#gutshot straight

[ilkkawhat]

GEAW Week 2: I Love Trash (Characters): Human Disaster Jack, Gutshot Straight

bonus, he got what he deserved:

(no but really, he got a second chance and boy he ain’t wasting it; he’s making sure that dog gets a loving home with him after he gives almost all of his money to his wife and daughter.)

[stephenlangfans]

Stephen as "Duffy" in the 2014 action/thriller, "Gutshot Straight".

[stephenlangdaily]

Hello there! Do you have any Stephen Lang's movies recommendations? Preferably him as the main character tee hee.

I have watched Don't Breathe (2016), Don't Breathe (2021), Old Man (2022), VFW (2019), Avatar 1 & 2 (of course lol). I really enjoyed his act in Don't Breathe (2016) and Don't Breathe 2 (2021) and I'd love to see more of him because..

I just can't get enuff of this man, yall 😍

Yes of course!! I agree, Don’t Breathe are some of my favorite movies he’s done. Here are a few of my other favorite films of his, particularly where he has a larger role:

Gettysburg and Gods and Generals (these films are how I first discovered him!)

The Hard Way (1991)

Last Exit to Brooklyn (1989)

Darkness Before Dawn (1993)

Beyond Glory (2015)

He’s got a lot of great smaller roles, too—Tombstone, The Men Who Stare at Goats, Gutshot Straight, The Monkey’s Paw, Manhunter

If you haven’t seen his show Terra Nova, I HIGHLY recommend it. It was unfortunately just one season but Slang plays a main character and it’s a fantastic show, one of my favorites ever!

If any of my followers have recommendations, please feel free to add them!

[untapdtreasure]

First Lines of 10 Fics Game

Rules: share the first lines of 10 of your most recent fanfics and then tag 10 people. If you have written fewer than 10 fics, don’t be shy and share anyways :)

A Merry Little Christmas - Olivia felt overwhelmed as she sat in her spot in the middle of her living room floor. There were presents and wrapping paper strewn all around her. Plus, she was trying to keep quiet, so she didn't wake up a sleeping Noah. She had put off wrapping his presents from Santa until the last minute, and now she was miserable from a cold, or maybe the flu, that she almost couldn't see straight as she tried to get it all down. Her eyes were red and puffy as she wiped at her nose for what felt like the millionth time that evening. (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson)

Kissin' by the Mistletoe - Carol had been busying herself with the last of the preparations. She had invited over a few of her close friends (more like family than friends), and she had been driving herself crazy with last-minute anxiety that things wouldn’t go as planned. She felt his hand on her arm as she hurried past him. She stopped in her tracks, looking up at him and giving him a soft smile. “I’ve got to go and check that last batch of cookies.” (The Walking Dead, Carol Peletier & Daryl Dixon)

Never Meant to Last - Daryl knew that his time was coming to end. He could feel his body as it lay dying. The gunshot wound had been a gutshot. A painful and nasty way to die if he did say so himself. And Lydia had witnessed the whole thing. If he could have spared her the pain, he would have, but as it was, she was holding his hand. WARNING: character death. (The Walking Dead, Carol Peletier & Daryl Dixon)

Crashing Into Who I Belong To - Rafael padded barefoot to his front door. He had just been about to settle down on the couch and get lost whatever he could find on Netflix when there was a knock at his door. He glanced at the clock, curious because it was pushing half-past eleven, but he approached the door all the same. That had happened a time or two when someone was making a late-night Chinese or Pizza delivery. It wasn't a bother, but tonight, he really hadn't been in the mood to deal with anyone. So he hoped to get this over with quick. (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson)

In Case You Didn't Know - Olivia didn't look up as Rafael entered her office. She held up a finger to signal for him to give her a moment before he started in with whatever he'd come to tell her. She had to finish her thought process in order to complete her paperwork. She dotted her i's and crossed her t's before she set her pen down and met his eyes. "Are you here because you desperately want my company for an after-work drink or is it business?" (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson)

Like a Moth to a Flame - I watch as she stands against the guardrail. I know she can't give up hope that her daughter is alive out there... somewhere. That she's wandering and stumbling around blindly looking for her way back. I can see how much it kills her inside knowing that she can do nothing to protect her. That once again, she's let her down. (The Walking Dead, Carol Peletier & Daryl Dixon, Sophia Peletier)

Not For Very Much Longer - Noah comes running from his bedroom in what Rafael knows to be an almost exact replica of an NYPD officer's uniform. He smirks over at Olivia. "Pretty sure you had a hand in this," he says with a chuckle as he ruffles the boy's hair as Noah moves by him to stand in front of his mother. (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson, Noah Porter Benson)

You Already Know (That You're My Weakness) - “Olivia, will you marry me?” Olivia’s eyes shown with tears as she looked down at him. Her hands were shaking even though Rafael held one of them in his. He held a box with a diamond ring in the other. Her lips trembled as she tried to form the words. She dropped down onto her knees before him and kissed him softly on the mouth. All she could manage to do was nod her head as the tears slipped down her cheeks. She felt him slipping the ring onto her finger. (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson)

How We Ever Came To Be - The brand new camping equipment sat in the back of the rented midnight blue Jeep Grand Cherokee. Olivia glanced over at him as he concentrated on the road ahead of them. "Are you sure Amanda and Nick were the right choice?" Not that she didn't trust Nick with her life, but Noah was becoming more and more of a handful as he got older and had slipped quite easily into his terrible two's right on schedule. Nick was a seasoned vet where child rearing was concerned, but as far as she knew, Amanda knew next to nothing about child rearing. (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson)

Under the Sea - Rafael loved the look of sheer amazement on Noah's face as they moved from one aquatic exhibit to the next. The only downside was that this was supposed to be the three of them, but Olivia had been called away unexpectedly before they'd even left the apartment. They'd have to make plans to do it again when all three of them could go. He smiled down at Noah as the little boy settled on the floor to watch as the fish swam by. (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson, Noah Porter Benson)

tagged by stolen from: the dashboard tagging: anyone that wants to do this!

[deans-writing]

Mourning

Characters: (Saints Row 1) Aaron Trouble, Troy Bradshaw, William Sharp

Warnings: None

Notes: Lin should've come back for sr4 fuck you

It'd only been a few weeks since Sharp had set the perfect trap. Leaving Lin tied up, and luring Aaron in to save her. That ended with a cracked open head, and a bullet in his stomach. And worst of all, a dead friend. One he'd barely had time to sit and grieve for, instead, he had to use her death as motivation to push through the searing agony in his gut and skull.

Sharp's car went down easy enough, getting slammed into by a truck twice its size was enough to render it unusable. That's when Aaron got out, finally letting the pressure go off of his stomach while he ripped Sharp out from his wreck of a vehicle. Only to strangle him, right there.

He had tried to fight back, punching and clawing desperately through his dazed state. It only pissed the Saint off more. His grip tightening, fingers leaving purple bruises in his neck while he could hear the life being torn away from his body. It was nothing short of pathetic.

Only when the last bit of Sharp's soul left his husk did Aaron let go. Without a target, without something else clogging his mind like hair in a drain, he realized just how desperately he himself needed help. Even though he didn't feel like he'd earned it, Aaron's primal instincts took over, forcing him to get to a hospital.

Now, there he sat. In the church, alone. Other Saints had glanced at him when he finally walked the streets again, he could hear the murmuring, only for their conversations to kick back up once he was out of sight. The few who'd gotten close enough to say anything were met with the teenagers empty stare.

No one bothered him inside, the only one who'd even spoken to him was Julius. Aaron barely listened, only hearing something about Gat wanting blood for what'd happened. As eager as Aaron was to get up and join him on a warpath, he was forced to stay. Both by Johnny himself, and the still healing gutshot wound. The doctors had been desperate to get him to stay, but it was either his aura that made them stop arguing, or the knife in his hand.

The silence the religious structure brought was both comforting, yet deeply unsettling. It sent shivers down his spine with each shake in the air from a breeze outside. There was always a Saint running their mouth, or someone cleaning their weapons, or just someone smoking and drinking. People were avoiding him like the plague, which was the smart move.

Troy Bradshaw wasn't the brightest though.

His steps into the church brought the teenager back into reality, each thud echoing gently throughout the building. By the time he rounded the corner of the entrance, Aaron's head was already turned back to watch him. Troy gave a small wave, his hand not passing above his chest while he did. "Hey, kid." He murmured.

Aaron didn't respond, and Troy understood why no one wanted to go near him. Someone had to though, lord only knew just what was going through his damn head. With that in mind, he chose his next words carefully, all the while moving closer and sitting next to the gangbanger at one of the remaining pews. "You, er, you doin' okay?"

Stupid question, he immediately figured. After a few moments of silence, he continued. "At least- I don't know, relatively? The others, they're worried about you, y'know." For a second, he thought about putting a hand on the others shoulder. Although he feared he'd lose his hand in the process faster than he could actually get a word in.

"...Lin wasn't your fault." To the point, blunt. There was no real way to shuffle around the subject with this, it seemed to be easier to just cut straight to the chase, rather than keep up some cliche small talk that wouldn't actually help at all. "Everyone knows you did what you could. Nothing you coulda changed-"

"I shouldn't have made it out." Aaron cut him off.

Troy felt his blood run cold at that statement. Two things to unpack: One, the obvious. The kid thought he should've died? Two, he could fucking talk? It seemed inappropriate to begin questioning him about the latter, so he bit his tongue as Aaron continued to speak.

"Lin didn't deserve to die. She should've made it out of there, it... It should've been me." Aaron almost felt out of breath at that, finally letting out what had been stuck in his head for weeks. Troy was the only person who'd gotten close enough, and seemingly cared enough, to make Aaron's lips loose. And once it began spilling out, he couldn't seem to plug it back up. So, he continued.

He slumped over a little while he spoke, his head turning to stare down. "I thought she was gonna be right behind me when I got that trunk open, but when I got up- she just wasn't there. She wasn't fucking there, man!" He could feel his emotions ramping up in intensity, forcing tears to prick the seams of his eyes. "I could've saved her. I was just worryin' about myself- she shouldn't have died, Troy. It should've been me, you get that? Not her. ME."

Troy had heard all too much about survivors guilt, and this was a textbook example. It was somewhat horrifying to hear from someone clearly so young. Everything about Aaron told Troy that he was just a kid. How he carried himself, his expressions alone, Jesus, he didn't look like an adult. But it seemed to be too late to simply get him out now, so all he could do was help him out. Make sure he didn't die.

"...I can't say shit that's gonna make you magically feel better." Troy sighed, "But, I can tell you this much. I don't think Lin would want you to kick your own ass for this. You made it out, and you killed that fuckin' guy. From where I'm standin', you did pretty alright for her." He added, finally reaching a hand out and placing it on Aaron's back. He froze up for a split second, expecting a shot to the face, or a broken arm- but nothing came.

He just shook. Trembling in place as his hands reached up, cradling his head while silent cries finally began to escape. Troy didn't want to risk anything by pushing too hard with comfort, so he sat still, his hand remaining on the Saints back. A way to tell him he wasn't alone, at the very least. Troy knew he wasn't much better at comforting people with his words, so this seemed to be the best way. And that's just how he kept it. If Aaron needed someone to sit there with him, let him know that it truly wasn't his fault? Then Troy would do it.

No one else around the damn place seemed to be capable of it.

[starryhc]

Gutshot Straight - George Eads

[bisexualstokes-archive]

for reasons

bonus:

[nevcolleil]

George Eads in Gutshot Straight

[ilkkawhat]

Gutshot Straight (2014)

[kusogitsune]

Grandma is Seething about the bar telling her she's not allowed to lines in the bathroom after harrasing the DJ into playing out of touch

Artist's Twiter: https://twitter.com/suru65698422

[csinickstokes]

FMD ask: Nick, Jack (MacGyver), Jack (Gutshot Straight)

DANG this is hard 😂😂

Fuck: Jack (MacGyver) but I want to marry him too 😈😂

Marry: Nick 💜

Get Drunk With: Jack (Gutshot) cause he seems like he'd be fun!

[life-or-something-like-lt]

Fiona Dourif attends the 'Gutshot Straight' Los Angeles premiere at Zanuck Theater at 20th Century Fox Lot on August 12, 2013 in Los Angeles

[bisexualstokes-archive]

Gutshot Straight (2014)

[yuusa]

⟡ 𝐈𝐕 | 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

Her smile cracked slightly as she narrowed her eyes, reeling back her weapon with her prosthetic arm as she swung it towards Jeanne. She quickly parried her attack, bringing her gauntlet close to her chest to act as a shield. The (h/c) woman tilted her head to the side, twisting the position of Lacrimosa to fire at the base of Jeanne’s foot.

Despite it being seen as a weak, inaccurate shot, it gave her enough information about Jeanne’s reflex speed and positioning. The white-haired woman dodged it with ease by jumping back, creating more distance between her and the Cleaner. With a couple of seconds of staring each other down, the Cleaner’s lips curved into a smile as she dashed forward, keeping her weapon close to the ground. Based on Jeanne’s memory of her fighting skills, her prosthetic arm could carry a much heavier weight than an average vampire, leaving her extremely agile. As she clicked her tongue, the Cleaner found it right to believe that from the weight of Jeanne’s gauntlet and wide sweep, her movements would be confined to a certain distance. Although this brought her a small advantage as she has more control over the situation. Jeanne’s eyes flickered across the ground, trying to memorize the patterns of her footwork as she remained in a fixed level of distance, her hand throwing her g n forward as she fired a clean shot. 

“Why are you helping a human?” She asked, glaring at her from across the darkened hallway. Jeanne raised her gauntlet, causing the bullet to ricochet off of the surface. From pure impulse alone, the Cleaner calmly tilted her head out of the way for a near-miss of the bullet. Jeanne was able to recover quickly from the block, giving her a gutshot from her fist, knocking her onto her back from the momentum. She readied her secondary sword for a quick strike to her chest but as she brought down her weapon, the Cleaner was able to quickly brace Lacrimosa against her body, using her prosthetic arm as a brace to fortify her parry. “Why are you siding with someone who has The Book of Vanitas?”

The Cleaner gave her a devious laugh, “What are you talking about? Shouldn’t it be obvious to you?” As the sword hummed from the strike to her weapon, the Cleaner was able to roll onto her right side, taking a swift kick to Jeanne’s left knee. She grunts in reply, sending her over the edge of rapture. The Cleaner shivered at the sight of Jeanne’s bloodstained clothes, her lips parting themselves as she licked away the fragments of crimson at the edges of her mouth. “How has everything been treating you, Hellfire Witch Jeanne? I am dying to hear how you managed to survive the war with your hesitance.” 

“I always thought you would only last a few seconds into the war! To think that someone like you could kill a thousand of your own kin is surprising enough, but to survive the war with your cowardliness? How pathetic.” Once bringing her down to her level, the Cleaner delivered one more kick straight to her chin, knocking Jeanne out for only a millisecond. Her body convulsed with agonizing spasms, the force of her kick bringing her near the edge. The Cleaner’s hands reached out to grip her face, staring deep into her golden eyes with her crimson orbs, “Did you pray to God when we met?” 

Within the blink of an eye, Jeanne grabbed ahold of her ankle with Carpe Diem and spun her around in the air. The Cleaner grits her teeth as she focused up, raising Lacrimosa towards Jeanne to take a shot at her crimson gauntler. She only tightened her grip around the Cleaner’s ankle as she continued to figure several shots that bounced. Once she aimed at the side of Jeanne’s ear, the white-haired woman brought her up one last time, the force of her arm sending the Cleaner towards the ground. However, she swiftly skipped against the concrete floor like a rock on water, watching as Jeanne breathed heavily. She could see beads of sweat form at her chin, the bruised surface growing in color as she smiled. 

Able to slow down her roll, the (h/c) woman readied herself to take a shot within a few meters. She pulled the trigger, closing the gap as the bullet scraped against Jeanne’s gauntlet. She readies herself one more to shoot back with the palm of Carpe Diem. The Cleaner’s eyes widened as she quickly pulled herself up on one of the rooftops, watching as the blast swallowed the entirety of the alleyway. She fired another shot from the top of the building, drilling her bullet into Jeanne’s left shoulder. She swallowed a thick lump that had formed at the base of her throat as she let out a squeal of agony, her teeth grinding against each other as her wounds slowly began to close. 

Out of frustration, the white-haired woman charges towards the Cleaner, bringing her back onto the ground as she slammed her back against the concrete ground. The Cleaner gasped in response, the wind being knocked out of her as she stared up at Jeanne with her carmine eyes. She pulled out her secondary sword, piercing through the Cleaner’s left thigh. Her grip on Lacrimosa loosens as Jeanne’s injured arm reached for it, driving her bayonet into the (h/c) woman, splitting her nerves in half. She let out a scream at the intense pain before biting down on the tip of her tongue, silencing herself. Jeanne reeled her fist back, delivering a swift punch to shatter the Cleaner’s ribs with Carpe Diem. The (h/c) woman winced as she glared at her, blood spilling from her lips as she trembled.

The Cleaner’s vision was growing hazy but she quickly kicked Jeanne’s knee with enough force to dislocate her joint. The woman takes a hard fall to the ground, hitting the base of her chin as she gripped the Cleaner’s leg in distress. The (h/c) Cleaner takes a deep breath as she ripped her bayonet out of her shoulder, her prosthetic arm gripping the weapon as she pointed it at Jeanne, pulling the trigger as soon as they locked eyes. However, Jeanne was quick to slap the barrel away from her, causing the bullet to miss and collide with the dirt. The Cleaner swings the barrel back towards her body, scathing Jeanne’s left arm as she swiftly jumps to her feet, her heels clicking against the ground as they both released heavy breaths.

Jeanne struggles to bring herself up from the ground as the Cleaner rushed forward, her heartbeat quickening as her legs took her further beyond. Her bayonet sliced through Jeanne’s right thigh as Jeanne gripped onto the barrel, attempting to shift the Cleaner’s aim to the ground but she blew an apple-sized hole into the side of her leg, causing Jeanne to cry out in pain. The Cleaner sucked in a breath as she tore out Jeanne’s sword from her thigh, the wound healing itself. Jeanne watched fearfully as the hole closed itself almost immediately, the blood of Vanitas keeping her regenerative abilities at their peak. She clicked her tongue as she snapped her knees in their proper place, her head tilting themselves up to stare into the Cleaner’s cerise eyes. The (h/c) woman raised Lacrimosa with her prosthetic arm, her lips curving into a mischievous smile as she fired another shot into Jeanne’s arm. 

Jeanne raised Carpe Diem towards the Cleaner, readying herself to take one more blast. The (h/c) woman only looked towards her in interest as her prosthetic arm clicked and crackled. She brought Lacrimosa up at the same time Jeanne fired her last round, the blast from her explosion plowing through her left arm as it tore itself away. The torque of the shot throws the Cleaner back a few feet but she grounded herself, seemingly unaffected by the loss of her arm. Jeanne flinched as she watched her lick the remaining blood that stained her cheeks, her eyes caving into a darker shade of red. Before she could take another step forward, she was immediately stopped by the sound of Vanitas’ footsteps, his voice echoing within the broken alleyway.

“That’s enough. Don’t kill her.” The Cleaner huffed in disappointment while Vanitas hummed. Suddenly, her eyes widened at the sound of his fingers snapping, causing her body to jerk and convulse before she dropped to the ground, the shade of red in her eyes fading into (e/c). 

You let out a breath of air, letting out a bloodcurdling screech as you gripped onto your missing arm with your prosthetic hand. You dropped to your knees, surprising the white-haired woman who looked back at you with concern. You bit down on your tongue, squeezing your eyes shut as your arm painfully regenerated itself. Vanitas brought out his pocket watch, staring at the white-haired woman with an unamused expression. The black-haired man loomed over your body, his hand pressing itself the top of your (h/c) hair as you violently coughed. “Even with her arm being blown off, she would have killed you if I hadn’t intervened. Perhaps you should give me a sign of thanks for saving your life like that.”

“You were the one who ordered her to kill me!” Jeanne let out a heavy breath, shouting at him, “What the hell was that? You knew. . .” She narrowed her golden eyes at him, “You knew she wouldn’t fight me on her own so you forced her to ingest your blood! What kind of sick person are you?” 

“Yeah. That’s exactly it.” Vanitas buzzed, clicking his pocket watch as he tilted his head back slightly. He had a look of boredom spreading across his face. “I’m sure (Y/n) doesn’t mind though, after all, I am the one in control of her. Although. . . I was expecting something more from you but that was disappointing.”

You shivered as you slowly stood up, your prosthetic hand still gripping at your regenerating limb. Vanitas only smiled. “The Vampire of the Blue Moon often told me stories of the ‘Hellfire Witch,’ the young warrior maiden who raced over battlefields, mercilessly routing her own kind—He said you were so beautiful it made him shudder. Afterward, they put you into an induced slumber. When I heard Lord Ruthven had awakened you after all this time, I was thrilled yet. . .”

He grinned, “I never imagined you’d have degenerated this much! You nearly pissed yourself at the sight of (Y/n)!”

“What are you trying to say?” The white-haired woman glared back at him, angling her head to give him a look of frustration. The black-haired man let out a huff as he dropped The Book of Vanitas onto the ground, the book landing on its corner and falling helplessly.

“I’m saying I’m tired of playing with you,” he raised his left hand, “Oh, that’s right. Haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Vanitas. I am a mere human who inherited the name and The Book of Vanitas from The Vampire of the Blue Moon—”

He squeezed his arms, staring menacingly at her, “and from whom that vampire once drank, my body has been invested with a portion of his power. I belong to the Clan of the Blue Moon!” He threateningly reached for the glove on his left hand, “I had hoped to avoid using this power if possible, Hellfire Witch. Allow me to show you my ‘true form!’” You silently watched from the sidelines as Jeanne took several steps back, preparing herself for a large-scale attack from him.

“Jeanne!” Luca shouted, walking into the scene and distracting the white-haired woman. Her eyes turned their attention to him but were quickly pulled away by the crashing of the Nine-Fold Murderer. Her eyes widened as she twisted her body towards the wolf-like creature, leaving a clear opening for the man to bite her neck. Blood splattered across her clothes as she forcefully slammed the man against the wall behind her. Vanitas lifted his book off of the floor with the chain, raising it to her.

“Yep! Just as I thought!” He snapped open the book, “Fighting monsters is best left to other monsters!” Bright light from The Book of Vanitas created a large attack, blinding those within its radius. You shut your eyes tightly, shielding yourself from the sight as Jeanne rolled into the floor, grinding against it.

The black-haired man stared down at her, scoffing. “As if I’d really have such a convenient ace up my sleeve. Just stay quiet and watch from there, Fallen Witch.” Her eyes widened in shock as she tilted her head towards him. “Now then. I’ve kept you waiting, Nine-Fold Murderer. Your lupine appearance, our habit of prowling in search of the lifeblood of young women on moonlit nights. . . Malnomen. . . Loup-Garou, the wolf who hunts crimson.”

He brought his book in front of him, “Come! Let’s have you return that man’s True Name!” You squinted your eyes, your vision adjusting itself to the sight of the once beastly figure fading into a regular human. Thomas Berneux dropped to the ground with a loud thud, his head hitting the floor as the group stared in amazement. No matter how many times you see for yourself, you couldn’t help but feel impressed by Vanitas’ abilities. You gently flexed your fully regenerated left arm, finding comfort in being able to move it around freely.

“Oh drat,” Vanitas said, realizing a grave mistake on his end. He was too distracted by the presence of Luca and Jeanne that he had completely forgotten that he needed to bring Thomas Berneux to Count Orlok. “This guy. . . I was supposed to cure him in Orlok’s presence.”

“No need,” A voice called out from beyond the buildings, the figure of Count’s assistants looming over the edge. “My sister and I watched it all, as Count Orlok’s eyes.”

“We will tell Master Parks what took place here, just as we saw it.”

Suddenly, your group snapped their heads towards Jeanne, her body struggling to stand up as she glared at Vanitas. The man clicked his tongue at the sight of her, “You must be joking. You took the poison from Loup-Garou’s fangs and the same paralysis I inflicted on Berneux!”

“Not. . . yet. I can still fight!” She screamed, cradling Carpe Diem. Her eyes widened as you slowly brought yourself in front of Vanitas, your hand outstretched to create a barrier. She swallowed a thick lump that had formed at the base of her throat her fingers twitching as she listened to the sounds of your heavy breaths. Despite having your arm torn off in a game that Vanitas created, you had more than enough strength to defend him. Your loyalty was something she couldn’t comprehend.

“Noé! Come out!” Jeanne turned her head to the sound of footsteps, seeing Noé carrying Luca by his torso and muffling his mouth. Her eyes widened in fear as Vanitas wiped away the dust from his clothes.

“All right. Hellfire Witch. You catch my meaning, don’t you?” He brought out his hand in a claw-like motion. “Just try to make one false move and my underling will snap that brat’s scrawny neck in a heartbeat!”

You flinched as Jeanne reached out to you, pleading to you as droplets of tears began to form at the edges of her eyes. “I lose! I won’t do anything anymore! You can do anything you want to me, so just—Just don’t hurt him!”

Your heart began to thump against the front of your chest, your mind too hazy to make out a clear understanding of the situation. She looked into your (e/c) eyes, getting a glimpse of the window of a soul that you held. There was a sense of misery residing within you, a desperate cry that was screaming to her. She swallowed a thick lump of saliva that had been sitting in her throat.

Perhaps this was the moment she realized there was more to you than she had originally thought. The merciless Cleaner that she once saw on the battlefront was no longer in front of her. While there were splotches of blood that crept upon her clothing, the look of sincerity was clear as day. Jeanne’s eyes met with a kind woman of (h/c) hair, her lips trembling as she let out small murmurs beneath her breath. She looked as if she had been underneath a spell, controlled by a will much stronger than her own. You slowly raised your prosthetic hand to her arm, the cool sensation sending shivers down her spine. The cold look in your eyes had long faded since the end of the battle. You were only left with a semblance of a youthful woman.

“So that boy truly is your weakness, hm? Why the tears? This weak attitude?” Vanitas laughed, drawing her out of your gaze as she stepped back in surprise. The man brought his hands around your waist, squeezing it tightly as he brought himself behind you. You let out a deep breath, your gaze meeting with his for a split second as your cheeks began to dye themselves a shade of cerise. “You gave yourself something to protect. That’s why you’re weak.”

“But. . . this is good.” His face morphed into satisfaction as he brought his hand towards yours, grasping it gently. The white-haired woman watched carefully as he gave you a tender kiss on the knuckles, a silent gesture of an apology. You angled your head away from her, shielding your eyes from the woman. “I take back what I said, Hellfire Witch. You’ve grown weak. That’s true. However. . . that very weakness heightens your beauty.”

“Hellfire Witch. No, Jeanne.” He said, “You’ve come to interest me greatly, you know? I’ve always been curious to see who was stronger but now I truly have my answer.”

She clicked her tongue before jumping back, meeting up with Luca as her hands tightened around her coffin. She wiped away a bead of sweat that had formed at the side of her temple, the liquid becoming cold from the air. She glared at Vanitas with hate, something that she never thought she would hold for the man, “We’ll withdraw for today. But remember this! Next time, I’ll kill you! I’ll come to kill you, I swear it!”

“You’ll come to see me? I can’t wait!” Vanitas joyfully replied, watching as she screamed. She quickly rushed out of the area with Lucas in her arms, bouncing off of buildings until they were out of sight. The black-haired man only childishly waved at them, listening to the sounds of chaos behind him as he let out a laugh.

With a breath you never knew you held, you let go. You collapsed onto your knees as you dropped your weapon, Lacrimosa bucking slightly. You breathed heavily as you reached out to touch your prosthetic arm, feeling nothing but the stickiness of blood being lodged within its cracks. The faint sounds of footsteps came forth, their figure kneeling in front of you. You looked up with an expression of remorse and fear. Vanitas reached out to softly caress your cheek, his gloved hands making circular motions on your (s/c) skin. You exhaled a deep sigh as he brought you into his arms, cradling you. Your hands reached up to grip at his shoulders, your lips quivering as your body shook. He only smiled as his opposite hand dragged themselves across your (h/c) hair, smoothening out the locks.

The look of desperation and pity had always brought him a sense of calm. The expression you gave him always made his heart flutter like petals on the streets of Paris. You were a woman of restraint. It drove him over the edge to see you at the peak of self-destruction. He leaned forward to deliver you a kiss on the tips of your ears, pulling himself back to witness your flushed appearance.

“I love you, (Y/n).” 

[ilkkawhat]

Gutshot Straight (2014)