

For a brief second, he’s angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That she’s been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.

But nothing about her asking for him. 

He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.

“I missed you too.” Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.

He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn't mean. I just—”

Roman’s focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He can’t see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. “Let’s talk, okay?”

She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman won’t lie. He’s not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. It’s like there’s a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.

And he has zero issues with this. 

He has zero issues until they’re walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, “are you alright?”

Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is? 

The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. “You’re still joining us for breakfast, right?”

Solana answers right away, shaking her head. “Of course.”

Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?

The women all seem to give Solana that ‘call us if you need anything’ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.

Only Solana would make ‘friends’ at a damn hospital.

She finally leads him into what he would guess is her ‘room.’ He’s instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.

This clearly ain’t it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. He’s also annoyed by the ‘sheet’ that serves at the door, irritated that they won’t have total privacy. But, he understands. It’s a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons. 

Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesn’t protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall. 

Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, “I don’t want to talk about this—”

That’s an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. “Then don’t—”

She cuts him off. “But, I need to.” She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, he’s missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. “I can’t—I won’t avoid it.” She takes a deep breath, asking, “what do you want to know?”

He’s partially surprised by how direct she’s being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.

That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, “I think you already know the answer to that, Sol.”

Her eyes shut again, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all. 

Both, probably. 

She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that there’s no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “I just….I couldn’t think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing that’s happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I just….I couldn't handle it.”

This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues. 

“And I thought….I felt like….I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that I’d have to start over, and I just—-I couldn’t fathom going through all that again.” She swallows, tears starting to fall. “I felt like I would just be a burden to you and that….it would just be easier for you if I was dead.”

Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didn’t call him.

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. “Solana, look at me.” When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. “Look at me.” She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. “Nothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll do. I just need you to tell me.” This time, he’s the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. “I just need you to not leave me, alright?” She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but it’s another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. I should have—”

“No. Please—please don’t.” She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. “I’m glad you didn’t.” The ‘shocked’ ball is back in his court as she explains, “I don’t….I don’t think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. It’s….it’s been too hard to have to deal with that.” 

Clearly. He can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.

“The therapy has….it’s helped.” He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. “It’s….it’s been good for me.”

He believes that, too. He can see that. There’s a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesn’t look as fractured as the last time he saw her.

She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.

Love, perhaps?

Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. “Have they been treating you okay?” This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.

She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. “Yes. I….how many Bloodline men do you have here?”

“Enough.” She doesn’t need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. “I’m always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.”

Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting. 

Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what she’s trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.

He shifts his body, so he’s laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.’

“I’ve missed you.” Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesn’t know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.

On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.

She looks up at him, offering a small smile. “It’s something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.” She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. “You draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every time…you think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that you’re killing the butterflies. It’s like….like a reminder that people care about you.”

It’s an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Roman’s long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, “who is this one for?” 

Solana’s smile deepens. “You.” He’s grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. “And this one,” she gestures to the pink and red one. “--is me. My future self.” 

That doesn’t help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, “and those?”

She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he can’t identify, answering gently, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Her answer confuses him. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he doesn’t want to push her either. 

“How is Dulce?” She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.

Roman won’t tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. He’ll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth. 

“The usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.” 

Solana frowns. “I miss her too.” She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, “how are Bay—”

Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but it’s how he feels. And truthfully speaking, he’s got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart he’s trying to sort through. 

“Roman…..” Solana sits up a bit, and he’s taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t their fa—”

“Not now, Sol.” His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, “please. I just want to enjoy you.”

He knows she’ll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. “Okay.” She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.

“How are you?”

He’s not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, “fine.”

He’s far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.

Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. “Are you sleeping?” She reaches over and caresses his beard. “You look tired. H–have you been taking your medicine?”

Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, she’s laying here worried about him. 

Roman has to push back that love feeling that’s returning. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about me,” he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. “I just want you to focus on yourself.”

Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. “And I keep telling you that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Roman chuckles, commenting, “you’re becoming more outspoken….”

She gives him a small smile. “I told you the therapy has been helping.”

Roman scoffs. She’s right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what she’s doing. 

“Do you need anything?”

Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. “Just you.” She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, “we only have 40 minutes left….”

He knows she’s referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.“ He’d stay the whole night if that was what she wanted. 

“Roman….” It’s funny how he already knows what she’s going to say. “The rules—”

His interruption is sharp, but it’s not aimed towards her. And she knows that. “I don’t give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.” She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.

Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesn’t mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.

He’s missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. He’s been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.

But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.

That’s what she does for him. What she is for him. 

Medicine. 

An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her. 

Love….

Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality that’s so easy to escape when he’s with her.

Roman may love Solana, but….he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.

Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldn’t do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her. 

To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. It’s an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.

Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer. 

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

He’s just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.

It’s just better that way. 

________

Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. It’s not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but it’s what’s necessary.

If even for the fact that Dulce can’t be left alone for too long.  

Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.

But, it’s when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope. 

Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. “Promise me you won’t read it until you get home.” 

Now he’s extremely confused. It’s been a while since Solana has written to thim. They’ve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didn’t just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter. 

But, he also knows she’s been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he won’t push it and will respect it.

Accepting the letter, he simply says, “okay.”

She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he can’t make out. When she pulls back, he doesn’t hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, “you need anything, you let me know, alright?” They’d already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him. 

She nods, repeating to him, “okay.” Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, “bye, Roman.”

It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them. 

He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.

Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder. 

Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting. 

Roman,

I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it’s something I really need. 

I’m so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you. 

I wasn’t in a good place, and this experience has made me realize there’s still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through. 

That’s why I’m asking.

Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. It’s a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be. 

Roman, I think I should go. 

I don’t think I should come home just yet.

I don’t feel ready. I’m not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but there’s still things I think I need to work through. I don’t ever want to put you through something like this again. I don’t ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure I’m good before I leave.

And I don’t know if another week can do that. 

I miss you. So much. It’s been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this. 

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

BTW, I’m saying ‘I love you very much’ in Spanish. 

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

And I don’t need you to say it back or feel the same. With what you’ve been through, I’d never expect or ask that of you.

I just need you. Your continued support. That’s all. That’s enough.

With all my love,

Solana

________

“I’m so sick of your bloody fuckin’ shit, Seth! It’s the same fuckin’ thing over and over again, and I’m done!” 

The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wife’s rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra. 

And he is.

Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.

Seconds later, she’s practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.

However, Becky’s enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. “Were you even listenin’ to me?”

He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. “Of course, dear.”

Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And she’s done. “Ya know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and I—” Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, “I’m gonna go stay with Charlotte til’ I can figure out just what I’m gonna do.”

What she’s not saying is that she’ll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home. 

She’s just done.

Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that she’s leaving with their kid. “Okay, dear.” He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.

And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.

Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughter’s cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.

She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. “First the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckin’ Bloodline?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, you dig your own fuckin’ grave, Seth.” 

And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.

Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Seth’s unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

[acknowledge-reigns]

Wolf's Den | Zilla Fatu x Black Fem!Reader x Jacob Fatu SMUT (18+)

Requested by: @wrestlingbaby

Description: Jacob helps Zilla punish reader. Smut based on that one episode of Total Divas where Jim and Trin argue about her losing her ring, but with Zilla/Jacob x Reader.

Warnings: Arguing/light angst, Dom/sub dynamic, Punishment, degradation, BDSM club, Mentions of Roman + Jimmy/Naomi + Jey/Rhea + Tiffy/Nia + Drew/Punk + Zaria/Giulia/Stephanie in kink context (don't judge me!) flogger, impact play, multiple partners, double penetration, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), swallowing, Daddy Dom and Primal Dom, Honorifics, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, face fucking, Zilla cums in her, praise, petnames, general filth with a fluffy ending.

My masterlist can be found here

Again, MDNI!!! THIS IS AN 18+ FAN FICTION. As always my stories are based in kayfabe not based upon any real people.

Zilla sat in the driver's seat of the car, his jaw clenched in frustration. He couldn't believe that after all the time and effort he had put into planning their wedding, picking out the perfect ring etc, his new wife had lost her wedding ring.

"I told you to wear it all the time," he said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "But you never listen."

"I know, I know," she said, her voice laced with guilt. "I'm sorry, okay? I just... I keep forgetting to put it on."

Zilla let out a scoff. "You keep forgetting? It's not that hard to remember to wear a damn ring, Y/N."

He glances over at her, his eyes narrowing.

"Do you even care about our marriage at all?" he asks, his voice harsh. "Because it seems like you don't care about anything I do for you."

Her eyes widened at his accusation, hurt and anger flashing across her face.

"How dare you say that," she retorted, her own anger rising to match his. "I care about our marriage more than anything. I just... I'm sorry I lost the ring, okay? But it's not like I did it on purpose."

"Only me and you know the story of that ring—that's the sentimental value it has to me." Zilla said

She felt a pang of guilt at his words, realizing the significance of the ring. She knew how much it meant to him, and she hated herself for losing it.

"I know," she said softly, her voice laced with regret. "I'm so sorry, Zilla. I should have taken better care of it."

He was silent for a moment, his grip on the steering wheel still tight. The tension in the car was palpable, the air thick with anger and frustration.

"Sorry don't fix anything," he finally said, his voice cold. "but it's okay. I got something for yo' ass."

She looked at him, a mix of curiosity and apprehension on her face. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, she shouldn't be excited but she really was.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice small and submissive.

Zilla drove in silence, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine. After a few minutes, they pulled up in front of a nondescript building.

He got out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door for her and gesturing for her to get out.

She got out of the car, her heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She recognized the building as the Wolf's Den, the kink club that Zilla's cousin Jacob owned. The two of them frequent here often, the whole kinky ass bloodline does really. It's a safe space for wrestlers to get their dungeon fix without worrying about the press picking up on details of their sex lives.

Wolf's Den was known as one of the safest BDSM clubs in the country. People were heavily vetted, background checks were done, there were club rules and safe words and there was always more than one Dungeon Monitor on duty to ensure things stay safe, sane and consensual

After Zilla scanned his membership card for entry, Y/N followed him inside, her eyes darting around the dimly lit interior, taking in the various equipment and furnishings scattered throughout the room as couples spread about made use of them. In passing she saw Jimmy with Naomi on a spanking bench, Rhea with Jey on a leash, Tiffy kneeling at Nia's feet and Drew working Punk over with a flogger while he's tied to the St. Andrew's Cross in the corner of the room.

Zilla led her deeper into the familiar club, The air was thick with the scent of leather and sweat, and the sound of moans and whimpers filled the room.

They finally bumped into Jacob, who was talking to another patron. A newbie, Mistress Zaria and her pets Giulia and Stephanie.

"Aye, uce," Zilla said, nodding at his cousin. "We need a private room."

Jacob looked over at them, a sly smile spreading across his face.

"Of course," he said, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "Follow me, Uce."

He turned and led them through a door at the back of the room, opening it to reveal a hallway that had the four private rooms and led them straight to the open one.

Once they were in the private room, Zilla turned to Jacob.

"Can I ask a favor?" he said, his voice low.

Jacob raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression.

"Sure, what is it?" he asked.

Zilla glanced at his wife, then back at Jacob.

"I need you to help me punish her," he said, nodding in her direction.

Jacob's smirk widened, his eyes roaming over her body.

"With pleasure," he said, his voice dripping with excitement.

"What's your color, babygirl?" Zilla asked y/n in regards to the traffic light safe word system. Green meaning good, Yellow meaning slow down and Red meaning stop.

"Green, Daddy!" Y/N eagerly confirmed.

Zilla stepped aside, giving Jacob full access to her.

"She lost something important," Zilla said, his eyes darkening. "And she needs to be taught a lesson."

Jacob moved closer to her, his gaze hungry as he looked her up and down.

"I can definitely help with that," he said, his voice low and seductive. "She looks like she needs a firm hand."

Jacob reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

"You ready to be punished, sweetheart?" he asked, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She huffs but doesn't respond.

"Answer me," he said, his tone demanding.

She bit her lip, her eyes darting between him and Zilla.

"Y-yes," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jacob chuckled, clearly pleased with her response.

"Good girl," he purred, his grip on her chin tightening slightly. "You bout to learn your lesson tonight."

"Remember, baby, I'm your Daddy. Jacob is your Alpha. Just like before." Zilla said referring to the last time he and Jacob played with her together. Zilla was newer, less experienced at being a Dom, a brat tamer at that. And Jacob was always happy to lend a helping hand in keeping y/n in line. Roman had also done the job a time or two. The tribal chief was by far the strictest Dom of the bunch. Y/N enjoyed being shared, Zilla enjoyed sharing her but only with his cousins.

She shivered at Zilla's words, memories of their previous encounters with Jacob flooding her mind. She remembered the way he would tease and taunt her, how he would push her limits and make her submit to his every command.

Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as she realized that tonight was going to be no different.

Zilla was a caring, yet firm Daddy Dom, always taking care of her and making sure she was comfortable and safe during their scenes and otherwise. He was the one who would comfort her after, praising her and making sure she knew how good she was.

Jacob, on the other hand, was a Primal Dom. He was rougher, more demanding, and didn't hold back when it came to pushing her limits. He liked to see her break, to make her beg and plead for his touch. Still caring and protective though.

Zilla always knew that his wife was in good hands with his cousin, and he trusted Jacob to give her the punishment she deserved.

Jacob circled her slowly, his eyes raking over her body as he took in every curve and dip. He stopped behind her, his hands coming to rest on her hips.

She felt his hands on her hips, his grip firm and possessive. He pulled her back against him, her body flush against his chest.

"Such a naughty girl.. Givin' Uce a hard time." he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She couldn't help but get aroused at the feeling of his body pressed against hers, his voice sending shivers down her spine. He took in the aroma of her cocoa butter lotion.

She knew that she was in for a rough night, but the thought only excited her more.

He chuckled at her reaction, his hands sliding up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. "You like being at my mercy."

She tried to suppress a moan, but a small, needy sound escaped her lips anyway.

"Y-yes," she managed to whisper, her body already responding to his touch.

"Aht aht! Yes what?" Zilla corrected her on Jacob's behalf

"Yes, Alpha." She responded to Jacob as Zilla began pulling her clothes off.

"Good girl," Jacob said, a satisfied smirk on his face as she corrected herself.

He watched as Zilla began to undress her, his eyes hungrily taking in every inch of her exposed skin.

Her clothes fell to the floor, leaving her standing naked before them. She couldn't help but feel vulnerable, exposed under their gazes.

Jacob's hands moved back to her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her closer to him.

"Get on your knees," Jacob commanded, his voice low and firm. "And suck him off. You need to make it up to him, for being such a forgetful slut."

She obeyed, dropping to her knees in front of Zilla. She looked up at him with wide eyes, tugging down his pants and boxers.

Zilla's hand reached out, his fingers carefully tangling in her hair as he guided her head towards his cock.

"Go on, baby girl," he said, his voice husky with desire. "Take it like a good girl."

She wrapped her lips around him, taking him into her mouth slowly. She swirled her tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive skin.

Zilla let out a low moan, his grip on her hair tightening as he watched her take him deeper.

Jacob stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders as he watched the scene unfold.

As she continued to suck on Zilla's cock, Jacob reached for a flogger that was nearby. He trailed the tresses over her back, teasing her skin with the soft touch.

He waited until she was completely distracted before bringing the flogger down on her skin, the impact sending a sharp sting through her body.

She moaned around Zilla's cock, the pain from the flogger mixing with pleasure.

Zilla groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as she took his cock deeper, her tongue working over him.

Jacob continued to alternate between the flogger and his hands, spanking her and caressing her skin. He knew just how to push her limits, how to keep her on edge and wanting more.

Zilla was close to losing control, his breathing growing ragged as he fought to hold back his release.

She could feel Zilla tensing, his cock throbbing in her mouth. She knew he was close, and she redoubled her efforts, sucking and licking with renewed fervor.

Jacob watched her intently, a smirk on his face as he continued to tease her with the flogger.

Zilla couldn't hold back any longer. With a loud moan, he came, spilling himself into her mouth.

She swallowed every drop, her tongue still working over him as he rode out his orgasm.

Zilla let out a shaky breath as he came down from his high, his grip on her hair loosening.

Jacob chuckled, setting the flogger aside for the moment. He knelt down behind her, his chest pressing against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

With a nod from Jacob as if the two were silently communicating, Zilla helped her up and positioned her on her hands and knees.

She was now facing Jacob, who was sitting in front of her, his cock hard and waiting for her. She had no clue at what point he'd shed his clothes.

Behind her, Zilla positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips as he slowly pushed into her.

She moaned as Zilla filled her.

Jacob reached out, gently guiding her head down towards his cock.

"Come on, baby. Open that pretty mouth for me," he coaxed.

She parted her lips, taking Jacob's cock into her mouth.

As she started to suck on him, Zilla began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first.

She moaned around Jacob's cock, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine.

Zilla's grip on her hips tightened as he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing faster and harder.

She struggled to keep her focus on Jacob, her mind fogging with pleasure as Zilla pounded into her from behind.

Jacob's hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements as he started to thrust into her mouth in time with Zilla's rhythm.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, moans and grunts, and the wet sounds of her mouth around Jacob's cock and Zilla in her warm wet pussy.

Jacob's head fell back, his eyes closed in pleasure as he used her mouth to chase his own release.

Zilla's thrusts became more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared his second orgasm.

Jacob was close as well, his grip on her hair tightening as he held her head in place, his hips bucking up to meet her mouth.

"Fuck, I'm close," Jacob groaned, his voice strained.

Zilla grunted in response, his thrusts becoming even harder as he chased his own release.

Suddenly, Zilla gave a final, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he came inside her.

Jacob let out a strangled cry as he followed suit, his release spilling into her mouth.

She was a mess of moans and whimpers, her body trembling between the two of them as she felt Zilla's release fill her.

It didn't take long for her own orgasm to hit, her body tensing and clenching around Zilla as she came undone.

Zilla and Jacob both stilled, both of them panting as they came down from their highs.

Zilla gently pulled out of her, leaving her feeling empty and used in the best way possible.

She collapsed onto her elbows, her body spent and exhausted.

Jacob reached out to brush a strand of hair out of her face, his expression tender despite the roughness of their previous actions.

Zilla knelt down beside her, his hands running soothingly over her back.

"You did so well, baby. So good for us," he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate.

She leaned into his touch, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Jacob chuckled, his hand moving to caress her cheek.

"You look absolutely wrecked," he said, his tone playful.

She could only manage a weak nod in response, too spent to form coherent words.

Zilla chuckled as well, his hands moving to her hips and gently turning her over so she was lying on her back.

Jacob smiled and stood up, understanding that Zilla wanted a moment alone with her.

"I'll go clean up," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before pulling his clothes on.

"See you later, Uce." he said to Zilla who gave him a nod.

Once Jacob was gone, Zilla turned his attention back to his wife.

He laid down beside her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.

She snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his chest.

He held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her as if he never wanted to let go.

"You took us both so well," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and affection.

She let out a soft sigh, her body still sensitive and sore from their earlier activities.

Zilla's hands continued to roam over her body, his touch gentle but possessive, as if he was claiming her all over again.

His hands eventually came to rest on her thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles on her skin.

"You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and possessive. "My beautiful wife."

"I really am sorry about the ring" Y/N reiterated.

"I'ma buy you another one, baby. And a hundred more after that if I got to, as long as you're mine." Zilla responded.

"I love you, Z." She said

He pulled back slightly to look down at her, his eyes filled with affection and adoration.

"I love you too, babygirl," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "Forever".

"Forever" Y/N confirmed with a soft content sigh.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi Lexi, I have an ask 😏

I keep seeing these pranks girlfriends are doing on their boyfriends on TikTok where the girl is talking to her man about her waxing appointment she just had and she casually says 'HE was great' or 'HE did a great job’

How do you think the Chris characters would react? 😂😂

Warnings for Lexi getting on her professional high horse and inferences to, well, the areas that get waxed.

Hi. I'm Lexi, and this is my job. I wax people for a living and am about to get extremely serious for a moment before our fun imagines...

IF the person is professional, there is zero reason a male or female waxologist should matter. Of course, it is important for the client themselves to be most comfortable, but men and women can be equally good at this job and equally shit at it. I say this knowing that I went to school with a handful of women that did not care about the comfort or safety of their clients, only money and time. I'd say it was as bad as 50/50. The sex or sexual orientation of your professional doesn't actually matter, and I find it childish that any man would get huffy or jealous as long as the service is done professionally and well for the actual client. I would personally punch any man (yes, even those with faces as pretty as above) for being a sexist, assuming dickhead in this manner.

James Mace

Curious. Sorta wants to come with you to your next appointment and ask how a man gets into that line of work, since it is more rare. Mace would also be curious if you were shocked at first that a man would wax you. Did you feel uncomfortable at first? Has more than one man waxed you? Is this...is this a thing he can learn to help with? He's simply never thought about it before.

Curtis Everett

Weirdly 'classic man' about it and thinks it's bizarre a man waxes people. He just thinks that sounds like a woman's profession and a woman's service. Cringes and hisses at the mere thought of hair being ripped from his own body, so Curtis cannot fathom why anyone does it, man or woman.

Jimmy Dobyne

Doesn't give a rat's ass if there's hair down there, so mostly he's just indifferent to the whole situation. If you start talking about 'how cute' your waxer is, however, that's another story. Would probably assume the man is gay, too, and would express shock if you said otherwise. To Jimmy though, a job is a job. Whatever.

Johnny Storm

Simultaneously doesn't care and is fascinated. He's a try-anything-once person, so Johnny kinda wants to know what that feels like AND will be an enormous baby about the pain of waxing. He would be equally fascinated if the professional were female or male to be honest, though he'd be slightly more goofy and flirtatious with a woman. Johnny--as you may guess--would love to make you jealous so that he can 'prove himself' to you over and over again; he isn't a jealous type on his own.

Jake Jensen

Dead silence. Doesn't mention a fucking thing about how he feels but internally screaming. Deeply angry that not only did a man see you that way but also that a man is doing something 'painful' to you and that Jake didn't know before. Does a background check on your professional without ever saying a word to you. Only brings it up if there's something suspicious in the man's record. Refuses to be 'that guy' and voice his discomfort. Hopes you both never speak of it again...or the man retires soon and you see a woman.

Lloyd Hansen

Can you guess? I feel by now you can guess what I'm going to say.

Lloyd (that's right) doesn't. give. a. fuck.

Good. Get waxed. There is no need to talk about it. He just cares that it's done, not about any of the specifics.

Ari Levinson

Horrified that anyone waxes anything. Vaguely interested that a man offers it. Asks you what he looks like--i.e. does a man with a lot of hair (like Ari) wax other people or is he rather hairless himself? Ari shivers while considering it and promptly forgets all about it.

Ransom Drysdale

Did the job get done? Fine. Is the guy your only option for someone to wax you? No. Will Ran call your salon and insist you never be booked with the guy (or any guy) again? Yes. Yes he will.

Does Ran tell you he did that? No. Does he care if you know? Also no, but he ain't fucking discussing it. End of story.

Andy Barber

Literally has twelve other things to talk about with you so he doesn't care at all. Would forever prefer enjoying the results then getting hung up on the methods...

Steve Rogers

Has NO IDEA how to respond to that. Has NO IDEA if he should care or be mad or be interested or offer any words whatsoever. Is SO AWKWARD when moving on to another topic of discussion.

Bucky Barnes

Grumpy. First suggests and then insists that he do it for you/help. Verbally observes that it would save money and time to simply do it at home; emotionally unhinged at the wave of possessive rage he feels in the moment. He isn't proud of the response, but he also isn't letting that continue. Full-stop.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would...Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm

[verdantwyrm]

I read your ‘Curly is not an abuser’ post over on twitter and started crying. My thoughts were “f@cking finally, someone who might’ve gotten it,” because the main reason I was crying was because I deeply relate to Curly in some ways. With how everyone was saying ‘Curly is an Abuser!’ ‘Curly is a bad person!’ I started to feel about bit bad about myself because of that.

We both have a hard time getting the underlined meaning of things or hints, whether it’s in story, talked about, or shown. We don’t see it until someone quite literally points it out to us or just start talking about the hidden meaning. I also believe me and Curly are too trusting or lax in some ways. Like not being able to see the bad in people we are close to or talk often with. We might even know about some of the bad qualities beforehand and can still be strung along and be play like an instrument. I also believe that Curly with even a thought of abusing anyone would throw himself before doing. He might even throw himself faster if he actually did that, accident or not.

That is not to say Curly is completely innocent or not to be blamed at all. Those qualities I stated before, while good, are a double edged sword like any other qualities. If we are not careful with them we could end up hurting people around us or ourselves, or get into a big mess of things. That is what Curly should be hold accounted for. Even than, with how people make out to be an abuser I don’t think they can reasonably hold him accountable in the right way, and I am not sure if that makes me sadder.

I totally get where you're coming from Anon. That kind of attitude, being lax, trusting and a constant mediator isn't inherently a problem. It was the circumstances that turned that so volatile. If Jimmy wasn't who he was and so readily abusive then Curly's character would not be that detrimental, and his actions would not have such a catastrophic impact. And everyone immediately boiling down those harmless traits and villainising them does much more harm than good, especially since the character they should be targeting is Jimmy, not Curly.

Looking at it through Curly's eyes he was just doing the best he could in that situation, and it's even more understandable especially with exactly what he does. He tries to completely bubble Jimmy into this sense of just him and Curly, he makes no mention of anyone else, nothing else. He grounds him, "It's just us" or "we will figure it out", this is fawning. He's appealing to the perpetrator to reduce the fallout in any way. Which is definitely something he has done previously as mentioned in the How Fish Is Made DLC and Curly's little monologue about how it's just another trip, just until he gets what he needs, that he has big plans!

This is definitely something Curly used on Jimmy, and even more with how quickly he shuts down at the birthday party he is used to this, and Jimmy has been abusing him for a very long time. Long enough to put the seeds of doubt in Curly to not make him question or argue against his treatment.

And you're right about Curly throwing himself infront of everyone because he does it literally. The most important part that everybody overlooks is how determined he is to get to the cockpit as the ship is crashing. He knows its crashing but all he can do is try, he could have ran away, but he didn't. And again with how after Anya tells Jimmy about her pregnancy, Curly says that she should have waited for him because he wanted to be there just in case.

Curly took responsibility multiple different times that is easily overlooked because so much happens in such a short time span that people literally think he had months between knowing about Anya being raped and then the crash when it was barely a day. Just like how people easily overlook the dead pixel scene and how it also represents something to Curly as well, and just like how people overlook Anya's "I told you so"

This game is multifaceted with the biggest, main issue of all being Pony Express' negligence and abuse towards their employees which then weakens the vulnerable and enables people like Jimmy. It happens all the time in real life absolutely everywhere. All of this could have been entirely avoided if they weren't neglecting the safety of their most vulnerable and had actual locks on the doors.

Curly's kind, forgiving and trusting nature is not inherently bad. It was how it was used against him in an extremely difficult situation, which is exactly what Abusers do time and time again. He failed Anya in such a delicate way and in such a difficult situation, but its something to understand that Pony Express failed her first, failed her in all the most important ways by even allowing a situation like this to happen. It was Jimmy's responsibility to not be a rapist, but it was Pony Express for even enabling that in the first place.

[son-of-crows-and-rats]

I've rambled about this game before in tags and while I have a lot of complex thoughts on Curly as a character and what he should have done and how fandom responses and discussions have had good and bad takes (and it's all complicated and has layers which is a core point of the game!) one take I've never seen explicitly said for "Curly should have xyz" which I'm surprised to not see is "Curly should have asked Anya what she wanted". We don't know how much he would have listened or if her plan would make sense, but I think it says a lot about how the game's POVs (and some of the fandom) show Anya with little agency and someone who things happen to not someone who does things, and the men on board as the ones who make decisions and decide the course of the narrative for better or worse. I've seen people saying Anya should have been able to get angry and kill Jimmy, and people saying not all victims want violence and it's okay if she just wants to escape and move on. There's also arguments saying Curly should have reported Jimmy, shot him, put him in cryostasis, etc. and arguments saying Curly wasn't being malicious and that he was worried about things like their pay being docked, being locked with that conflict for months, not understanding the situation, etc. And it is complicated! But part of that male-centric view the game critiques (and fandom is against but accidentally perpetuates at times) is saying that it should have been Curly's choice at all. We don't know if Anya would have wanted to have shift scheduling and where she stayed and who spoke to Jimmy changed so he's kept away from her and to leave it at that. We don't know if she would have wanted to report him directly to the company's HR. We only see her when she's at her breaking point and even then her goal is to defend herself and prevent Jimmy from harming anyone. Anything past that is speculation. Obviously certain plans like a murder suicide or something like that would make sense for Curly to be against, but he never bothered to check. He said he would do anything, but didn't ask what that "anything" should be. Not all victims are the same, and not everybody has the same priorities. Part of getting rid of that male-centric toxic rape culture is letting women and victims have their own voices and decide their own paths, and framing the ideal situation as "the man in charge should have decided to protect the woman in xyz way because that's what she needed" instead of "the man in charge should have asked the woman what she needed and protected her that way" is still ultimately one man having control of everything. And we know from the game that doesn't work, even if he's a "good man that means well" and thinks he's inferring what's best. The only way to make sure victims get the support they need is to ask

[momentomori24]

[This has been sitting in my draft for a while lol]

When it comes to Curly's failings, I always see people bring up his obvious failure to protect Anya and him prioritising Jimmy, who was the rapist in that situation. Which is completely valid btw and we should rake him through the coals for that alone even more. But I also see too many people saying that Curly "didn't enable Jimmy" or playing softball for his actions. And I could maybe see where that comes from if that incident was the only thing we had to point to-- but that wasn't all he did, is it? Curly being indifferent or not taking Jimmy's mistreatment and belittlement of Anya seriously was hinted at so much earlier than that.

Namely, the very first time we play from Curly's point of view. Let's just skip the fact that Curly was putting everyone in danger by not taking his psych evals seriously and simply giving the same answers to pass them even tho he was shown literal minutes after this scene being clearly not-sane, and go straight to the point I actually wanna get into. Which is this:

These scenes in isolation wouldn't be that bad. From his pov, it's played off as comical and it is. Jimmy being a brony (not really lmao) and getting playfully dragged over it is funny. But unfortunately this is the first example out of many for Curly's complacency. Anya is complaining about Jimmy not taking his psych evals or her seriously, which is easy to believe considering how much he rags on her for "not being a good nurse" (she kept Curly alive on hopes and dreams how dare you). So he keeps making her do silly and inappropriate reports she clearly doesn't wanna do, which is kinda shitty (also borders on harassment). But rather than actually saying something about Jimmy's behaviour or even acknowledging how it sucks he says this:

Mate, that's not a good thing 💀 He's clearly aware that the problem is Jimmy's lack of respect for Anya specifically. He knows that if he, his friend and a man in power, were the one doing the evals Jimmy wouldn't try that disrespect. But it's Anya, a meek woman who ranks lower than him so he thinks he can get away with it (which he DOES), and Curly's shown as comfortable in knowing that. He doesn't chew Jimmy out for making Anya uncomfortable nor does he reassure her that he will do something about it. All he does is take it off her hands this once and helps Jimmy power through it to get a good diagnosis (even tho we know he's DEFINITELY not sane either). He doesn't even mention Anya's discomfort or confront him on his inappropriate behaviour, just teases Jimmy in good fun instead because he doesn't think of it as anything serious. It's subtle and pretty minor in comparison to everything else, but I think it's worth pointing out. Especially because this convo takes place after Jimmy had assaulted her, which makes this so much worse.

If you need any more evidence of Curly being an enabler you need not look further than Anya herself. And I'm not just talking about the way he failed her here-- I'm talking about Anya's own view of Curly and the way said view influences her actions.

Just look at her choice of wording. "What would you have done". This is in response to him saying that she could've come to him if she were feeling stressed, which she-- in his eyes-- didn't. The question itself implies that she had no faith in Curly to actually help despite his insistence that he would've, which I think is significant because it shows that she's very much aware of Curly's shortcomings when it comes to her situation AND it's one of the first (or the first time) she actually verbalised her lack of trust towards him or anyone directly. Prior to this scene she had told him about her rape and the rapist, presumably because she trusted him to handle it. And he dismissed her because the rapist was his best friend, and that evidently deeply scarred her. Enough so that she secretly took the gun and hid it someplace else and didn't even tell Curly were that was, because she knows that if Curly has access to it there's a so much greater chance Jimmy will have too, insinuated by the line "the least I can do is make sure he never gets it either". Speaking about the gun:

It sucks so bad that this perception of him isn't even inaccurate nor unjustified. That despite everything Jimmy had done to her and everything he could still do to her, he'd very likely still not allow her access to the gun for protection. Because that's exactly what he didn't do anyway. He didn't attempt to keep her safe from Jimmy, instead he just pretended that nothing was wrong and still let Jimmy's belittlement of her pass. He didn't give her the gun after the incident, because she wouldn't have hid the case if he had. Despite his desperate reassurance that he'd do anything, he did nothing but make it worse for her and she KNOWS that. It's so frustrating knowing he entrusted the axe to Swansea when he needed it but not the gun to Anya when she needed it too. Also this:

The fact that his knee-jerk reaction to her admitting that she's pregnant was "Who would you--" is so fucked, especially considering she's already told him what happened. "Who would you" what? Who would you fuck? Who would you have sex with? That choice of wording drives me up a wall-- SHE wouldn't and didn't do anything or anyone. That was JIMMY. The potential sentence implies that she had any choice or agency in her pregnancy. She didn't. And the fact that Curly had to ask "who" insinuates that he's been putting Jimmy's action out of sight and out of mind the whole time, choosing to not think about them or what happened to Anya at all. And considering he still made her do Jimmy's evaluations despite being able to do them himself and literally didn't even think of making sure she gets psych evals done too--especially AFTER getting sexually assaulted--that might actually be the case (I haven't seen anyone make a stink about that piece of info so I'm going to because what kinda colossal fuck up IS that??).

I vaguely had a post like this in mind but seeing so many people be like "well Anya did some wrong stuff too like leaving Curly alone with Jimmy but you don't get mad at HER for that so why is Curly not doing anything about Jimmy being alone with Anya so different??" actually makes me want to blow some people up. Jimmy's an abuser, sure, but Anya has no real reason to believe that he'd actually harm Curly. From her perspective, they were close, close enough that Curly would not only let Jimmy continuously disrespect her but also get away with assaulting her too. That, and she knows that Jimmy was closer to Curly than anyone and more likely to be civil around him than he ever was to her. She has barely any reasons to suspect Jimmy would harm Curly when they're alone. Curly, on the other hand, has every fucking reason on the planet to think Jimmy would harm her when they're alone. He knows he raped her (likely in her room at night too). He knows that he sexually harasses her. He knows that he doesn't respect her at all. And that was BEFORE the crash. Anya tried insisting on giving Curly his medicine, only for Jimmy to keep aggressively insisting that he'll take care of it despite her protests. Curly didn't try to keep them separate at all even though he was the Captain and had the power to do so. And this should go without saying, but leaving your rapist alone with his best friend that he was close to and enabled/protected him and leaving your friend alone with the woman he raped (and might have repeatedly assaulted given his free access to her) is NOT THE SAME and I'm going to start chucking some people down a waterfall because what the fuck is that argument 💀 Actually leave it to the fandom of the game where the rape of a woman is the catalyst for the events that unfold to use her trauma to defend the guy that enabled it in the first place. Bloody hell.

The reason why this whole Curly discourse pisses me off is because it-- from what I can see-- ONLY brings up his failures 1-0 days before the crash and the Dead Pixel scene (or all the discussion around other points are drowned out by those two). Those scenes, while important to talk about, are not the only things he's done, and focussing on those as the only things is a mistake that comes short of understanding the issue. When it comes to Curly the main defences I see for him are "he was trying not to escalate the situation" and "he was trying to keep things under control the best he can" and "he was waiting for the right time to help Anya", but those don't work when you look at the bigger picture of everything he's done.

He half-assed through his psych eval despite clearly not being sane (and KNOWING he's barely sane, he literally admits it to Jimmy's face). He still continued to task her with Jimmy's psych evals. He brushed over Jimmy's sexual harassment of her as a joke. He didn't think about making sure she got psych evals done herself after being raped. He gave Swansea the axe but didn't give Anya the gun despite it being for "unrest amongst the crew" (whatever the hell THAT means). He let her assault slip his mind that she had to remind him. He's literally a blond man. He took no action to hold Jimmy responsible for anything, and prioritised how his violation of Anya would affect him rather than her. He ignored her demands for him to get rid of Jimmy. He still allowed Jimmy free reign of the ship as co-pilot even after he was openly fantasising about killing everyone and had a major motive and the means to do just that. He was potentially thinking of making her miscarry to cover up what happened. He was so accustomed to her sucking up being disrespected and disturbed that he didn't even notice a difference in her behaviour until she hid the fucking gun. There's so much other shit he's done and hasn't done, and not talking about them or glossing over them makes it so easy for people to argue that he isn't actually an enabler or just minimise the severity of his neglect.

And while I'm already dragging Curly through the mud, I might as well just drag Swansea too. I've seen too many people being like "Anya should've told Swansea instead" and "Swansea was the one that actually took responsibility". Like, y'all realise he's not that much better than Curly, right? He already knew about what happened to Anya-- he admits it to Jimmy's face-- but he didn't do shit. He knew, but he still got completely shitfaced for months despite her earlier protestation to that (for very understandable reasons). He knew, but he still let Jimmy have the axe AND be alone with Anya while having it. He knew, but when Anya locked herself in the Medical and Daisuke and Jimmy asked for his help he didn't budge nor really showed any care. He knew, but the reason he finally decided to do something about Jimmy wasn't Anya, it was Daisuke. Her suffering and her eventual death weren't enough for him to take action either.

This game, on top of everything else, is a great depiction of rape culture. It doesn't just include the rapists, but the people (mostly men) that stay silent, do nothing, make excuses for and protect the perpetrator for whatever reason, and Swansea and Curly (Curly way more so than Swansea) are both active contributors to the environment that allowed for evil to flourish and continue unhindered until it destroyed them all. And while that arguably doesn't make them evil themselves or as bad as Jimmy, they are so much more a part of the bigger problem than the fandom likes to admit.

[Ok since this is kinda gaining a bit of traction please consider helping these guys out here, here and here. Thanks!]

[frozenjokes]

Put Me In Perspective, Or At Least In My Place (Another Retrospective On Aromantic Love)

“Above your head like this. Both hands, look at me. Both hands, Grian. It doesn’t take a lot of strength, just step forward and release around eye level.” Cleo demonstrated, holding the axe at the end of its handle and releasing the weapon. It flew in what had to be a perfect arc before burying itself in the wood, a bullseye of course. She threw the axe like she’d done it a thousand times, and honestly, she probably had.

“Don’t people throw them with one hand, too?”

“Yes. It’s just harder. Try this first.”

Grian pursed his lips, stepping forward, throwing, then squeaking when the axe bounced terrifyingly off the wood, hitting the wall before rolling and bumping the curb that separated the stall and his feet. Ah. That was frightening.

“Nearly took out our ankles there,” Cleo said, not sounding all too concerned.”

“It- Can it bounce over that?”

“Not easily. But not uncommonly either. Try not to do that.” Cleo strode forward, plucking the axe off the ground and handing it to Grian. “Don’t throw it while I’m in there.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“Maybe you won’t, but some people need to be told,” Cleo grunted, ripping the axe she’d thrown from the wall and spinning it thoughtlessly in her hand before burying it in the stump that split their twin alleys. “Try again. Keep your wrists straighter, release at eye level.”

Grian shifted his weight, frowning, “Surely you brought me here to talk about something else other than axe throwing. ‘Cancel your plans, I’m picking you up,’ is an extremely ominous message to receive from a stranger at 8:00 at night. How did you get my number again?”

“Pearl. And we aren’t strangers, we’ve met at least once at that big friend get-together thing, you know. That awful pizza place? Regardless, I’m friends with runners, so force is necessary 90% of the time. If you want to skip to the talking, we can talk, but I don’t know if you want to hear what I have to say.”

“I probably don’t.”

“Then start throwing and I’ll do the work. You’ll get it to stick, just give her a few tries.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me.”

“Everyone gets it eventually.” Cleo looked relaxed, unconcerned, and Grian tried to match the energy, but he couldn’t quite shake his anxiety. Well. He was here, so he might as well make the most of it.

It took six more tries before he got an axe to stick. Wow that was satisfying- but the air seemed a little too heavy to celebrate more than Cleo’s tasteful clapping. Maybe he should come back here with Pearl and Impulse.. Jimmy maybe? He’d kill to see Jimmy try this actually, even if he’d likely crush Grian in the end. When Grian went to collect the two axes from the stall, Cleo finally spoke.

“I’d like to know what’s going on between you and Scar. Properly. It’s been a particularly shitty week for our friend group and Scar’s been in a foul mood for more reason than one, so we haven’t talked. And I’m not just here to interrogate you about Scar either, I’d really like to know what’s going through your head as well. Have you seen each other this week? Have you talked at all?” Cleo was firm, but nothing about their voice was hostile. There was a worried longing there, the kind of urging that came from a deep concern for a good friend.

Grian took a deep breath. “Not much. I saw him a couple days ago when I was getting lunch with Pearl at the zoo. He only texted me one other time to tell me he wouldn’t be.. we have this mutual place we hang out, and he just told me he wouldn’t be around this week. Too much going on. I’m really sorry about Etho by the way, I hope you guys find him.”

“Thank you. Bdubs got in contact with him yesterday, so we know he’s alright. We still don’t know where he is or when he’s coming home, but from what I’ve heard, he’s keeping frequent contact. Hasn’t called me or Scar, but that’s typical. With any luck he’ll be back safely soon. That’s what Etho said anyway. Still all sorts of concerning, but we’ll take what we can get.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Grian tried not to be hurt that Scar hadn’t updated him, but failed miserably despite the fact it probably wasn’t any of his business. He just would’ve liked to know, that’s all.

“It is. So how did that clusterfuck of a night happen between you and Scar? How did that start?”

“Oh,” Grian mumbled, fidgeting with the axe still in his hands. Cleo took the other from the stump, throwing it almost lazily, like the question didn’t matter to her much at all. Grian decided to do the same, focusing on the secondary activity instead. “Well.. he invited me over. That was a couple hours after our first spat, and I was still feeling weird about it all. Wasn’t well.”

“I figured. He reached out to you first?”

“Yeah. We weren’t supposed to do anything though, just.. get it out of our systems. I was so mad at him- I’m still so angry, and not even for any reason in particular. I’m just mad.”

“Then how’d you end up in his bed?”

“Oh. I kissed him. He was pissing me off.”

“Right.”

Grian scoffed, snagging his axe off the floor of the alley after a failed throw. “How did you think this all went down? He told you the jist, basically. Not nicely, but he told you.”

Cleo shrugged. “I just wanted to know a few more details. Place my judgment a bit more accurately. From where I’m standing, you’re both idiots self destructing in the dumbest way possible. I would like it very much if this didn’t happen again, not only because it’s bad for both of you, but quite frankly, it’s embarrassing.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“Come on.”

Grian curled his lip. “Listen, I don’t understand why it’s such a huge problem for Scar and I to work out our differences with a little violence. We're consenting adults and the sex was kinda nuts, so if we’re both having fun there’s no issue. In any case, I’m pretty sure this is solving all of our problems.”

“Oh? Do explain.”

Grian rolled his shoulders, throwing his axe and getting it to stick for the second time, “We’re just letting off steam, Cleo. Two months of awkward tension does a lot to a man, it does a lot, nothing good. This is like a shortcut to the whole ‘tiMe hEaLs aLL’ bullshit, we’re like- getting it out of our system.”

“Uh huh. And this is going to resolve your unrequited feelings for Scar how..?”

“I’m getting it out of my system, Cleo.”

“Ah, so having really good sex with a man who isn’t looking for the same things in a relationship as you is going to fix you.”

“You got it.”

“That’s the dumbest load of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” For the first time, Cleo’s axe bounced off the board. She strode to pick it up wordlessly.

“Alright.” Grian landed another axe, just inches from the bullseye.

“Grian,” Cleo sighed harshly, and Grian avoided her eye, uninterested in her scrutiny, “Listen. As dysfunctional as the both of you two are, I don’t actually believe this couldn’t work. You two have been as thick as thieves for ages, and as much as you’re scrapping now, I don’t think that’s indicative of how you actually feel about each other. You’re just hurt people hurting each other, and you don’t have to be. For goodness’s sake, Scar would have been happy to be in some sort of relationship with you, he just didn’t want to lose you altogether. Somewhere I think that got lost in translation.”

“Scar doesn’t want to date me. He only offered to appease me, it was as obvious as anything.”

“I don’t doubt there’s truth to that. He doesn’t do well under the pressure of a love confession, and that’s no one’s fault. But his feelings on romance are a lot more complicated than ‘wanting’ or ‘not wanting.’ You did the right thing to refuse him, Grian, he wasn’t ready. But I think it’s worth talking to him again. Laying everything out on the table. And I can’t speak for what Scar wants, his brain is a mess of tangled wires and sparks, but he’s obviously had plenty of time to think about this, and he might surprise you. If there’s one thing I do know about Scar, it’s that he loves to give things like this a try. And I mean that. He does love it.”

“But Scar won’t love me. Not like I want to love him.”

Cleo hummed, thoughtful as they considered the ceiling, “You know, I don’t know if that’s true.”

Grian huffed, “Unless I’m misunderstanding what ‘aromantic’ means, I don’t see what you mean.”

Cleo shrugged. “Scar loves everyone in big sweeping gestures. That doesn’t change from person to person, whether they’re family, close friends, lovers.. it doesn’t change. But there are still levels, right? There’s still loyalty. You’re thinking of Scar as loving you like a friend, but I think that’s the wrong approach. Making that distinction makes it seem like his love would be less intense, like he wouldn’t still give you everything he has. Try.. a scale, 1 through 10, maybe. For you, you’re looking to give Scar your 10 on the scale, right? A 9 or 10, whatever it is, that’s the kind of love you want to give, the kind of love you’re looking to receive. In Scar’s brain, he’s been giving you that 10 for months, and if you asked to spend the rest of your life with him, he’d probably go ahead and accept without hesitation. That’s just how he feels about the people he’s close with.”

Grian didn’t speak, still working out how to process those words, but Cleo did not mind continuing in his absence. “If you’re worried about not being #1, then I’m afraid you’re fighting a losing battle, friend. With anyone. You’re contending with mothers, brothers, sisters, friends that go back to high school, grade school, diapers. Being intimate doesn’t outweigh those bonds, not for most people. And this isn’t to say that a relationship with Scar would be exactly the same as it would be with anyone else, it won’t, and if you’re the type of guy that gets insecure when your partner is physically friendly with other people, then forget it, but in my truest of hearts, if you’re looking for someone to love, I believe Scar would be more than good for you. He would treat you well,” Cleo paused, thoughtful before continuing, “And honestly, things literally can not get any messier between you two. There are zero stakes to giving this a shot. You’ll either feel a lot better about yourselves or you’ll go your separate ways, both of which are a huge improvement to whatever the fuck is happening between you two now. Maybe you’ll even stay friends after talking all this shit out. Who knows.”

Grian returned his axe to the stump, needing to sit down. To think. He was quiet for a long time just sitting there, the only sound being the bustle of other customers and Cleo’s own axe hitting its mark time and time again.

“You really think he’d want to give it a shot?”

Cleo shrugged and shook her head noncommittally, “Who knows. But it wouldn’t surprise me. So long as you two actually talk this all out, I think anything could happen. And Christ, if you two decide to get together and still want to ‘fall down the stairs’ then have nasty sex afterward, that’s your prerogative, but for crissakes, at least wear some sort of padding or a helmet or something, don’t actually kill each other.”

Well. He had gotten Scar that helmet, hadn’t he.

“I’ll think about it,” Grian mumbled, eyes lidded. And he was. He was thinking quite hard about it.

[nick-chinchill]

MOUTHWASHING TIMELINE

Hey Folks! I'm officially on this ride down and, last time I played, I made notes to put together a timeline to help out with people's analysises and theory-crafting :D I've done my best to keep it mostly factual without inserting my own opinions on what might have happened at that point in the game while putting in details that I think are important or noteworthy for the narrative. The 'Chapter' numbers refers to when we see this occur in the game, and the "bizzaro" episodes are listed at the bottom. Naturally, there's spoilers. Hopefully this can be useful to someone out there c:

//BEFORE THE CRASH

7 DAYS (Chapter 2) - The Psyche Evaluations are underway. Anya signs off Curly and gives him a note from Swansea. Curly agrees to do Jimmy's on her behalf. - Curly goes to Utility to see what's up. Daisuke accidently set off the emergency foam and they need his authority to get the axe to free him. He gives it to Swansea, then leaves with Jimmy to do his psyche eval. - The steps to the cockpit extend. Curly wades through red liquid, as scaffolding rises around him and WARNING signs appear. A yellow sun rises, exploding. Curly walks to the cockpit door. - Curly does Jimmy's pysche eval. They have a talk 'off record' about their positions; Jimmy climbing up the ladder while Curly worries about staying 'safe' with his current position. - News arrives from Corporate. Jimmy leaves, and Curly reads the note. 6 DAYS (Chapter 5) - The Birthday Party! Curly is surprised by the crew and prepares the cake. As they sit to eat, he reveals the news - they won't have jobs once they arrive. Anya frets that she has no savings and Jimmy reacts nastily towards Curly, accusing him of abandoning the crew. Curly cuts the cake.

2 DAYS (Chapter 10) - The Night-time screen scene with Anya. She and Curly discuss the night-time screen, and Anya mentions the dead pixel. Curly says he focuses on the bigger picture. Anya questions how long it'll be til they arrive at Earth (8 months-ish) and why there's no locks on the bedroom doors. Curly says; for [SAFETY].

1 DAY (Chapter 14) - The Cockpit talk. Anya's hidden the gun but assures Curly she won't hurt herself. Curly mentions she didn't get checks on her mental health and he should have checked on her. - Anya reveals she's pregnant. Curly promises to talk to Jimmy.

0 DAYS (Chapter 16) - The Day of the Crash. Anya reveals she told Jimmy she's pregnant, and doesn't want him around. Curly rushes to talk to Jimmy. - Curly tries to assure Jimmy they can fix this. Jimmy talks about how this will reflect on them when they get back. He talks about how this could all be remembered as a 'tragedy', and claims he will take care of it. Throughout this chat, the words [TAKE CARE OF IT. KILLS NINETY NINE PERCENT] flash. - Alarms blare. Curly rushes to the cockpit as the ship crashes. THE CRASH (Prologue) - Jimmy crashes the ship. When he leaves, the corridors loop. Polle suddenly appears, mutating each time with the cries of a baby.

//AFTER THE CRASH

2 MONTHS (Chapter 1) - The crew decide to break into the cargo hold. Anya asks Jimmy to give Curly his meds, unable to take the sounds Curly makes. Jimmy does so (it sounds physical). He then gets the Code Scanner and enters the cargo. ---------- (Chapter 4) - The cargo is full of mouthwash. Anya mentions the sugar making it useless as a disinfectant. Swansea starts drinking it.

3 MONTHS (Chapter 6) - Jimmy awakens late one night. Daisuke is still sleeping as Curly moans in pain. Swansea and Anya are talking in the cockpit - Anya was crying. Jimmy leaves to give Curly his meds, lamenting to Curly that he 'knows what the others are thinking'. This time it sounds violent and Curly sobs afterwards.

4 MONTHS (Chapter 8) - Daisuke is drunk on the floor, in despair and talks about his mother. Polle has been destroyed in the lounge. Anya considers drinking the mouthwash, but says it won't 'fix anything'. She mentions there's medicine in a cabinet they can reach if the foam is cleared. Swansea is grooving and, when approached for the axe, breaks the sunset screen. Jimmy retrieves the meds and shouts at Anya about being told to do things. After he approaches Curly, talking at him about the pressures of being captain. He gives him his meds. It doesn't sound violent, but Curly still sobs after.

5 MONTHS (Chapter 11) - Anya locks herself in the med bay with Curly. Daisuke is worried and alerts Jimmy. Anya says she'll do 'what [Jimmy] said she should have done'. Swansea is drunk outside Utility and won't let them enter, claiming it's full of the emergency foam ---------- (Chapter 13) - Jimmy decides to drug Swansea with a spiked cocktail. He uses the last of the disinfectant for it. - Upon entering Utility, it's not very foamy at all and there's one working cyropod. Jimmy assumes Swansea was saving it for himself and pressures Daisuke to climb into the unsafe vent. - Daisuke ultimately agrees and is critically injured, but makes it into the med bay.

8 HOURS UNTIL JUDGEMENT (Chapter 12) - Daisuke is critically injured. Swansea says they need disinfectant (it's been used) and goes to search the med bay. There's a smear effect where Curly is, and the sunset screen is now a WARNING logo. - Upon approaching the cargo, Jimmy sees Daisuke's grave. Upon scanning it, it reveals a path of blood, leading into a maze. A monstrous horse that can only be seen with the scanner hunts Jimmy. - Jimmy retrieves a bottle of mouthwash from the cargo [TAKE CARE OF IT. RESPONSIBILITY] and uses it on Daisuke's wounds. Daisuke screams.

6 HOURS UNTIL JUDGEMENT (Chapter 15) - Daisuke is still in immense pain. Swansea takes the axe and gives him a calming speech, before mercy killing him. - Jimmy blows up at Swansea, claiming he could have fixed this and accusing Swansea of holding onto the last cyropod for himself. - Swansea rebutes him, revealing he's talked to Anya who told him 'all sorts of things'. - Jimmy goes to med bay where Anyas corpse is now visible and retrieves the gun. Curly laughs when he gets hold of it. Swansea charges at Jimmy with the axe. ---------- (Chapter 9) - Jimmy secures the cockpit door with rope and a metal pipe. Swansea breaks the glass to get in to kill Jimmy.

1 HOUR UNTIL JUDGEMENT (Chapter 17) - Jimmy hosts his own birthday party with the corpses of the crew. They clap and call for a speech. He brings Curly and lays him on the table, giving a speech about how he forgives him. He takes the knife and cuts into Curly's leg. Curly screams.

0 HOURS UNTIL JUDGEMENT (Chapter 21) - Jimmy lifts Curly from the table. There's nothing around them but the table and the door. He carries him to Utility. - Jimmy places Curly in the cyropod. He claims they've fixed it... he fixed it. - Jimmy shoots himself. - The cyropod begins to freeze as credits roll.

//TAKE RESPONSIBILITY

SECTION 1 (Chapter 3) - Let's watch Television! There's a lot on - pro capitalism cartoons, space footage, a show about atoms, footage of a meat plant, a skeleton dancing, static, and an ad for Dragonbreath X Mouthwash... SECTION 2 (Chapter 7) - Cake with Curly! Jimmy and Curly sit and talk, before Curly encourages Jimmy to cut the cake. Jimmy leaves and finds an axe in the cockpit, wedged in the captains chair. When he returns, Curly is laid on the table. He swings the axe at him. SECTION 3 (Chapter 18) - Enter the Vents. Daisuke turns and leaves - approaching him snaps the vents into red lighting and leaves a hibiscus flower on the floor. - Progressing reveals a sign saying 'No Turning Back Now'. As Jimmy backs away, he crosses a small pile of hibiscus flowers, a gameboy, a pair of pink dumbells and a pile of arms. Another vent has a note saying 'Responsibility'. - Jimmy enters the hallways, but they rotate into a fall. He falls towards an eye-like hole, lined with hibiscus', into a pit full of Polle posters. He falls further, into a room with an open vent in a wall covered in axes. - The vent is full of foam, exposed wires and metal bars. Another hibiscus flower is hidden on the path. He falls through once more - He lands in front of Swansea, tied to a chair. Jimmy finds the gun on the floor and picks it up, pointing it at Swansea and firing. - They're now in a cemetary. If Jimmy is killed by Swansea, he revives in a tomb with Daisuke's picture framed with hibiscus flowers. Jimmy ultimately shoots Swansea. - They face each other - Swansea on the chair, Jimmy before him. Swansea gives Jimmy a speech about his life - the best days of his life were his days as an alcoholic. Jimmy claims he can still fix things, before lifting the gun to shoot him.

SECTION 4 (Chapter 19) - Swansea is dead. - The corridor out of Utility elongates into an endless spiral. Curly watches from under the floor, then as hundreds of eyes on the walls. - The corridor becomes flesh. Jimmy exits out of Curly's mouth and approaches Curly on an operating table, in front of a television. The television plays a cartoon about a party with a cake. It stops - the word FEAST appears. - Jimmy takes a piece of Curly's leg and feeds it to him. Curly won't swallow until the images on the screen align, requiring the gears on his body to be turned. Finally, Curly swallows. - HELP ME appears on the screen. - Jimmy walks through space to approach Curly, who sits on fire. They talk; Jimmy breaks down and apologises to Curly.

SECTION 5 (Chapter 20) - In the vents, a flesh mass awaits. Using an ultrasound machine, Jimmy inspects it. He ultimately gets the image of a baby on the screen. - The mass opens it's eyes and opens it's mouth - a horse creature emerges, crying like a baby. - The mouthwashing slogans repeat, amidst [I HOPE THIS HURTS]. - In the vents, the creature rushes through, seeking out Jimmy and crying. - Jimmy walks through a corridor full of the crew's employee IDs. They cover the floor, the walls, the air. It leads to a stair case, with bottles of mouthwash falling down. - At the top, Polle waits. Jimmy speaks with Polle, who proceeds to tell him why he sucks. - Jimmy insists that he and Curly can still both be heroes, that things can still be fixed and made right. Polle asks why, if that's true, why is he "still so concerned with him".