#now it’s just giving me even more trauma for the Double Life chapters

[blackboxtheater]

Watching Pearl’s POV of Last Life for the first time and god it makes Double Life even more tragic

A Pearl/Scott pairing must have been the first names Grian wrote on the list of soulmates. He must have gotten the roster of names, and written them down as the most obvious, easy pairing. Maybe he even questioned if it was too OP because Scott had just won and he and Pearl obviously got along so well. Of course they had an advantage with both of those things working in their favor.

Then not only do things go so catastrophically wrong, but they end up winning anyway

I am going insane

[mapoeggplant]

shima’s development and character core // skip to loafer spoilers

if you’ve been following me, you know i like to pay a closer attention to shima’s growth and development, specially related to his relationship with mitsumi. that being said, i want to talk more about how much he changed after the breakup.

since chapter 46, i’ve seen a lot of changes in shima’s reaction, focusing way more on him double questioning himself and his feelings related to the way he treats mitsumi.

it’s painful. mitsumi was his first female friend and the first time he ever felt like taking a step further in his own, not accepting what it was given to him. and he lost that. and he thinks he lost it because of his own mind and insecurities, blaming himself for everything.

mitsumi, the person he loves the most (platonic or not), is distant from him. and this creates a whole new book of feelings: jealously, guilt, self hatred and impulsiveness. and that can be seen when he stands up for people he love, something he would once just not and smile.

but does he really has the right to do so?? is it honest for him to correct someone when he was the one who was once “using” with mitsumi without knowing his feelings first? is it fair for him to feel like this? is it fair that he be heard?

yes, he is hurt. it’s clear in his eyes, specially his last scene on chapter 50. he’s hurt but not by the things people did to him: he’s now the one who inflicted pain and doesn’t know how to get back what he lost. that’s because he doesn’t KNOW or even ALLOW himself to it.

what does it mean to love someone romantically when he never once felt jealous? what does it mean to care so much for someone when he was never cared to? what does it mean to give up of someone you love so dearly if he can’t even let it all go? how does one stop making excuses?

shima is a character written beautifully, specially because of his slowly but steady growth. he’s learning, finally having a life away from his trauma and away from people who chained him. he’s finally allowing himself to feel pain, now he needs to finally allow himself to be loved and to be heard. to build one’s confidence is hard and tricky, specially for a boy who never had a life of his own. to build a castle with only sand, one needs to be open to have it all crumble. he just needs to learn how to build it again.

what i love the most is how he never blamed mitsumi, not even once. i know there’s nothing to blame mitsumi for, but i’ve seen over and over again romantic stories blaming the girl for the male insecurities. but no. not right now.

his battle is his own, so his soldiers are the ones going to war, not mitsumi’s. he’s not the one to be pitied, nor is she, nor anyone. blame isn’t something to be shoved at someone, specially not to the girl who has nothing to do with HIS traumas.

i like and admire this about takamatsu-senpai’s writing. she doesn’t shift the blame or even makes shima the “good guy”. mitsumi isn’t a monster for standing up for herself - in fact, she should be celebrated.

shima is his traumas. shima is his mom’s expectations. shima is the empty house he comes back to everyday. shima is the boy who’s trying his best to finally understand his feelings and go after the girl he loves the most.

🌟 thread originally posted on twitter!

🌟 this is a flux of conscience! please forgive my gramatical mistakes

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 13

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy and Jake get ready to leave for their Thanksgiving trip but things don't go as planned.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

October had been a blur of soccer games, conference calls with my agent and publisher planning a book tour for the new year, and lots of time spent apologizing to Harvey. He was mad at me still but he understood why I had kept him in the dark, at least enough to invite me to spend Christmas with him.

Jake had been swinging between calm and absolutely wired when it came to making the Thanksgiving trip to Texas for Thanksgiving. One moment he was telling me how excited he was and how much his family was going to love me, the next he was wringing his hands, silently staring into the distance. He was doing the same thing now, standing in the line for TSA.

“Baby,” I tugged him forward in line by his hand, “What’s bothering you?” He shrugged, pulling off his boots. “Don’t give me that.”

“Just thinking, Wildflower.” I rolled my eyes, double checking that my pockets were empty before pushing my bin forward. “I just want this to go well and I’m nervous.” 

“It’s going to be fine, pretty boy. Don’t forget to take off your hat,” I flicked the rim of the cowboy hat he rarely wore. “But I know that’s not all, you’re being way too frowny for that to be it.” He sighed but didn’t respond, staying silent as we processed through the body scanner and pulled our shoes back on. Jake’s silence was tugging at my heart strings, a million possibilities more ludicrous than the last running through my mind. The thoughts slowed when he wrapped his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side, but didn’t fade completely.

“My mama’s going to pick us up from the airport and then we’re going to get lunch with my sisters.” I hummed, knowing the plan already. We had gone over it twice in the car alone. “Are you upset with me?” 

“I’m not upset with you, I’m worried because you’re being weird and not telling me why.” Jake kissed the top of my head, guiding us off to the side of the main walkway. Jake’s eyes were soft but his jaw was tight, relaxing and tensing repeatedly as he stared me down. I waited patiently, fiddling with the button on my suitcase’s handle.

“I’ve never brought someone home before,” He confessed and it all made sense. I cupped his face, swiping my thumb over the stubble that had appeared in the last two days.

“Happy to be your first, Hangman,” Jake pulled me closer by the waist, a goofy grin on his face.

“That’s the same thing you said to me the night we met.” Back when I thought Jake was just some cocky pilot flirting with me for fun. I had never been happier to be wrong in my life. “I thought you were the prettiest girl in the bar.” 

“I didn’t even want to go that night,” Jake chuckled at my confession. “And I about died of embarrassment when you introduced yourself by kissing my head.” He leaned down, giving me a sweet kiss that made my heart flutter.

“‘I’m glad you came that night,” 

“‘Me too.” 

Jake and I made our way to the gate, stopping at the overpriced market for a share-size bag of M&Ms that I didn’t plan on sharing and caffeine for Jake, who despite having to be up early every day for work, was decidedly not a morning person.

“I love you,” Jake nuzzled his face into my neck, kissing it softly. My cheeks burned red, catching the scandalized glance of an older couple across from us. “And I can’t wait for you to meet my family.” 

“People are looking at us, pretty boy,” I tried to push him away gently but he wrapped an arm around me, keeping me as close as possible despite the arm rest between us. He breathed in deeply, keeping his face concealed in my hair as people shot us poorly concealed looks.

“Don’t care, Wildflower. Unless it makes you uncomfortable?” 

“A little,” Jake gave my neck one last kiss before pulling back. “But I love you too.” His phone rang and when he looked at the caller ID, his face fell.

“Lt. Seresin,” I couldn’t hear the conversation over the noise of the airport but the look on Jake’s face was enough to make my stomach twist with anxiety. “Rear Admiral, I understand the situation but I’m on approved leave for-” He ground his teeth, obviously being cut off by someone. “Yes, sir,” He hung up. Jake buried his face in his hands, grunting in frustration. I rubbed circles onto his back,

“What’s wrong, Jake?” 

“The team’s being called in for an emergency, I have to go.” My heart dropped, hearing how broken his voice was. “Fuck, I hate this.” 

“It’s okay, baby,” I kissed his hair, still rubbing his back. “Let’s get out of here, I’ll figure out the bags later.” I stood, shouldering my bag, “Come on, Jake. We’ll call your mama in the car and arrange something for when you get back.” 

“No,” He said firmly, standing. I raised a brow, confused. Jake lifted my bag from my shoulder, depositing in the chair he had just been sitting in.

“Jake?” He shook his head, running a hand down his face. “What are you doing?” 

“I want you to meet my family and they’re so excited to meet you, I don’t want my job to ruin this.” He wanted me to meet his family without him? Was he insane? “Take a deep breath, baby. You look like you’re going to pass out.” I inhaled deeply, trying to school my face into one that looked slightly less terrified. 

“I’m not meeting your family without you.”

“Please, Daisy?” He pulled me in for a sweet kiss, “Do it for me?” I groaned, resting my head on his chest. Jake hugged me tight, swaying us from side to side. This was a big deal for both of us. I had never met someone’s parents and he had never brought a girl home before, it was something new to both of us. Something big and scary but something that had to be done, especially if I was going to marry him some day. 

I smiled, thinking about Jake in his dress whites, the rest of the Daggers standing in uniform beside him, except for Natasha who was by my side like always. I didn’t have many people who could stand on my side of the aisle but that didn’t ruin the image.

“I’ll do it.” 

X

When Jacob had sent me a text to explain the change of plans, I nearly dropped my phone in surprise. That was not the plan. It was not the plan at all. We were all over the moon to finally meet Daisy but there was so much more we needed to discuss, all of which had to be done in person and Jake getting pulled away on a last minute mission complicated things. 

“What are we going to do?” My husband, Franklin, asked. “We’ve got to tell him.” I shook my head, wringing my hands.

“We do but right now we’re in the same pickle we’ve been in for the last six months. We’ll tell him when he gets back, whether it’s over the phone or in person.” Franklin kissed my forehead, passing the truck keys to me.

“Go pick up our future daughter-in-law, Honey Bunny,” Franklin was having a good day, standing tall, his hands steady for the most part. It pained me to see him so thin, his flannel hanging off of him in a way it hadn’t in years. “We’ll figure out how to handle this later.” 

“We’re meeting the girls for lunch but I left some soup for you in the fridge if you get hungry,” Franklin hummed in acknowledgement but I had a feeling the soup would still be there when I got home. “I love you,” 

“I love you too.” 

The airport was busy as always but I managed to find a parking spot in front of arrivals. I hopped out of the truck, grabbing the bouquet of daisies Caroline had insisted on picking up from the store the night before. I glanced at the last photo of Daisy that Jacob had sent to the family group chat. She was a pretty, little thing with red hair that always seemed to be tied up in a messy knot, holding up a casserole with a bright smile, Jacob's friends gathered around her. It was easy to see how much everyone loved her and how much she enjoyed being surrounded by them. It was comforting, knowing that my baby boy had found someone who brought so much light to his life. 

The red hair was easy to spot amongst the crowd, I waved her down.

“Daisy, honey! Over here,” The young woman’s head perked up. She smiled nervously when she saw me, making her way through the droves of people. “Oh my goodness, what a cutie pie you are!” I gushed, bringing her into a tight hug. She patted my back softly, not quite relaxing into the embrace. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person. Jacob’s told us all about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am.” I pulled back, a big smile on my face. 

“You can just call me mama, sweetheart.” There was a flash of sadness over her features and it hit me that Jacob had mentioned that Daisy’s parents were both dead. I quickly changed the subject, “It’s a shame Jacob couldn’t make it but this means we don’t have to sneak away to the kitchen for me to show you his baby pictures.” 

“Oh I can’t wait,” Daisy giggled, “Jake was also worried about you telling me embarrassing childhood stories.” She finally seemed relaxed, taking the bouquet with a small thank you.

“I’ve got plenty of those to share, I’ll even send you home with the recording of his 3rd grade talent show.” 

“Please, please, please tell me it was a magic act,” Daisy laughed, helping me load her bags into the truck bed.

“Even better, he sang Should've Been A Cowboy.”

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86 Want to be added to this list? Just ask!

Next Chapter

[bricreative]

Thoughts on Life is Strange: Double Exposure so far (SPOILERS) because I think about this stupid series way too much

I have a lot of thoughts and feelings. Some of it’s good, but I’m mostly just sad and disappointed about the whole thing. I’ll try to keep it just about the game, but I also want to talk about the build up, how the marketing (so far) has mislead fans about certain choices and characters, how fans have been teetering on harassment to the devs, and what I’m hoping for in the chapters 3-5.

I'm sure there are others out there who can articulate these points better than I can and I'll probably repeat said points, but if you want to see a rare ramble from me, here are my thoughts, either in full paragraphs or bullet points ->

EDIT: Leaks are already coming out so half the shit I say in this probably doesn’t even matter 🙃

Early access has been out for more than a week now and I was only able to finish parts of it until I had to go on vacation. Parts of the story were spoiled for me before I got around to finishing the second chapter. So any “ twist” or revelation that did occur wasn’t as exciting as it could’ve been. And that’s mostly on me because I never really feel the need to block words/tags to avoid spoilers, unless I actually cared about said story.

And well, as much as I try to give Deck Nine some grace, the outlook for this game wasn't looking great to begin with…

Like the fucking break up with Max and Chloe?? While it wasn't a total shocker, the marketing has been leading towards that, it still left me heartbroken that this is how it's playing out. I was trying to be hopeful (delusional) that maybe they were going to do the long distance route. I thought that just made the most sense. I thought that’s why they were only releasing the first two chapters.

(I also know it was to get people to buy the ultimate edition, I know, I know)

I can see a route where taking some time apart could make sense given the overwhelming guilt, pain, trauma they obviously faced. But the way Chloe is currently written just feels so ooc? I don’t think she would’ve thrown so much shit Max’s way, especially about her rewind powers. I would think given it's been 10 years after the events of Arcadia Bay, she would trust Max completely. It’s also crazy considering Deck 9 made a whole ass prequel game revolving around Chloe?? And made a cute DLC with Max and Chloe as kids. It’s just baffling me how they’re treating her character.

I wonder what the reason was for not including Chloe more into the story. Did Square not want her in it at all? Did they even attempt to try and bring Ashley Burch back? I figured, they probably couldn’t get her to reprise the role full time, so maybe they opted her for a part time role, or a meaningful cameo. Are they hiding Chloe because they only have Rhianna and they’re afraid of disappointment/ backlash? 

And now we have lines from the original game redubbed by her, so it’s looking more and more like that’s the case. It’ll be Rhianna...

And look, I don’t hate her or her performance in Before the Storm, I’m just not crazy about it. She has some powerful scenes in it for sure, but I do think it is the weakest game of the series. At the end of the day, Ashley will always be Chloe, and she has the best chemistry/dynamic with Hannah Telle.

It doesn’t help that we barely know what happened in between the events of LIS and DE. It’s crazy to me that the writers didn’t even bother to put simple dates on text messages, some journal entries, etc. They have in the previous games, why not now? Are they hiding something or was it just an oversight or lack of care? And don’t get me started on the artwork in this journal....

It’s not bad but it's SO not Max’s style. It’s so cartoony? She’s writing less and less. What would’ve been cool to see is a portfolio of all of her previous work so far. She would’ve had SO much from traveling the country? Such a missed opportunity. AND an actual photo mode, hello?? What we have right now is kinda lackluster

I don't like that this series is becoming a glorified dating sim.The romances that did work in the past were built off of genuine connection and chemistry? They just jump right into this one?? 

While I actually do like Amanda, I can see them working in a BAY route only

Max would not go for a guy like Vinh in any timeline. Holy fuck, he’s so gross

It's just so obvious they had to shoehorn his romance route last minute

At this point, i'm agreeing with the argument that Max is a lesbian rather than a bisexual (even though I love the pattern that all lis protags are bi)

Or better yet, we don't have to go the romance route at all

I know all fandoms are annoying but the way certain fans have been acting towards the official accounts/ developers has been frustrating to witness?? I'm not saying you can't be critical, especially when it's on your own personal posts/accounts, but it's getting to the point where y'all are harassing them for every little fucking thing. I don't know, I just don’t have the energy to pester or harass accounts this fucking much. Don’t yall have better things to do? There are bigger things going on in the world

Focus all of that energy into creating art, writing, etc.

Remember that these characters are made up, it is a game

There’s a difference between thoughtfully criticizing and just plain bashing people

While I do think it’s frustrating, I can kinda understand why Square/D9 decided to be cagey about Chloe’s appearance. They’re walking a thin tightrope right now

There have been issues revolving around leaks even before the official announcement of the game came out AND there are leaks going around as we speak

They went the Last of Us II marketing route and essentially tricked people, yes. It sucks, it’s frustrating, I get wanting to build hype, any press is good press I guess

Maybe Chloe will have a bigger role in the later chapters? I’m more than prepared to eat my words but I’d rather maintain a little bit of hope here

I also think it's important to point out the things that I do like, at least to keep me sane:

The performances, especially from the first chapter, are pretty strong! Particularly from Safi, Max, Amanda, and Moses. Like that performance capture technology doesn't get talked about enough! The level of detail, the expressions, it’s incredible! You don't even see that in AAA games sometimes!

I do love that D9 brings in talent from outside the gaming industry, really makes the performances feel well rounded. True Colors did this very well, especially with Erika Mori

The doppelgänger power that’s being hinted at is SO cool imo. Every time I think that there aren’t any other worthwhile powers they can bring into this world, they surprise me. I’m interested to see where they’ll take it

Maybe they’ll do something fucky with Bay/Bae route. It’s hinted that timelines are overlapping. Maybe something crazy will happen.

What if we encounter multiple Max's (again) maybe another Chloe, were already jumping between timelines

Maybe they’ll bring Rachel back, maybe the doppelgänger ruined Max and Chloe’s relationship. We don’t know!

And look, I love this series. That much is obvious. The brain rot has always been there. I can joke and jest that this new story makes me sad and depressed, (even my playlist that I made is hitting different knowing that they broke up Max and Chloe,) but at the end of the day it's a GAME

I feel like I need to reiterate this for people but the game is still not fully out yet! I, at least, want to reserve some judgment before I fully decide how I feel about the game. Maybe they’ll surprise us, maybe Chloe will show up in the later chapters, maybe there will be a positive twist.

If it doesn’t turn out that way then that’s fine too! There are other games and comics and books to fall back on. There is so much more to this series than just Max and Chloe. I wish more people would realize that and give the other games a real chance

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HIT ‘EM UP! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: This chapter is LONG AS FUCK, so y’all have been warned! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

SEVENTEEN: MISDIRECTION.

Dear, Shoko,  Hello from Willow Springs! Yes, I’m here and yes, it was one hell of a journey as you can imagine. Let’s just say waking up in a soft bed and taking a hot shower in the morning is MUCH better than dodging bullets and fending off nature.  I can’t complain though. Gojo & Geto have been a big help to me. We’ve helped a lot of people on our way here and we’ll continue to do so once we leave Willow Springs. Right now, I’m staying with my parents. They moved out of the South some time ago and moved here, so they offered us a place on their farm.  I’m safe if that’s what you’ve been worried about. And I’m happy. Finally, I can live without looking over my shoulder or lying. Speaking of lying, I’m sorry I never told you who I really was or what my true intentions were. I hope you can forgive me.  I just hope you’re safe and happy too. How are the others? How is the saloon? Valentine is in prison again. I’m sure you’ve heard about his escape, but we took care of it. Still no Benji yet, but we’ll get him soon. You can count on that.  I hope you miss me just as much as I miss you. You don’t have to answer this letter. I just wanted to say hi. -Love, Y/N

After finishing your letter to Shoko, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, the summer night breeze cascading over you from the open window. The letter lays on your chest, possibly never to be seen or sent off to your old “home”. Your old life.

Black Waters seems so much farther away now. Everything does at this point, including your snake bite. 

It’s been a couple days since you moved into your parents' home and things have been looking up for you. You’ve been following Nanami’s instructions down to the point and doing physical therapy––several minutes of walking and ankle stretches—which have helped you tremendously. Now, you're walking without the cane and you can even see the bite marks fading. 

You can hardly believe that the snake bite even happened. Days of simple living have made everything before seem like a dream…except one thing. Or rather, one person: Benji the Bandit. He is still out there somewhere, waiting for you, searching for you. You know that it’s only a matter of time until you fully heal and you’ll be back on the road to find him. 

So why not practice for it? 

In the dead of night while the house sleeps, you dress in a loose spaghetti-strap top, some riding pants, and boots before you tip-toe out of the house with your pistol. You go out of the kitchen to the backyard which is separated from the farm and the forest by two white picket fences. 

When you finally get outside, you breathe in the summer night air, staring up at the twinkling stars above. It is a clear, warm night with only the buzzing of insects and the hooting of a lone owl from the forest to comfort you. “Goin’ out?” a familiar voice asks behind you. 

You nearly shriek, whipping around with your pistol drawn and cocked. But then you see the Gunslingers lounging about on the wrap-around porch. “Shit!” you gasp, damn clear close to a heart attack. “Y’all scared me half to death.” 

Both of the cowboys sit in their neighboring chairs, both wearing jeans, riding boots, and their own tank tops that show off way too much muscle and skin to be appropriate…for you, anyway. They both pass a cigarette back and forth, reminding you of an indirect kiss when Gojo takes a puff of it after Geto gives it to him. 

The blue-eyed bandit gives you a humored smile. “I know,” he chuckles. “That was the cutest thing ever.” Geto rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Satoru, cut her a break,” he huffs. “She almost died a couple days ago.” 

You chuckle at his wry joke, loosening your grip on your pistol. Geto nods down at your boots. “Speakin’ of which, shouldn’t you be restin’ up like the doctor ordered?” 

“I’ve rested long enough,” you scoff. “Plus, I need to brush up on my skills for Benji while I’m here.” You twirl your gun around your thumb and position it straight again before aiming at a nearby tree. 

Behind you, Gojo gives an overly-dramatic sigh. “Benji this, Benji that,” he groans. “Christ, girl, don’t that bloodlust got an off switch? Besides, we can’t kill him, remember? Unless you want us all behind bars.” He gives you a smirk as he rises from his chair on his long legs, taking a stretch. 

“Well, I can still shoot and miss,” you hotly reply, placing a hand on your hip and cocking it to the side. The men watch your hips very intently, unbeknownst to you. “I’m not hellbent enough on revenge to let y’all get arrested, especially since y’all saved my life.” You flush warmly even though it’s true. The duo look happy from your words. 

For the next few seconds, silence descends on you. You take those shorts seconds to turn away from them and focus on drawing, moving your hand as fast as it can go until it cramps. Behind you, you hear the crunch of grass under some boots and turn to see Geto. The moonlight illuminates his hair, turning it silver. “How you been doin’ since we’ve been here anyhow?” He asks, giving you a warm smile. 

Gojo follows him, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He passes the cig to Geto, sticking it between his lips on his own. “Yeah, you’ve been avoidin’ us.” He pouts at you, his lush bottom lip poking out at you. 

Of course, you deny this because yes, you have been avoiding them. “I have not!” you protest, flushing with embarrassment. “I’ve just been helpin’ my parents who are up there in age, thank you very much.” You turn away, pointing at another tree that is much bigger and thicker. 

“Oh, we’ve noticed,” Geto chuckles, puffing on his cigarette. You don’t look at him, not wanting to see how hot he looks doing so. “Yet your dad is always out there in the trenches tendin’ to his farm and your mom seems overly excited to have us help her in the kitchen.” 

You groan at his words, inwardly cringing. You know Yuri has taken a shine to the duo as has Eren even though he doesn’t show it. You can tell they like the Gunslingers and though that makes you happy, it also makes you nervous. What if they start asking about marriage or pushing you to have something with them? 

Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets, looking over your small frame. “So about this ‘brushin’ up’ thing,” he begins. “Whatcha gonna do when you have no gun or knife? How are you in hand-to-hand combat?” You turn to him, frowning. “Gojo, I know how to fight.” 

He shares a look with Geto, both looking totally unsatisfied with your response. You scoff, putting away your pistol and crossing your arms. “Fine then. Teach me a few things.” Gojo raises a brow at you. “You sure?” he asks, looking unsure himself. “Not to toot my own horn or anythin’, but I’m a black belt in jujutsu.” Geto rolls his brown eyes, still smoking his cigarette. 

But instead of looking intimidated or second-guessing as you’re sure the duo thought you would, you put a good distance between you and Gojo, square your shoulders, and put your fists up to block your face. “I think I can handle it,” you whisper. 

The two look at each other and then at you, the moon illuminating their stunned expressions. Then they each break out into a smile, liking your willingness to try. “Alright, darlin’,” Gojo sniggers. “But don’t say we ain’t warn ya.” 

You never thought you needed much training or help when it came to fighting. You always thought you were pretty good after years of fighting outlaws which usually ended in you using your gun anyway. But while training with the Gunslingers, you realize just how much you need to learn when it comes to learning different combat styles and how to truly squabble. 

Geto is gentle with his approach at teaching you. He is the best kind of sensei–kind and nurturing but he isn’t afraid to point out your mistakes or things that need changing. He first teaches you about stance when facing off with an opponent. You square your feet, one behind the other to support your weight, and ball your fists up by your face while sizing up the oak tree in front of you as if it’s a gun-wielding outlaw. 

“Uh-uh.” Geto takes his cigarette out of his mouth and tosses it far into the forest, respecting your parents’ land enough to do so. You don’t know why that makes your stomach flip. “No, no, wrong stance,” he critically yet softly says. “Here, turn your hips so they angle with your feet.” 

You suddenly feel his big, warm hands on your hips, angling them so they are in line with your feet. You’re so focused on his hands that you barely notice Gojo slipping in front of the tree. He is now your opponent, a smirk on his face. 

You envision him to be Valentine or Benji and suddenly, you hear the blood pumping in your head. Geto is a soothing presence behind you, touching you without even getting near you. “Stop thinkin’ so hard,” he whispers, his lips near your ear. “I can hear those thoughts. Clear your head and watch your opponent.” 

You look at him, but turn back around when you hear a stick crunch beneath a shoe. You react just in time to Gojo’s sudden jab your way, ducking away from his blow. He smiles at you, nodding in approval. “Not bad, little lady,” he chuckles, grinning at Geto. “But I think I can teach ya better.”

Meanwhile, Gojo is all hands on and teases you every chance you get. When you practice punches, he puts his big hands up as punching bags and has you throw jabs at them, grinning annoyingly as you do. 

“C’moooon, little miss,” he cackles. “That’s all you’ve got? What, did your mama’s cooking make you soft?” Glaring at him, you give him a sharp jab in his side, earning a grunt. “Says the one who’s always beggin’ her to fix him sweets,” you retort, making Geto laugh. 

He, like Geto, likes to work closely and with his hands on you (with your consent, of course, and for the good of your fighting skills). He stands behind you, teaching you a new stance, and has his elongated fingers brushing against your belt. 

“You should have your hand at your gun if the opportunity presents itself,” he instructs. “Like so.” He takes your hand and places it on your upholstery, his hand covering yourself. “See?” he whispers, his icy mint breath fanning your ear. “You can slip your hand back here with no problem.” 

You feel his hand caress your hip and it’s like you’ve been dipped in a hot pot of liquid the way your body is in flames. “Gojo,” Geto critically growls, glaring at his friend. Gojo steps away from you, leaving you feeling cold. “What? I’m just anglin’ her hips right!” 

You then move onto more moves where Gojo acts as an actual opponent again. He stands a foot away from you while Geto watches leaning against a nearby tree. The white-haired outlaw towers over you, fists up and knees bent gingerly. “Try dodgin’ me again,” he instructs, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. 

You nod, thinking that this will be easy being that Gojo has been so playful so far. But to your shock, that playfulness fades and he’s all business as he tosses you multiple punches and jabs one after the other that you need to dodge. You gasp and let out little pants as you dodge each one, ducking beneath his fists and side stepping him when you need to. Your eyes lock with each other and you clear your head, helping you size him up the way Geto taught you. 

You almost feel as if you’re dancing with him with the way your legs burn and a slight smile appears on your lips. Finally, when your body is screaming for rest, he stops. “Not bad at all, rookie,” he praisingly says. 

Geto claps from the tree, but you ignore it, too focused on Gojo’s nickname. “Rookie?” you scoff, raising a brow. “Don’t insult me like that.” The gunslinger just laughs, making a fire bloom inside of you. 

Now you really want a challenge. So you step father away from Gojo and put your fists up. “Alright, cowboy,” you tease. “Let’s see what you got.” He smirks at you. “What I got?” he scoffs. “Don’t forget about him now, sugar.” 

He turns to Geto and so do you, expecting him to have a gun drawn or something. But to your surprise, the space by the tree where he once stood is empty. Suddenly, you feel a tug at your belt and look up to find Geto standing behind you with your pistol dangling from his hand. “Hey!” you shout. “How’d you–” 

“Misdirection,” he chuckles, his eyes filled with playfulness. “That’s your next lesson.” Your eyes tick up to your gun, already figuring out how to get it from him. “You want it back?” He raises a brow at you, putting the gun in his back pocket. “Then come get it, darlin’.” And smirk stretches across his lips, making heat pool in your legs. 

The fight is on. You make the first move, lunging at him to distract him before sending a jab at his lower stomach. It isn’t enough to hurt him, but it’s enough to make him double over and give you a good chance to grab your gun. Geto is quicker than you though, and uses one arm to take a chop at the inside of your knees. 

With a gasp, you buckle and go down, your knees hitting the ground. Luckily, it doesn’t slow you down. You immediately pop back up and glare up at Geto who looks down at you with a darkened gaze. “C’mon,” he says. You lunge at him, but he takes off before you can catch him. 

“Pass it!” Gojo calls, waving his hands from the fence. Geto tosses your pistol at his partner and he catches it before the two jump the fence and enter the woods. You quickly run after them in your boots, jumping the fence and scampering into the forest. You’re about five feet from the farm when you track down Gojo standing in a clearing of trees. 

He grins at you, standing alone. You don’t know where Geto has gotten to, but right now you don’t care. Wordlessly, you put your fists up, scowling at him. He smirks and pockets your gun, slipping it into his belt. You watch him, already planning on how to get it back. 

When you blink, Gojo is suddenly closer, wordlessly telling you to make a move. Instantly, you do so, tossing a punch his way. He dodges it effortlessly just as he does the other ones. You decide to leave his handsome face alone and shoot for his waist, grabbing at his belt to yank it off. 

Gojo counteracts this by grabbing your arm and spinning your body into him. Your back presses against his front and he locks your arms behind your back as he presses his face against your ear. “You should’ve been watchin’ the hands, sugar,” he chuckles. 

You begin to squirm and writhe in his iron grip, trying in vain to kick back to get his legs or groin. Nothing works. You whine, the sound coming out like a cry for help. It must work because Gojo  loosens his grip a bit. “You cryin’?” he teasingly laughs. “Ain’t no cryin’ on the battlefield, little miss. You’d better wipe them tears or—“ 

With a hard kick, you aim your foot at his thigh, causing him to grunt. His grip loosens farther, allowing you to free your right hand and deck him in the face. As soon as it happens, you regret it. Gojo covers his cheek, his blue eyes blown with shock. “Oh, shit!” you gasp. “I-I’m so sorry!” 

To your surprise, he begins to laugh, still holding his wounded cheek. “No, no!” he cackles. “That was priceless! Damn, girl, did those antibiotics give you super strength too?” He continues to laugh, even as he takes your pistol out of his belt. 

You think he’s about to hand it over, but he tosses it somewhere behind you instead. You turn, watching Geto catch the gun and slip it into his belt. “Nice right hook,” he praises with a smirk. “But ya still didn’t get this back.” 

You immediately toss yourself at him, grappling with his belt, but he laughs and skips backwards, making you chase him. When you manage to reach towards his holster where your pistol is, he takes your arm and twists you so your back is pressed against him. “Geto, come on!” you shout. Give it back!” 

He continues to laugh as you struggle, much to your dismay. And the fact that he’s so fucking massive doesn’t make it any better. With his one arm holding your arms down, you decide to use your feet again and kick at his knee. He grunts, causing his arm to loosen, allowing you to bend down onto your knees. 

“Hittin’ below the belt?” he laughs. “Why, darlin’, that isn’t very–” 

But he doesn’t get a chance to finish because you’re looping yourself between his legs and popping up behind him before unsheathing your gun from his holster and looping your arm around his neck. “Misdirection,” you breathlessly whisper. 

He long-haired outlaw looks down at you, shock in his brown eyes that quickly turns to pride illuminated by the moonlight. Your eyes flit down to his lips, parted and soft, soft pants escaping them. Maybe it’s the moonlight. Maybe it’s the adrenaline rush you feel from the fight session. Maybe it’s his scent of pine and something else spicy that attracts and intoxicates you as you keep his arm looped around his shoulder.

Or maybe it’s the way his arm comes back around your waist to hold you, but not forcefully like before, making you feel safe. Either way, you find yourself kissing him. It isn’t as long as Gojo’s, but it’s just as soft and just as exciting. Geto’s kiss makes you crave more like you would cold water on a hot day. You stand up on your tiptoes to reach him because he’s so tall, causing your neck to strain slightly.m

But just as it happens, it ends and you pull away. You stare up at him wordlessly, trying to make sense of what just happened. He looks like it too, his expression stunned. “Y/N,” he says. “I–” 

He’s interrupted by Gojo who saunters to you, applauding you. “Not bad, rookie,” he praises. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone leave Suguru shaken up like that before. We definitely made the right choice invitin’ you into our little family.” He is completely unaware of what just transpired between his partners.,

Quickly, you tear yourself away from Geto and pocket your gun. “Uh, thanks,” you awkwardly reply. “I-It’s kinda late, so I should be headin’ inside. Thanks for the lessons.” Before either of them can speak, you quickly hurry off back towards the farm, abruptly leaving them. “What is somethin’ I said?” Gojo asks, utterly confused. 

You don’t stop moving until you’re back in the house and finally in your bedroom. Once you are, you close the door behind you and lean against it for a moment to compose yourself. Your heart is hammering like a rabbit’s and it has less to do with your recent activity and everything to do with the lips you just kissed. 

You can’t believe it. You’ve kissed both Gojo and Geto. Your partners. The same men you tried to kill weeks ago. How is this possible? How did you get from despising the outlaws to loving them? 

You pause, your brain practically scratching a record, getting stuck on that one forbidden word. Wait…love? 

And then it hits you. Like a herd of horses or a freight train barrelling towards you, it hits you dead on: you’re in love with Geto and Gojo. “Shit,” you say into the dark. Now things will never be the same. 

**********

Just as you suspected, things are not at all the same. 

For the next week, you barely talk to the Gunslingers. You go about your business, helping your parents out around the house, and spending time on your own. You avoid Geto and Gojo as much as you can which, fortunately for you, isn’t hard because they have barely been talking to you too. 

And it’s horrible. You feel like you’re all ghosts orbiting and existing around each other, invisible but still there. You want so desperately to talk to them, to discuss what happened with Geto that night and even what occurred when you got bit by that snake, but something always stops you. 

Embarrassment? Humiliation? Fear? You don’t know, but whenever you walk by their room or hear their voices, you feel that urge to talk but also that twist in your gut that stops you short. It’s exhausting! 

But instead of being an adult and discussing it, you continue to avoid your friends and help your ailing parents with chores, such as helping Eren out on his farm. You stand in his vegetable garden in the warm sun, your bare feet in the soil and overalls over your undershirt. Eren stands beside you in his flannel and boots stained with mud, his cowboy hat low on his head to block out the sun. 

“Now just sprinkle in the seeds like so,” he instructs. “Then we can water ‘em and cover ‘em up with dirt.” He hands you a bunch of cabbage seeds and nods at the bed he dug earlier for them. 

You crouch down in the dirt and sprinkle in the seeds, making sure they have a good distance apart. Eren hoops proudly, ever the girl dad. “Perfect!” he says, applauding you. “You always did have a green thumb.” You stand up straight, stretching your arms high over your head to touch the blue sky above. “Hardly,” you snigger. “I was always the one for the kitchen.” 

Eren throws his head back and laughs, his green gardening hose wound around his hand like a python. “That you were!” he fondly laughs. “You were always your mama’s little assistant. I still remember that gumbo ya made that time for New Years Eve. Still the best one I’ve ever had.” 

You smile wistfully, thinking of those times. Those times when you weren’t hardened by so much grief and revenge. Those times when you didn’t have blood on your hands. You wonder briefly what would’ve happened if you hadn’t left your parents and became an outlaw. Would you have been a better person? Would your life have been okay?

One thing is for sure though: you would’ve never had met the Gunslingers. 

They suddenly appear yards down from the garden, walking out of the barn with axes and a wheelbarrow. As if to tease you, Gojo only wears a white tee that is tight on his toned muscles while Geto is shirtless, each muscle rippling enticingly. His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail to avoid strands sticking to his face, making him look like a damn wet dream. “Good mornin’, Mr. Tokiyami!” he calls, waving one big arm to him. 

Eren waves back, smiling at the young men. “Just Eren, son!” he calls back. “And good mornin’ to y’all!” He turns to you, oblivious to your mixed emotions. “They volunteered to help cut some extra wood for the upcomin’ winter. They’re quite the help, your friends. I’m sorry about what I said about ‘em bein’ outlaws and all.” 

You pat him on the back, smiling proudly at his change of heart. “I’m sure they wouldn’t be mad at you, Papa.” He returns your smile and begins to water his tomatoes and herbs, leaving you to watch the duo walk across the land to the woods. 

They catch your gaze, but don’t say anything, only offering a smile and a nod. You were kind of hoping they would say something. Eren notices and pulls a face, perplexed. “Huh,” he says. “That was a little awkward. They ain’t even tell you hi.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh, waving it off. “They’re probably bein’ weary because I yelled at them for makin’ all this noise last night while I was tryna sleep.” You come up with the lie on the fly, having become an expert at it. Eren scowls in confusion, cocking his head to the side. “Funny, I ain’t hear nothin’.” 

You laugh, bumping his hip with yours. “Well, that’s because you were sleepin’ on two glasses of whiskey and a full plate,” you joke. Before Eren can say anything more, Yuri appears in the garden in her cotton blue dress and apron. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaims. “Dr. Nanami is here to see you. I told him I’d fetch ya and tell you to clean up.” 

She begins to dust the mud off of you while Eren laughs, telling her to leave you be. Afterwards, you leave the garden and enter back into the house through the kitchen door so Nanami doesn’t see you. You change out of your sweaty, muddy clothes and into a clean red sundress that stops at your knees. Something cute but respectable. 

You then go back downstairs to see Nanami standing in the foyer. He, too, is affected by the heat, his spits slightly staining his button-down and his blonde hair pushed back. “Kento!” you sweetly greet him. “What a surprise to see you.” 

He stands from the wicker chair and bows, clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, Y/N,” he politely says. “I hope I’m not interruptin’ you and your family. Your mother let me come by.” 

“No, just preparin’ for tonight’s big celebration in the town’s square,” you reply and then giggle. “A shindig, if ya will. A hoedown.” Nanami cracks a smile at your goofiness. “Yes, I forgot that was today,” he sighs. “That’s why everyone is leavin’ work early and I’ll have no assistance.” 

The people of Willow Springs always celebrate on the first day of every new month. “It’s a tradition of ours,” Yuri explained to you one night while out for a walk among the trails in the backwoods. “To us, it brings good luck and fortune.” Businesses close early, food is cooked, musicians bust out their instruments, and everyone gathers in the square to dance until midnight. 

It sounded like a perfect distraction to you. It’s been a while since you actually relaxed and let yourself go, so a night of drinking and dancing in a place where you feel safe sounds perfect to you. 

“Oh, yes, the party!” Yuri shouts, scaring you and Nanami half to death. She suddenly appears in the living room near the delicious-smelling kitchen. “You’ll have to excuse me, Dr. Nanami. I cook every month for this celebration.” 

A ding penetrates the air and Yuri jumps. “Oh, those are the hush puppies!” she gasps before scurrying off. You turn to Nanami, sighing. “You may wanna stay in case she has a heart attack,” you joke. 

The handsome doctor chuckles. “I just came to check up on you and make sure you’re doin’ alright.” He nods down at your foot which has begun to successfully heal. You no longer feel any pain and can finally walk without the cane. 

“How sweet,” you coo. “I’m right as rain thanks to you and that magic medicine ya gave me.”

The doctor appears happy with that answer and goes to say something more, but he is interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. You turn around, your heart leaping at the sight of Gojo and a shirtless Geto. The only difference is that he’s put a flannel on to hide his glistening abs, probably to show respect to your parents’ household. 

They look at you and then at Nanami who silently stares at them. The tension is so fresh and so thick that you’d have to cut it with a chainsaw. Quickly, you try to dispel it. “Uh, fellas, you remember Dr. Nanami?” 

Geto only offers a smile while Gojo, the certified yapper of the both of them, verbally acknowledges Nanami. “How could we forget?” he chuckles. “You saved our partner’s life. Pleasure to see you again, doctor.” 

He thrusts his hand out for a shake, a smile stretched across his pretty face (despite the blindfold). Nanami slowly takes Gojo’s hand and shakes it like he’s afraid it will bite him. “Pleasure’s all mine,” he replies though he sounds like he really doesn’t mean it. 

Geto’s eyes meet yours, but you quickly look away, seeing visions of his face illuminated by moonlight before you shared that kiss. 

You feel like you’re about to either bolt or throw up from the awkwardness. It’s bad enough you and the Gunslingers aren’t talking, but Nanami also doesn’t trust them as entirely as you do. You feel like the room is about five seconds away from exploding. 

Luckily, your mom comes through, ever your hero. “Oh, boys, are you goin’ to the party tonight?” Yuri yells from the kitchen. 

The Gunslingers share a confused look. “Party?” Geto asks. “What party?” 

Yuri sticks her head from out of the kitchen, her face slightly flushed from the hot oven. “The party in the town’s square that happens every first of the month. Y/N, did you not tell them?” All of them turn to you and you shrink under their gazes. “Was I supposed to?” you ask. Yuri gives you a motherly glare. 

While Gojo looks happy with the invitation, Geto seems put off by the idea of partying with strangers. You can’t blame him for it. As a fellow outlaw, you have to be wary even if danger isn’t at every corner. “Thank you for the invite, Yuri, but I don’t think it’d be wise.” 

Gojo side-eyes him, definitely not down with this plan. “Why the hell not?” he scoffs. “You may still wanna lay low, but I could use a night of drinkin’ and dancin’ to take the edge off.” 

Geto’ jaw tightens and you can tell that this is going to be a fight. “Uh…excuse us for a moment.” He silently walks upstairs to their bedroom and Gojo silently huffs to himself, following after. Yuri gives you a guilty look, but you wave it off, silently telling her to forget about it. 

When she disappears back into the kitchen again, you tend to Nanami, trying to make this situation as less awkward for him as possible. “You want some lemonade or somethin’?” 

He shakes his head, taking his hat from th couch. “No, thank you,” he replies. “I’ve overstayed my welcome already. I should be headin’ back before my next appointment at 1 PM.” You nod, walking him to the door. 

“You should come tonight, if ya want,” you casually say. “We’ll have good food, music, booze…” He turns you to and blinks, looking shocked at the suggestion. He takes a moment to think about it and you begin to think that he’ll say no. “Social gatherings aren’t entirely my thing,” he admits. “But I suppose I could stay for a minute or two.” 

You are relieved at this, happy to have a friend other than the Gunslingers there. You don’t know when you started thinking that Nanami is your friend, but somehow it feels right. He is kind and respectful, which are two things you need right now. You open the door for him, letting in the summer heat for a moment, and give him a smile. 

“I’ll see you then,” you softly say. 

Nanami’s green eyes lock with yours and you feel as if you are being plunged into a refreshing pool of forest water. “Until tonight, Ms. L/N.” He then puts his hat on and walks out of the house into the heat of the day towards his horse at the end of the road that waits patiently for him. 

You then stand there silently and watch him and his horse totter off down the road, not realizing that the Gunslingers are watching you from afar…and the way you look at the doctor.

[endataraxia]

sage forest mental institution.

chapter 2. in which you try to unfuck your situation, but you get fucked all over again anyways. 2.8k words

You awoke to two men standing over you, and as you slowly regained your bearings, you realized you were on the hard concrete floor, and those two were Masky and Jeff, and they were yelling at each other.

“YOU’RE JUST A WEAK HUMAN WITH A DISGUSTING COMPASSION FOR HUMAN LIFE,” Jeff half-sang half-yelled at the other.

“YOU’RE GETTING IN THE WAY OF OUR ESCAPE,” retorted Masky loudly.

You’d had enough. Raising two fists, you targeted their crown jewels, sending both doubling over to the floor. You heard a “fucking bitch” drowned in pain, most likely from Jeff. You sat cross-legged between the two sprawled on the floor, an “oh I’m gonna feel this for days” coming from Masky.

I’m about to get killed anyway according to Jeff, you thought, and so you grabbed both by the hair, eliciting howls from both of them. “My balls, my hair, my balls, my hair,” moaned Jeff.

“Shut up, this is what we honestly deserve,” grunted Masky. Mm, handling patients roughly, you thought to yourself, what great work ethic.

You took a deep breath before continuing.

“What,” you began, “is going on for one of my patients to burst through a window, choke me, and for the other one to come running and attack the other?”

They both stayed silent. One—Masky—looked to the other, and seemed to reach a silent agreement.

One second you were in control, and the next you were on the ground again, your skull colliding with rough concrete, oh how head trauma seemed to love you, and the breath pressed out of your lungs as Masky held you to the ground. Of all things, you thought, you could get a better look at him now. Brown hair and eyes with prominent brows and sideburns, mid to late 20s, a far more human-looking person than Jeff, who stood to the side, holding a glass shard, ready to pierce your throat.

“Keys,” said Masky calmly, but you knew it was actually a demand, and if you couldn’t meet that demand, you’d die. Likely swift and painless, but death nonetheless. Or maybe the blood would enter your lungs and you would drown in your own blood. You didn’t want to think about it, with all the shit you’d been through today. But it was because of the events of that day that you lost the grip on your conscience and humanity, and choked out a weak “wait”.

And they actually somehow waited. You saw your chance, and took it.

You took in whatever air you could, and breathed out, “Keys in back, follow me.” A beat passed before Masky pulled you up by your collar, with Jeff’s glass shard following. Both stared at you expectantly.

“Well?” Snarled Jeff unkindly.

“Uh.” An intelligent response, once again, before Masky pulled you forward roughly. It then registered that now you had to follow through with your lie, and that you probably couldn’t let violent asylum patients out into town, and that Andrea didn’t even give you any keys in the first place because she probably expected you to let them die.

Wait, they’d killed people before me in this asylum? Explained why Andrea was so eager to get out, and why she was so cranky upon your arrival. Maybe cranky didn’t suit a situation where you were supposed to fear for your life. Okay, maybe they killed those at the main branch of the asylum.

Your feet obediently walked, doing you a favor because you had no clue where the keys were. You prayed that your feet would lead you to the main counter, where you could hopefully rummage around for keys, and buy yourself time, whether it be figuring out which key worked, or just rummaging around in general.

“So…” you began, voice echoing throughout the empty halls—their yells earlier had such noisy echoes, it hurt your ears—causing both men to snap their attention to you. “Are you two, like, friends, or—“

“No,” snarled Jeff. “You think I would be friends with a pussy like him?” He scoffed. “Actually, why the fuck am I talking to you?” He questioned, and examined the shard in his hand, as if he was about to jab it into your neck any time now. You wanted to bank on your usefulness to them by being able to find the key, but you had no idea if they actually needed you to find the key, or if they would realize soon that they didn’t actually need you. Why couldn’t they bust out of their cells like Jeff did? Then you realized nearly all the cells here were maximum security and didn’t have glass windows like Jeff’s did.

What kind of poor asylum design was this?

Maybe the keys were cards. Maybe the keys were actually a set of codes. Maybe the keys were both. Maybe—

The front desk was in sight, and you gulped. You hadn’t finished scheming your escape from two crazed murderers. What happened if you escaped, anyway? Let loose two whole violent patients—one of whom was an actual murderer—to the town? Wait, how did Masky escape, anyway? Wait, how many friends did they have to let loose?

You’d get your answers in due time. For now, hands shaking, you rummaged through the compartments, the drawers of lanyards, notebooks, and pens.

“Oi,” threatened Jeff, “If you take any longer, I’m gonna suspect that you don’t actually know anything…”

You gulped. The only thing saving you right now was your uniform. If they hadn’t been delivered to you last minute, you might have showed up in civilian clothing, prompting them to deem you useless and for Masky to let Jeff loose on you. But for now, you fumbled and fumbled, until you finally came across a drawer. Second to the left, fourth down, keycards.

Hands still shaking, you grabbed the keycards bound together by rubber bands. None of them were labeled, as you’d expected in this very strange asylum at this point, and hoped that they were actually access cards.

“Wow, well done,” drawled Jeff. “Finally did something useful, huh?” He spoke as he stepped over to grab your chin, tracing your cheek with the glass shard in hand. You flinched, causing the shard to dig in deeper and widen the already wide grin on his face. It wasn’t until Masky glared at him that he stopped. “Fine, fine,” he groaned. “But I get the kill later.”

Masky sighed. “Come,” was all he said as he turned on his heel, and Jeff shoved you forward.

You found yourself being led to a cell where it seemed another in their group resided, though you couldn’t tell what they looked like, till the keycard surprisingly unlocked the door to reveal the occupant, a blond man with blue eyes.

“Brian,” said Masky.

You don't know what came over you, what possessed you to do this, but in a spur of genius, you slowly backtracked, slipping past Jeff, who grabbed the keycards for himself. You needed to think quick. Move quick, and assess the other three’s positions quick. Adrenaline pumped in your veins.

The guy named Brian was slowly standing up to move out of the cell. Quick.

Masky was stepping forward to help him up, in a strange show of compassion for, as Jeff put it, human life. Quickly.

Jeff made the mistake of stepping past you to stand alongside Masky.

NOW.

Faster than your mind could process it, your foot shot out, catching a surprised Jeff, and sending him crashing into Masky, who fell onto the padded floor near Brian, who jumped aside. Almost as if out of an anime, you felt strength surge within you, and you knew exactly what you needed to do.

You slammed the door close with a satisfying click and beep.

All three men stared at you through the gaps between the bars on the door. You stared back, heart pounding so hard in your chest you thought it might explode. And all hell broke loose, screaming within the cell, Jeff pounding on the door, calling you strings of profanities that you could never dream of recreating, Masky looking at you in shock and anger, and Brian staring at you in awe? Shock? Confusion? Anger? Honestly, the rage in Masky’s eyes shook you to the core. You never imagined that a human’s eyes could hold such intensity of emotion.

Swiftly, he got up, shoved Jeff away from the bars, eliciting even more violent screams and threats from the latter, and grabbed the bars on the upper half of the door.

“You,” he seethed. But he never continued. Instead, he rammed himself against the door, again and again, its hinges rattling and threatening to warp and bend.

So you turned tail and ran. You ran and you ran, and you knew that if they got out of the asylum, outside of it was the first place they’d check, so you ran, turning and twisting corners, and sliding down to hide against a wall, panting and huffing.

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that you actually pulled that off! You wanted to jump and cheer and scream for joy. And you wanted to stop yourself from doing that, given your current situation, so you compromised and settled for internal celebration. And you celebrated for a grand total of about 2 seconds, before you heard the impossibly loud thunder of a metal door crashing to the ground, distant yells, and thudding footsteps, many of them, and you accounted for three in your head.

So much for taking care of patients.

“Interesting,” said a voice next to you, startling you. It was by a miracle that you clamped a hand over your mouth at the last minute before you could actually let out a screech.

Chuckling, a tall man (how had you not noticed him) peered down at you from within his cell. A row of sharp white teeth greeted you, like a shark, surrounded by grey skin. You could explain the sharp teeth, maybe he filed them down, and the grey skin even, maybe he had some vitamin deficiency combined with no sunlight, but his eyes.

You couldn’t explain where his eyes were.

Black liquid oozed from what seemed to be cavities where his eyes were supposed to be. He had no eyes, and thus no vision, according to common logic, so how was he peering through bars at you? How was it that you couldn’t see his eyes, but somehow he was looking right at you, grinning?

He chuckled again, deeply, and put more of his weight on the door, leaning on the bars he held. “What’s your name?”

You stumbled over your name. It was an amazing stumble that deserved a gold Olympics medal. Your name rolled off his tongue smoothly once you actually let out a coherent version of your name.

“I’m EJ. E for Eyeless, J for Jack. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted. So he really was eyeless. An insane patient with manners. You stopped yourself at that point in your train of thought, for the two you knew out of the four so far were violent criminals, and this one could be no different, with his frightening set of teeth. Just what did he do with those teeth? Eat raw meat?

“I’m, uh. Um. Nice to meet…you?” Everything you were saying today was so intelligent.

He grinned at you. “I see you met Jeff, at least. And two others, I believe, from what I hear,” he says lowly, almost as if out of consideration for your situation, so that the other three wouldn’t catch onto your position. As you were about to run from him out of reflex, you know, as people usually do when they meet someone creepy right after a scary encounter with crazed murderers, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m not here to get you killed. It’d be nice if we could talk. Been here a while with no company except Jeff to sneer in my face that he’s gonna take the bodies of his victims and toss them into a pile where I can’t take their kidneys,” he sighs.

Kidneys?

“Are you… a cannibal or something?” You asked cautiously.

He rewarded you with another grin. “That would imply that I eat others of my own species,” he answered. “So I suppose I used to be a cannibal.”

Amazing. On top of being a cannibal, he was deluded into thinking that he wasn’t human. Though, if he wasn’t human, it would also explain the fact that he had no eyes. On another note, you had no idea what to say in response. You very timidly asked, “Do they…taste good?”

EJ roared with laughter. “Oh, yeah. Sometimes they taste like nothing, sometimes they taste amazing. Depends on how hungry I am,” he said as he shrugged.

Ten seconds of silence passed as you thought hard about what to say next to a delusional, crazed murder-cannibal. Then you swore you heard thundering footsteps. They were getting closer.

They were getting closer.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what EJ did, with his uproarious laughter. And he knew it, too, judging by the smirk on his face.

“Over here!” He hollered.

“YEAH, I FUCKING KNOW,” came Jeff’s distant reply.

Your brows twisted, and you did the first thing that came to mind: run.

But today, your collar was being tortured, as EJ’s surprisingly slender arm passed through the stupidly wide gaps between the bars (why were they so far apart? That’s some horrible security measure.) to grab the collar of your uniform, tugging you back, lest you be choked to death. And he pulled you back hard, judging from how hard your body slammed against the door.

You wanted to cry. You wondered what would happen to you now that you’d angered two, no, three madmen, one of whom was especially deranged. WhatthefuckdoIdowhatthefuckdoIdo—

To your horror, but just as expected, the three men caught up to you. In what you realized would be your last moments, you thought it pretty funny that three man were barreling straight at you in hospital gowns.

You cringed and expected impact.

The hand holding your collar began to vibrate, almost as if shaking and straining against some force. Cautiously, you cracked your eyes open to peek.

EJ’s gray hands were the only thing stopping Jeff’s fist from hitting you in the face.

“Hey, man,” growled Jeff. “Whatcha gonna do next, friendly fire? From inside that door?”

The noise that ripped itself from EJ’s throat next could only be described as inhuman. “I want her kidneys.”

Jeff was rendered speechless. “Dude, you can just have her kidneys AFTER I kill her, okay?”

“No,” insisted EJ childishly. “I wanna eat her alive.”

You whimpered. You had no idea what was going on, you had no idea what was going to happen, and you had no idea when he was going to eat you alive.

I’m gonna die as food to a cannibal.

“Please,” you begged, seeing it as your last resort. “I’ll do anything, anything, just keep me alive and in one piece. Please.”

Jeff seemed to pause and think, making a whole show of it by tilting his head to the side and looking diagonally upwards, even letting out an exaggerated “hmmmm”. Then he snorted. “Nah, just kidding.” He brought his hand up again to strike, when EJ roared, an inhumanly loud sound that had your hands snapping up to protect your ears, as well as Masky and Brian, was it? Only Jeff seemed unaffected.

“Jeez. You fallin’ for her or somethin’?” Scoffed Jeff. “Do whatever. Me, personally, I think I’ll go free Toby so Slendy won’t kill me for leaving his precious proxy behind or whatever, and then,” he got way too close to your face for your own comfort, “I’m gonna massacre your whole village, and I’ll drag you along so you can watch,” he cackled.

You could only describe your current impression of him as the evil witch from Snow White.

“I don’t know them,” you said intelligently.

Apparently, it really was intelligent of you. Jeff went silent for a bit.

“What.”

“Yeah, I don’t know them. Moved here two weeks ago, never talked to any of them,” you lied, trying to prolong your lifespan of about 30 seconds.

The man behind Masky—Brian—scoffed. “Can you just kill her, let EJ eat her and fucking free Toby already? You’re all so fucking childish, fighting over who gets to kill whom.”

You knew you were fucked.

lowkey i am ashamed of my writing abilities (or more precisely, lack thereof) and of how this chapter was written. if i could i'd rewrite.)

chapter 3 is out.

[wetcatspellcaster]

The first thing I'll say after reading the chapter is - CAT!!!!

Also, my cat came up to me while I was reading, and fell asleep on me, so double cats!

Poor Rosalie, still being haunted, but now actively trying to ghosthunt, when the ghost suddenly does not want to be seen anymore 😔 hug for both of them!

Shadowheart's words made me hurt, because damn. She is so right, they all still did choose to do bad things, because they thought they were right, but also - hug for her too, she deserves it for acknowledging her faults and trying to be better. Love Shadowheart and how wise she is here ❤️

And knowing that Astarion wanted to Ascend in order to be able to protect Rose too, in some way, breaks my heart for him, because he probably understands how stupid it was, and how much pain he brought Rose with that decision, but also how he was hurt in the process too... Oh, it is such a deep can of worms to unearth, I love it 💔

Also, Astarion in a jumper! WITH THE CAT! So far away from scary Ascended, it melts my heart. And him being embarrassed over bargaining in on Rose taking a bath, so worried and willing to face her in case she got hurt again... Aww, is the only thing I can say.

Not me waiting for the epilogue chapter to be Rose and Astarion on a double date with the Dekarios family. And I'm never letting my cat be alone in proximity to Gale. Nope. Also, I'm trying to imagine Astarion's shock when the whole clan of Gale's children starts climbing all over him. That will be hilarious.

Poor Rosalie with her email. I know the struggle. She is still better than me at handling it 😔

This chapter was so sweet, even if it brought something to think over, and that forever quest for acceptance of your past mistakes in order to move on, that fear of facing it, because it will be hard and painful... Yes. I can imagine the road to happiness will be long and thorny for both of them.

And now, I leave you, dear author, with the best of wishes for good luck in your work, many scritches for your cats, and big thank you for this delight of a chapter.

Now I'll go look for the banana muffins recipe, since Gale and Timothy refused to share that, and make me some. Thank you ❤️

hey anon, thank you so much for such a lovely message and comprehensive chapter review. I'm glad you enjoyed it!

I had a lot of visions for what this aftercare portion of the fic looks like, to be honest, but mostly it's just Astarion trying to rebuild his personality from the ground up and then trying to do it as quickly as possible so he can land himself a baddie lmfao. I don't know how well I'll pull it off, bc there's a lot of big things to unpack there that also, I don't think, make for a particularly interesting reading experience, so a lot of it happens off-screen. But for right now, I'm just grappling with an Astarion who feels bit weird about flirting, meanwhile Rosalie is like "he's not flirting with me? :( maybe he doesn't... like me :("

*screams internally in author*

so I added cats misbehaving to give myself some more familiar ground to tread!

I also just feel like Shadowheart's story is the neatest by the end of the game (her just T-posing in the background of the post Netherbrain trauma congaline on the docks, lmfao) but that there are things about her story, at least in my playthrough, that would actually equip her for understanding Astarion more than Rose does. I wanted to give a little space for the acknowledgement that most of the companions have experienced more emotional and moral nuance than my Tav has in her entire life :')))

Thank you for your lovely words! x

[bi-lavelent]

Brie Larson x reader part 2

Chapter 2     I'll She Her in The Courtroom

"Everything in life is worth fighting for every person, every family, every one's dream , everyone's happiness, everyone's peace, everyone's heart; every race, gender, sexual orientation be happy we live in this world were the darkness can chance us down if it lets you so stand for the people around you when you something wrong happening give someone a smile its worth a million a bucks, give someone a hug its worth a million smiles, make sure some ones okay its worth a million hugs. Don't be afraid of what others think be brave, be strong, be hopeful and everything will work itself out"- Y/N Y/L/N

At the age of 18 you start getting called to be a jury, But for me it was the age of 11 and it wasn't a juror it was a plaintiff or witness I don’t remember. I didn’t look too much into it, I just prepared to testify against someone I loved. My mother yes I loved her she might be the devil wearing human skin but I still cared about her. Now that I think about it from where I am at in life now  I most definitely didn’t love her.  I remember clearly sitting next to John wearing a black dress. (It’s funny how things come full circle because I stopped wearing dresses and I forgot why but while writing this I remembered that I have bad memories around it.) I don’t Remember  much about the courtroom. My therapist has taught me how to block most of this stuff out so that I don't have to deal with the nightmares anymore. But one thing that is permanently burned in my head is when My mother walked in except she didn't look like my mother this time she looked like she was a serial killer. She still looked like the woman who raised me but I could see an evil in her eyes, an evil I hope to never see on my  own. An evil that everyone else thought would appear in me. That was until I started my new life I mean people know me know my mom but I’ve learned how to just let it be that’s why I’m writing this book I want people to relize that I hat her as much as everyone else maybe ever more sure I didn’t title this I’m glad my mom died which is what I wanted to but Jeannette Mcurdy took that title before I even thought about writing this. Anyway She was clearly drunk and high. The words that I remember is when the judge asked,  

"how i knew the defendant." 

John said, "She's the daughter of the defendant."

My mom shouted out, "Daughter I've never had a Daughter. I've never seen this person a day in my life."

I looked down at the ground knowing all the bad stuff that my mom had done but this person was still my mom. The person that used to let me cuddle her when I was sick on the couch. What had I done wrong to the world that made this be my life. I don't want anyone else to have to go through this pain; it's enough trauma for a lifetime that nothing can fix. I thought of the reason I had said theater to John when he asked me what I wanted to do. I said it because I wanted to use a stage to echo my voice for anyone in the world who was hurting or atleast where I lived for now. One by one the witnesses went on the stands until it was my turn. John wasn't the lawyer but I had refused to have anyone but jhon ask me the Questions.

John asked  "Hello Miss. Y/L/N  where did you find out all of this stuff? "

"Hello sir in these diarys of  my moms she wrote everything shes ever done in these she also gave the location of where she hid the bodies," I looked at the jury, 

“Everyone hates there mother once they hit double digits thats been going on for a while I would never want to do this to my mom even if she had bailed me out of jail when i was six like a good mother i would still do this when someone loses a loved one it's the hardest moment in that person's life they will go to eveery end to just get a small amount of clojure  to these families whom my mom has killed the loved ones of clojure  to the man whom my mother had me with closure to the kid i use to call my bestfriend and flirt with whom is actuall my sister closuer for me to know its okay to date both boy in girl but its not okay to cheat and murder them and i hope that god can forgive my mom one day but I know that shes my mother and shes done alot of bad stuff I would still fight to the end of earth to hear her say once in my life to me that she loves me. But i know that will never happen. my mom isn't a bad person. she's the one who let me cuddle with her when i was sick,Would turn my radio up when my favorite song would come on, Would turn on christmas movies because she knew they were my favorite this woman that stands before you today is not my mother she has her face but she doesn't have her heart the woman was not whom I knew my mother to be and in my head it's going to stay that way because im 11 and i've already gone through more trauma then most of you adults can say you have been my mom has killed several innocent people and I want to give those people that have gone through that trauma happiness for once in their life. Sir i hope that answers your question If it doesn't too bad to sad but Im not staying another minute in this courtroom with the worst mother in the world," I turned towards the judge, "fax me the information once you guys find out pls," Looked at john, "your the only true parent i've had for now john your welcome to thanksgiving any time," Turned to the jury, "thanks for your time," Turned to my mother,"Go to hell." I replied 

Sometimes I regret the decision I made that day. I mean she was my mother and I’m not condoning her behavior but pepole make mistakes 

Trauma defention: an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, rape or natural disaster.

My definition: the years of lies and pain my mother put me through.

if you want part 3 like

[swampstew]

What's the Magic Word?

Chapter 16: Growing and Learning Chapter mentions pregnancy again, some One Piece spoilers, and TW: description of birth control insertion - IUD. Had a terrible experience getting mine but damn if it isn't the best birth control I've ever had.

The words in superscript are words UNSPOKEN. They think they're having the same conversation but not quite. Just a tiny little glimpse into communication styles and why its so important to have clear communication in a relationship.

They reached the island two days later, exactly on schedule. Kid had given everyone paid leave to fuck off, and a skeleton crew to guard the ship; he walked off ship with Rowena as they searched for a proper doctor. As they turned a corner, Rowena gave an excited squeal and walked up to a well. Kid read the sign: it was a wishing well. He pulled two gold coins from his pocket, giving her one. They tossed their coins in.

“What did you wish for?”

“If I tell you it won’t come true,” she giggled.

“Are you embarrassed to share your secret desires with me?” he teased.

Her smile slowly faded, “No it’s not that. My wish is…I just wish I knew who my father is or was.”

Kid put his arm around her and held her. “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

She shook her head, “I’m not upset. Just realized I wished for something totally unattainable. What about you?”

Kissing her cheek, “I wish for good news,” tugging her back on the road by the hand.

It took them some time but they finally found a doctor’s office. They waited in the exam room for the doctor to finish conducting tests on Rowena’s samples. He came in – Rowena’s feet were bouncing anxiously and Kid was gripping his seat so hard he could feel the wood splintering in his hand.

“Well, you’re not pregnant. Have you experienced severe stress or trauma lately? Sometimes that could cause your menstruation cycle to be late, or not at all in some cases. Are you actively trying to conceive? If so, you’ll want to try during your fertile window…”

The doctor’s voice became a buzzing noise to Kid. On the one hand he was overwhelmingly relieved – it’s a terrible time to start having brats; on the other hand, he felt strangely disappointed. The doctor and Rowena talked at length for a while, only coming back to Earth when he felt an elbow in his side.

Looking at Rowena: “how long are we here for? He can schedule me for a procedure.”

“Uhhh what? What’s happening?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m getting birth control implanted in me but he can’t do it until later this week.”

“Leave,” Kid told the doctor, not looking at him. The man stuttered before getting up and closing the door. “What’s going on?”

“A procedure for birth control. I don’t want another scare like this.”

“Is that necessary? That sounds like a lot of extra steps and pain when I can just buy us a shit ton of condoms. I’ll even double wrap! Besides, I already told you I’m on board if you end up pregnant.” Yeah supportive boyfriend guy right here, he had to stop himself from externally grinning.

She looked at him, dumbfounded. “Kid, I’m touched that you would…go to such lengths but yes it’s necessary. We can’t risk it. We have dreams and very challenging times ahead of us. How does a baby fit into that? And if I’m being honest, if I do end up wanting to have a child when I can be assured that our safety was absolute, I would want to be married before I even started trying to conceive,” she twisted her hair nervously, almost whispering the ‘M’ word.

The stars had aligned for him and he knew it was now or never. The Supernova looked her dead in the eyes and shrugged, “Ok is that all? Let’s go get married then.”

“THIS ISN’T A JOKE!!” she glared at him.

“Ro’ I’m being serious,” he cocked an eyebrow at her. He took her hands in his, “Look I didn’t give a shit about dating or relationships before because I’ve never given a flying fuck about anyone for more than five minutes. Then you were quite literally thrown in my direction, into my life. And it’s been…I never knew how much I wanted a connection like what we share. When I think about the adventures that await the crew, I see you right next to me. Baby or no baby, I don’t care. All my glory can be ours if you want it.”

Rowena wanted to cry, she wanted to bury her face into the giant idiot in front of her. She wanted to smack him on the head for saying such sweet things to her. Sweet and wonderful things he’d been saying to her. Feelings never experienced before blossomed inside her. It felt like the peak between feeling longing and of feeling found; a mix of happiness and anxiety. Feeling…scared stiff yet ready for action.

He’d been kind and caring towards her recently, she knew it was partly residual guilt and being horny but there was legitimate intimacy there. Same as before their fight on the island, when everything felt so hopeful and new. Learning about each other and learning from each other – holy shit was Kuma on to something when he sent her to Kid????

“But the Straw Hats…wouldn’t this(marriage) complicate things? I made them promises too. Am I a bad friend for sleeping with the enemy?!”

“If they don’t support your choices(marrying me and joining my crew) are they really that good of friends? Also, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve not said a word about what I’ve just said.”

“But you don’t…L-Lo…I mean I’ve only been with your crew for four months,” she whispered.

Leaning back in his chair with an amused grin, “do you think I’ve ever let anyone bite me and I don’t do anything about it? Or let them get away with a fraction of the things I let you get away with? I’m not romantic or some bullshit prince character that’s gonna sweep you off your feet. I know what I want and that’s you.” He pulled off one of his golden rings from his hand and placed it in her palm.

“You don’t have to answer right now just think about it.” She nodded, staring at the ring.

“I still want the procedure,” she said.

Kid chuckled, “you can do whatever you want, Rowena. So long as you’re mine, the world is your oyster. I don’t mind waiting a few years before we start our clan anyways.” She eyed him before resting her head against his neck, kissing the bruise she made the other day.

“Careful, I might take you right here and now and make you pregnant anyways.” She slapped his chest softly.

“Are you mine, the way I’m yours? We’re talking about exclusivity here right?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t be stupid, of course,” he said, pointing at the ring he literally just gave her.

She made the appointment for two days from then. They left, his arm around her shoulder and her arm wrapped around his waist, as they walked through the town. Both had matching smiles on their faces; they didn’t notice that the doctor’s office was right across from the bar his crew was at – they all had their faces pressed to the windows watching.

Killer announced, “There goes our future King and Queen of the Pirates!” The men raised their glasses and cheered.

𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧

Rowena spent the next few days searching for books and a crystal ball; she found the orb but she was struggling to track down any books on rune casting. She found a small book that looked interesting – the title read Blood lineage and the Power of Names. She paid for her items and walked towards her appointment, waiting for Kid.

Bored in the lobby, Kid paced around waiting for the procedure to be done. His blood ran cold when he heard Rowena screaming. Bursting through the double doors, he ran looking for her room. He broke through the door, murder in his eyes.

Rowena was laid up on an operating table; the doctor was in between her legs with metal tools, the nurse was screaming at Kid but he didn’t hear it, eyes zeroing in on the blood pooling under his Witch. He made his way to her, clutching her as she wept into his arms.

“It hurts, it hurts so much,” she sobbed. Kid glared at the doctor, demanding an explanation.

“We have to surgically insert it; we warned her she would feel a pinch,” he stammered. “We’re not done yet; you need to hold her down. It must be inserted correctly or she’ll have complications that could kill her.”

“Ro,’ babe look at me, bite down on me as hard as you need until he’s done,” Kid ordered. She whimpered, nodding. “HURRY UP THEN” he roared at the medical team.

They hesitated before they went back to work. Rowena pressed her weeping face into his arm. He gritted his teeth when she began biting, choked sobs coming from her.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped back, hands in the air: “we’re done. You can leave when she’s able to sit up,” they scurried out. The nurse tossed some pamphlets at Kid as she ran. He held Rowena against him while she cried softly. Any time he would try to make moves to leave, she would bend over in pain.

“Fuck it hurts so much,” she sobbed. Kid read through the papers, desperate for any answers. After a procedure of this intensity, the patient may feel mild to severe cramping from the insertion. Limit mobility for a few days for healing. Treatment can include over the counter pain killers, rest, heated water bottles on the abdomen, and time.

“I’m gonna carry you to the ship and then you’ll have to stay in bed for a few days. Do you think you can handle that?”

“I wanna go to your bed,” she sniffled.

“Obviously, dummy.”

“Don’t be mean to me!!” she wailed. Still in her medical gown, Kid took his coat off and covered her body with it, ensuring the material covered her entirely. He gently picked her up. She took sharp breaths, bristling at his touch as he lifted and cradled her against his chest. He stooped to pick up her bag. As he walked out with the Witch in his arms, he threw a bag of gold on the floor.

The walk back to the ship was challenging and long but they made it, and Rowena was carefully deposited into a nest of blankets where she proceeded to curl up in a ball and cry into the pillows. He brought her some pills and a heated water bottle. He laid down with her until she had finally fallen asleep. Exhausted, he soon followed her.

A few hours went by and he was awoken by sharp, persistent knocking. Opening it up, Killer pulled him outside.

“I know she’s had a rough day but something came up and we need you on deck. A marine ship has been sighted.”

Kid’s expression turned dark, “Alright let’s go fuck them up.” He couldn’t wait to take the murderous energy he had for Rowena’s doctor and unleash it on the soldiers.

Later that evening the Victoria Punk was setting sail again, leaving behind a fireball from the remains of a ruined Marine ship. The crew cheered and celebrated their victory that night. Kid stayed with them for a while before he snuck away to his cabin.

He was relieved to see Rowena had slept through the commotion. He stripped his clothes and climbed into bed with her, vowing to punch a hole through the next person that disrupted him. He curled his body around hers and fell into a deep slumber almost immediately.

Rowena’s large, pregnant stomach peeked from her loosely tied robe as she came into the room. Kid’s scarred face broke out in a huge grin, holding his hand out for her. Her hand had a marvelous diamond sitting on her finger; a gold ring sat on a chain in between her swollen breasts, he eyed them hungrily. She snorted and pressed them against his scarred chest and he shuddered. She took his hand to place on her side and Kid gasped as he felt movement inside. He could see tiny bumps pushing against her stomach, the shape of a tiny foot appeared; his fingers traced along it and he felt it give a kick. ‘Ow’ Rowena laughed, wincing. Kid wrapped his arm around her, kissing the small shapes; kissing up her stomach until he reached her lips. ‘I hope it’s easy, we got lucky the first time,’ she smiled at him, closing her robe. He was about to ask what she meant when they heard a young boy’s voice. ‘Ahhh, Luffy is being mean to me again,’ a small boy with black hair cried, running into the room and clutching at her leg. He sported a lump on his head over the only area that was shaved back; the child had a funny updo and… a pink tail?!?! Kid frowned at the child, looking to his wife. ‘When did-’ she put a finger to his lips, smiling at him. ‘I love you Eustass Kid, and I hope you love all our children as fiercely as I do,’ she kissed him. The boy made a face, ‘you guys are gross.’ She picked him up, he tried to fight against her but as soon as she squished him into a hug, the boy melted with a huge smile on his face. She peppered his face with kisses as he giggled happily. She held out her hand and Kid grasped it. Holding the boy with her, she pressed into Kid’s body until they were all squished together. ‘Noooooooooooo’ the boy squirmed but Rowena laughed at him, pressing her face into Kid’s chest. Looking up at him smiling, ‘I’ve never been happier in my life.’ Holding them both with his right arm, Kid lifted his left hand to caress her face but it wasn’t there. Frowning, he looked down to where his arm should have been and it was gone! ‘What the fu-‘  

Kid jerked awake, eyes unfocused in the dark room. He felt Rowena stir beside him, he took measured breaths so as not to wake her. He realized he was spooning her, his right hand on her stomach pressing her body into his, his left hand under his head and with no blood flow tingled and annoyed him.

He calmed himself down letting his eyes adjust to the dark; he looked at his woman, she looked peaceful and not in pain the way she had been earlier and for that he was grateful. He bent his head down and nestled against her neck, breathing in her scent.

He drifted back to sleep in no time at all, quietly murmuring, “I fucking love you, Rowena.”

Read on AO3

[namboobieslover]

Kintsugi: the beauty of broken things || MYG

Chapter 2

Summary: Yoongi and Minnie have been friends for quite some time now, almost... 15 years? 15 years since they ran into each other in that music classroom by an unlucky (or not) mistake. They've grown close, but both of them have strong characters and insecurities that will have to be put aside when Minnie falls into her own lie, risking her job in the process. They have 3 days to feel comfortable and make everyone believe their role as the young engaged couple or she is fucked :[

Pairing: musical producer! Yoongi x lab tech/science nerdy! f reader au; non-idol! BTS members make a brief appearance

Genre: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn (?), best friends to fake couple au, constant unresolved sexual tension, two idiots too proud to openly speak but pinning each other

Warnings: use of bad language, mentions of insecurities/low self-esteem, anxiety, trauma; light use of weed, little smut if you scrutinize, SFW

Masterlist: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // ...

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CHAPTER 2: We are boyfriend and girlfriend, dude

Word count: 3373

Yoongi has never been the kind of person to be openly warm with other people; he feels a lot more comfortable by subtly taking care. Something like sitting with a drink and listening, cooking if anyone has an upset stomach or picking you up if your car is in the shop. Small things that speak volumes.

He also isn’t very vocal about his needs or likings, but neither fears being bold about things he doesn't like. He thinks that's one of his best features: his honesty. Maybe his words sound dry, but they never come from bad intentions because Yoongi is not cruel; he just wants the best for his friends. If that implies hard love, he'll do it.

Whoever knows him a little bit knows that. He also does. Unknown people, on the other hand... usually take him for a bitchy personality and a big mouth that is only open to hurt everyone around. It’s one thing that has marked him throughout his life and deepened his introverted nature. Some would even call him cold or heartless, so he sometimes just gives up and acts that way, thinking ''if that's how little you think of me, there you have it and make it double".

But then, there's you. His Minnie.

No one has as much permission as you to make a fool of him. Whatever wall he tries to put between you and him when he's mentally slumping, it’s not big or fat enough to avoid your powerful ability to make him speak about his concerns and feel as exposed as if he were naked. 

No one can make him feel the urge to hug or give warm words to another being like you do, even when you are behaving stupidly, and all you deserve is a reality check. But he... He just can't. Of course, he would never admit it out loud, but it's not indispensable; both of you know.

Any outsider would think you hate each other, judging by your daily bickering non-stop and being brats even when one of you is struggling, but that's just how your friendship works. Under all that mockery, there is a hidden endearment, only shown by how eyes become fond when the other it's not looking.

He knows that you love him and that he loves you too, and you also know. There's no necessity to speak those words when you've felt them since your first meeting in that music classroom.

He knew he was on a ride since day one by the way your brows furrowed when he opened his mouth to say a sassy remark or by the number of times your eyes rolled at his mere presence. Befriending you was hard, but so far? Not an ounce of regret for his choices.

That's why he, once in a while, catches himself wandering in his studio with confused thoughts lingering in his mind. Lately, writing about feeling stuck and lost has been easier than ever, and he wonders if it's somehow (but probably not) related to the fact that your friendship is all he can think about.

He is preoccupied that nobody is going to understand him like you do. That perchance, once both of you find love, your friendship is destined to lose some of its strength. But would he stand that?

The light-skinned producer knows how lucky he is to have you; he is a lucky son of a bitch. He doesn't understand how you can stand him even when he can't stand himself, but there you are with a warm smile and a hug (that won't be accepted openly, you know it) plus, HE DOES understand something: he will do whatever it takes for never risk losing you. To never see you leaving his side.

That's why, when you come to his studio that evening, stomping with a hurried breath and furrowed eyebrows, he knows he’s about to have something to do for you. He was expecting something different and is a little surprised by the matter you established, but as your best friend... he’s not the one who's going to say no. Not like he could. 

He wants to help you as you do daily by taking his dark thoughts out of the way, and that's why he agrees with the two-step plan, even if his social anxiety has been peaking this week. That's how much you mean to him.

Not gonna lie; he feels a little ridiculous while walking to your flat wearing all the pieces of clothes that you so meticulously described in your text. He also feels ridiculous while holding your hand because his body feels warmer than he thought, but he blames it on the alcohol, no matter how little the amount is.

But all this shameful feeling disappears when he eyes you walking back to where he is after dropping your coat in the wardrobe. Have you always looked that good in that dress? He knew that it would be the right choice because he had always seen you pretty in it, but tonight... There’s something different on your face, but he can put his finger on it.

"Once this stunt is done, I urgently need to get laid" Yoongi thinks, mindful that his penis is the one thinking instead of him. "Bad timing; tonight is not the right moment".

Perhaps, after all… that dress wasn't a good choice. He is not the strongest soldier; where he puts the eye, he puts the bullet... And you look dangerously too much like a graceful prey for your own good.

He would never admit it, but maybe… some flirting is being done. As more alcohol enters his system, less and less ability he has to restrain the playful mood and himself. At one point, his mouth speaks quicker than his mind, and that's how he ends up disclosing you the bet.

Maybe, in his twisted unconscious, he thinks that if you get angry with him, all this weird situation will stop, whatever is going on. But instead of being filled with anger, your gaze shines a bit more. He would have never guessed that being told directly that someone wants you, instead of grossing you out, would set something similar to desire in that pretty head of yours.

That ignites something inside that takes him by surprise, and when his eyes can't leave the swaying of your hips on your way to the bathroom... He knows he is in trouble.

You have talked about sex plenty of times; your friendship is quite open around that issue. You throw jokes and some bantering on this subject to the other, but never anything serious. Also, he has never dealt with a playful and drunk you all by himself while he feels a little drunk too. This is unknown territory.

When deciding if the unsettling feeling in his stomach is good or bad, a masculine voice interrupts him.

-Can I give you a recommendation? -is the bartender that has served them all the drinks tonight.

-Yeah, why not? -Yoongi shrugs.

-Grow the balls, man. It’s painfully messed up the way both of you approach each other.

-What do you mean? She...she is...my girlfriend.

-Girlfriend as in a couple or as a friend that happens to be a girl? Because of the way it looks, you don't know the difference between both things.

-What do you mean? -Yoongi has nothing to lose while waiting for you.

-It's simple -the bartender answers while shrugging and cleaning a vase- the chemistry is there, but you have to be more straightforward. She seems oblivious to subtle hints.

Is our acting so bad that even a stranger looking from afar can see it?

-I wasn't flirting with her -Yoongi jumps with both hands in a defensive stand but sits immediately- well, because, you know… we are far gone from that stage. We are engaged -he says out loud for the first time.

-Sorry then. I must have gotten the wrong impression. It’s just… the way you act seems like two recently-in-love persons. So… you just are hardly whipped by her, mh? The way you mock and smirk at her is one from the books.

-Which books?

-How to escape from the Alcatraz that friend zone seems like. You have probably already gotten farther than where your expectations laid at first, but you behave as if you are still surprised by the fact that she reciprocates your feelings. You have to get out of that mindset. Being insecure isn’t a burden for yourself but for your partner too. Insecurities make daily stuff unnecessarily complicated.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at that. He can't admit that the only thing between you two is amity because this night's main task is to look more like a couple. That prompts him (now that the situation is less stressful) to step up his acting.

-Listen, man -the barista speaks again- I'm sorry; I didn't want to bother you or get myself into what is not my thing. It’s just that girls like that -signals between the sweaty bodies dancing for Yoongi to find you dancing with eyes closed in your world, unaware of the eagle-like gazes some other men are throwing you- are hard to find. As are shooting stars on a winter night. She is a bomb. You are lucky to have her in your life. If you let this opportunity slip through your fingers, you'll always regret it. I've been there. Her name was Sophie.

-What happened between Sophie and you?

-She just grew tired of waiting for me to make a move on her or whatever, and only when I saw her with another man I realized how much I loved her. Sadly it was late; that boy wasn't as blind as me, thus, he knew how to take care and appreciate all his good features. He kept her and the last thing I knew about, was that they were marrying. I had to block her; it hurt me a lot to see how happy she was living while I couldn't stop wondering how life would have been If I had opened my eyes earlier.

Wow, Yoongi wasn't expecting such a heart-to-heart confession by this stranger.

-Sorry to hear it -he articulates.

-Yeah. Guess time heals everything. They say that things happen for a reason. I haven't found mine, but one may be how today, I'm here to tell you all this; trying to avoid you a life-changing mistake. Whatever it turns out to be, I wish you the best of luck.

-You too -Yoongi nods as a goodbye.

This conversation has him feeling a little dizzy somehow because the bartender's words made the fear of losing the most precious thing he has in his life real but also made him confused. He knows you are a girl, but after so many years, his brain hasn't noticed ALL that implies. For him, his Minnie is his buddy, one softer than the rest, but his buddy after all. 

He has never seen you in any other light than as a little sister. Yeah, you are hot all dolled up, but apart from appreciating your beauty, he never thought of you… in that way.

Funnily, he can't take the whole destiny thing out of his mind. Everything happens for a reason. He does believe it, especially because your friendship was born the day a mistake put you both in the same class. His entire life always felt like an alignment of casualties that luckily went well.

His brain cells are working at full power (too much to handle) when he is finally near you; the only thing that pulls him like a magnet between the ocean of bodies. What does this night have that seems to cast him under a spell?

Softly, his hands lay on your small back, trying not to scare you or break the entrance you are in. Still, this act makes you jump till your head is turned to him, evident fear on your face dropping once the familiarity of your best friend comes into sight. 

You seem happy to see him and show by how a big smile is full on display. Suddenly touching you feels too much, so he drops his arms. 

-Sorry for not coming back. Those girls -you signal behind you a little group or women around your age that wave at Yoongi- were super nice and invited me to join them on the dance floor.

Your warm breath tingles in Yoongi's ear, who shivers a little under your touch on his shoulder and closeness.

-When did you meet them? -he asks more recomposed than he feels, in the same way you did to be heard in this noise.

-On the bathroom. That place is always good to make friendships after throwing a compliment here and there.

-Did you feel the necessity to find more friends? Am I not enough?

-I wanted to dance, and last thing I knew, it’s not precisely your favourite thing in the world.

-Is not but 1: I drank enough to lose some of my dignity and 2: I guess as your "boyfriend" -he marks the world rightly- is what I should do my honey boo-boo.

He bops your nose to accentuate the joke. Expecting the typical smack on his arm, he is surprised when your face lights up with fun and a sheepish smile decorates your mouth.

-Let's see what you have in store, buddy, but don't disloque your grandpa-like hips in the process, please.

-I'm just one year older than you.

-Well, time to act like it -you add, winking.

At the start, Yoongi feels a little uncomfortable, but soon that's replaced by calm. Both of you are vibing to the rhythmic music and grinning at each other. It's been a while since the last time you were able to relax a bit and not think about anything.

Some men fight their way to you, something that seems to be making you uncomfortable, so he feels the need to put himself as a barrier. You notice that and thank him without words.

Even like that, one of them reaches you and starts to talk in your ear. Yoongi tenses at that, but not long after, you are brushing off the boy without a bat of lashes. He sometimes forgets how fierce you are.

-Everything okay, Minnie?

-Yeah, don't worry -your words say different than your face; doubting eyes and inferior lip between your teeth- I was just thinking…

-That we suck at all the couple acting?

-Exactly that -finally a smile.

-I thought the same while talking to the bartender. Maybe… if you are okay… should try to improve it?

-Yeah, that would be nice.

He is hesitant, making you take the lead. He has never danced with you like this intently. It takes a little, but the right pace comes causing your bodies to be pressed together.

You see something over his shoulder that has you sighting tiredly and tensing the muscles.

-What? -he asks, preoccupied.

-Nothing. Just that asshole again; I don't know how to make his little brain of him to understand the message.

-Guess that's my cue to throw some hands -Yoongi feels the anger flowing through his entire system.

You hug his frame to stop him, and the next thing you do, take him by surprise.

You turn in his grasp, pressing your back in his front. His hands are doubtful but embrace nicely your waist, feeling yours securing that hold tighter with a graceful touch upon his skin.

-See, sometimes things have a solution without the need for fighting. Does this feel awkward to you?

-A little, but we should come to terms with it before Friday.

-Right.

-Still… I want to punch that idiot in the face.

You laugh, making his body resonate with yours.

-Just… ignore him.

One of your arms keeps its place above his, but the other flies right to his neck, pressing your body impossibly closer. Your fingertips brush sensitive skin that hasn't been touched in a long time.

The travel they do up, till they are messily rolling the long hair of his neck, makes him senseless of the world around you two. It feels nice.

He unconsciously nears his head to yours, making you giggle with the tingling of his long hair on your skin. He giggles too.

-Your hair is longer than ever.

-Maybe, but not for long. They will make some changes on behalf of the photoshoot.

-I like it now; that length fits you well -your fingertips comb through his black mat.

The dance continues all night, awkwardness long forgotten. Before you know it, it's time to leave the disco. Walking hand in hand to get out without losing the other, cold night receives you.

-Do you wanna take a taxi?

Yoongi asks himself the same question. "Do I?".

-If you aren't tired, I would like to walk better.

A night walk seems like the best, and you nod in approval. Even if he still feels the heat of all the dancing, he has to admit that the cold is coming for him, which manifests in a shiver.

You must notice because you unconsciously move your body to come closer to his. Your gentle grip around his arm with yours feels warm, and in the weird but comfy bubble that surrounds you two tonight, he reaches for your hand without a doubt, locking them together.

The chat till your place is around the new songs in his mixtape. He doesn't want to tell you that you have inspired a crazy amount of them, but how you look interested in the whole process (even when you have listened to it thousands of times) warms his heart once again. Enough to make him absentmindedly caress your knuckles in a circular motion with the thumb, something he becomes conscious of when your door is on sight.

-You can stay if you want to. Or call a taxi and wait for it here -you offer.

-I have to get up in a couple of hours anyway, so I will go to my house to take the stink of partying out with a shower and ingest the biggest coffee cup in history. A walk to wake up should help the cause.

-As you like. Then, this is the end of step 1 in the plan. How did you feel?

-Hate to give you the ego boost, but you were right. This was useful. Now I don't feel like throwing up seeing that ugly face; just a little nauseous.

And here it is, your signature smack.

-It was better than what I anticipated -he says now on a serious note- Maybe this will go well. 

-Yeah, maybe I won't be unemployed by Monday -you joke- thanks again, Yoongles.

-You are welcome -he replies with a grin that sets one similar on you.

You detach yourself from his side, leaving a cold feeling that has him shivering where your warmth was.

-Text me when you get home -you point him with the index, in a threatening stance.

-I'll do -he answers, grabbing your finger funnily and turning around.

-Oh, wait.

That stops him in his tracks while you make your way inside hurriedly. Once you come back, it’s with clothing in your hands.

-I know your pigheadedness, but I don't want you to catch a cold. Not like I care for your wellness. I am still in need of someone to play my fiancé, y'know? -you explain playfully.

-Of course, of course -Yoongi follows your stunt.

You wrap a soft black scarf and a matching beanie that smells like you around him. All Yoongi does is eying you like this was the first time he is looking at you. 

-What? -your eyebrow rises in doubt.

-Your makeup looks terrible right now.

Your reaction is to simply pull the beanie over his eyes and flick your finger at his cheek.

-Remember, text me once you get home.

-Okey, mom.

-Bye -you bid him from your doorstep.

-See you tomorrow.

Yoongi walks in the cold night back home, but all he can feel is the warmth of your scarf and beanie.

Everything is fine.

A/N: I hope you are liking the story so far. As I said in the first chapter, uni is biting my ass. Literally, this has taken me 3 days, taking time from here and there, to fully review, so... sorry for taking so long.

Feel free to give some feedback whatever is good or bad, and thank you for liking or sharing, I appreciate that a lot. Have a nice day!

[moonspirit]

Hi, Moon! Let's play Fanfic Writer: Director's Cut game, shall we? OKAY, the thing is, I could just smashed "give me a whole analysis on your story", but I respect your time, so let's start with VBEOW: - The bridge scenes, all of them, with Aruani and the refugess - Big shoes, small shoes (I have a hunch that, maybe, it doesn't include only Aruani, but other double A's as well...) - The Wings of Freedom seal - The choice of plants for PokoPiku lovestory - Aoife- Annie moment in chapter 8

Anna 🙃 you certainly remember more than I do of what even goes on in this fic 🙃🙃🙃 I'm also so very sorry, I... this is very long....

1. The Bridge Scenes.

So far, there have been... Two. First when we saw Armin and Annie "cross" it (because technically they didn't fully cross it) early in the morning, and then again when they go across to the refugee settlement and Armin gives that fancy speech and helps our poor fear-worn refugees cross it.

The lake in this village in Kald is inspired by Lake Brienz in Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland. Ever since I first saw it, I wanted to put AA in this setting in a fic someday. And when I started writing again, VBEOW was my setting to do that. The bridge however, was not planned. I wanted a village on this side of the lake, and some cottages on that side, simply for scenic purposes, and it wasn't until Annie went on her first solo morning walk, that the bridge happened. Same with the settlement cottages.

Eventually however, this gave me an opportunity to do several things:

1. Separate the AA and the other four physically, from the Ft.Salta refugees and the warriors' parents. This would give them the space and liberty to live their new lives on their own, together, while also being able to freely visit their parents (who belonged to their past, a terrible past). Basically, new life -------(bridge)------- old life.

2. Provide an opporutnity to "bridge" the gap between the liberio refugees, and the host of issues they come with. What issues? Two. One, their hatred toward the Eldians on Paradis (surely there are many who thought like Eren's grandpa, OG Jaeger). This one was pretty much "resolved to a great extent" in TFLM with that train pulling scene and I didn't want to go into it again. Second however, is their generational trauma. The Liberio Eldians faced a horrifying confinement brutally enforced on them by the Marleyans and like Grisha's sister was fed to the dogs for leaving the internment zone without a permit, I'm sure other families faced the same horrors. When you're terrorized like that, you don't try to leave when you're put in a box. By physically placing the refugees on the opposite side of the lake, in a set of abandoned cottages, away from the village and general populace of native Kaldians, it's like another confinement. An opportunity to get them to rise over it. But this can be done only by...

3. Developing Armin's character enough, to be able to do this. So one of the many great things Erwin did was recognizing Armin's brilliance and potential and giving him a boost despite being a green recruit. But we never got to see him gradually grow into that leadership and position of command thanks to Eren's genocidal ass, instead we have that post-timeskip shot in 139 where he looks a great deal more confident and sure about himself,.... but I believe it would've been an absolute treat to see him grow bit by bit into this state. And I wanted VBEOW to be a fic where I could make that happen. Using his empathetic and understanding approach, Armin drew a line that had to be crossed on the middle of the bridge - (we'll get to why the middle in the next point), forcing them to "want" to "cross the physical barrier" that's a 2D chalk line. Without a line, it's just a bridge they're scared of crossing. With the line, it becomes more, by stepping over it each time, they're reminding themselves that they're free now, they can cross any line and any border in the world. They're equals, and they're nothing less. The Boy who Saw Hope, gathering enough confidence to do this, cementing himself as a very different kind of world leader (one that doesn't just seek power and glory), and also, becoming more confident with himself.

4. In the context of AA alone, the bridge is... the middle. The meeting point between two worlds. A paradisian. A marleyan. Both Eldians (well, annie is half), separated by walls and told to kill the other. Despite it all, they always gravitated toward each other and now, they're at the very middle and center. Also a symbolic way of saying that they crossed the "borders" long ago when they fell in love :3 Armin sees this (and also realizes how he can use it for the refugees later on) and emotional, kisses her there. Bec he's a sap. And corny.

2. Big Shoes, Small Shoes.

While I usually look up symbolism on the internet, I didn't do this for shoes. Shoes in VBEOW represent many things - the desire to travel and go places, the crossing of great distances... and so on. Shoes are also the first things you see when you come home. In a proper "home" you're going to find them lying haphazard and messy, strewn here and there carelessly, arranged in a row together. It's a sign of people being home, family being home. It's a sign of home. And Annie and Armin, are each other's home, and they're also building a place they can call home. So when Annie shoves her shoes close to Armin's, it's her desire to build a place just for herself and him, although maybe subconsciously still, she's seeing it happen and she wants it. She likes it and she's safe and happy in a house with him where no more terrors and battles wait to be fought. It's a sign of peace and quiet she's always wanted. This plot isn't over tho, and you'll see this specific scene happen again xD

But the shoes are also for the OTHER AA in this story, namely the little kids Asa and Aoife. So, written to simply be parallels to Aruani's lives, they have grown their own lives now and I no longer can keep them as "just" mirror images of Aruani's pasts. Armin puts himself in Asa's little shoes to help him grow, to be the sort of person he wished he'd had in his own life. Annie... is also faced with this dilemma currently and we'll see what she does.

3. Wings of Freedom Seal.

So first of all, I'm weirdly attached to this symbol xD Ever since I first saw it... I wanted it xD I loved it xD I bought so MANY tshirts with it printed on them lmao. ANyways.

So remember how BIG of a deal the SC was back in S1-3? And in S4 we've got so much of shit thrown at us that the significance of the SC fades into the background, brought back in that one (or two) episode(s) where Hange gathers everyone around the fire to share her potato stew. There, we know that the Alliance opposes Eren's genocide because of what the SC always believed in. Freedom for mankind as a whole. Between's Erwin's charisma, Hange's curiosity and Armin's dreams, Armin seemed to me always the one best suited to wear the wings on his back. Simply because for him, Freedom is the beauty of life, the beauty of discovery and learning and exploration. So while we have them wearing suits and looking amazing as "Ambassadors" in 139, I kinda... wanted them to carry the Wings proudly throughout the 3 year timeskip. After all, all of them except for Pieck, were part of the 104th. Except Annie, the rest all belonged to the SC. And Annie would've joined the SC if not for her mission, I feel. In the end, they were brought together by the same ideals, the ideal held proud and high by the Wings of Freedom. Giving it to Armin as a seal was... like... giving him the power to wield it in his future efforts as a world leader.

4. Pieck, Porco and the Plants.

So there's no argument that the warriors had terrible lives. They were bred to be war weapons and had their life spans shortened to 13 years. Above all that, despite fighting Marley's dirty wars, they were still treated horribly, looked upon as devils and scum for being Eldian in the first place and well, seen as shit. In comparison, the Paradisians had better lives, they were at least equal and happier within their walls. Now. I won't get into Pokopiku here, but with that kind of life, love is... Depressing. There's no future together. There's no guarantee of a tomorrow. One of them could be severely damaged in a explosion or whatever and that'd be the end of them. Still, they made the most of their time, and tried in those little pockets of time alone, not to feel like the warriors they'd been told to be.

To be human is also to take care of things. To take care of life. Plants, are life. Plants symbolise life in their growth, in their colour, in the care needed to help them survive. Plants are harmless and if you care for them, it's kinda like taking care of your own children. Pokopiku here dreamed of this one day, where they'd live in a house covered head to toe with plants, taking care of them, taking care of life, living life for once, and enjoying it, free of worries and responsibilities. It was also their desire to be with each other, dreamed of in secret, special only because they thought of it when they were alone together. With Porco gone and her dream achieved, albeit without him, the plants in Pieck's room are Porco himself. And they'll stay, because he's part of her and always will be.

I have to mention tho, none of the plants in Pieck's room are flowering plants. None. That's important.

5. Aoife-Annie, Ch 8.

XD this one is like asking for spoilers since we haven't resolved this issue. But it won't be resolved for a long time really... Well... In a... Certain way... Okay i can't say more xD

But Aoife is Annie's younger self, brought up with bruises and pain, in different circumstances. We'll obviously go into those circumstances and why she is the way she is later on, and we'll see why she constantly says "I fall" (tho I think it's a little obvious but still), why she told Annie "nothing bad happens in Kald" the first time they met, and why she's arguably, quicker to open up to Annie than Annie possibly might've been, at the age of 10 herself. For Aoife, Annie is a bright lighthouse, a strong girl who's just told her she's been beaten like Aoife, but who remains strong and brave nevertheless. As to why Annie's the only one who she sees as a sign of hope.. we'll find out that too later on. But yeah. She latches onto that the very minute she hears it and begs her to teach her to fight. Because what could be better than to be strong like Annie? Like this girl, so fierce yet caring, who'd wrapped a bandage around her burns, paid enough attention to her to notice them in the first place, and accepted her company and gifts of sweets?

As for Annie... She's trying to live a new life, putting memories of her past behind her. Memories of being trained to fight wars she didn't care about, and memories of before that, when she was abused by her father. She finds herself in an extremely dangerous situation (for her) where agreeing to help this girl will take her back to those times and days. The ring on her finger symbolises all the death she's caused and it came from fighting in the first place... Why would she willingly go back there? She's wanted nothing but peace and quiet and a life away from fighting - now that it's in her hands, she wants to stay put. It's also the recurring fear of feeling like she'll be white washing her crimes (or trying to atleast) with this one act of kindness, because to help is to give hope, to the other person and to oneself. And Annie doesn't want to give herself any hope that she's guilt free. While she believed she cared about nothing except her dad, we know she cared a great deal about much more. She does have guilt, and she carries it heavily.

Oh god :D if you made it here... God, I'm amazed #_# Thank you so much for asking me tho!

I have no idea how I even wrote all this... Does this... Really belong to my fics... ?

[elysianstars]

So I was really on the fence about Fire Emblem: Engage, but then thought hey, I’ve played six other FE games and enjoyed them all, odds are good I’d enjoy another. This was the CORRECT CHOICE.

Gameplay was great. I spent several days just messing around in regular skirmishes, got carried away, then ended up overlevelled for the main story maps. Story was by turns ridiculously cheesy, predictable, and then punching me square in the heart. Characters are a bunch of fun anime blorbos. Sommie now leads an army of about fifty stray cats and dogs, RIP to anyone with allergies who hopes for an audience with the Divine Dragon.

No, I don’t mind that there’s less deep worldbuilding and grey morality compared to Three Houses, because sometimes I just want to enjoy a colourful fairytale where Good curbstomps Evil and then everyone lives happily ever after. Y’know, to balance out the cynical capitalist hellscape that is real actual life.

Spoilers abound under the cut, also tl;dr, apparently I have a lot to say about this game.

I chose male Alear, because his design bothers me less than the female one (she looks simultaneously more childlike and more sexualised, which uh, is not my cup of tea). He ended up reminding me a lot of Corrin in some ways - sweet and kind, a bit naive, amnesiac getting gaslighted due to past childhood trauma and having a giant evil dragon god as a father, y’know, little things like that.

Honestly, the Chapter 11 battle was less painful than watching his give them back please give them back routine over the Emblem Rings. Honey, they’re the villains, they’re not gonna do that just because you keep asking. But he got it together as the game progressed, and I was incredibly relieved when he said no to being blackmailed over the Queen of Solm’s life. And then we got his double death, which was silly on the part of the writers, but did showcase him being brave and sweet, AND THEN CHAPTER 24. His voice actor did a great job there. My heart was in pieces when he started chanting ‘defect, defect’, like no excuse me you are actually perfect. Even your hairstyle, which we now know is actually plot relevant and not just an Interesting Choice on the designer’s part. And even if you can’t turn into a proper dragon (though it would have been fun if he did that in the early chapters, wouldn’t it? All his allies expect a shining white Lumera clone, and what they get is either a mini Sombron or some type of messed up hybrid, and Alear himself doesn’t know why either. There’s a dramatic start to an AU fic). 

I didn’t care about the Emblems, they were just a game mechanic that gave me flashy magical girl transformations, and even the ones I recognised like Corrin and Byleth didn’t stir anything (I actually prefer male Corrin and female Byleth). But I understood why Alear in particular cared about them, at least. The Four Hounds...well, I liked their theme tune, and I’m sure some people are delighted with Griss, that wacky little masochist. They certainly had admirable escape skills, the number of different times they turned up for battle. Or maybe nobody ever explained the concept of taking prisoners to Alear.

Loved Alfred, loved Ivy and both her weirdo retainers. The weapon triangle meant nothing by the end of the game, I could charge Alear or Kagetsu towards a pack of blue enemies or Alfred towards greens, and it didn’t matter because they’d just dodge and laugh. Flower crown boy got the pact ring, because I heard what happens to him otherwise and that is Not Allowed. They’re so sweet and stupid together.

I bought the DLC after completing the main story, because I wanted more maps to play, and then eventually the Xenologue. Congratulations Nintendo, you have wheedled another chunk of money from me and it was well spent.

[mewtonian-physics]

Why I Like Puella Magi Madoka Magica (Yes, This Includes Rebellion)

I actually highly recommend people who haven't seen it but are shunning it based solely on what they've heard to read this. I'd say 'if they don't mind spoilers' but I get the feeling most if not all of them have already gotten all the spoilers without the proper context. Anyway, yeah. I have a lot to say about this show.

Let me just say right off the bat that no, I do not like Gen Urobuchi. He's done some truly horrifying things. I do not believe Puella Magi Madoka Magica to be one of those things; however, if someone is turned off from watching it due to his involvement I have no issue with that.

On to address the biggest argument I tend to see against this show.

"It's torture porn!"/"It's just a bunch of teenage girls suffering for twelve episodes!"/And so forth.

I feel like there's a double standard here. For example, there's another show I like called Hunter x Hunter. Hunter x Hunter has an extremely long arc generally referred to as the Chimera Ant arc.

Now, the Chimera Ant arc involves a lot of fucked up things. It's many chapters and many episodes of Gon and Killua, who are around 14 or 15 at the time, going through absolutely horrific trauma. This includes: all but watching a mentor figure die in front of them; fighting inhuman creatures, many of whom used to be human; being put into life-and-death situations by people who evidently don't care that much about their wellbeing; fighting amongst themselves; being driven to the brink of despair and becoming something truly horrifying and wanting nothing more than revenge; and almost dying many times.

These elements I listed... are some of the main things I see people complain about with regards to Madoka Magica.

Yet I have never once seen anyone call Hunter x Hunter torture porn. Not even the Chimera Ant arc specifically. I'm not saying that that never happens, but I've never seen it personally, and I certainly doubt it happens to the degree it does with regards to Madoka Magica. And the Chimera Ant arc is much, much longer. It is drawn out and horrible and gutwrenching and honestly, at some points, genuinely sickening.

So I can't help but wonder, why the double standard? To give people the benefit of the doubt, I tend to assume it's one or both of the following:

Madoka Magica is a magical girl show, which is not a genre you would typically expect such dark content. (Or, at least, it wasn't.)

It's because Gen Urobuchi is involved, and his other works cast a (fully justified) negative light on this one. Again, if this is your problem with it that is your prerogative and I do not blame you. But I actually rarely see people bring that up.

If I'm being less generous, I could say that perhaps it's some form of misogyny--that since the main characters of Madoka Magica are girls, it's worse and more unforgivable than it is for boy characters to go through similar things. (Because girls apparently can't handle trauma like boys can, or something? I don't claim to understand the reasoning behind it.) But I doubt that's actually the case in most situations, though I wouldn't be surprised if it was in a few.

Though really, if people want to complain about magical girl torture porn, Mahou Shoujo Site is right there. (God, I hate Mahou Shoujo Site.)

But that's enough with the rebuttals. I'm here to talk about why I personally like it.

Quality

I mean, come on. In terms of technical skill, this show has so much going for it. Outside of the occasional awkward moment (as showcased in the famous Meduka Meguca), the animation is stunning, particularly in the witch's labyrinths. The music is amazing and adds so much to each scene--some songs that played in particularly heartwrenching scenes still make me sad just to listen to. In my personal opinion, the voice acting in both the Japanese and English dubs is fantastic. (Though I know that's subjective for a lot of people.) The storyline is concise and does what it needs to do without padding things out or feeling rushed. Even the recap movies are worth watching for the new material they offer, to say noting of Rebellion. So much symbolism is packed into it without feeling forced (okay, except maybe for the 'Love Me Do' bit; that one felt a little excessive)--it's just something fun to think about. Hell, they came up with the runes system when they really didn't have to, and it's a great touch. On a purely technical level, I think Madoka Magica is amazing.

(General) Lack of Sexualization

Magical girl series are scary because they are a haven of fun costumes but also at high risk of oversexualizing teenage girls. I'd say it's the second worst genre in that regard. Although it's not perfect, particularly in regards to some of Mami's portrayal, Madoka Magica tends to steer away from sexualizing its characters. (Magia Record, on the other hand, went full tilt into that, which is a major factor when it comes to how much I despise it.) It does have some troubling moments, and honestly whoever animated the opening for the original show should come meet up with me some time (I just want to talk, I swear...) but I appreciate its general avoidance of the problem. (Also, the long transformation sequence in Rebellion not having a single moment of that at all is soooo refreshing. I love magical girl transformations. Right up until they start making the characters naked. Looking at you again, Magia Record... and like ten thousand other shows on top of that.)

Characters

My god. My god. I adore the characters. All five of the main girls feel so real to me, and they subvert expectations brilliantly. That calm, collected mentor figure? She's horribly lonely and acts like that because it makes her seem a lot stronger than she feels. The 'hero of justice'? So focused on her ideals that she doesn't see the truth of the matter until it's already too late. The selfish rival? Traumatized from her own time trying to be a hero and the horrible consequences. The cool, mysterious girl? An anxious kid trying to protect her only friend (and/or crush). And unlike a lot of magical girl shows, the main protagonist isn't a leader at all--she's just a normal kid watching her life fall apart around her and trying desperately to figure out what to do even as everything seems completely hopeless.

The character development feels genuine, and not just that--this show's portrayal of mental health issues is something I'm never going to forget. I watched it for the first time when I was the same age as the main characters and hadn't yet realized just how bad my own issues were, and I felt seen in a way I didn't fully understand myself. The scene where Madoka bursts into tears at breakfast because she's just realized the danger she was in and is grateful to be alive to eat breakfast with her family is heartwrenching. Kyouko and Homura closing themselves off to the world because their painful experiences have left them feeling like they can't rely on anyone else is horribly believable. Mami hiding her loneliness behind the façade of a cheerful, cool big sister figure is painful. And Sayaka. My god, Sayaka. I'll get into her in the next section.

Witches as a Metaphor for Depression

So, this is pretty obvious. I mean, it's despair that makes a magical girl turn into a witch. The things a witch leaves behind are literally called Grief Seeds. But it feels so true to life even outside of that. Watching Sayaka's ideals, hopes, and dreams get crushed and her subsequent spiral is something I've seen multiple other people talk about relating to in the same way I did. Sayaka is perhaps the most relatable character in the show for someone with depression. She starts out as a confident, cheerful, idealistic girl, and then the real world hits her. The world where there are truly horrible people who do awful things for no reason (the men on the train, for example). The world where good deeds don't necessarily get rewarded and good intentions don't make everything turn out okay. The world where sometimes things just suck and no amount of ideals can change that.

As her Soul Gem gets corrupted, it becomes more and more similar to severe depression. She experiences fatigue and dissociation and hopelessness, and she lashes out at her best friend for not being in her shoes even as she knows what she's doing is wrong--she runs away crying in the rain afterwards beating herself up over it. And at the end, when she reaches a point of absolute despair and no longer holds any of the ideals she once had, having become disillusioned with reality, she implodes. She draws into herself and creates a world of the things she loves, and attacks Madoka and Kyouko when they try to bring her out of it. She gives up entirely on the world and on herself. And supernatural influences or not, that's something a lot of people with severe depression can relate to.

But it doesn't stop there.

Rebellion And Its Inevitability

I've seen people talk about how they think Rebellion was out of character and unbelievable, but I have to disagree with that perspective. Rebellion is horribly believable, and despite the relative happiness of the main show's ending for everyone else (Madoka's speech about how people should hold on to hope and keep trying even when things seem impossible still brings tears to my eyes), Homura never really got any closure, and it's honestly not a surprise to me that things turned out how they did. I mean, think about it. The girl she spent literal years trying to protect just disappeared in the end, leaving her little brother and Homura as the only ones who remember her. No one else is even aware she ever existed at all. Homura says it herself in the movie--it made her feel like she was going crazy. Like her most precious memories with the person she loved most were just things she made up. How is a traumatized teenage girl supposed to deal with that? And yes, Homura is still a teenager--no matter how many loops she went through, she never actually aged. Her brain is still at the developmental stage it was when she started--that of a fourteen-year-old girl. She's not an adult and expecting her to make perfectly rational adult decisions is unfair--hell, expecting even an adult to make perfectly rational decisions in that kind of situation is unfair! And even though she decided to play the role of the devil, on some level she really thought she was doing what was best for Madoka, because the amnesiac Madoka told her that what happened would make her sad. Homura still spent the whole movie trying to do right by Madoka, even to the point where she was desperate to die so that Kyubey couldn't hurt Madoka anymore. Sure, her actions were hardly selfless, but again--this is a scared, traumatized teen in a desperate situation making a split-second decision. Even if she thinks Madoka will hate her for it, on some level she thinks she's doing the right thing. Actually, that's how you can tell--if it was a purely selfish action, she wouldn't accept Madoka potentially hating her. She'd want to keep Madoka by her side forever. But she doesn't. She accepts the fact that Madoka might someday hate her for what she did. She wanted to save Madoka even if it meant damning herself. And she didn't go about it in the smartest way, but yet again--scared, traumatized teenager.

All in all I think Homura's despair was inevitable under the circumstances. Rebellion's ending makes sense to me. And I love it just as much as the main show.

Okay, I'm going to call it there since this post is stupidly long already. Hopefully it helped explain at least a little bit of my love for this show.

[songforeddiemunson]

Panic in Detroit 3

A Bartender!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader fix-it fic series.

Series Summary: It’s the year 1991. Reader is fleeing an unendurable life in an attempt to start anew. A dangerous man hunts her, and she finds herself in a seedy corner of Detroit, working in a dive bar under a false name. Unbeknownst to her, her whole world is about to be thrown into an even worse tailspin, further complicated by a mysterious and handsome bartender with a complicated past of his own.

Series Warnings: Angst, trauma; there will be references to past domestic violence but nothing explicitly described. Coarse language, stressful situations, eventual smut and fluff. Slow burn. Minors DNI. Reader’s description is vague apart from being AFAB, in an attempt to remain inclusive.

**As always, if you like this, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of any fic writer! Please let me know if you would like to be included in a taglist for this series.**

Chapter Three: As the World Falls Down

Chapter warnings: the usual coarse language; drinking and drunkeness, some fluffy steam, TW for brief mentions of assault, violence and death threats, angst and anxiety.

Word count: +4k

December, 1991

Winter hit Detroit like a beast. It was on the wrong side of Lake Michigan to experience the deluges of lake-effect snow, but it got cold, damn cold; with the sort of wind that would steal the air from your lungs if you dared to take a breath outdoors. Your mother would have called it ‘snot freezing cold’ if she were still alive; an unpalatable yet accurate way of describing that type of bone-numbing chill.

You had been bartending for weeks, having officially graduated to Second Bartender, a title that Tom had tried to give more levity than was possible, considering there were only two bartenders to begin with (Tom, as owner, insisted he didn’t count).

You settled into the job well, especially since you did have some prior experience. Most of the customers at Tom’s weren’t exactly cocktail drinkers, so your time was predominantly spent slinging beers and whiskeys. Two sets of hands were better than one, and you and Eddie settled into an easy rhythm. The only thorn in your side was Hazel. 

Hazel was a regular who appeared to be in her late 50s, but you couldn’t say for certain.  She was obsessed with Eddie and spent the better part of her time at Tom's making eyes at him and trying to shove her ample bosom in his face. By the time she had put away a hefty amount of whiskey, she got grabby. And, just as Eddie had predicted on your first day, she did NOT like you. 

It was 8pm on a Thursday, early, by many bar-goers’ standards, yet she was already completely hammered, struggling to stay upright on her stool, alternately hollering for Eddie and swearing at you for cutting her off.

“Hazel,” you pleaded. “Let me call you a cab, please?”

“Caroline,” Hazel slurred, “m’need to talk to Eds. Eddie.”

“My name is Cassidy, you know this,” you sighed.

“Fuck. Christine. Gimme Eddie.”

“Cassidy,” you repeated firmly, hands now on your hips. You glanced over at Eddie, who was only about six feet away down the bar, going about his business with a smirk on his face. He could clearly hear everything that was happening.

“Cassandra. Gimme whiskey.”

That got him, and Eddie doubled over laughing. He quickly straightened and joined you at your end of the bar, trying his best to quell his hilarity and keep his expression neutral.

“Hazel,” Eddie chided as one would with a four-year-old. “Don’t be rude. Cassidy works here now and you need to be nice.”

“Eddieeeee,” she whined, and she reached forward, scrabbling at the front of his t-shirt with her press-on nails. Eddie took a step back out of reach. 

“Hazel,” he said firmly, fixing her with a stern look. “Behave. We’re calling you a cab.”

“Fine,” she pouted, attempting to cross her arms haughtily before sliding off her stool onto the floor.

At precisely that moment, Tom emerged from the office behind the bar, wearing a brightly colored and loudly patterned Hawaiian shirt that was entirely in contrast with the cold, gray Detroit weather. This distracted you and Eddie from Hazel’s predicament, and you laughed heartily. Eddie shook his head, with a disappointed look on his face.

“You look like an idiot,” Eddie said simply. You slapped his arm playfully, making him glance at you. 

“That's mean. I think he looks great!” you beamed.

“Thank you Cassidy,” Tom replied with a nod to you before turning his glare on Eddie. “Not all of us want to wear the same damn thing every day, you cranky little shit.” 

Eddie turned toward the mirror behind the bar to check himself out. He was wearing his usual uniform of unbuttoned flannel shirt and black t-shirt. If it got really cold, he might button his flannel partway, or wear a knit cap over his long curls, which he usually had pulled back in a ponytail for work. Occasionally the t-shirt would be another color, but that’s as varied as Eddie’s wardrobe got.

“He kind of has you there,” you said.

“Well sure, I might wear the same style of clothes most days,” he said. “But the shirts are different.”

“Why the fuck is Hazel on the floor?” Tom bellowed, pulling your attention away from Eddie’s attire. “Was nobody going to pick her up? What do I pay you people for?” he hollered, while helping her back into her stool. She was drooling slightly and grinning, and Tom put his face only a few inches from hers to yell, “Hazel! You have to stop being a fucking mess in my bar! I’m calling you a cab!”

“I’ll do it,” you said, laughing, and made the call from the phone behind the bar.

Tom sat on the stool next to Hazel and tried to help her eat some pretzels, which she predominantly just mashed between her lips sloppily before letting them fall out of her mouth. You set a glass of water on the bar, which Hazel slurped happily, with only marginally more success than the pretzels.

“So what’s got you looking so bright and cheery today, anyway?” you asked Tom.

“I’m getting the fuck out of dodge, my buddies,” Tom replied. “It’s my annual trip to Boca Raton to visit my mother. I usually head down around the holidays but this year I’m going a week early. I’m sick of this freezing cold.”

“Aww, that’s great, Tom!” you beamed.

“Yeah. She’s 86; the old girl keeps on trucking. She’s tough as nails, my mom.”

“I’m happy for you,” you said. 

“Thanks kid,” he replied. “What about you? What are you going to do for the holidays?”

You smiled and shook your head. “Nothing, really. I won’t be visiting anyone, or vice-versa.”  Eddie, who had been busy grabbing beers and whiskey shots for the patrons, stopped and looked at you, his expression one of quiet surprise.

“You too, huh?” Tom said, a little ruefully. “Well, I guess it’s good that Eddie won’t be here alone for once.”

Eddie had turned back to his task of washing out glasses under the bar, a small, rueful smile on his lips.  “You’re usually here all alone for Christmas?” you asked gently.

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s okay. I’m not exactly a festive guy.”

“Oh that is going to change,” you breathed excitedly. “We are so doing Christmas this year.”

Eddie laughed. “Ooooh no, no you don’t. I’m good.”

“Yes! We are doing something nice! Eddie, don’t be a grinch!”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as the bar is still standing when I get back,” Tom said.

“No promises,” Eddie replied, with a wink.

The night before Christmas had arrived. Despite Eddie’s protestations, you had completely ignored him and decorated the bar, having strung multicolored lights all around the place. Cheap cardboard snowmen, santas and reindeer cutouts adorned the walls and the big mirror behind the bar. It was festive and delightfully tacky; the patrons loved it, and even Eddie couldn’t deny the fact that it brightened the place up.  Tom wasn’t due to return until the second week of January, so you snapped pictures with a polaroid camera so he would get a chance to see what you had done.

After a rousing sing along of Jingle Bells, which was a hilarious mess when 90% of the participants were loaded, you decided to close up early for the holiday at 10pm. You ushered everyone out the front door and locked it behind you.

You began to make your way around the main seating area, straightening chairs and picking up discarded napkins and beer bottles. Eddie started his nightly ritual of cleaning up around the bar.

“I haven’t said Merry Christmas Eve to you yet,” you called over to him, the quietness of your surroundings seeming strange after the recent tumult and din.

Eddie looked up. “Well. Merry Christmas Eve to you,” he said, smiling and returning to his work.

You walked toward him, depositing some empty bottles and glasses onto the bar.

“What do you usually do? For Christmas, I mean.”

He shrugged. “Depends on the year, I guess. Usually, nothing. Tom’s always away, and there usually isn’t….isn’t a you,” he added with a small laugh. “When I first got to Detroit I wasn’t in the best place…you know, mentally. I would get drunk and feel sorry for myself; the usual self-destructive shit. Nowadays I just treat it like any other night, and I go home and read, listen to music.”

Even though you were essentially in the same boat, you felt horribly sad for Eddie. You didn’t know his history, but you found it hard to believe that there was nobody out there who would miss this man on Christmas.

“I’m sorry you weren’t in a good place when you got here,” you said quietly. “How long ago was it?”  You realized too-late that perhaps you were prying. “You don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to!” you added quickly.

“It’s okay,” Eddie said. “I’ve been in Detroit for almost five years.”

Oh my god, is he actually opening up to me? You thought to yourself excitedly. Even though you had known this man for over two months, you knew pretty much nothing about him, apart from his music taste, about which he was very forthcoming. You were hardly one to talk in the openness department, but maybe things could change.

“Ah cool,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Eddie smirked at you. “What else do you want to know?”

“Are you going to tell me if I ask?” you laughed.

“Depends on the question,” he replied.

“Okay. Well, where are you from?”

“Indiana. Where are you from?” 

You froze, unsure of how to respond. You wanted to open up to him, but you were so afraid.

“Hey,” Eddie chided. “That’s not fair. This friendship thing is a two-way street, you know.” 

“I know, it’s just–” you broke off, wringing your hands as your anxiety spiked. 

Eddie saw your reaction and softened. He came out from behind the bar and walked over to you, drying his hands on his bandana. 

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I was kidding, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

You felt so unbelievably frustrated. “But I want to tell you,” you said.

It was then that the words you’ve been wanting to say for weeks started to spill out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“I want to tell you everything,” you continued, and you felt tears sting your eyes. “Because you’re so fucking nice to me Eddie, and sometimes when you look at me like that”, you gestured to his face, “with those big brown eyes of yours, I feel like I can tell you everything, and that somehow you can actually make everything better, and…and I may be full of shit and maybe this is how I get myself into trouble time and time again…”

“Hey, whoa,” Eddie said, and he pulled you in for a hug. This was the first time he had touched you since your panic attack the month before, and the first time anyone had hugged you in months.  He rubbed your back soothingly and you melted into him, hitching a deep and cleansing sigh. You hadn’t realized you were so touch starved, and the warmth and solid aliveness of him was suddenly everything you didn't know you needed.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cooed into your hair as you sniffled and tried to shove away your emotions.

He helped you into a chair, and he sat cross-legged in front of you on the dirty floor. He took one of your hands and held it. “Tell me everything or nothing; that’s up to you. But you can trust me, Cassidy.”

When you remained silent, looking at him from reddened eyes, he kept going. 

“Okay, I’ll start then. I’m from Hawkins, Indiana. Ever hear of it?”

You thought for a moment. “Oh, wait,” you said. “Hawkins. As in, that Hawkins?”

Eddie nodded.

“The Hawkins that basically collapsed into that giant sinkhole in…what was it, 1986?”

He nodded again.

“Oh my god, is that why you came here? You were there?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said quietly, looking down at his lap. “I was there.”

“Oh my god,” you stammered. “Thank god you’re alright! I remember the news saying that hundreds of people were killed, what was it... like an underground volcano nobody knew about or something?”

“Something like that,” Eddie said.

“That must have been terrible to go through,” you said.

“You have nooo idea,” Eddie said, and his eyes met yours. There was something deeper there, something unreadable. “Even before that though,” he continued quietly, “the people in that town, they said the worst things about me, called me a devil worshipper and shit. I pretty much looked the same back then as I do now, with the long hair and everything. But in those days…I dunno, things were different. They accused me of horrible things; of hurting people.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, and you wondered if he’d spoken of this in the last five years at all.

“Oh Eddie,” you said sadly.

“After everything that happened, I just left. My name was cleared, so that’s not a problem anymore, but I knew I had to leave. I couldn’t stay. Fuck that town.”

“Do you have any family?”

“My mom died when I was eight and my dad will be in prison until 2009, if he lives that long.” Eddie sighed. “I grew up with my uncle. He’s a good man. He was going to be my one phone call tomorrow,” he chuckled. “I had some friends…some bandmates that I basically bailed on, the ones that lived, anyway.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if they miss me.”

He reached up and swiped a stray tear from your cheek, a gesture so surprisingly intimate that it stunned you into temporary speechlessness. “And that’s me in a nutshell,” he finished with a sad smile.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I ran away from my fiancée,” you said, and just like that, it was out in the open. Eddie’s lips parted as if he was going to say something, but instead, he only squeezed your hand in silent encouragement.

“He was…he wasn’t kind to me.” You paused, and you saw Eddie’s throat move as he swallowed thickly.

“He used to hurt me. He put me in the hospital and…Eddie, you’re squeezing me.” Eddie’s grip on your hand had grown painfully tight. 

“Oh god,” he said quickly, releasing your hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you said, smiling, and even though this was probably the most unpleasant conversation you had ever had, a tendril of something warm and lovely began to unfurl in your heart.

“Long story short, he threatened to kill me; tried to come after me, and the cops weren’t doing jack shit. So I ran away from him and everything else.”

Eddie nodded somberly. “I don’t blame you. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m still afraid he’s going to find me. He chased me through several cities, so that’s why I can be a little jumpy sometimes. He’s kind of insane.”

“Understood,” he said. He smiled. “Look at us. We're quite the lonely hearts club band.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you laughed.

Eddie stood up, dusting off his jeans in the process. He offered you his hand. “Let’s drink,” he said with a smile.

“What are we drinking to?” you asked, taking his hand and standing up.

He shrugged. “Not being alone on Christmas Eve.”

“Sounds great to me,” you replied, following him to the bar.

Eddie fiddled with the knob on the old radio behind the bar, finding a station playing Christmas tunes. Then, he popped the tops off a pair of Budweiser bottles, sliding one across the bar to you. He tilted the neck of his beer toward yours. “Cheers,” he said, his eyes twinkling. 

“Cheers,” you replied with a grin, taking the proffered beer and clinking it against his.

Time passed, and you drank. You chatted, and you laughed together. The walls that both of you had built were beginning to crumble. There was still a lot that you weren’t ready to tell Eddie, but he at least understood why your barriers were in place, and that made the world of difference. 

After a while; you weren’t sure if it was the beer, the lightness of spirit, or both; but you began to look at Eddie a little more closely.  You studied him during the quiet moments. The way the holiday lights reflected off the strands of his hair, making it shimmer with previously unseen highlights. The way a stray curl would escape and he would repeatedly brush it back behind his ear. The way his long eyelashes danced upon his cheeks when he closed his eyes, or how he licked his lips when he was trying to think of how to turn a phrase. And most especially, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever his deep brown eyes looked directly into yours. 

You were sitting on your bar stool, chin in hand, when you blurted, “I can’t believe people thought you were satanic. You’re so….nice!”

That surprised Eddie, and he laughed. "Yeah, I don’t even kill spiders, but nobody bothered to get to know me before they judged me. So. I was just Eddie the freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” you spat, offended by the notion. “That’s such bullshit.”

“You know, I’d like to think I was just ahead of the curve. Now everyone has long hair and wears wallet chains, converse and dresses metal. Thanks, Kurt Cobain!” Interestingly enough, you didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm or bitterness. It was a just matter-of-fact statement.

“Wow, that’s true,” you said. "Eddie Vedder, Chris Cornell, all those guys! Everyone loves 'em." 

You were about to say more, when Eddie suddenly said “Oh!” and pivoted to turn up the little radio. It was Nat King Cole’s version of "The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)."

“You're a classic crooner fan too?” you said, trying not to slur your words; you were feeling happily tipsy at this point. “First Johnny Cash and now Nat King Cole? That’s not very metal, Munson.”

“My mom used to sing this to me,” Eddie said, and your heart squeezed.

“Oh shit, sorry,” you said, feeling thoroughly rotten.

“No it’s okay,’ he said cheerfully, “it doesn’t make me sad. It’s a good memory.” 

He came around to your side of the bar and plopped down onto the stool next to yours. You had the inexplicable urge to get up and pull him out onto the floor, to wrap him up protectively in your arms and dance with him. But instead, you just watched him silently as he closed his eyes, and sang along to the song softly. God, he’s pretty, you thought ruefully to yourself as you stared at him. That stray curl was loose again, you noticed.

Before you could think about it or stop yourself, you reached over to brush the stray curl behind his ear, as you had seen him do so many times that night. His eyes snapped open, and he stopped singing.

Goosebumps raked down your flesh at the way he looked at you.

“Sorry,” you said simply. Was he leaning toward you?

“S’ok,” he said. He was close. Were you leaning toward him? 

You were close enough now that you felt his breath fan across your cheek when he said, “It’s midnight.”

“Oh is it?” you said. Your nose brushed his.

“Mmhm.” he said. “Merry Christmas, Cassidy.” His lips brushed yours.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie,” you whispered, and you kissed him.

His lips were soft, so soft, as they pressed against yours. You half expected him to pull away and scorn you for your brazenness, but he did not. He did break the kiss, but only long enough to slide off his stool and stand in front of you. He cupped your face in his hands in order to tilt your face up to his. He kissed you again, and you felt his tongue tease against your lips, a silent question which you answered by opening your lips to him and granting him access. He gently slid his tongue into your mouth, and you answered him with yours. Your tongues danced together softly, tentatively, until you broke the kiss. You stood up and began peppering his face and neck with kisses as you slipped your hands around his neck, twining the fingers of one hand into the hair you had so longed to touch. It was softer than you had imagined, thick and soft.

He pivoted and pushed you against the bar, and he kissed you again, deeper this time, and your breathing began to quicken. Your body felt electric, like you had touched a live wire and even the smallest spark would set you aflame. Oh you had wanted this, but you didn’t even dare to admit it to yourself.

Your fingers found his trim waist and slipped up under his shirt, feeling his smooth warm skin. You wondered if he too wanted this as long as you had, but further thoughts were cut off when he quickly lifted you and sat you on the bar, and slotted himself between your legs. 

“I want you, Cassidy,” he sighed as he kissed along your jaw, below your ear. 

“Not here,” you sighed, preferring not to consummate your relationship in a dirty bar. You loved Tom’s, but a romantic getaway it was not.

“My place or yours?” Eddie asked between kisses.

“Mine is closer,” you chuckled and hopped down off the bar, hugging Eddie to you tightly.

He returned the hug for a moment before saying, “I’ll get our coats.”

You tumbled into the freezing dark Detroit night together. Snow had started to fall, and you headed toward your place at a trot, hand-in-hand and laughing. Your heart was lighter than it had been in years, and from the looks of things, Eddie was elated as well. In your months of working with Eddie, he’s proved himself to be a solid and reliable person, intelligent, funny, and pretty damned hot, you didn’t mind admitting, and now you could add excellent kisser to the list. You couldn’t wait to see where the night took you.

You made it to your building, an old turn-of-the-century brick structure with peeling interior paint and too-dim lighting. Your hands were nearly frozen and you struggled to get the key in the front lock, while Eddie hopped up and down beside you. “Hurry hurry hurry,” he chanted, as if he was a school boy of twelve and not a grown man of five and twenty.

You got the door open and began your ascent up to the fourth floor, thumping and stumbling up the stairs, your efforts punctuated by giggles and the occasional halfhearted “shhhh!” from you; you did have neighbors, after all.  You made it to your floor and took Eddie by the hand down the hall to your door.

“Full warning,” you said. “My apartment is tiny and sparse, I have almost no furniture, and my bed is just a mattress on the floor,” you laughed as you fitted the key into the lock.

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie said with a grin, and you swung your door open.

What you saw froze you in your tracks with a sharp intake of breath. Your living room, which was really one medium-sized room with a galley kitchen, was completely trashed. The small coffee table you had acquired from the curb had been flipped over, and the cushions had been tossed off the old sofa that had been left behind by the previous tenant. Your trash had been dumped out and strewn about the apartment. All of your kitchen drawers had been opened and their contents emptied onto the floor. Your refrigerator stood open, its dim light and grimy interior visible for all to see.

“What the fuck,” Eddie said, slowly moving in front of you and taking a tentative step into the apartment.

“Eddie, no,” you hissed, terror seizing control of your mind. Jake found me, he fucking found me, ran through your head like a skipping record. What if he’s still here, waiting for me?

“Eddie,” you repeated, your voice strangled by your fear. “Don’t go in there, he could be hiding, waiting…”

“Hey, fuckface! Come out, you chickenshit!” Eddie shouted into the apartment, but the only response was silence.

You grabbed at Eddie’s arm and attempted to pull him; all you wanted to do was flee and get far away from there, but he shrugged you off. “Eddie come on,” you pleaded. “We need to go.”

Eddie looked at you and there was fierce determination in his eyes. “I don’t run away from shit. And I definitely don’t run from losers who beat on women, sweetheart.”

“You don’t understand. He’s so strong, and he’s crazy…” you started to protest, the panic flooding your body making your voice waiver.

“Hey,” he said, putting his hands firmly on your shoulders. “I am not going to let him hurt you again, okay?”

You think you may have fallen in love with Eddie Munson at that precise moment. You didn’t believe him of course; Jake was built like a tank and was insane. He would murder Eddie without a second thought and wouldn’t miss a second of sleep that night. But you loved him for it anyway.

And that made the fact that you had to leave Detroit that much harder. 

PART FOUR

Author’s note: Thank you for reading. As always, reblogs and feedback are so appreciated, and let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist.

[rutilation]

A Brief Meditation on Being Your Own Grandma and Drinking Your Own Blood

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Well… that turned out to be a lie.  Guess all you need to reel me back in is reincarnation drama and a weird grandma.

In my July essay, I laid out the elements of the story I found frustrating, and had tentatively hoped that said elements might have… mellowed out?  Following the break?  I’d say this chapter actually doubled down on all of my gripes.  That lingering aftertaste of misanthropy is spelled out plain, Ayumu’s curt dismissal of her former allies feels like it’s also being directed at the supporting cast in the present, and Phos is still the only person motivated enough to make decisions or affect the story at all, and that was apparently the case long before they were even born.

As such, while I found this chapter to be captivating, and honestly a breath of fresh air… I’m not sure if I actually liked it or not?  Galling and intriguing in equal measure—that about sums up my experience reading HnK from the moon arc onward.

But, one thing that I do know I like?  How this adds an extra layer of ambivalence to Phos and Kongou’s relationship.  When Ayumu talks about her arrogance, I believe she’s referring to the path she set Kongou on.  Thanks to her prophetic dreams, she now knows she’s saddled him with an impossible task that will bring him terrible misery—and all for the sake of her own insecurity, her desire to leave a mark on the better world she’s banking her hopes on.  But by the time she knows enough to regret her choice, it’s far too late to change course.  All she can do is apologize to him in her final moments, and implore her future self to clean up the mess she will leave behind.

I think one of the most compellingly tragic aspects of Phos and Kongou’s relationship has been their ability to keep hurting each other all while neither one of them is truly more at fault.  That being the case, I didn’t like how the last arc ended with Kongou being put decisively in the wrong; it just felt out of character.  But, this chapter recontexualizes his complicity in Phos’s grizzly fate as… him faithfully honoring the wishes of Phos’s past self at the expense of their present self.  How do you even begin to untangle that?  This whole situation is messed up and completely unfair to both of them, which is exactly the kind of food I want when I eat out at The Sad Rock Buffet.

One could even argue there’s a certain cosmic justice in Ayumu paying for her hubris by growing up in the shadow of the generational trauma that she precipitated.  On one hand, I find the concept interesting, but on the other, it feels too late in the story to start ascribing justice or meaning to the slings and arrows of Phos’s life.

That covers the grandma part, but with regard to drinking your own blood…

A lot of the thoughts I had this month were about the story’s attitude towards relationships, about the love you give yourself vs the love you get from others.  I feel like the story’s perspective is that community is a powerful and uplifting force… for other people.  But outcasts like us, it seems to say, are up shit creek without a paddle.  Indeed, the story doesn’t seem to believe in honor amongst thieves, or solidarity amongst the marginalized.  Even someone who could conceivably empathize with your situation will always sell you out to better themselves when the chips are down.  Whatever love anyone else has to offer you is shallow and contingent.  Therefore, the only love fit to be called transcendent or divine is the love you show yourself after you’ve struggled through the mire of self-hatred.

It’s cynical and bleak, to an unrealistic extent, in my opinion.  But as I contemplated the story’s perspective, I started to interrogate my own. How do I feel about love, and the places it might come from?  Like many who give any thought to the matter, I think that the platitude “You can’t expect others to love you if you don’t love yourself,” is wrong, and a terrible thing to tell someone struggling with depression.  It’s through the perspective of others, after all, that we escape the quagmire of our own thought patterns, that our inner world opens up, and we come to acknowledge the possibility that others can see something in ourselves that we cannot.  That said, I don’t think inverse is true either.  Or at least, I don’t want it to be true because it’s scary and hopeless in its own way: “There’s no way to love yourself without the love of others.” There’s a million different ways in this life to fall through the cracks of society, or community, or family, and end up with no one to rely on but oneself.  For such people, they can’t afford to wait for self-love to blossom in its own time, nourished by the love of others.  It’s imperative to create that love ex nihilo, because the alternative is to look on helplessly as their emotional self dies.

After mulling it over, the conclusion I arrived at is that while people probably need each other in order to truly flourish, I do think it’s possible to at least subsist off of the love you give yourself.  But, I considered, it’s kind of analogous to drinking your own urine after you’ve spent weeks lost in the wilderness: you really never want things to get that bad.  But, you do what you must when your survival is at stake, whether that survival is physical or emotional.  As I was thinking this to myself it hit me: that’s the meaning behind Ayumu drinking her own blood. 

You pop an artery out of your heart, drain out your own lifeblood before putting it right back in via martini glass.  You’ve watched as your future self becomes just as alienated and miserable as you.  So, as you apologize to the son whose life you’ve ruined, you brush back your own hair, give yourself a tender kiss on the forehead, and tell them to burn everything down.  What exactly does burning everything down mean?  Can’t wait to find out.  Whatever it is though, I hope it pisses off Aechmea.

Some other stray thoughts:

That master scholar joke from chapter one hits different now, doesn’t it?  So does Kongou tasking Phos with an encyclopedia, for that matter.  Even if he probably didn’t put two-and-two together until Phos received the pearl eye, they quite possibly reminded him of Ayumu long before that point.

In light of all this blood symbolism, I’m of the opinion that a vampire Phos AU would be kinda hot, and I think the fandom should milk it for all its worth.

As heavily implied as it is, the concept of Phos being Ayumu’s reincarnation technically exists only in the realm of subtext.  But there’s one aspect of this chapter that makes me 100% sure that, at the very least, Ayumu knew she was speaking to Phos: she brushes their hair back before kissing their forehead—a pointless gesture when the person who’s physically in front of her is bald.  She would only have taken the time to do that if she knew that someone else was also there. Someone with greasy emo bangs.

I want my Wolf’s Rain ending to be real.  I want Phos to be like: “Sorry.  No dice.  Try again.” And then they send everyone’s souls back into the earth.  And then we cut to 50 million years later when the dominant species on the planet is sapient carpets of marine bacterial slime.  We all know that’s who you really want to write about, Ichikawa.

And the cutest slime of them all?  Phos.

I’ve seen people speculate that Phos’s pearl eye is the exact same one Ayumu used, but after looking closely at the panels, I don’t believe that to be the case: the pupil in Ayumu’s replacement eye is black, whereas the whole of the pearl in white.

There’s probably an additional metaphor to be found in the fact that a meal of potato chips and one’s own blood has to be the most efficient method for dehydration ever devised.  Truly, only someone Phos or Phos-adjacent could come up with it. 

Speaking of additional symbolism, I’ve seen people point out that this scene is possibly a reference to the Last Supper.  If so, it figures that while most people who didn’t grow up with the religion find the concept behind Catholic communion to be off-putting, Ichikawa apparently just… started taking notes.  “Hmm, this is nice.  But how can I make it even weirder and grosser?” she asked herself.  Queen shit.

I was curious as to whether there was any significance to Ayumu’s name.  After a little googling, I think that it’s quite apt.

Back a few years ago, I saw quite a few Fist of the North Star fans complaining about losing the hnk tag to our beloved manga.  These days, when I search hnk on twitter, I find myself assailed by posts about some kpop dude.  Truly, samsara comes for us all.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Hey, y'all! This update is extremely late & I'm so sorry for the wait (that rhymed lol don't look at me). I've been so busy preparing for my new job in August & getting ready to start school that updating this story slipped my mind lol. BUT I am still writing it! I really wanna finish this story. So to make up for the slow updates, I decided to drop three new chapters instead of two. Please enjoy! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

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SEVEN: HIT ‘EM UP!

You arrive in the tiny, dusty, damn-near abandoned town of Bull’s Creek by the next morning. 

You three didn’t stop for a night of rest, only taking breaks to feed the horses and let them rest their hooves before continuing on your journey. Most of what you do is on Reneigh’s back: brushing your teeth; eating your snacks; power naps. You now feel sweaty and tired, but not exhausted, only happy to finally be at your destination. 

Bull’s Creek is as depressing as it is quiet. Nothing moves but a tumbleweed that noisily rolls across the dusty road among the disturbingly quiet shops and boutiques that you’re sure once were brimming with life and vibrancy, but are now dingy and sad-looking. “Beauty, ain’t it?” Gojo sniggers as he and his horse totter beside you. 

“Where is everybody?” you question, feeling eerily uncomfortable with the silence. You half expect to be ambushed because of it. “Most of ‘em moved because of Benji’s crew members takin’ over,” Geto explains. “Sad. Most of the civilians had been here for years, but couldn’t take the terror anymore.” 

“Buuut,” Gojo interrupts with a grin, “lucky for the ones who stayed, we’re here! And we’ll make sure we send the baddies on their way.” You continue to look around for someone, anyone, in this ghost town. “So how are we supposed to find these guys?” you ask. “Just ask around?” 

“Exactly that, little miss,” Geto chuckles, suddenly coming to a stop in front of you. “And we’ve found just the spot.” You and Gojo stop your horses in front of a small saloon where you can just hear the sound of music and chatter. Gojo hops off of his horse first and goes to help you down, but you ignore him, choosing to get down yourself. 

You walk by, ignoring Gojo’s pout, and look up at the bar’s sign coated in dust: “Bull’s Bar,” you read, hearing Gojo giggle. “That’s so original,” he comments as he pats the holster carrying Hollow Purple.

He goes in without even waiting for you or Geto, but his partner doesn’t seem to mind. “The woman who wrote us asked us to meet her here in her letter,” he explains as he walks you inside. “So she should be…” 

His words die when he opens the wooden doors and lets them swing shut. The sound of them creaking is the only sound among the silence in the bar. The bar is small with tables covered in cowskin, bullheads mounted behind the bar, and every eye in the place on you, Geto, and Gojo, including the piano player in the corner. 

It’s beyond uncomfortable and you feel your face prickle with nervous sweat beneath your bandana. But Gojo and Geto are immune to discomfort as they confidently walk towards the bar. “Rough crowd,” Geto mutters under his breath. You nod in agreement, keeping a close hand on your hip. 

The bartender watches you come to the bar and sit, slowly wiping off a glass. He is tall and burly with unruly, spiked brown hair and a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. “So what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here, mister?” Gojo kindly asks. 

The bartender doesn’t say anything at first; just continues to stare you all down. The music hasn’t resumed yet and that makes this moment even more tense. “Kusakabe,” he says, his voice smooth and rough. “What will y’all have?” 

Gojo’s smile widens, pleased. “Jack n’ Coke for me and my partner; Sherly Temple for the lady.” You shoot him a look that could kill. “All Jack n’ Cokes, please,” Geto sighs, passing Kusakabe a couple of coins. He takes them and nods, still giving you a suspicious look that has your skin crawling. 

“U-Uh…excuse me?” a small, feminine voice asks behind you. You turn, finding a young, petite girl with long, sky-blue hair cut into a bang standing there, looking nervous. “You’re Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, right?” The duo turns to face her now, making her face go beat red. “That, we are, ma’am,” Geto says, tipping his hat at her. “And you’re Miwa, I’m presumin’?” 

The girl damn near pops a blood vessel. “T-That’s correct, yes!” she stuttering replies. Another young girl with two blonde ponytails comes up beside her. “You ain’t ask ‘em to sign your book, Miwa?” she snorts. “That’s all you’ve been talkin’ about since we showed up here.” Miwa gapes at the girl, mortified. “Momo!” she shrieks. “That was private!” 

“Miwa!” a male voice calls suddenly from across the room. A young man comes hurrying up to the two girls, tall and handsome with a spiked, black ponytail and a scar on his right cheek. “Are you alright? Who are they?” He ticks his eyes between you three suspiciously. “Mechamaru, it’s okay,” Miwa soothes him, gently stroking his arm. “They’re here to help us.” 

“Friends of yours?” Gojo chuckles, not at all phased by this. Mecamaru glares at him. “I’m her boyfriend, actually,” he sharply corrects the gunslinger. Miwa nods at Momo who barely even smiles. “This is Momo. She’s a Bull’s Creek native, just like me. She told me not to write you guys!” 

Momo narrows her eyes at her friend. “Way to throw me under the bus,” she huffs. “It was only because I didn’t want more trouble comin’ into this town!” Geto nods understandably. “We ain’t here for trouble, little miss…well, not the kind that’ll get y’all killed. We just want the four we came here for.” 

“And who would that be?” Kusakabe asks suspiciously. “Who the fuck are y’all to come into my place of business askin’ around like y’all own the damn place?” You go to put your hand on your glock, but Gojo stops you, shaking his head at you. 

“We don’t mean no harm,” Geto gently says, “but we’ve got business in this town and with her.” He nods at Miwa. “She wrote a letter to us askin’ for help to save you from the four takin’ over this town.” 

The three younglings share a wary look with each other. “Don’t say their names,” Mechamaru warns. “They’ve got a tight hold on this town already. Last I heard about them is that they’re livin’ up in the mountains beyond the creek among the riches they snatched from the town.” 

“We’ll take you to them!” Momo excitedly announces. But Mechamaru shakes his head. “No,” he firmly says. “You two are stayin’ right here. I’ll take them.” While Momo tuts in disappointment, Miwa looks damn starstruck by her boo. 

Gojo gulps down his drink, finishing it off with a burp. “Fine with us, just as long as we get to where we need to. But before that…” He takes an ink pen from his pocket, smiling at Miwa. “Who wanted an autograph?” 

But before Miwa, who has now turned red, can hand over her book, Kusakabe stops her. “Hang on.” He leans over the bar toward the three of you, his eyes deadly and intimidating. “You get them and then you get the fuck out of my town. We don’t need no more trouble here.” 

With a silent nod, you three agree and Mechamaru guides you into the mountains.

*********

The creek is quiet when you make it up the hill. 

Too quiet. Though the soft sloshing of the water should be comforting, it’s damn disarming to you as you walk with the duo and Mechamaru along the creek yards away from Bull’s Creek (funny enough). The air is sweet, the sky is blue, and you know danger lurks. 

You finally come to a shabby-looking house up on a grassy hill yards down from you four. The roof is missing some tiles, one wall is caging in, and it looks abandoned. “They should be in there,” Mechamaru says, pointing at the house. “They stay there because there are trails in the woods to escape through if the law ever happened to sniff ‘em out. But they haven’t for months because so many people are too scared to speak up for fear of being killed.” 

The young man stares you all down as you silently examine the home. “You gonna get them out of here?” he asks, hope in his eyes. The duo doesn’t answer, so you do, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Mechamaru,” you gently say. “We’ll take it from here.” ‘Yes, we’ll get them out of here for you.’ 

Mechamaru seems to be happy with your words. Meanwhile, Geto is stringing up the horses to a nearby post while Gojo spits his cigarette out of his mouth and crushes it under his heel. This is just ordinary work for them. “Go on back to your girl,” the white-haired outlaw says with a wink. “She’s a cutie.” 

Mechamaru narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything back. Instead, he backpedals and hurries back the way he came towards town. Once gone, you follow the duo up the hill to the small house, the grassblades tickling your ankles as you move.

Finally, you come to the wooden front door padlocked shut. “So how are we doin’ this?” you ask. “Do we just bust in there and–” 

You’re rudely cut off by Gojo’s foot smashing into the padlock, forcing it open. The door opens with a long creaking sound like in a horror film.

The way this house looks feels like a horror film too: stained, old furniture in the living area; dishes in the kitchen sink and rotten food on the counter down the long hallway leading to the back door; ripped curtains covering the stained windows, making the entire downstairs dark and dreary. The smell in the air is rotten and rancid like something died in here. You cover your mouth despite the bandana covering your lower face. 

As you creep inside with the duo, your hand on your holster, your eyes shift from left to right, top to bottom. You look for a shadow; some slight movement from around a corner or behind something. The floorboards ominously creek under your boots, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “There’s no one here,” you whisper. 

While Gojo stays behind, Geto walks ahead of you towards the circle of furniture, his gun hanging from his hand. He places a hand on one of the leather armchairs and shakes his head. “No,” he protests. “There is. Feel the chair.” You carefully walk over and place a hand on the seat, your hear thumping wildly. “It’s warm,” you gasp. “Someone is–” 

“Y/N, look out!” Geto shouts from behind you, but it’s too late. Your words are cut off when you suddenly feel something snatching you by the ankle, causing you to fall onto your back. The noose tightens and begins to pull you throughout the house on your back despite your screams. You try to grab the knife in your pocket, but you can’t. You’re moving too fast. 

Finally, you stop and face two men with very bad intentions in their eyes. One of them is nothing short of a pretty boy: beautiful bone structure in his face with high cheekbones, dimples, blue eyes, and a Colgate smile. If it isn’t for the gun in your face, you’d think he was a model. This is ‘Angelface’.

“Well, well, look what we’ve got here, Zankoku: the prettiest little trespassor we’ve gotten.” He smirks at his partner. “What do you reckon we should do with her?” 

His partner, Zankoku, looks like he’s all types of crazy: unruly curls that fall in his face; a bumpy nose like he was punched too many times in his lifetime; a scar running from his left ear down to the corner of his mouth; wide, wild eyes that frighten you more than the gun pressing against your noggin.

“I’ve got one idea that would make her sorry,” he growls, his voice like jagged glass to you. “Do you know what we do to trespassin’ bitches like you?” Angelface shakes his head at Zankoku. “Now, now, that’s no way to talk to a lady!” he mockingly tuts. 

“Y/N!” Geto shouts from beyond. You manage to twist around to look behind you and find the duo running to save you. However, they are stopped by a woman who pops up from under the staircase, pointing a gun at Geto’s head and a man jumping out from behind a wall to pull Gojo back and put a knife at his throat. 

The only woman in this crew, Makima, is tall and slender with long red hair and cold eyes. “Don’t move,” she warns. “You move and either I put this bullet in you or Arata puts that knife in your partner’s throat.” Arata is mute as you’ve been told, his tongue cut out long ago. But what he lacks in words he makes up for with his knives that are as long as his hair that cascades down to his hips. 

“Or we fuck up this cutie’s face,” Angelface growls, pushing the gun into your cheek. “Never thought I’d meet the famous Fatale Femme in the flesh.” He uses the barrel to pull your bandana down, revealing your nose and mouth to him. “And see her gorgeous face,” he cackles. “You’re almost prettier than me.” You could spit at him. 

“You motherfuckers got a lot of nerve comin’ here,” Zankoku snarls. “First you leave like y’all are better than us and then you start workin’ for the fuck ass law?” 

Gojo smiles despite nearly grazing the knife at his neck. “Good to see you again too, Zankoku,” he titters. “I guess this is our welcome wagon?” Makima rolls her eyes, annoyed. “God, you always talked too much,” she huffs. “I should put some lead in that throat right now just to shut you up.” 

She cocks her gun, moving it away to point at Gojo while she slips another out of her holster and points it at Geto. The entire room has turned into a warzone. One wrong step and you’re dead. “Listen,” Geto says, raising his voice. “We don’t want no trouble.” 

“Oh, shut up!” Makima spits. “Why else would y’all be here? You’re obviously here to wrangle us up like cattle and bring us into the sheriff.” 

“Y’all tryna get in a good place with the law?” Angelface scoffs, grinning at the gunslingers. “Tryin’ to become good guys ‘cause prison scared y’all? So sad to see what happened with that train.” You can almost feel the rage radiating off of Geto and Gojo in waves. “We don’t want to put y’all in prison,” Geto says, his voice roiling with simmering anger. “We just want information on Benji. We need to find him.” 

The bandit crew share a brief look. “Why would we tell you?” Angelface scoffs, eyes narrowed. “We don’t know where he is anyway. We were in Cherrywood before he fucked outta town months ago. We haven’t seen him since.” As soon as he says it, his partners look at him like he just sealed their fate. And he did. 

“You dumbass!” Makima hisses. The gears in your head are turning and you share a look with Geto and Gojo. “Benji was in Cherrywood?” you ask, finally speaking. “When? Why?”

But the cold barrels of the guns pressing into your head and chin stop you. “Enough,” Makima growls. “We don’t have to tell you fuck shit. Now hold still so we don’t fuck up our home.” 

She points her guns at Geto while Arata pushes the knife further into Gojo’s throat. You stare at the guns in your face, shaking. “Sorry we couldn’t have any fun, darlin,” Angelface sighs. “You’ll make the most beautiful corpse though.” Staring into the barrels is like staring into death and suddenly, you see a flash of your mother’s face. 

You don’t think. You just do. Quickly, you wedge your hand under your ass and pull a knife out. In a flash, you stick the knife into Angelface’s side, making him scream in pain. Immediately, Makima shoots but Geto ducks and swings his leg to trip her. Gojo elbows Arata in the face and rolls away just as Arata cups his nose to stop the blood flow. Makima, who fell, quickly rises and pulls the trigger on both guns. 

Bullets immediately start flying from Zankoku and Makima aimed for Geto and Gojo who you’re sure are hiding. You have no time to see where though, too focused on your attacker. Angelface staggers back and drops the gun, holding his wounded side. “You fuckin’ bitch!” he bellows. “You’ll pay for that! Kill her, Zankoku!” 

Zankoku is momentarily distracted, too busy popping shells. You take that loophole to cut yourself free with the bloody knife and kick him in the back. He staggers, but not enough. He turns around, baring his dirty teeth at you. “You,” he growls and raises his gun. He suddenly falls onto his knees, revealing Gojo standing behind him with a gun that whacked him in the back of the head. 

A bullet zooms over his head and Gojo quickly covers you. “Over here!” he yells as he drags you into the kitchen as quickly as possible.

Geto quickly crawls in behind you and rips the table up to turn it over to serve as a shield from the bullets. Gojo pulls you behind the overturned table. You sit there, the three of you, as bullets whiz past you, breaking windows and putting holes in the walls. “She’s still shooting!” you announce among the flying bullets. “This bitch is crazy!” 

Geto busies himself firing back at Makima from behind the table while Gojo points at the back door. “You go out there,” he tells you. “We’ll take care of her in here.”

He slides his gun out of his holster and cocks it. “Just wait for us with the horses,” he whispers. “We’ll find you.” So you go, hurrying over to the backdoor as fast as you can on your hands and knees. 

You turn for a second to see Arata stabbing through the table right above Gojo’s head. You itch to help him and Geto both, but you know they’d tell you to get out and save yourself. So you keep going. When you finally make it, you shove the door open with your shoulder and roll out into the open, landing on your back in some grass. Quickly, you look up, squinting in the sun. 

The backyard is nothing but an empty pig pen and a stretch of forest. Down below the slope of the hill the house is on is the creek and beyond that, your horses. On wobbly legs, you get up and try to run, but two arms wrapping around you stop you. One tightens around your midsection while the other wraps around your neck, nearly choking you.

“Hel–!” Your scream is cut off by a choke as you struggle to breathe with the arms squeezing you tight than a vice. 

“Gotcha,” Zankoku chuckles. “Stupid bitch, thinkin’ you could run from me…but I’m not goin’ to prison. So I’ll let nature take ya.” He begins to walk with you as you struggle helplessly in his arms, not even able to reach your weapons. 

When you realize where he’s taking you, it’s too late: you’re suddenly being dangled over the side of the rushing water of the creek. Without a warning, Zankoku drops you in. 

Your body plunges into the icy depths of the water, shocking you to the core. You immediately swim to the surface and gulp down the air. The waves are rough and wild, splashing you repeatedly in the face as you struggle to reach for a rock, a tree branch, anything to stop you from going downstream.

Zankoku stands at the bank and pats his knee once. A horse comes running from out of the forest, stopping at his feet and allowing him to climb on. “Have fun with the fishes, bitch!” he cackles before galloping off on his horse upstream. 

“Wait!” you scream, so loud that your throat goes raw. You watch helplessly as Zankoku disappears, growing smaller the farther the water takes you. You try to pedal to stay afloat, but the current is too rough and the water too deep. You can’t feel the bottom. “Gojo!” you wail out. “Geto, help!” 

All that answers you is the water flooding your ears and mouth, salty and overbearing. All of your senses are taken over by it as the current swallows you up. Tears of desperation begin to slip down your cheeks, sobs leaving your mouth. You once again feel alone. Abandoned. Just like all those years ago. And you’re tired. So, so tired. 

Finally giving in to the creek and the ache in your muscles, you let the current take you and find yourself going beneath the ice-cold, salty depths of water. But you don’t sink. Just as quickly as you went under, you’re suddenly pulled back up by some invisible force yanking on your arm. You look up into the sun’s rays, wondering if it’s God. 

But when you turn to look, you realize that it’s Geto. He is hanging off the side of the bank, boots and pants muddy, grunting as he struggles to pull you out. He finally slips in and yanks you to his body, both of you floating in the water together. “Keep your eyes open, Y/N!” he yells among the rush. “Geto,” you try to say, but your voice is so weak that it gets carried away by the water. 

Geto swims to the side of the creek with one arm and quickly grabs an upturned tree root to pull you both up and out of the water. “I’ve gotcha,” he huffs, dragging you into the mud once he’s on the surface. He then pulls you into the grass and finally releases you. 

When he does, the shakes start. And the shivers. Your body convulses as if it’s back in the water and not in the warm sun on dry land. You can’t stop. It’s as if your body has kicked itself into fight or flight. Your fingers tremble and your heart pounds, causing your breath to become labored. “Y/N?” Geto questions. You don’t see him. All you see is the blue sky above you. 

“C-C-C…” You don’t know what you’re trying to say. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Geto’s handsome face appears above you and his expression softens when he realizes what’s happening. “Y/N, you’re havin’ a panic attack,” he says. He slowly picks you up and places his hands on your forearms. 

“Breathe,” he demands, his voice and eyes firm. “I need you to breathe, Y/N, okay?” You shake your head, still trembling like a leaf. “I-I can’t,” you gasp. “C-Can’t…” It’s a struggle to form a coherent sentence. Your brain can’t keep up, sending warning signals to your body when there isn’t even any danger anymore. 

“Look at me, darlin’,” Geto coos. His big, calloused hands hold your cheeks, willing you to look at him. “Watch me, okay?”

You do, hypnotized by his warm, soulful eyes. “Do what I do, slowly,” he instructs. “In.” His chest expands.

“And out.” His chest falls. He does it again and you mirror to the best of your ability. It’s shaky and choppy at first, but soon, your breathing is less labored. 

Then your heartbeat slows and your body relaxes in his touch. All the while, he is gentle and patient. “That’s it,” he says, nodding. “It’s alright now. I’ve got you now.” And you believe it. You believe that you are safe. How the fuck did he do that? 

A whistle pierces the air from down below the hill. You look to see Gojo jogging uphill with the horses. His smile fades when he sees you and Geto, soaking wet and coated in mud. “What happened?” he demands. Quickly, you stand without Geto’s help and wipe at your snotty nose. “It’s not important,” you sniffle. “Did you get her?” 

Though Gojo still looks concerned, he doesn’t push it. “We got them,” he corrects you. “Angelface is knocked out cold ‘cause of blood loss thanks to your knife, but the other three are conscience so we should be able to talk ‘em.” You sigh, relived. 

You hop on your horses and ride back up to the house where, sure enough, the four bandits are bound tight in a rope tied to the pig pen, back to back. Angelface is slumped over, his side stained in blood. Meanwhile, his partners look downright scared, no longer having their weapons to help them. 

You and the duo stomp over to them, relishing the way they shiver at the sight of you. “Please don’t kill us,” Makima whimpers. Geto kneels before her, his expression like steel. “Then tell us what we want to know: Benji the Bandit. Where is he?” 

Gojo kneels beside his partner and pulls down his blindfold to reveal his piercing, blue eyes. It’s enough to make the bandits cowar. No weapons or force needed. It makes you wonder just what the duo did to them while you were in that creek. “The last time we saw him was in Cherrywood,” Zankoku admits. “He was conspirin’ with the outlaw Valentine to rob a train.” 

“Valentine?” you gasp. “He works for Benji?” You look at Geto and Gojo as realization hits you. Could it be that Benji was behind that train masscre? Could it be that he framed his two former employees? “After the train massacre, Benji cut us some money and said he was headin’ to Sage County to hide out,” Makima adds. “That’s all we know, we swear!” 

Gojo smiles, happy with this turnout. “Thank you for your participation,” he sweetly says as he stands up. He reties his blindfold before letting out a whistle that echos across the land. 

You hear the sound of horse hooves and thudding footsteps, each sound mingling into one loud heartbeat. You turn, findinding law enforcement and other townsmen following close behind running out of the brush of trees and nature towards you. Among them is Kusakabe sporting a golden star on his shirt as the sheriff of Bull’s Creek (who also so happens to be a bartender). 

“They’re all yours, fellas!” Gojo yells, moving away so Kusakabe and his posse can swarm the bandits like flies. Other townspeople follow shortly after and with them, they bring rewards for you and the gunslinging duo: money; food and spices for cooking; whiskey and ale; and more importantly, thanks. 

Despite your reputation and appearance, the people stare you in your face and pour their hearts out to you. They shower you with gratitude, give you warm smiles, and shake your hand. It is overwhelming, but at the same time, it makes you feel good. It gives you a better feeling than how you feel after smoking a gunslinger and taking off down the road: cold and vengeful. Now, to see the very people you’ve helped with your own eyes, it makes you rethink your career path. 

Nearly an hour later after collecting your rewards and goods to place in a sack for the road, Gojo comes up to you with a big, fluffy towel while Geto chats with some of the victims. “Gotcha somethin’,” he says, wrapping you up in the fluffy thing. 

You don’t look into his eyes, still feeling weird from earlier. Once you’re wrapped up tight, he gives you space and chomps down on a sugar cookie given to him by a sweet old lady earlier as her thanks. “So where to now?” you ask, glancing at him. He just smirks at you. 

Sage County it is, then. 

**********

The night is still and so is the steely, cold, unforgiving prison cell Valentine sleeps in that night. 

He’s been in the Black Water County prison for days now, eating their terrible food and facing terrible mistreatment at the hands of the guards. He is housed in a private cell, isolated from other prisoners. Being a wanted criminal outlaw means that you have many enemies, so the sheriff thought it was best to keep Valentine isolated to avoid Valenine being attacked….not because he cares, but because he wants Valentine alive for his trial. 

Valentine hasn’t tried to escape, waiting for the right time to do so. He has decided to lay low for now and play nice, keeping to himself and doing what the guards tell him to do. Meanwhile, in his head, he fantasizes about the moment he can put some bullets in those damn gunslingers and wrap his hands around your lying, backstabbing throat. 

Right now, as he lies asleep on his pad, he can almost see your face turning purple as he wrings your neck. He can almost feel the way your hands claw pathetically at his, your body slowly going limp like a rag doll as he– 

Clang. 

Valentine immediately opens his eyes and sits up in his cell, looking towards the strange sound of metal banging against something solid. He squints into the dark hallway outside of his barred cell door. “H-Hello?” he stutteringly whispers in the darkness. “Is someone there?” 

There isn’t an answer for a while, making him feel as if he imagined it. But then he hears footsteps and the young guard usually posted at his cell appears, staggering slightly as he does so. In his hand, he carries a tray of sloppy Joe and beer, possibly for himself, but Valentine makes a joke anyway.

“What’s that?” he scoffs. “You finally bringin’ me some decent dinner, boy? Do you even know what time of night it is?!” The young guard doesn’t answer. Instead, he teeters forward and falls onto his face like a tree that was just axed, falling at Valentine’s feet. 

“Shit!” Valentine gasps, jumping and backing up against the cold cell wall. The food and beer spill along the floor, just like the blood pooling from the back wound the guard is sporting. That’s when he sees it: the knife in the guard’s back. 

More footsteps follow and Valentine shakily looks up at the shadow figure entering the hallway, dressed in black clothes with a bandana covering his mouth. As he gets closer, Valentine cowares against the wall, shivering. “W-What did you–” 

“Shh!” the stranger shushes him. He bends down near the guard’s body and takes off his black glove. There, Valentine recognizes the black rose tattoo on his knuckles. The flower of death. Benji the Bandit’s signature symbol. “The boss sent me here to get you outta here,” he whispers. He begins to dig into the guard’s back pocket and retrieves a ring of keys which he uses to unlock Valentine’s cell. 

The door opens with a click and the stranger slides it open, narrowing his eyes at the outlaw. “If you don’t wanna spend the rest of your sorry-ass life in here, follow me and keep quiet.” It doesn’t take Valentine long to make up his mind. He would take anything over wearing an ugly black and white jumpsuit and eating God-awful slop. 

Quietly, he follows close behind the stranger down the hallway and around a corner between two other wards of cells. Commotion begins to arise from each ward, prisoners awakening and realizing that someone is escaping. The stranger bends down to move a tile from the floor out of its place, revealing a deep hole that must have taken days to dig. “Down here!” he hisses before ducking down into the manmade hole. 

The prisoners begin to knock against their cell doors and walls, yelling and hollering. Quickly, Valentine gets down onto his stomach and slides himself down into the tight, dark hole. He has never escaped in this manner before and he can’t see why any criminal does it.

It’s dank, dark, and dirt keeps getting in his mouth and nose. Not to mention how physically taxing it is. He grunts and struggles to get through certain spaces that are too tight, shimmying along in his elbows and stomach. 

But finally, he sees an opening and the stranger pull himself up out of the hole. Valentine follows close after, pushing himself through the opening by his hands. With a gasp, he rises from the hole, breathing in the open air and the night sky above. He’s never been so happy to be above ground before. 

But he isn’t at all happy to see who is waiting for him. Other than the stranger, Valentine’s eyes trail up the strong legs of a black Bronco before settling on the man sitting on its back.

He is a big man––at least six feet––and the size of a bear with long hair, a salt-n-pepper beard, an eyepatch, and a gold tooth that glints at him in the moonlight. He wears black everything: a black hat; black slacks; black boots; a black jacket adorned with fringe. He is the most terrifying man to exist in the Wild West. “Benji,” he gasps. 

Benji’s smile grows, laugh lines and wrinkles appearing by his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Valentine,” he says in his deep, gruff voice that could make any man tremble. “How was prison for you?”

He doesn’t answer. He rises from his knees and dusts himself off, looking towards the prison. They are right outside of its wired fence, deep in the woods that surround it. “Ya know, crawlin’ through dirt as an escape route ain’t really my style,” he grumbles. 

Benji keeps smiling, menacingly so. “You’re lucky I even sent someone to get your ass bein’ that you fucked up and got yourself caught.” He nods at his goon who has settled onto his own horse. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Valentine protests. “That damn idiot duo came after me and threatened to toss me in prison!” He seethes, thinking about you. “And now the bitch that they’re with is against me. She turned out to be the Fatale Femme.”

He has no problem throwing you under the bus. You ruined his entire operation! He was so sure Geto and Gojo would take his offer and let him go free. He was going to leave the county, maybe go overseas, and make his life from there. 

It’s bad enough to let Benji once again rope him into another one of his schemes. He just knew that robbing that Cherrywood train would bring him bad luck, but he listened to his boss anyway. “All ya need to do is grab the money with my men and kill the witnesses. You’ll get your cut and I’ll get mine.” 

Down on his luck and in need of some quick cash, Valentine agreed, but also had questions: “What about Geto and Gojo? Why are they apart of this? You haven’t worked with them in years.” 

Benji just smiled, puffing on his cigar. “Because they need to be reminded that they can’t run from me,” he answered, sending chills down Valentine’s spine. “They’ll never know that I was behind this, but that won’t matter. They think they can suddenly become these saviors, but when the law find them on that train with a bunch of dead bodies, they’ll finally understand that they can’t run from their sins.” 

It was punishment for leaving Benji. He wanted the Gunslingers to suffer. Valentine just wanted the money, so he went with it and ran. Now, he not only wants revenge on the duo but on you too. 

Benji’s brows rise at the mention of you. “The Fatale Femme teamin’ up with my old gunslingers, eh?” He ponders this, stroking his beard. “Then that means they’re a threat to me, but not for long. That means we’ll have to take them all out of the equation.” 

He looks down at Valentine like he’s no more than a bug, those dark eyes like a shark’s. “Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers and Valentine roughly swallows his spit. “I only got ya out of here because I’ve got another job for ya.” 

Valentine nods, hanging onto every word: I got word that those two gunslingin’ maggots are headin’ out of the West toward North,” Benji explains. “They’ll be passin’ through Sage County. I need you to follow ‘em with my crew and meet me in Sage County. Attack ‘em on the road if you need to.” 

Valentine nods, placing all of these instructions in the back of his mind. “But why are you goin’ to Sage County?” he asks. 

Benji pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and holds it between his teeth. “I got a call from four of my old workers earlier after they got arrested in Bull’s Creek. I know Geto and Gojo, so I know that they ask around and obviously know where I’m headed.” He pulls out a match box and lights a match in one strike. 

He then lights his cig and takes a puff, holding it between his ringed, inked fingers. “If they show up, I wanna kill them myself–especially that nosey bitch they’ve got with ‘em,” he spits. “I can’t have no one lookin’ for me.” 

The severity and seriousness of his words are set by the silence that looms over them along with the ice in Benji’s eyes. Finally, he glares at Valentine. “What are ya waitin’ on, idiot?” he huffs. “Get goin’ and don’t disappoint me.” 

He snaps the reins on his horse and takes off into the woods, leaving his goon and Valentine alone.