#gonna make a more well thought out analysis eventually but I wanna catch up on a ton of missed vods first

[its-always-sunnysideup]

There's something to be said about qtubbo's quick mood changes and his apparent lack of emotional regulation skills and how he believes he's nothing without a purpose....

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday     Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today. 

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.” 

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?” 

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him. 

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.” 

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice. 

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit. 

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat. 

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up. 

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

^

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you 

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back. 

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face. 

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable. 

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time. 

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team. 

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike.  “HALEY NOW!” 

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!” 

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them. 

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black. 

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop. 

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them. 

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against. 

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym. 

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.” 

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle? 

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you? 

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up. 

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner. 

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you. 

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.” 

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

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[some-kindofgnome]

these violent delights, pt. i

In an immersive theme park where cutting-edge technology makes your wildest dreams come true, the line between fantasy and reality begins to blur. enter westworld, where artificially intelligent automatons known as ‘hosts’ are programmed to fulfill your every delight.

(westworld AU, eventual host!dabi x reader, host!keigo takami x reader, eventual shouto todoroki x f!reader)

part one | part two | part three

featuring: hanta sero, denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, momo yaoyozoru, eijirou kirishima

part one: you prepare to enter the park for the bachelorette party your bridesmaids wanted. meanwhile, westworld’s capable employees prepare to roll out the latest programming update.

wc: 8.7k

pt. i warnings: smut (18+!), sci-fi dystopia, artificial intelligence, medical/surgical procedures, body modification. gun violence, robbery, kidnapping, drinking, death, no beta we die like teddy

notes: this is part one of my entry for The Smut Pile’s Western Collab! this is my very first server collab and I am so thrilled to be kicking it off with this plot monster. this is the first of three parts- it leans a little heavy on the world building, so stay tuned for parts two and three. the action dials up from here, promise! i’m excited to be putting out one of my first plot-heavy stories on this blog!

please note: part one borrows several events from season one, episodes one and two of the series. the story will branch off in its own direction in parts two and three. you do not need to be familiar with Westworld to enjoy this fic- so please give it a try! 💖

(MASTERLIST)

“This doesn’t feel right.”

Livestock Management technician Hanta Sero drifts idly from tool cart to operating table with his raven hair pulled back. He’s clad in a protective latex apron and gloves, approaching the table with a blowtorch in one hand and a long, slim pair of forceps in the other.

“That’s what it says here.” Denki Kaminari stands across the black-tiled room, his back reflected in the glass walls of the operating facility. He scrolls mindfully through a folding datapad with a crease of deep concentration in his golden brow.

Snapping his datapad shut, he lifts his chin to find Sero’s conflicted gaze across the lab.

“The specifications were pretty precise.”

“I know what the briefing said,” Sero retorts. “I just…”

He ignites the blowtorch and takes a deep breath, letting his gaze over slowly over the pale, unmarked flesh of the body stretched out on the table in front of him.

“What?” Kaminari takes in the sight before him. He lifts his eyebrows. “Oh. Well-“

He gets up from his stool, tugging his gloves back over his shirtsleeves and crossing the room toward Sero and the body in question. He picks up a scalpel, making a clean little cut just below the subject’s left nipple without any hesitation.

“Dude, stop!” Sero reaches with the hand still clutching his forceps, blanching as a thin well of blood trickles onto pristine flesh.

“He’s offline,” Denki chuckles. “He can’t feel a thing. You’ve patched these guys up a thousand times, Sero. What’s the problem?”

“I dunno,” Sero muses, drawing the back of one glove nervously over his temple. “I dunno. I think they’re starting to get too real. It’s messing with me.” He shoots Denki a weak chuckle and shakes his head.

“What do they need this guy all burned up for, anyway?”

“Momo told me he’s for the new narrative,” Denki replies, puzzling over the red hair and immaculate pale skin of their unsuspecting victim. “Some kind of grizzly new villain who’s supposed to stir up trouble.”

“Better make him extra fucked up, then.” The blowtorch, extinguished in Sero’s panic, is ignited again, but he’s still hesitating.

“Hey,” Denki prompts. “Why don’t we start with the system update? That’ll kill some time. And then- hey.” He reaches across the tool cart, grabbing for the bottle of black hair dye that came with the host’s modification kit. He shakes it in Sero’s face, letting a smug grin cross his features.

“I’ll do the carpet if you do the drapes.”

Sero and Denki find their rhythm easily enough. Before long, the tension dispels and they’re letting conversation flow smoothly between them, making weekend plans while Sero pushes polished silver staples into the now-scarred flesh of the transformed host.

“This guy’s older than he looks,” Denki quips from the tool cart, where he’s selecting an appropriately sized needle for the delicate work ahead of him. “His systems haven’t been updated in years.”

“I’ve never seen him in the park before,” Sero admits. He’s finishing the clean row of staples that trail from the corner of the host’s mouth to his ear, struggling to push the staple into the skin at the edges of his face. The sharp prongs don’t hold as well in the spots where the muscle and flesh thin to just skin stretched over bone. He looks up in frustration, shaking the spots from his concentrated gaze.

“Whoa,” he starts as he spots the way that Denki’s moved up between the host’s lean thighs. “You’re really gonna-“

“That’s what it says in the briefing,” Denki presses. He’s got the aforementioned needle in one hand and a bowl of curved barbells in the other; he’s gone a little grin about the gills, too.

“Sick fucks,” Sero snorts, shaking his head. “Doesn’t feel very historically accurate, does it?”

“Please,” Denki pushes. “If you think this has ever been about history, you’re in for a nasty surprise.”

“Christ, you wanna talk about nasty surprises,” Sero replies, blanching and averting his eyes while Denki inserts the first piercing. “Just wait’ll the guests get a look at him.”

"Bakugou's outdone himself this time," Denki agrees, brow furrowed with sympathy and panicked concentration as he unscrews the first barbell. "Those idiots won't know what hit 'em.”

“Bring yourself back online.”

Head of Programming Shouto Todoroki sits in front of the park’s newest addition, datapad spread across his lap. Sero and Denki’s work paid off; the new host is looking fiercer than ever.

Not new enough for Shouto’s tastes, though. He can still see the blue glint when “Dabi,” as his new narrative calls him, shifts into wakefulness and lets his eyes flutter open. He shoots Shouto a sinister grin but does not move from his seat.

Shouto doesn’t want to believe what they’ve done to him. He’s still nude, putting all his new modifications on brilliant display. The staples in his flesh look angry and inflamed. The scars, done perfectly to appear long-healed, still make his blood curdle.

He can’t even think about the flashes of silver that catch the light when Dabi crosses his legs.

“And who are you supposed to be?" Dabi growls an opening line that shakes Shouto more than it ought to. He sports a brand new drawl that fits the world he’ll be slotted into soon enough, but it’s too much, bouncing off the pristine glass and shiny tile beneath his bare feet.

“Lose the accent,” Shouto commands. Dabi's expression shifts a little, but he does not drop eye contact.

Shouto can’t help but wonder if they all stare like this. He hasn’t been alone with a host in a very long time. Especially not one with this kind of significance.

“Do you know where you are?” He presses, determined to push forward. The sooner he gets Dabi through analysis, the sooner he can pretend like the unsettling host doesn’t exist.

But Dabi’s voice with no drawl is even more spine-chilling.

“I am in a dream.”

“And… do you want to wake up from this dream?”

Dabi’s eyes drift away in a direction they’re not supposed to. For a moment, he casts his gaze down and to the left, letting it sweep across the edge of the room as his brow creases with terrifying subtlety.

The gesture is minuscule, almost as if he's recalling a distant memory. For a moment, Shouto can only admire its beauty.

Then he realizes it’s not supposed to be there.

“Yes,” Dabi continues, his voice soft and lilting and almost wistful. “I’m terrified.”

“Freeze all motor functions.” Shouto’s heart pounds in his chilled throat. His extremities have gone cold. But Dabi follows his instructions to the letter, freezing before he can even blink. Shouto questions why he expected any differently.

Not two minutes later, Head of Behaviour Momo Yaoyorozu ducks gracefully into Dabi’s glass prison. Shouto is still sitting exactly where he began, perched on a little rolling leather stool. Six feet away, Dabi has not moved, bare and frozen on a stool of his own.

"I got your page," Momo soothes, shutting the door quietly behind her and unfolding her datapad. The hinges go rigid when they sit flat, blending seamlessly into a broad tablet that she taps and scrolls quietly through.

“I checked his programming on the way over. There’s something new here,” she concludes. “But I don’t know who added it. Must have been one of the interns, or-“

“I know who it was,” Shou answers grimly, already scrolling meticulously through the lines of code that make up Dabi’s new personality. Momo freezes, looking up at him with cold surprise.

“You don’t think…”

“I do,” he confirms. He takes a deep breath to quell his racing heart and shoots his closest colleague a shaky look. “You’re going to want to see this.”

“Incredible,” Momo gasps a few moments later when Shouto asks Dabi the same series of questions and gets the same frightening response. He knows why it shakes him as much as it does, but it hasn’t occurred to him that someone like Momo would actually… appreciate them.

“It’s like he’s-“ she starts, then stops herself. The conclusion she’s drawn should be as impossible as it sounds. But it’s staring them both in the face.

“Like he’s remembering something.” She finishes her thought this time, and Shou clenches his jaw.

"He must have slipped the code into the update," he determines. "In the programming, he's calling them Reveries."

“Kind of poetic,” Momo muses, still admiring the way that Dabi’s eyes seem to mist as they stare into the middle-distance. “It makes him look so real.”

“The code pulls memories from his earlier programming,” Shouto continues, looking up at Momo and waiting for her to be as spooked as he is.

He’s almost frightened that she’ll be defensive. But she’s sharper than he’s given her credit for, and that revelation is enough to pull her from her stupor.

“That could cause a lot of problems,” she muses. “Especially if the loops haven’t been closed properly. They’re supposed to be wiped after every cycle, but if there are links pulling them back���”

“I know,” Shouto emphasizes. Momo straightens, planting matter-of-fact hands on matter-of-fact hips.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” he confesses, turning back to catch another blood-chilling glimpse of the all-too-familiar host. “I can’t just pull the programming out from under him. He’ll know.”

“You can’t send him into the park with it. If it’s slotted in with the update, he could spread it to the other hosts.”

Shouto pushes his datapad aside and leans forward, steepling his fingers as he sighs deeply and descends into even deeper thought.

Momo’s right. With the Reveries included, the update has potentially disastrous consequences. But that’s operating on the assumption that his father makes mistakes, which most people would confirm is simply impossible.

If he clears the programming before letting Dabi go through, however, he’ll be facing the wrath of his father.

Shou purses his lips, lacing his fingers together but leaving the pointers extended and pursing his lips against the smooth joints.

“I think we’re going to have to.”

The glossy, perfect train- the first of many you'll take today, as you're told- pulls into a station that's even whiter than the train itself. Polished white floors and perfect whitewashed columns are the first things you see out the massive panoramic windows as the cars pull to a complete stop. When the doors glide open, your maid of honour touches your sleeve as the other girls filter out of your private compartment and onto the platform.

You’re far from the only ones disembarking the train. The rest of the platform is soon crowded by immaculately-dressed guests from all over the world. They bow and shift like a flock of starlings, moving in stark contrast past the perfectly-still bodies of the white-clad staff waiting to greet them.

A tall, statuesque woman with raven hair steps forward, addressing your maid of honour by name. She gives you an apologetic wave and a see you in there before disappearing amid the writhing sea of people.

You’ve been reading up on this place for weeks, scouring pamphlets and websites and guest reviews for every detail about the induction process you can glean from public knowledge. Details of the park itself are kept very private, but you’ve learned all you can about the way you’ll be introduced to it.

This place was not your first choice for the occasion at hand, but your friends practically insisted. You know it’s for selfish reasons- it’s the only chance they’re ever going to get to see the place for themselves- but you can already think of several places you’d rather celebrate your coming nuptials.

Not exactly your typical bachelorette party fare. But your friends agreed to wear matching dresses in that shade of pale green you couldn’t stay away from, so you’re giving them this.

Before long the platform is nearly cleared. You’re just starting to make your way toward the escalator, wondering what exactly became of the host who was supposed to greet you, when a soft croon of your name over one shoulder nearly shocks you out of your sandals.

Your host has arrived, and he’s even more gorgeous than you feared. Graceful and lithe-looking, he’s clad in a pristine white suit and turtleneck that contrasts the bold flashes of his golden hair perfectly. He shoots you a smooth smile, lit by razor-sharp tawny eyes and as he turns his face to catch the light, you can see that his jaw is grazed by the barest hint of scruff- perfectly groomed, just like the rest of him.

"Hello," you greet, trying not to lose your breath. You clasp the fingers of your right hand around the ring finger on your left- the remnants of your favourite new nervous habit. You've taken to twisting your engagement ring in moments of idleness or anxiety, but for safety's sake, you've left the flashy diamond at home.

You know you’re engaged. That’s what matters most.

“Good,” the host croons. You’re getting quickly used to his honeyed brogue, strong and low and sweet as he takes your hand and drops a suave kiss to your knuckles. “I’m glad you found your way here.” He jerks his head toward the emptying escalator, eyes never leaving yours.

“Follow me.”

As you’re ascending through the polished storeys of the park’s immaculate headquarters, your attendant rattles off a long list of mundane medical questions. He’s tapping away on a datapad as he walks, and you’re sure that whatever information he’s taking down will be swept away for later use.

Finally, he brings you to a plain-looking white door. He tucks away the datapad and slips his hands into his pockets. He’s graceful and perfect- too perfect. You’re starting to suspect that he’s no ordinary employee.

“Go on,” he urges, nodding toward the door. You shoot him a sideways little glance but step forward, hooking your fingers around the polished handle and pushing it open. You step inside.

The interior of the room- or closet, as it would be better described- is lit almost exclusively by glowing strip lights hidden in the crevices of the doorway, racks of clothing, and bordering a large series of mirrors that stud each wall.

It’s the biggest walk-in closet you’ve ever seen. And it’s filled to the brim with racks of clothing, all appropriate to the vague late-19th century setting of the park.

“Everything is bespoke,” pipes your immaculate attendant as he shuts the door behind him, “and exactly your size.” Painfully, you remember being asked for your body measurements in anticipation of this visit. Did they custom-tailor everything for each guest?

Or are you being given special treatment?

“You can pick out anything you’d like,” he continues, moving toward you, “and your other clothes will be waiting for you when you’ve finished your stay.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you muse, fingering the raspberry-coloured silk of a lavish-looking day dress.

“The clothes you choose will determine the course of your experience.”

Your attendant is right beside you now, so close that you can see the way his golden eyelashes brush his tanned cheeks. He’s leaning in to examine the silk same as you, but his shoulder pushes just a little close to be solely practical. As he grips the material between lithe fingers, he lifts his gaze to yours on purpose. There’s a charming lilt to his smile that you can’t help but admire.

He pauses, dropping the silk and turning to face you head-on. Though the smile has slipped from his features, he still eyes you with interest.

“You want to ask, don’t you?”

Your brain catches up immediately, confusion swelling and fading in the span of a heartbeat. It tightens to thick dread in your chest.

He’s right. You do.

“Are you real?” The words sound even more ridiculous in the air between you than they did in your head. But ever since you boarded the train it felt like you could never be sure. And he’s perfect. Too perfect. Even the way he takes your question seems scripted and rehearsed.

He gives a low chuckle and takes your hands, stroking smooth thumbs over the backs of your knuckles. Then he peeks up at you from beneath flawless dark lashes and flashes a hint of pearly canine as he speaks.

“If you can’t tell, does it really matter?”

You don’t need him to expand.

“Come,” he prompts gently, dropping one hand to pull open a drawer of delicate slips and shifts, sitting in neat, folded piles of undyed linen. Some are plain, others trimmed excessively with lace and ribbons. You’re drawn to the coloured ribbons immediately- pale peach, soft blue, mint green. But the brassy gold of your attendant’s eyes is even more magnetic and you can’t look away for longer than a handful of seconds.

“You know,” he continues, squeezing your fingers gently and moving back in to run his knuckles up the inside of your wrist. Every single one of his touches is delicate, fluttering like a songbird against your skin. But there’s nothing gentle about the way he looks at you.

“Some of these clothes are a little difficult to put on alone.”

He does not explain further, but he watches as you’re drawn to the same conclusion that he is.

You have to roll this one over in your mind for a long while. You left your engagement ring behind, but the engagement itself still stands. Then again, he told you to enjoy yourself here. ‘Make every use of the park’s benefits,’ he’d suggested.

He’s just a computer, you tell yourself. A glorified sex toy. Maybe he walks and talks and flirts like a real human being, but…

There’s something about him that’s making it hard to turn him down.

After a silence long enough for any normal person to question, you look up at your attendant once more. He’s patiently awaiting your response, having gone uncomfortably still. You're not even sure he'd blink if you stare long enough.

You give a tight little nod and he’s smiling again, the same lazy smile as before. His default expression, you’re beginning to gather. He reaches for your coat.

“Wait.” You stop him with one hand on either forearm. He’s touched you before, but it’s still shocking how warm he is. Even though the sleeves of his perfect white jacket, he feels unquestionably alive.

"Don't you have a name or something?"

“Of course I do,” he responds. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Um…” Your brow knits. “Yes.”

He slips around behind you, curling his fingers into the open folds of your jacket and beginning to slide the weighty material off your shoulders. As he does, he leans forward, letting his lips draw close to your ear and making you shiver.

“Call me Keigo.”

“Keigo,” you repeat. It’s pretty and rolls easily from your mouth in a slow purr of desire. You can’t help yourself anymore. Keigo’s been programmed to put you at ease, but he’s doing much more for you now.

He undresses you methodically, pausing only briefly to run a hand down the curve of your waist or dip his fingers under the point of your chin when he catches you looking down. Even when you’re standing completely naked in front of him, he does not move to touch you in any untoward manner.

Whatever unspoken arrangement you thought you had formed is obviously not as unspoken as you’d hoped.

With his help, you select some period-appropriate undergarments. He helps you into your breezy linen shift first, lovingly tying the drawstrings into a neat little bow at the centre front. The corset is not as uncomfortable as you'd anticipated, fitting you devastatingly well. Keigo’s skilled hands pull the laces with precise tension, and the whole time he breathes soft commands and inquiries over your shoulder.

“Too tight?” He whispers, holding the laces taught at your waist. You take a slow, deep breath, then shake your head.

“Good.”

He ties the laces off and helps you into two petticoats- one of plain white cotton, the other of decorative silk and lace. Then he sits you on a cool, leather-covered sofa on one edge of the room and drops to his knees in front of you.

“Uh-“ you start, but he produces a pair of silk stockings from seemingly nowhere, smirking over the tops of your knees.

“Let’s get this out of the way.”

He pushes your airy petticoats up from your ankles, letting the backs of his palms brush the insides of your knees. He shoves the material up to your thighs and your confusion is multiplied now- is this what you think it is?

The way he admires your thighs as you shyly press them together certainly makes it seem so.

"Keigo," you gasp, curling your fingers against the edge of the sofa. The leather is supple and delicate beneath your touch like you could tear it if you wanted to.

He looks up just in time to watch you hook a bare thigh over his shoulder, and his brows shoot into his pointed hairline.

You’ve decided what you want out of this trip.

"Dove," he chides, setting down the stockings and pushing them gently aside. He takes both hands up the backs of your calves, stroking perfectly manicured fingernails into the tender skin at the backs of your knees.

He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His face disappears behind the swath of frothy white petticoats gathered in your lap, but you feel his hot breath on your skin clear as day.

“If you wanted something from me,” he purrs, “all you had to do was ask.”

“I’m asking now,” you hum, letting your head fall back against the back of the couch. He’s easy enough to convince. Somehow, the fact that you didn’t have to work very hard for this almost makes it feel more acceptable.

“Here’s my answer,” he replies, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh. You let out a strangled gasp, thigh jolting against his face as he slips his hand under the other leg- still hooked over his shoulder. You let out a low, shaky breath, trying not to think about the mark he’ll leave.

He pushes your leg away after biting it, shoving your knees apart and leaning eagerly forward. His head is fully buried under your gathered petticoats at this point, and you can feel him nosing his way into the crook of your groin, sliding a few free fingers up to prod gently for your hair-dusted folds.

“Wet already, bluebird?” He chuckles into your skin, sending shivers up your spine. “I’m flattered.”

“Stop,” you groan. There’s heat rushing to your cheeks with every word that tumbles out of his pretty mouth. You don’t want any of this to stop, but the heat between your legs is the one quickly growing unbearable.

“Do you want me to?” Keigo sits back almost immediately, ridding you of the delicious tingles his close breath were sending across your skin.

“No, no!” You yelp sharply, indignantly, digging your bare heel into his back to keep him close. He stops as soon as you apply pressure, letting out a quiet little chuckle.

“Keep going,” you pant, curling your toes against his pretty jacket.

“Your wish is my command,” he hums, already leaning into your flesh again. He does not hesitate this time, burying his head between your legs and giving the weeping slit of your cunt a long lick.

His first touch is all it takes to remind you how long it’s been.

“Fuck,” you gasp, low and languid. He doesn’t hesitate to close his lips around your swelling clit and suck. He makes sharp, sloppy noises with his lips and tongue, and the way they resonate in your ears near-doubles your pleasure. He’s eating you out perfectly, with terrifying precision. The strength of his jaw and tongue remains almost painfully consistent.

All the better for drowning him out. Despite his easy-flowing attitude and suave charm, he’s not a person. And it isn’t unfaithful to want him like this.

Even if you know he wouldn’t like it.

Keigo is diligent and careful, plunging his tongue in and out of your needy hole before finding the nub of your clit again, hard and sensitive. When he flicks the tip of his tongue against the tender front of it your legs spasm and you cry out softly as sensitive goosebumps rush across your ribcage.

“Like that,” you plead breathlessly, drawing your foot up between his shoulder blades as the tension builds. “Again, please.”

You’re holding the swells of your petticoats up around your thighs for him, but your fingers are beginning to clench in the delicate material. You’re not going to last long at all beneath a tongue as talented as his.

“Don’t worry, dove,” he purrs into your body, sending thick vibrations through every nerve in your system, “I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

As he settles into his rhythm again, he plunges two fingers into your messy depths. He curls them tightly inside you, massaging your tender walls with a blunt and careful touch.

It takes little more than a few methodical strokes to make you fall. You cum with a tight little squeal, closing your thighs tightly around his head while you spasm and buck and sigh. He’s attentive enough to keep pumping his fingers through your orgasm, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible and greedily lapping at the wetness that trickles from your clenching pussy.

"That's it," he soothes, easing you down from your high with one calming hand on the column of your twitching thigh. As you settle, sweat-soaked, back into your seat he surfaces, sweat and shiny, sticky fluid sticking in the bristles of his perfect scruff. He licks his lips and you realize you’ve unconsciously mirrored him, doing the same.

In the moments directly following your peak you say nothing, looking down to meet his brassy gaze as deep uncertainty settles into your gut.

What happens now?

Keigo sits back on his haunches, pulling the folded pocket square from his breast and mopping up the mess on his chin and jaw like he'd done nothing more than spill a glass of wine or splash water over his lips.  

“Much better,” he croons, reaching for the discarded stockings from before. “Feeling a little more relaxed?”

You swallow hard.

“I’d say so.”

His smile is surprisingly bright and sunny.

“Good.” He hooks his fingers under your knee again, unhooking your leg from his shoulder. Sliding a palm down to your ankle, he fits one stocking deftly over your foot and slides it up your calf, continuing his work as if uninterrupted. He fits the stockings over your knees and ties them off carefully with slips of silk ribbon, sitting the knots just below your knees so the stockings won't fall. Then, he gets to his feet and offers you a hand.

“Let’s pick out the rest of your clothes, shall we?”

The park is even more immersive than you imagined. The photos do it no justice. When you step off the (genuine steam-powered) train at Sweetwater Station, it’s accompanied by a very real twinge of anxiety. The village is like a scene out of a Clint Eastwood movie. Only there are no cardboard sets here. The saloon doors really swing inward. The shops and businesses that line the main street are built from real, weathered lumber. The dust that’s kicked up by the hosts that go about their daily lives is already beginning to coat your new boots.

You sneeze.

“God bless you,” greets a kind stranger in a rough-hewn grey coat and white hat. He’s got a very apparent drawl to his voice, but the glint in his blue eyes is kind.

Back at the facility, guests and hosts were easy enough to distinguish from one another. Out here, it’s a little more difficult. You’re not sure whether to believe that everyone is real or assume they’re all fake.

Luckily, there are four women beside you whose humanity you are acutely aware of. You’re lucky enough to have found your bridesmaids on the train in- all clustered in the bar car, but together nonetheless.

And they’ve insisted on keeping the party going.

“C’mon, bride-to-be,” your maid of honour chides, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of your reverie. “I know exactly where we need to go first.”

“It’s not even noon yet,” you protest, but the others are already miles ahead of you. You’re dragged easily into the broad, dusty street and toward those broad, swinging doors. The saloon stands proudly in the centre of town on a prominent corner with faded signs advertising its wares. And your maid of honour eagerly bats the doors open, striding boldly into the sun-soaked saloon.

The tables are surprisingly crowded for this time of day. It’s most likely a flood of guests, disembarking the train and heading straight for the local watering hole for a real taste of the action.  Beyond their idle chatter tinkles the bright keys of a player piano against one wall. You can see the player scroll turning in the piano’s upright fixture, but that doesn’t change the unsettling way that the keys seem to press themselves.

It’s an eerie fixture in a town populated by walking, talking player pianos.

The man behind the bar bleeds Old West stereotypes from every pore. He’s got a huge, exaggerated greying moustache and a tweed waistcoat with shirtsleeves bound back for work. He’s polishing an empty glass with a cotton rag, but you spot him just in time to watch him politely greet a guest and reach behind him for a frosted bottle of unlabeled whisky.

The only other fixtures in the place are the women patrolling it, clad in colourful, lacy outfits that you’re certain violate some kind of historical convention. But they’re all breathtakingly beautiful, bosoms heaving over tightly laced corsets and fluttering from table to table like songbirds. They seem to provide little more than decoration and, as you settle into a table not far from the door, they fade easily into the background.

Until one of them screams.

You’ve read as many stories as you could scour the internet for before coming here. You know this place can get intense. Details of the park’s narratives and interactive storylines are kept under wraps as much as possible, so you can’t be sure whether this is out of the ordinary or not.

But when you whip around to find the source of the blood-curdling shriek, it doesn’t feel scripted.

It doesn’t feel scripted when the pretty girl in peach lace flings herself to the feet of a brand-new guest, here with his wife and their young son gaping from across the table. It doesn’t feel like she’s supposed to be wracked with sobs having never exchanged a word with this man.

It doesn’t feel like she should be pleading with him.

But the sobs wrack her body anyway, and her rosy little cheeks are flushed deeply now as she sniffles and blubbers.

“My daughter,” she begs hoarsely. “My girl, my daughter, please, I know you have her. Give her back to me, please. I know you took her. Give her back to me, I’ll do anything.”

Whether the father-of-one knows what she's talking about or not he's white as a sheet, stumbling backwards against the edge of his wife's table and pushing his arms forward, trying to keep her away.

The player piano finishes its tune, keys stilling as the saloon’s patrons look on in shock. And for an honest handful of heartbeats, the saloon is silent save for the host’s ragged sobs.

It takes a few moments for the player scroll to re-align itself before the tune restarts, and as the familiar notes cycle back through the saloon the host re-centres herself, climbing to her feet. There's a hardened resolve on her tear-stained face as her target looks around, gathering his wife and son with a this is bullshit and turning to leave.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me-“ the host begins to snarl. She lunches for the man, hands outstretched for the back of his brand new jacket, or maybe the brim of his crisp Stetson.

“Freeze all motor functions!”

A deep voice booms from the door of the saloon, amplified and simultaneously muffled with the use of a megaphone. The girl, and every other host in the saloon, freezes in place as though they’ve been paused. They don’t just stand still- they’re paralyzed. The smiling bartender is stalled with a glass in his hand; he doesn’t even blink.

In the doorway stands a hulking man of at least six and a half feet, seeming nearly as broad across the shoulders as he is tall. He wears a black uniform, armored black vest and heavy combat boots with a head of brilliant red hair spilling over his shoulders. As he lowers the megaphone he’s grinning, the bare flash of a sharp canine catching the low light of the bar.

“Sorry for the intrusion, folks,” he declares, striding across the floorboards toward the frozen host. Her expression is paused in a sneer of sheer horror and aggression, her hand outstretched for the man who has long since stepped aside.

The red-haired guardian angel, who has the name Kirishima stitched neatly onto the breast of his protective gear in white thread, catches your gaze. He shoots you a familiar little wink and a nod, a soft y’alright? escaping his throat in a quiet little growl.

You lick your lips, nodding slowly. Kirishima averts his gaze and reaches for the frozen host. As soon as he touches her skin she goes limp, falling easily into his powerful hold. He hoists her body over one shoulder and surveys the saloon, touching two fingertips to his forehead in a bright little salute.

“Please, don’t let me intrude on your stay any longer,” he continues. “As you were, everybody. Resume.”

The last word seems to be a command for the hosts in the room, as they spin to life again. They resume their rounds as if no time had passed at all; as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever transgressed.

Spooked, but encouraged by Kirishima’s smooth removal of the offending host, the guests around you go hesitantly back to their conversations. The player piano, also halted by Kirishima’s commands, has resumed its delicate play, and slowly the environment returns to the way it was before.

Your friends are among those willing to brush off the incident.

"What happened?" mumbles your maid of honour across the table, as if the host were still around to overhear her. As if the host's friends might be listening in to see if anybody's talking about her.

“No idea,” quips one of the other girls. “Must be some kind of glitch.” She looks over her shoulder, watching the remaining hosts at the bar. “I wonder if it happens often.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Head of Narrative Katsuki Bakugou slams a stack of papers onto the table in front of him, disrupting the intricate hologram that provides a real-time, scale model of the park to the room’s occupants.

“Katsuki!” Momo scolds, watching the hologram stutter and flicker. It’s not the first table he’s damaged.

“You’re not pulling my fucking narrative. It rolls out today. Do you have any idea how many writers I had busting ass on that thing?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she retorts, tapping the screen of the datapad she’s got hooked tightly in the crook of her other arm. “You saw the host that Eijirou pulled, didn’t you? The fact that he had to step in at all means things got way out of hand…”

“Bullshit,” Katsuki retorts, sweeping his papers off the holo-table (and shattering the image one more time). “That was a fucking glitch. You don’t even have the results back from Behaviour yet.”

“I already know what they’re going to say,” Momo continues.

“That’s right,” Katsuki snarls. “I forgot you know everything around here.”

“She was carrying the latest update. There must be something wrong with the code.” Momo tries not to remember Dabi and his distant stare. She swallows the part about the extra coding slipped in by the man who could do no wrong.

She flips her datapad shut- it’s doing her any good, since Katsuki’s right. The results from Behaviour regarding the misaligned host won’t be ready for some time.

“You can’t. Pull. That. Narrative.” Katsuki’s squared up now, all the gathered papers tucked under his arm. His jaw is ticked, nostrils flaring as his eyes flash. “An entire trainload of guests is wandering around Sweetwater looking for the stories they fucking paid for. If you pull the plug, there’s nothing left.”

He’s right again.

“Look.” Katsuki crosses to the holo-table one more time, only this time it’s without the murderous intent in his gaze. For once he’s ready to use the table as intended, pin-pointing the broad, dusty street of Sweetwater’s main strip and bringing up a live feed of the bustling little town.

"Dabi is riding through here in less than two hours," he continues. "Dial-up his aggression a little. Make him shoot up the place. If you want to pull the hosts, at least let them go out with a bang.”

Momo isn’t convinced. But it’s the closest thing to a happy medium she can picture at the moment. Katsuki, as prolific as ever, knows how to think on his feet.

“How many d’you think he’ll take out?” She probes quietly, quirking an interested brow.

“Enough to keep the guests AND your Doctor Frankensteins entertained while I find us some more loopholes.”

Her mind races through more questions. But the panic, fluttering high and shallow in her chest, has somehow been replaced by a delicate sort of reassurance.

She flips open the datapad one more time, activating the remote host commands available only to an employee of her standing. Finding Dabi’s program file, she does exactly as Katsuki suggests and dials up the aggression in his behaviour stats by eighty percent.

“This had better work,” she threatens softly, but Katsuki’s already folding his arms across his chest, looking far too satisfied with himself. His ego is insufferable, but his talent is unmatched. Worth suffering for.

His mouth splits into a triumphant grin as he shoots an idle glance at the live Sweetwater feed. The only stage he’s ever needed.

“’Course it will.”

The afternoon sun has nearly dipped behind the tallest rooftops in Sweetwater when your friends stumble out of the saloon. Your friends are already tipsy, giggling and clutching each other as they try not to trip over the hems of their skirts. They’re all a little too eager to pull out the extravagant lace fans that pair perfectly with their colourful dresses and fan at their heaving bosoms.

As you bound down the steps and into the dirt road, you dive seamlessly into the milling crowd of hosts and guests, starting to swim. If you’re about to be caught in the eye of a devastatingly orchestrated narrative maelstrom, you’re blissfully unaware.

“Give me the time,” Katsuki grunts from the Sweetwater side of the holo-table. Momo glances up at the digital clock on the wall.

“Thirteen fifty-eight, forty-two,” she notes. Katsuki’s got the camera feed trained on a lone trio of riders, clad in black and plodding steadily toward Sweetwater. He watches carefully, keeping an eye turned on the clock.

“They’re going to be late,” he grunts bitterly, folding his arms over his chest. Sero, Denki and Kirishima, who have all crowded around the holo-table on their lunch breaks to watch the show, snort in near-unison.

“I don’t think anyone down there’s keeping track,” Denki quips, smoothing his palms down the front of his crisp shirt, apronless for once. Katsuki shoots him a vicious glare.

“You wanna go back to your sewing room or what?”

Denki goes quiet.

Inside the park, the sun passes behind a cloud. The light shifts just enough to draw your gaze, and when you look up, you’re among the first to spot a few dark shapes approaching. They’re close enough that you can make them out as riders, all on horses as black as the wide-brimmed hats on their heads.

There’s something about them, their precise formation and the slow, plodding, deliberate pace of their horses that holds your attention. You can’t quite write them off as guests, no matter how much they stand out from the dully-dressed villagers around you.

You glance across the street just long enough to spot a WANTED poster tacked to a column not far off. You can’t make out any of the writing on it, but the face is distinct- dark, shaded patches covering his jaw, chin and lower lip, carving out two shadowy patches under his eyes.

There’s something about the narrow shape of his cheeks that pulls familiar.

But you don’t have to wonder much longer.

The three riders ride quietly into town, the crowd parting around them with little more than low murmurs and dull, lidded fear. They pull to a stop in front of the saloon, barely twenty feet from you.

The cowboy in the grey tweed coat who caught your eye fresh off the train approaches the riders. He’s got a revolver holstered on one hip, and he draws it slowly out of its pouch as he squares up with the horse at the lead of the pack.

“Haven’t you seen the signs with your mug on ‘em?” He drawls, his face drawn into an expression of tense righteousness. He jerks his chin toward the nearest one, the WANTED sign you’d seen seconds earlier. “You’re not welcome here, Dabi.”

The taller rider in the centre- Dabi- tilts his chin into the sunlight, and that’s when you catch sight of its purplish colour. His face glints with silver, a perfect match for the drawing posted across the street.

He does not hesitate, drawing his own revolver in one smooth motion and shooting the cowboy in the chest. The gun discharges with a crack that’s louder than you ever imagined it could be, punctuated by the screams of bystanders nearby.

As the village descends into panic you stand there dumbstruck, watching the chaos unfold.

“Wait for it,” Katsuki grunts, hiding his satisfied grin as his colleagues watch in rapt fascination. Sero hasn’t blinked since the action began.

“You sure?” Dabi rasps, voice muffled by the feed. He produces a shiny golden badge and flipping it, like a silver dollar, onto the expiring corpse of the righteous host.

“No,” Denki whines. “He killed the sheriff?”

“Shut up and keep watching,” Katsuki growls, quelling the proud adrenaline pumping through his veins. There’s nothing quite like seeing his hard work come to life- supremely worth fighting with Momo over.

Dabi smirks, tipping the brim of his hat.

“Seems like invitation enough to me.”

He swings capably off his horse and you can’t deny your fascination with the mystery surrounding him. You should be terrified, but there’s something about the cool confidence with which he carries himself that you can’t quite put aside.

If the women flocking to the windows on either side of the street are any indication, you’re not the only one who feels that way. In a brief moment of lucidity, you take a glance around you. Your bridesmaids have disappeared, disappearing in the panicked mass of flooding crowds after the scarred rider fired his first shot.

He’s followed by a second rider on his right flank, both quickly disappearing into the bar. The third rider- a petite blonde woman swathed in a heavy coat- gets down off her horse and turns quickly toward her saddlebags. When she comes around the front side of her steed, she’s got a shotgun in her hands.

She’s loading it. The pandemonium amplifies. At her feet, there’s a long, thick coil of rope that’s partially unwound and trailing into the saloon. It’s unwinding slowly, with dull screams and shattering glass echoing from inside.

That’s all you have time to notice before another shot goes off in front of you. The little blonde girl’s levelled her shotgun, emptying her rounds at anyone who raises a weapon against her. You’re barely standing ten feet away. But she passes you clean over.

Is it because you're a guest? The only ones who have fallen at her hand are the hosts, capable of being hurt by her gunshots. The guests who haven't taken off are clustered in the windows of shops or hiding behind broad wooden columns, but there is no fear painted on their faces.

You know the hosts can’t hurt you. But there’s something about the thrill of it all that sends adrenaline pumping through your veins anyway. There’s a cool mystery to all of the black-clad riders.

A part of you wants to join them. If you can be anyone you want in here… why not one of them? Why not swing cooly down from your horse and terrorize, when there are no consequences to your actions?

You take one step backwards, then another. Your senses are finally coming back to you. You should run. Disengage. Maybe you can’t be caught in the crossfire, but you can’t stand dumbly in the empty street, either.

Something has to change.

Before you can make it to the safety of a storefront, a pattern of three gunshots in tight succession from inside the saloon triggers something in the blonde, still picking off hosts. There are bodies littering the street.  

She lowers her shotgun and hops back onto her horse, spurring it on with a sharp whistle. The beast takes off without hesitation, and it’s then that you realize the other end of the coiled rope is wound around her saddlehorn. As the horse strains its haunches and pushes forward the rope goes taut. And as the pair of them take off down the street, the spoils emerge: a heavy wrought iron safe, bursting out of the saloon doors and leaving nothing but splintered remains in its wake.

It bounces and rolls down the steps and slides smoothly as soon as it hits the dirt street. The blonde shooter and her horse disappear, safe in tow.

You wonder what became of the bartender inside and his friendly moustache.

Dabi emerges seconds later, a fresh rifle clutched lazily in one hand. His companion’s lost his hat in the turmoil inside- he’s blonde, too, with a deep scar splitting his forehead from hairline to brow.

"Let today be a lesson for every one of you," Dabi calls, re-cocking his shotgun as he surveys the fresh bodies and fleeing guests. You've stopped dead all over again, drawn to him like a magnet despite your best judgement.

He levels the shotgun, aiming it about five feet to your right. You follow his gaze. In the window over your shoulder, with her hands pressed to the glass, is a little girl no older than five. She’s watching Dabi and his riders with fearful fascination and does not seem to realize that she’s been targeted.

You don’t care if she’s a guest or not. She’s a human girl with big, lively eyes, and your adrenal glands work faster than your sense of logic.

Dabi shuts one eye, tilting his head. The corner of one lip curls ever so slightly as he concentrates, taking aim. “And that lesson is-“

“Stop.” You step in front of the window, spreading your arms and drawing his attention for the first time. When he looks at you over the top of his shotgun, his expression goes slack. He drops the shotgun and his eyes are wide, wider than they’re supposed to be, almost.

You’re close enough to see that they’re a shocking shade of blue. That blue strikes an achingly familiar chord in your heart.

You recognize those eyes.

“What the fuck!”

If the holo-table didn’t weigh half a ton, Katsuki would’ve flipped it on its end. The feed is as smooth as ever, but his face has gone scarlet as he paces away from the table, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“What? What’s wrong?” Kirishima’s well past the end of his lunch break by now, but there’s no way in hell he’s going back to work before seeing the way this plays out.

“He stopped,” Katsuki growls. “He’s not s’posed to fucking stop.”

Dabi’s been stopped on the brink of a speech that took Katsuki days to put together. He’s been waiting to hear it delivered for weeks. It’s the speech that Dabi’s entire narrative was hinged on, forged out of countless sleepless nights and careless notes scribbled idly on coffee breaks.

“Holy shit.” There’s a genuine shock in Denki’s voice that’s enough to make Katsuki turn around. Denki’s gone white, Sero beside him, too.

“You’d better get over here and see this, dude,” Kirishima mutters, jerking his chin toward the feed. Momo’s watching over his shoulder, too, one hand pressed to her pursed lips.

“That’s a guest, isn’t it?” Sero quips. Silence settles over the room.

“I’ll get Shouto,” Momo declares, turning away and opening up her datapad.

“What’s going on?” Shouto bursts into the holo-room not two minutes later, mismatched eyes lit up with urgent concern. “Did I read your message right? I-“

Katsuki’s pacing the room, quieter than ever. Denki, Sero and Kirishima are still gathered around the feed, winding back the stream to replay the events that have sent them all spiralling. Momo’s the only one who even acknowledges his presence.

“Something’s happening in the park,” she explains, hushed and tight as she meets him at the door. “Another updated host is off-script.”

“How bad is it this time?” Shouto asks, hiding the dread that’s spreading in his gut. He had hoped that the girl from the saloon was just an unexpected glitch, but the results from Behaviour told another story.

Still, two deviances in just the first day of the update feels worse than he dreaded.

“You’d better take a look for yourself.”

Momo leads him to the holo-table and the feed, letting the other boys step aside. Shouto steps up to the projection, watching Dabi ride into town. Watching him break into the saloon with Twice and Toga, two other repurposed hosts, by his side.

He watches Toga ride off with the safe behind her and watches Dabi start his speech. And then, from a near-birds-eye view, he watches Dabi spot you of all people. Dabi lowers his rifle and strides toward you.

Shou’s heart leaps into his throat.

With dull horror he watches Dabi slip a leather-gloved hand under your chin. He watches you tilt your jaw into his touch. You’re fascinated by him. Even though the dust and pixels it's painfully obvious.

Dabi seems to notice, too, since he stoops low and hoists you over his shoulder without another word. You struggle, but he holds you fast. He strides across the road to his horse and sets you- still squirming and fighting- in the saddle, climbing on behind you and grabbing you tightly before you can escape.

Just before he spurs his gargantuan black steed forward, he pauses to glance over his shoulder. Shouto can’t be certain, but for a moment it seems like Dabi’s found the camera, staring plainly up at Shouto through its low-quality lens.

A breath passes. He looks away, gives a whistle, and disappears into the wilds beyond the town.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Kirishima presses. “Katsuki, you didn’t program him to kidnap a guest, did you?”

“Of course not,” Katsuki snarls from across the room, his nerves fraying dangerously. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Do I look like a walking liability to you?”

“Look, it’s fine,” Denki chimes in. “It’s not like he can hurt her or anything. Just chalk it up to the park experience. Tell her Dabi kidnaps random nobodies all the time.”

The room goes quiet as a crypt. Kirishima looks at Shouto. Shouto looks at Katsuki. Katsuki looks at Momo, and Momo takes a slow, deep breath.

“Do you want to tell him, Shouto?” she asks, “or should I?”

Shouto closes his eyes and tries to quell the panic rising in the back of his throat. He shoots Denki a cold look, jaw ticked but eyes blazing.

“That’s my fiancé,” he mutters, low and shaky. “Dabi kidnapped my fiancé.”

[heliotropehotch]

Wasteland, Baby - Hotch x fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first criminal minds fic I’m putting out! Im not really sure what this is but I was in need of more hotch fics i’m not gonna lie. tagging @writefasttalkevenfaster​ cause she let me ask her for ideas - also happy birthday Sabina!! This fic is kinda based on a mixture of wasteland, baby by hozier and separate ways by journey. Italics are flashbacks

Warnings: mentions of passed abusive relationship, kidnapping, torture, chained up, arguments, pining, cussing, mentions of sex

Words: 4134

Genre: Angst with fluffy ending

The bullpen of the BAU was quiet but bustling with the soft shuffling of papers and dull thuds of various coffee mugs meeting the hardwood desks. Aaron Hotchner slowly shuffled up the stairs to his office, sighing with the deeper aches of his body. His door shut behind him softly, feeling the weight of the long week catching up with him as his shoulders dropped. He looked over towards the clock on his desk before he trudged to his chair and sat down. 

Strauss had sent over details of a new team member coming to join the BAU for the indefinite future, but Hotch had yet to look over the information before now. Whoever they were, they were expected to arrive at any minute now. He sighed once again, running a calloused palm over his face, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. A knock echoed through the room. “Come in,” his voice called out. 

“Uh,” Dave began. “The new one’s here. Garcia’s smothering her with questions.” He chuckled. 

Hotch gave a small smile. “Of course she is.” 

He grabbed the file off of his desk as he made his way to the door of his office. I should at least know their name, he thought, opening the manila folder as he stepped out of the door. 

- - New addition to Behavioral Analysis Unit: Y/N Y/L/N - -

His eyebrows furrowed before his eyes shot up to find the face he hadn’t seen in over a decade. In the flesh, there you were, smiling sweetly at Spencer as he prattled off facts about pathogens of hand shaking. Hotch felt the folder slide from his loose grip and land on the floor with scattered papers and the sharp sound of it hitting the floor. 

Your ears caught the sound, causing you to look around just as his eyes had. Hotch was staring at you, his eyebrows still furrowed with what looked like concern, his mouth slightly agape. 

You met his eyes, and gave a nervous and small grin, raising your hand up in a tentative wave. 

“Aaron, I have to go,” you mumbled, stuffing your clothes into a suitcase. “Y/N, what are you talking about?” Hotch’s panicked voice rang out. He reached for your wrist. “Will you please just tell me what’s going on?” You yanked your hand away from his grasp, taking a hesitant step away. 

“When were you going to tell me about Haley?” you asked softly, staring at your hands. His veins run cold. “Y/N-”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You looked up at him with angry eyes. “Aaron, I know who she is to you. I know she’s all you’ve wanted since highschool. Was I even given a chance?”

“Y/N, I love you,” his shaky voice rang out as he took a step forward. 

“Don’t do that,” you shook your head, taking another step back, tears well past the point of being held back. “Don’t say it back to me now. You love her more. You always will. I just wish you could’ve told me instead of-”

Your voice choked, “Instead of sleeping with her. That would’ve hurt a lot less.”

“Y/N, please don’t go.” His own face wet with tears. She continues packing her things, with more intention. 

“And why shouldn’t I?” 

He stared at her silently, thinking of words, any words that would make you stay. He knew what they were, but his mouth couldn’t get them out. You had stopped to look at him now, heart hurting as the room fell silent. 

“Right,” you sighed, pulling the suitcase to your feet. “Go get her back Aaron, don’t lose her like you did me.” 

The door to his apartment clicked closed behind you. His hands wiped away his stray tears. 

“God, Hotchner. You’re such a fucking idiot,” as he picks up the photo of the both of you and throws it against the wall. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the space. 

Hotch looked down at his now empty hands and moved to pick up the folder before heading down the steps. He tried to shake the initial shock of seeing you again off but his mind couldn’t help but think, this is gonna hurt like a goddamn bitch. 

“Y/N,” his voice sounded more confident than he was. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you spoke out, voice somewhat cold and disconnected. “I look forward to working with you.”

Garcia spoke up, eyeing the tension between the two of you. “Well, Hotch, I was about to come get you with a new case. It’s local.”

“Okay, just head to the briefing room. Agent Y/L/N and I will be there in a second.” Garcia mock saluted as the rest of the team headed up the stairs. 

“Y/N-” Hotch began, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

“Sir,” your bitter voice spoke. “Working under your command will not be an issue for me. If it is an issue for you, I understand.”

“Of course, it’s not,” his voice is soft. “I just think we should eventually have a conversation. I haven’t had a chance to look over your file-”

“You haven’t?” you looked at him with fear. “Sir, there are some things you will read, but it will in no way affect the way I work. Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe we have a briefing.”

Hotch sighed, looking at the file in his hands. His brows scrunched up in confusion, before his natural frown took over his features. Whatever was in there could wait. 

He straightened his back, pushing his shoulders back before quickly walking into the briefing room. “Garcia, what have we got?”

She clicks the remote, herself going a bit rigid at the images on screen. “Starting two weeks ago, six women have gone missing from the DC area. Local police have recovered at least 4 of the bodies in local bodies of water. The victims have large bruises and impressions around their wrists and ankles.”

“Like chains?” You spoke up. “How long between the time the first victim was kidnapped and her estimated time of death?”

“Five days,” Garcia’s sad voice answered. “And it’s been the same with the other bodies. The last victims reported missing were both taken 3 days ago.”

“So we have two days to work with local police before we can expect there to be two more bodies,” Hotch said, sighing at the time limit. “Everyone grab your stuff and we’ll head to the precinct.” 

~~~~

The next day, all of their information gathering, all of their leads, all of their information came to a screeching halt when a woman, with bruises around her ankles and wrists stumbled into the precinct. Her dirt covered clothes and disheveled hair screamed for help as her weak knees fell to the ground. 

Derek ran over to her and kneeled. “Someone get a medic over here!” he shouted. 

Anna Sawyer, 32, a bartender at a local pub had freed herself from chains of the unsub. After walking for hours, she finally got the precinct where she could find someone, anyone to help her. 

“Morgan and Reid are on their way to the hospital to get information about her captor and where she escaped from,” Hotch clicked his cellphone off. 

“What about the other girl? Do we think she’s kept in a separate space?” Prentiss asked. 

“Possibly,” you sighed, making notes on a notepad. “We can’t rule out anything until the boys get answers back.”

“In the meantime,” Hotch huffed out. “Everyone go get some food and meet back in an hour.”

“Y/N,” Emily grabbed your attention. “Wanna go grab a bite with me and JJ? I know a local place with good coffee and sandwiches.” She smiled

“Yeah sure that sounds good!” Grabbing her notepad and cellphone before giving Hotch a brief glance and a curt nod and following them out the door.

Hotch continued to stare, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth and thinking back to the unread personnel file he had on his temporary desk. Dave moved into his line of sight, with a knowing smirk gracing his face. 

“So you gonna tell me what that’s about?” Aaron huffed, moving towards the desk. 

“I knew her in college,” he said, short and sweet. Dave rolled his eyes. 

“And just how well did you know her in college?”

“We were together,” he sighed, gaining a shocked looked on Rossi’s face. “For about a year when Haley and I were on a break.”

“Aaron,” he called for eye contact. “You left her for Haley didn’t you?”

“It’s not like I was given a choice. She found out that I-” he cut himself off, clearing his throat as guilt flooded his veins. “She found out. And she left.” 

“You didn’t go after her?” 

“I couldn’t, Dave,” he sighed, shaking his head. “It was Haley. Everyone just expected me to marry her and I had to become someone I wasn’t.” He looked at the file on his desk. 

“Y/N wasn’t like anyone else. She was good for me, I loved her with so much, but when I saw Haley after so long, I just fell back into the routine.”

Dave sighed, patting his shoulder. “Haley loved you, but you can love more than one person. It’s been almost 3 years since-”

“I know, Dave,” his fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose. “But I don’t know if I can handle losing her too. Although, it feels like I already have. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe you should start by seeing what she’s been up to for the last decade,” Dave pointed to the file. “And then you should talk to her.” Then he walked to the coffee machine.

Hotch let out a sharp exhale of air, sitting down. He stared at the file a few seconds more, before thumbing the folder open. 

~~~~

At the cafe with Emily and JJ, you felt yourself relaxing into the friendships that were to come. You laughed at a joke Emily made about some of the more intense cops you were working with. 

“Thank you guys,” you sighed, taking a sip of your coffee. “You’ve been so nice to me.”

“Of course, Y/N,” JJ smiled. “You’re a part of this team now.”

“Exactly,” Emily agreed. “I do have a question though.”

“Working with a bunch of profilers, I should’ve expected that,” you chuckled. “What do you wanna know?”

JJ and Emily shared a look. “How do you know Hotch?”

You cleared your throat. “We, uh, kinda dated in college,” you admitted with a scrunch of your face. 

“Really? I thought he was only with Haley,” JJ commented, softly with bitter and sad tones. You cringed slightly, knowing of her passing. 

“They were on a break for a while when we were still studying. But we didn’t last longer than maybe a year,” you smiled sadly. “Haley came back and I just didn’t want to compete with his highschool sweetheart. It would’ve been a lost battle.”

Emily smiled sadly. “You still love him don’t you.”

A cold chuckle escaped your mouth. “It’s impossible for me not to. I thought that I’d be fine, ya know working with him. But then he had to go at look at me with those stupid eyes.”

“Aaron!” Your voice laughed out, as his fingers dug into your sides. “Aar- stop!” you giggled out between breaths. Finally his relentless torture stopped, him chuckling at your wild hair and flushed cheeks. 

He leaned down to kiss you, pulling his weight on you and pressing you into the couch. His face cradled your cheeks. He leaned back with a sweet grin, you still pinned underneath him. Your fingers reached up to brush some of his hair out of his face. 

“I love you,” you smiled. His breath hitched, a brief amount of panic flickering in his chocolate eyes. Cradling his face, you continue, “You don’t have to say it back, I know you’re still-”

You sigh, searching his eyes. “I just had to let you know.” 

You try to break eye contact, but his hand brings your eyes back. Without saying a word, he leans down to kiss you again, with more fire, and hands drifting down to your waist to pull you closer to him. 

“You should talk to him,” JJ said, reaching for your hand and interrupting your recollection. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Haley included.”

“You’re sweet JJ,” patting her hand. “I just don’t know if I can do that again. We’ve both been through so much in the last ten years.” 

A sad silence fell over the small table you had been seated at. “Sorry to be such a downer girls,” you chuckled, trying to alleviate the tension. “I’m gonna get another coffee.”

Standing in line you twiddled with your fingers, thinking about the words JJ had said. Aaron had been through so much, it wasn’t fair to want him again. But if he had been looking at you like that- 

“Excuse me,” a gravelly voice spoke up from behind you. “Don’t turn around.” You felt the barrel of a gun pressed into the slope of your lower back. 

“You’re going to come with me and get in my car,” he huffed into your ear. 

“And if I don’t?” you questioned. 

“Then I’m going to shoot the two women you came in with right here and right now between their pretty little eyes. 

“Okay,” your voice shook. “Just don’t hurt them.”

~~~

Aaron leaned back against the desk chair he was seated at, hands covering his face. The guilt that trembled through his body now had new reasons. He would give anything to not be around these people right now. His skin crawled with remorse.

“Aaron?” Rossi called out in question. “What’s in that file?” 

He quickly stood up and pressed the file to Dave’s chest, storming into the nearest room with a door. Rossi followed him, folder open, closing the door behind him. “He fucking hit her, Dave. Her choked her, he slapped her, he-”

Aaron was shaking now. “Hotch, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“It was her ex!” he shouted. “The one before me! She went back to him because I couldn’t be who she needed and I couldn’t get past expectations well enough to tell her I loved her.”

“Aaron,” Dave spoke calmly. “This was years ago. He’s locked up, and she is as strong as ever. Have you seen the way she’s worked this case? It’s only been two days and she has the fire of any of us. She’s okay now.”

“If it wasn’t for me,” he breathed out, his hands trembling. “Then she wouldn’t have had to go through it in the first place.”

“There is absolutely nothing we can do about that now, Hotch,” his voice tried to sooth, but was interrupted by a phone call. 

“Yeah Prentiss,” he said. Aaron watched as his back straightened, shoulders tensing. “For how long?”

“Right,” his eyes, full of sorrow, reached Aaron’s. “I’ll tell him. Get back to the precinct as soon as you can.” Then he ended the phone call.

“Dave?” Aaron’s worried voice rang out. “Tell me what Dave?” 

“Aaron,” he sighed, looking down at his hands. “She’s gone, Aaron.” 

Hotch stumbled back, all air leaving his body. “He took Y/N.”

~~~~

“Alright what do we know?” Hotch asked sternly, walking into the conference room with the rest of the team. “How did he take her?”

“We were just talking about-” JJ coughed, interrupting Emily. “Things…. And she said she was going to get another cup of coffee. We didn’t see her for a while, so JJ and I started looking around the cafe when we saw her outside being forced into a dark van. By the time we got outside she was gone. I’m sorry, Hotch-” 

“Reid, what did you get from Anna?” Hotch moved on, voice angry. Worried looks darted across the room. 

“It was a similar case, Anna was talking to her friends about trying to get over a guy who liked someone else, on her break and went to get a round of drinks,” he said. “When about 30 minutes went by and she hadn’t come back, her friends assumed she just went home. They didn’t realize she was missing until the next day. Anna said she remembers him holding a gun to her back and saying he would kill her friends if she didn’t go with him.”

“Wait,” JJ stopped. “I think I know how he’s choosing his victims. We need to contact all of the victim’s friends again and find out what they were talking about the night they went missing.”

She looked at the group with a sad, but nervous look. “They were all talking about men they were in love with but couldn’t have.” Hotch coughed as he choked on air. 

“Did Anna remember anything about where she was kept?” Hotch rushed out, urgency taking over. 

“She remembers that she was underground for the most part,” Morgan answered. “When we tried to get her to remember details, she remembers hearing the sounds of cars going over a bridge over water.” 

Emily called Garcia, putting her on speaker. “Garcia, we need you to cross-reference any receipts from the places the victims were last seen. Run any names you find against property with basements near water bridges. Get back to us when you have something.”

“You got it, my goddess divine,” She ended the call. 

“Hotch-” JJ started, but he was already sauntering out of the room. The team looked at each other. “What are we gonna do if we can’t-”

“Then we just have to figure out how to,” Rossi said. 

In the file room down the hall, Hotch was having trouble breathing. He clutched at his tie, ripping it off his neck. Fuck.

~~~~~

“Pet, I don’t know why you’re fighting me so much,” the man taunted as you struggled against the chain and shackles. 

“Maybe because you fucking kidnapped me,” you huffed. He clicked his tongue. 

“Wouldn’t you much rather be with me than a man who doesn’t love you?” He said, hand wrapping around your throat. “Isn’t this better than nothing?”

“Isn’t this better than nothing?” Lucas, your ex said, handing you an ice pack for the bruise blooming across your face. “At least, I love you. I picked you off the floor of your house after he broke your heart.” He wrapped his hand around your throat, your heart rate pulsing. “You could at least say thank you.” 

“Thank you, Lucas,” your voice shook. 

“You’re welcome, babydoll,” he said smugly. “Now go to our room, I need to get off.”

“Nothing is better than being with you,” you spit into his face. He chuckled darkly, wiping his face.

“Little bitch,” he muttered, before punching you in the stomach. “I’ll make you wish you had nothing.”

He walked over to a table nearby, picking up a long blade. You strained against the wall, trying to get away from him. “Normally, I’d wait a couple of days before starting with you. But your time’s a little short,” he chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind scars, my pet. I’ll start small.” He winked. 

The tip of the blade dragged across your chest, stinging with red marks as blood began to surface, before disappearing behind the buttons of your blouse. Your breathing picked up, causing him to chuckle again. “Don’t worry my pet, we’re not there yet.” 

“You motherfucker,” you hissed. “Is that what does it for you? Getting off with girls who would never even look your way?” 

His face became angry. “You women are stuck loving someone who could never love you back,” he hissed. “No one could ever love you back. I’m just here to end your misery.” He smiled wickedly, cutting deeping into your side of your stomach. 

“I get to mark you up with these, with my hands, making the pain stay with you,” he said, tracing your arm with the blade, a long angry line blossoming. “And then when I’m tired of you, I get to watch you die with your last vision being me.” He set down the blade, grabbing a set of brass knuckles. “I’ll make you feel this for weeks, my pet,” he taunted, before landing a hit on your jaw. “Not like you’ll live that long anyways.” 

“The pain I give you will be the only thing you think about until I get to kill you,” his fist landing on your stomach again making it hard to breath. Your vision became spotty and you found it hard to stay awake. 

“Aww poor thing. Too much to handle already?” he teased, holding your lolled head up to look him in the eyes. “Good thing I’m killing you soon, cause nobody’s gonna love you after this.” 

A loud crash came from upstairs. He dropped his grasp on your now sore jaw. “What the fuck,” he said, climbing up the steps. 

“Thomas Wayne! Come out with your hands up!” You heard Hotch’s voice echo from upstairs. You smiled to yourself. 

Aaron aimed the gun right at the head of the unsub, anger and fear vibrated through his body, his skin on fire. Even with the man’s hands in the air, he adjusted his grip, finger tensed to stop himself from shooting him anyways. 

“Aaron,” Rossi grabbed his attention, causing him to turn his head to make eye contact. “Go find her. I’ve got him.”

He quickly dropped his aim and holstered his gun before moving towards the basement door. Thundering of rushed feet resonated through the walls of the dark rooms. “Y/N!” he called out.

“Aaron,” you scratched out, barely audible to his ears. Quickly, he found you, rushing over to get the shackles off your wrists and ankles. You collapsed against his chest, huffing out a sob. His arms held you tightly, trying to avoid any visible wounds. You gasped, pain shooting through your ribs, but that didn’t matter to you right now. You focused on the hands soothing your back.

“Hey, shh,” he cooed. “It’s okay, Y/N, I’ve got you.” His own tears flowing over his face. 

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you choked out. “I thought he was gonna-”

“I’m never gonna desert you, honey,” he pressed his face into your neck. “I’m so sorry. But he’s gone, okay? I’ve got you. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Aaron,” you started, knowing he knew. 

“Hey, it doesn’t matter,” he moved your hair out of your face. “It doesn’t matter cause I’ve got you.” 

~~~~ 

Soon after, you were moved to a hospital to get treated for the cuts and cracked ribs you suffered. Aaron hadn’t left your side the whole time, causing some issues for hospital staff but he really didn’t give to shits. Now as you slept, system full of pain meds, he sat resting his arms next to you, one hand tangled with yours. 

Slowly you woke up, looking around the room before your eyes landed on his. You released your hand from his and rested it on his head, combing through his hair like you used to in college. The sensations startled him into sitting up. 

“You’re awake,” he smiled, grabbing your hand again. 

“You’re still here,” you replied, only kind of surprised. 

“I told you, Y/N,” he said, sitting on your bed. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“Aaron-” you started, squeezing his hand. 

“I love you,” he rushed out, your eyes widening at his confession. “I always have. I lost you once before because I didn’t know how to say it to someone who needed so much more than I could offer. Reading your file-” his voice choked up. 

“So I’m not leaving again. And I’m not letting you leave again. Cause no matter how long I have you, no matter how long my love for you lasts, I’m gonna make sure I don’t fuck it up like I have before. You’re never going to have to go through anything without me by your side. Letting you walk out that door was my biggest mistake, and I’ve regretted not doing something for 10 years. And I’ll live everyday trying to make sure you never feel that way again.”

You sniffled, letting your heart open for the first time in years. Your knuckles were white from gripping his hand. “Aaron, I love you,” you laughed through your tears. His lips met yours slowly, giving you time and space to be comfortable against your healing injuries. His forehead rested against yours, smiles filled both of your faces. 

And suddenly, the end of the world didn’t seem as scary with him by your side. 

[chooseyouovereveryone]

Brittana Analysis Part 1: Musical Choices (Main Songs)

So anyone who knows me will know I love Brittana a crazy amount, and I spend way too much time breaking down every tiny detail about them. I’ve written a fair few analyses about them on Reddit which people seem to enjoy, and the lovely @hopefulobjectmiracle suggested I posted them on here for people to read. I’ll no doubt add more as time goes on, but going to post up what I have for now. If anyone has any requests for analysis, my ask box is always open because I love doing these :) Happy reading! & congrats for making it through my essays.

Part 1 covers a music analysis of all their main songs and the meaning behind them. Part 2 will cover their smaller parts in group songs etc.

Me Against The Music

This one is less a lyrical analysis, because I don't think the song explicitly relates so much, more a contextual one. The Me Against The Music scene is a shared fantasy that Brittany and Santana have while under anaesthesia. What's telling is that the fantasy they have is an exact replica of the original music video between Madonna and Britney Spears, which is well known for it's heavy undertones of a same-sex relationship. The plot shows Britney chasing Madonna, with Madonna becoming increasingly more susceptible as the video goes on, until right at the end when Britney catches her and goes to kiss Madonna, who then disappears. It's a cat and mouse chase, a fight for power. With Brittany playing Britney, and Santana Madonna, this fantasy represents to me the way that Brittany is chasing Santana trying to break down her walls, and she gets close but just as she does so, Santana pulls back. In the original video Madonna disappears into thin air when Britney tries to kiss her, in the Glee version Santana is switched out for Britney, but the symbolism is the same and foreshadows the Brittana arc that we get in S2. Brittany always gets close to having Santana, but then Santana pulls away and at times she loses her. So for me, the significance in this is 1) the fact they both have a same-sex fantasy about each other and 2) how Brittany's subconscious is filled with the idea of feeling like she is chasing Santana but that every time she gets close, Santana is ripped away.

Landslide

This was a song chosen by Santana to tell Brittany how she feels about her. It may not be the most "obvious love song" choice to everyone but that works for two reasons. The first being that Santana was scared. This was a big move for her, so she certainly wasn't going to go all out and sing an obvious love song. She wanted something with subtlety, something with meaning for her and Brittany rather than for the whole Glee Club to pick up on. The second being that Santana "has the perfect song" instantaneously. From the way she doesn't need to think about it, it's clear that Landslide is already a song she associates with Brittany, and it's probably something she laid alone in her room listening to. Now she's ready to share that. It was a song that had meaning for them, but I do think lyrically it makes sense also. For me it's about Santana realising life is passing her by and that she needs to just be herself. Time makes you bolder is one of the most poignant statements in the song. The whole bit about "building my life around you" could be a double meaning. The first being she's built her life around this friendship she has with Brittany and she's afraid to tap into the relationship dynamic because doing so would inevitably alter the platonic side of things. The second being that she's built her life around this idea that she's straight and she's "normal" but she's now realising as time goes by she needs to be true to herself. I tend to think it's the latter, and that the meaning is around Santana realising she needs to let go now and just be true to herself and to Brittany before she wastes any more time. It's ironic that the next scene shows Brittany choosing Artie, which shows that Santana was already too late and the time had already passed her by. (thankfully that all worked out tho)

Songbird

In contrast to Landslide, Songbird is a very obvious love song. The song explicitly says "I love you" and you can tell by Santana's delivery how much she genuinely means that. Since this is a private performance for only Brittany, Santana is able to choose a song that overtly expresses her feelings. She doesn't have to mask it with subtlety because of the Glee Club, like she did with Landslide. While Landslide was about Santana to giving into her feelings and accepting a change within her, Songbird was the next step from that in freely expressing her love to Brittany. Santana says this in her own words before singing it. Some key lyrics beside the obvious "I love you's" that stick out are "for you, there'll be no more crying" which could relate to all the backwards and forwards Santana has done over the years (telling Britt she loves her, taking it back etc.) and times she possibly made Brittany cry, as well as the fact she has probably spent many years crying over this herself and wishing these feelings could go away, but now she's putting a stop to all of that. Following on from that "I feel that when I'm with you, it's alright, I know it's right" relates to Santana giving into all of those feelings that she's spent years pushing down about the love she has for Brittany being wrong, and really taking hold of her own self acceptance. "To you, I'll give the world. To you, I'll never be cold" is also very fitting for Brittana because it's well noted in the fandom how soft Santana is for Brittany, and how she's the one person she's not cold around. Lastly "I wish you all the love in the world, but most of all I wish it from myself" could relate to Artie in that she wants Brittany to be happy but mostly, she wants to be the one that gets to love her. I think we can all agree the lyrics, the meaning, the performance itself, the delivery from Naya were all *chefs kiss* in this song.

Cherish/Cherish

The song that Santana pays the God Squad to sing for Brittany. We don't actually see Santana choosing the song, but I think it's more likely that Santana picked it since she was paying for it, rather than the God Squad randomly picking one. If it was that kind of scenario where they picked for her, I feel Quinn would have picked the song, on the basis that it was meaningful for Brittany and Santana's relationship. I also imagine this is a song that Santana listened to back in the dark days when she was too afraid to be with Brittany in the way she desired. The lyrics talk a lot about wishing in the past tense. "you don't know how many times I've wished that I had told you, you don't know how many times I've wished that I could hold you" etc. These are likely all the kind of thoughts that Santana had back in the past, and there are also a lot of references to hidden love and hidden feelings within the song. 

If I Can't Have You

Okay so Santana might say that this song was about her love for fame, but I'm sorry, I don't believe her. I'm not discounting her wanting fame, but there's no way at least some of that song wasn't aimed at Brittany, just by the way she kept turning to her and gesturing at her. She was pretty much transfixed on her throughout the majority of the performance. But Brittana (Santana in particular) are generally very private with their relationship and in their declarations, so my theory? It was predominantly for Brittany but Santana got embarrassed around all the focus on them, so she gave the excuse about fame and told Brittany later who it was really for. No deeper analysis needed. If that song was Brittany, the lyrics apply to them easily, as they could with most relationships.

I Wanna Dance With Somebody

This one is simple. It's all in the lyrics. Mr Schue sets the assignment not only as a tribute to Whitney, but for the New Directions to express and explore what's going on with them. For Brittany, she just wants to dance with somebody who loves her, that person obviously being Santana. It's highlighted in the performance and how she pulls everyone up before Santana, and finally gets to Santana for the "with somebody who loves me" line, then at the end where she says Santana is her favourite to dance with. It could be that dancing and being happy with Santana is really her only concern at the moment, or it could be deeper than that. It could be that she is deflecting her deeper issues (the fact she is failing which she'd surely know by now) and as a result only wants to focus on dancing with Santana. The two loves in her life (the third being LT) meshed together and combined.

Mine

I did a whole deep analysis on the meaning behind this, because unlike the other songs this really doesn't fit contextually at all. It's a love song based around staying and holding on, and Santana chooses to sing this right before breaking up with Brittany. I never really understood that song choice, until I looked deeper into it. You can read that here if anyone wants to read it in more detail. If you don't want to read that though, in short, I think that Santana chose that song because when she made that choice to break up with Brittany, I think she can almost picture the future ahead of them and how eventually they are going to make it, they are going to be together, but right now she needs to break up with Brittany so that they actually get that happy ending that she can see. And that fits the whole last verse of the song where she's like "we're gonna make it now, I can see it now" etc, which otherwise doesn't make sense contextually when you're about to break up with someone. It's similar to what happens in the original video for Mine, where Taylor meets the love of her life in a cafe and she "sees" the whole future ahead of them (arguments included) as soon as they meet.

Make No Mistake (She's Mine)

Pretty self explanatory with this one because it's all in the lyrics (and the amazing delivery from Naya). She still loves Brittany and in her eyes Brittany belongs with her. It kind of links back to what I just said about Mine, in that I don't think Santana truly expected Brittany to move on. She told her she could because essentially she had to say that, but did she actually think Brittany would move on? I don't think so. I think she always thought breaking up with Brittany was needed to cement their future and that they'd end up better because of it, but then Sam put a spanner in the works which sent her straight back to Lima to fight for Brittany and stake her claim. Of course saying someone can move on and seeing it are two very different things. I really wish they would have kept the parallel version of that with Brittany/Santana/Elaine and that they kept Dancing On My Own in.

Valerie

This one is definitely more contextual than lyrical. Santana picked this number because it was meaningful to Brittany. It was the first number she choreographed, and so Santana learning Brittany's part of that routine and dancing it with Mike, was a way for her to spark something in Brittany that she was currently lacking and reignite her love for dance to remind her of herself. Clearly she chose to do a dance duet because it's Brittany, but it's poignant that she picked the first song that Brittany choreographed, and it was obviously meaningful to Santana too as her first solo. Although more contextual, the lyrics do carry meaning too. "Stop making a fool out of me, why don't you come on over Valerie" could refer to Santana wanting Brittany to get up and dance with her, while "I miss your ginger hair, and the way you like to dress" could relate to A) Santana missing Brittany in general and B) Santana missing the old care-free Brittany who loved to dance and wasn't consumed by MIT and math equations.

Hand In My Pocket/I Feel The Earth Move

Obviously this song was chosen for mash up purposes in line with artists they had to stick to, but I do think the song choice (chosen by Santana) were relevant to her proposal. The lyric "one hand in my pocket" is indicative of her hiding a ring. I really liked how Santana kept getting down on one knee mid performance (I feel like she was doing this teasingly to foreshadow what was to come rather than she was gonna propose mid song since clearly she had a big speech planned- but I love how every time she did it Brittany would get down as well ) and then all the further foreshadowing with the dragging of the chair that she wanted Brittany to sit in. It's not the most "romantic" of duets, but Brittany and Santana are very private so I feel like it made more sense for them to do a fun duet when it was in front of everyone. I do adore the bit where they're singing the "ooh baby when I see your face" etc. and they only have eyes for each other and look so utterly and adorably in love and happy. That bit really has my heart.

Wishin' and Hoping'

A song about Santana from Brittany's perspective which makes a welcome change. The performance itself is obviously a dream sequence when Brittany is thinking about heaven (because being with Santana makes her feel like she's in heaven and angel wings remind her of her ), but I think the lyrics fit well with the whole narrative we see in S6 of Brittany doing a heavy bulk of the wedding planning and trying to make sure everything is perfect for Santana. This is something we later see as causing her stress in the wedding episode, when she is so nervous and obsessed with it being perfect that she becomes a bit of a bridezilla obsessed with superstition. There were also cut lines from Brittany about everything having to be perfect, and though they weren't canon in the end, it's clearly the angle they were going with. This song links to that because it's all about how ultimately just being yourself and showing the person you love that you care is enough, and it almost foreshadows the conversation that Santana later has with Brittany where she says they don't need any of the traditions or the perfect planning because they create their own luck. They love each other, and that's enough. The performance has Brittany singing about wishing and hoping and planning, but it's Blaine, Artie and Sam who sing "all you gotta do is hold her and kiss her and love her and show her that you care", so it's almost as if they are assuring Brittany. Also pointing out the part of the performance where they sing about planning, and Brittany points at her stomach, one of many S6 clues put in there to hint that Brittana will have a family together in the future ❤️

Our Day Will Come

It's another straight forward one that doesn't really take much analysis. It symbolises how the day has finally come for them to get married and start the rest of their lives together, after such a long, hard journey getting there. One of the key lyrics is "no one can tell me that I'm too young to know", which indicates that someone has tried to tell them they're too young to get married. We know that Kurt said this to them, but since Kurt is singing in this duet with them and he apologised, it may be someone else. Santana's dad maybe? Either way, whoever said it to them, they show in this duet that they are certain about their commitment and the future ahead of them. The song also has the lyrics "I love you so, and you love me" which is repetitive of what Santana said to Brittany earlier in the day before they got married when she saw Brittany in her wedding dress. It symbolises what the ending of their whole arc is about. That after a whole lot of doubt, pain and a long road to get there, they are both finally happy together and content in the love they have in each other, and very proud of that love. Santana in particular I feel always doubted Brittany's love for her. Even when Brittany said yes to marrying her, Santana couldn't believe it. On their wedding day, all those doubts are finally gone, and it's actually Brittany who's doing the worrying. The worrying that Brittany does takes us right back to the beginning of Brittana, when Brittany had her own doubts and fears in the relationship because Santana just seemed like something out of reach for her, that she'd never fully get to have. It's like she has a moment of panic, that something could mess this up the way it used to get messed up all those years ago. Our Day Will Come symbolises the end of all of those doubts, and the start of their new lives together.

[messy-nonbinary]

It’s Always Been the Pretty Boy

Warnings: mentions of murder; serial killer; swearing

Paring: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader | NCIS x Criminal Minds crossover

Rating: PG 13 for murder

Summary: Morgan and Torres are fighting over Y/N while they have to do a joint investigation and Y/N eventually just goes on a date with Spencer.

This is fairly long sooo... Sorry for that

----

Y/N was spinning in her chair, watching as the orange walls around her spun. “You okay, Y/N?” Ellie asked. Y/N stopped spinning and smiled at her. “Yeah I’m fine. Just waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Nick asked as he walked into the bullpen, drinking his coffee and handing Y/N a bag of her favorite chips. “Oh hell yeah! Thanks, Nick.” Y/N said as she opened the bag. “Yep. Last bag in the vending machine.” He said, sitting down. “We’ve got a case, get your bags and let’s go.” Gibbs said as he grabbed his stuff from his desk. Everyone stood up and followed him to the elevator. “But what about McGee, Boss?” Nick asked. “He’s meeting us there.”

----

At the scene, Y/N took pictures, Nick collected evidence, while Tim and Ellie talked to the couple that found the body. “What do we got, Duck?” Gibbs asked. “Well, two GSWs, one two the stomach and one to the head. See the amount of blood here? That says that the shot to the stomach was made before the one to the head. I suppose to weaken the man. But as usual, we won’t know more until the autopsy.” Ducky stated.

----

Everyone finished at the crime scene and once they showed back up to the bullpen, they noticed 3 people standing there. “Uhh Boss? Who are they?” Tim asked. “Leroy!” Vance called from the top of the stairs, next to two people he didn’t recognize. “These Agents are with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. You’ll be working on a joint investigation. I’ll leave you to make your own introductions. Play nice.” Vance chuckled as he left for his office.

The two agents upstairs made their way down and in front of the others. The taller outstretched his hand toward Gibbs. “Hello, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is my team. SSA’s David Rossi, Jeniffer Jareau, and Dr. Spencer Reid.” He said, pointing to everyone respectively. “I’m Agent Leroy Gibbs, these are agents Nick Torres, Eleanor Bishop, Tim McGee, and Y/N Y/L/N.” Pointing to each respectively. Once introductions were out of the way, everyone exchanged information.

“Soo what makes you think it’s a serial killer? Nick asked. “Well, so far we’ve had 4 victims, all killed the same way, and all have or are working for either a branch of the military.” Hotch stated. Y/N stood up. “Boss, I’m gonna go check up on Ducky and Palmer.” Gibbs nodded. “Mind if I come with you, Sweetness?” Derek asked and Nick glared at Derek. “Sure. Follow me.” Y/N said.

Gibbs got a phone call. “Yeah, Abbs? On my way.” Gibbs said, putting his flip phone back in his pocket. “Who was that?” Hotch asked. “Our forensic analysis.” Gibbs said. “Mind if I come with?” Gibbs shook his head. “Sure. But we’ve gotta make a stop first.” Hotch nodded and followed behind.

“He still uses a flip phone?” JJ asked. “Yep. Refuses to upgrade.” McGee said.

----

“Alright Ducky, what do you have?” Y/N said cheerfully. “Ah! Y/N! Where’s Jethro?”

“He’s in the lab. Where’s Jimmy?”

“Oh something came up with Breena. Who’s the fine young fellow?” Ducky asked looking at Derek. “Ducky, this is Derek Morgan with the BAU. Derek, this is Dr. Donald Mallard, or Ducky.”

“Oh..FBI, I bet Jethro is not too happy about that.”

“He is not.” Y/N said, chuckling. “So, Ducky, what did you find?” Derek asked. “Apart from the two GSWs, this young man is quite healthy. There is also some adhesive residue on his wrists and ankles.”

“Time of death?” Y/N asks. “I’d say around 18:30-19:00 hours.

But I did find something rather peculiar.” Ducky says as he picks up a small petri dish with a piece of paper in it. “I was just about to take it up to Abby to see if there was any.”

“What is it?” Derek asks. “It’s a piece of paper, it just has the number 6 on it. It was lodged down his throat. Almost like he was forced to swallow it but refused.” Ducky said. “Does this mean anything to you?” Y/N asked. “No, I’ll see if any other bodies had something shoved down their throats.” Derek said as he dialed the number for Garcia.

----

“So what are you doing?” Nick asked, walking up to Reid. “I’m creating a geological profile based on where all the victims were abducted and disposed of.” Reid said without looking away. “Does your friend always flirt with women he’s just met?” Nick said.

“Usually. But I’m sure you're the type too.” Nick looked at Spencer confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you wear tight shirts when you really don’t have to. You just want to show off your physical shape. Whenever Y/N walks by you you subtly flex your muscles and puff out your chest. So either you like her, or she’s smart enough to not give you the attention you so very much desire.” Reid said as he turned around and looked at Nick, mouth agape.

They heard snickers from the others. “Oh shut it McGee.” He said, sitting down at his desk. 

----

“Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs! What took you so long?!” Abby yelled. “Abbs..”

“Right!” Abby stopped when she noticed Aaron. “Gibbs, who’s this?”

“Agent Aaron Hotchner.” Gibbs said with a sting in his voice. “With the BAU.” Hotch held out his hand to Abby and reluctantly, she took it. “I’m Abby. So, what I found was some DNA that wasn’t our Petty Officer’s, it was animal fur. Like, dog or cat hair. I can’t tell what just yet. But, was able to see where he was last seen due to a credit card transaction he made about 30 miles away at a coffee shop. I found camera footage that showed him talking to someone, then being led away by that same person.” Abby said, pulling up the video.

“So he must have somewhere else he keeps the victims. But since there was no physical evidence of torture, it must be psychalogical.”Hotch said.

*Beep*

“Oh! It’s Ducky!” Abby said, answering the facetime and showing it on her screen. “Hello Jethro and Abby!” He said. “Hey, we found a piece of paper lodged down our Petty Officer’s throat. It has the number 6 on it.” Y/N said. “There must be two more bodies we don’t know about. I’m having Garcia check on it now.” Derek said.

----

Sure enough they found two more bodies, two parents Kevin and Maria Grant, in the marines. They were both shot in the stomach, forced fed the piece of paper, and then shot in the head. The mom had a number two, and the dad had a number one. Police thought it was their 14 year son, Lyle Grant, but they had no real evidence to support that.

---

“Garcia said that Lyle doesn’t have any addresses under his name. But something has come up. There’s a missing person. Female, brown hair, and physically fit. Fits the female portion of our victimology.” Derek said, putting the phone on speaker. “Okay Garcia, try looking for something in the comfort zone under the parents’ name.” Rossi said. “Nothing.” Garcia said. “Who was Lyle’s legal guardian after the murder?” Ellie asked. “Got it, strange voice I’ve never heard before. After killing his parents, he went on to live with his Aunt Jamie Frank…”

“And where is she now?” Ellie asked. “She died about 4 months ago.”

“That’s our trigger. Garcia look for something under her name.”

“Umm we have an abandoned veterinary office that she used to own but is now owned by the state and set to be demolished.”

“Address Garcia.”

“Already sent.” She said as she hung up. “Morgan, JJ, Rossi, you’re with me.” Hotch said. “Torres, Bishop. Come on.” Gibbs said and all of them left.

“So, since we are here for a bit, let’s get to know each other.” Y/N said, sitting next to Reid and McGee. “Y/N you should’ve seen it. Dr. Reid made Nick turn as red as a strawberry.” Tim said. “Ohh what’d you say?” Y/N asked. “I just pointed out the obvious. He clearly likes you in a romantic sense.”

“Ha! He wishes.” Y/N laughed. “You don’t like him?” McGee asked mockingly. “Ha. Ha. No, I don’t like him like that. I mean yeah, he’s a great guy but he’s not my type.” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Really? I-I mean he’s confident, strong built, and he seems somewhat willing to settle. Statically, that’s what most women go for.” Spencer said.

“What people find attractive can’t be put up to stats, Dr. Reid.” Tim said. “Yeah. And besides, you’re more my type anyway.” Y/N said, looking at Reid. He turned bright red. “You’re-You’re I’m- your what-”

Y/N chuckled at the chaos she created. “I think you broke him.” Tim said. “Yep. You’re my type. Speaking of, wanna catch dinner after this case? I know this amazing restaurant downtown.”

“I- sure.”

---

“Alright listen, Y/N is taken.” Nick said, pulling Derek to the side. “And I don’t think your advances are really gonna work.” They had just arrested the unsub and found the missing girl, all they had to do was finish up searching the building for anything else they may have missed.

“Oh really? Who’s she taken by?” Derek smirked. “Well- she’s not like- taken, taken. But she will be. After I ask her out when we get back.”

“So she’s single. Thanks for the heads up man.” Derek said, patting Nick’s shoulder and laughing. “Wait! What I mean is- She’s going to choose me over you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep. She barely knows you. We’ve known each other for so long now.”

“Riightt. But I can tell she doesn’t like you. I notice behavior, remember?”

“Yeah well you’re behavior noticing skills are not as good as you think.”

“Guys! Are you two seriously fighting over Y/N right now!?” Ellie yelled. “No!” Both Derek and Nick said, going their separate ways.

---

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” Reid said. “It's just a day. I’m sure they can find something to do until then.” He said as the elevator dinged. Everyone piled out of the elevator and into the bullpen.

Y/N grabbed the rest of her stuff while Reid asked Hotch if they could stay for one more day.

“So, Y/N..” Nick said as he walked up to Y/N. “I was wondering, if you wanted to go get dinner with me tonight?” Y/N looked up and Nick. “Yeahhh no. I’ve got plans.”

“With who? Him?!’ Nick said, pointing to Derek. “Nope.” Y/N turned around and smiled at Reid. “Hey Spencer you ready?”

“Yep. He can hold off for a day.” Spencer said, smirking at Nick and Derek who both had their jaws dropped. “Okay Pretty Boy, I see you.” Derek said as Reid locked arms with Y/N. The two walked towards the elevator.

“This is your fault.” Nick said, glaring at Derek. “She never liked you anyways, Nick.” Ellie said, patting him on the shoulder as she left. “Ellie’s right you know. You didn’t even stand a chance.” McGee laughed as he left. “I wanna beer.” Nick mumbled to himself. “Let’s go then.” Derek said. “We can wallow in our sorrows together.” He said laughing. “Sure, let me get my coat.”

[a-crimson-lion]

“It Makes Me Wanna Keep Him At Arm’s Length” An Overview On Katsuki Bakugo’s Development

[I should by no means be the one writing this analysis, but here we are. Obviously it’s an overview on Katsuki’s character development, but there’s a bit more to it than that. Keep reading if you want the details.]

Table of Contents

i) Prologue

I) A Brief Explanation

II) The “What The F*** Is Your Existence” Phase

II.A) Breaking The Barriers

III) The “I Can’t Let You Get Ahead Of Me” Phase

IV) The “Why Don’t You Care About Yourself” Phase

V) Final Address+Conclusion

Word Count: 4415

[Warning: Contains manga spoilers up to Ch. 284. Will also include spoilers for the movies and OVAs, as well as the special Deku & Bakugo: Rising two-shot manga. Reader’s discretion is advised. Not scared off yet? Good. Let’s do this.]

i) Prologue

Alright, no beating around the bush, I guess.

We all know this has to deal with Ch. 284, and the milestone that came with it. We got a rare look inside Katsuki’s perspective, and we saw firsthand how much his perspective has changed from the start of the story. I don’t think we’ve ever gotten such an in-depth look into Katsuki’s psyche since Deku vs Kacchan 2. It’s honestly impressive.

...which is why I’m so confused by a certain kind of response to it.

When you look past the swarms of tumblr posts absolutely losing their s*** over Katsuki getting further character development, you come across an… admittedly troubling response. The idea that “Katsuki always cared.” The idea that as early as the Battle Trial, if not middle school, Katsuki was secretly keeping an eye out for Izuku in their tumultuous relationship.

...no. Just-. No, what the-

I’ll get to why this particular response pisses me off in a bit, but before that, I wanna give a run down of Katsuki’s development, according to the narrative. Anyone who’s been around my blog long enough knows that I don’t exactly hold Katsuki in good graces. (Pretty much the opposite, actually.) However, in light of recent developments, that’s not what this post is gonna be focusing on. And as such, I’ll keep the snark and branch conversations to a minimum… to the best of my abilities.

So… how are we gonna do this?

I) A Brief Explanation

After we finish this brief “tutorial” section, the next three segments of the post will cover the various time frames of Katsuki’s development. I’ll be going through a general rundown of Katsuki’s perspective and the various evidence points that lead me to my conclusions. It’s essentially a glorified retelling. Sound good? Alrighty then!

II) The “What The F*** Is Your Existence” Phase

Time Frame: Ch. 1-Ch. 116 [Sludge Villain Arc-Late Provisional Hero License Exam Arc]

In case the Prologue didn’t make things clear, let me spell it out: Katsuki didn’t always care.

At least, he didn’t “always care” in the positive sense.

To clarify, this isn’t just 3rd Year Middle School Katsuki to UA Katsuki. This is all the way back to the River Incident. Katsuki has had this mentality for that long and then some when you shift out of backstory territory. We’re talking about the same kid who nearly murdered Izuku in the Battle Trial, blasted Izuku to kingdom come in the Training of the Dead OVA, and decked Izuku during the Final Exams. So…

The following hinges majorly on the line Katsuki stated in Chapter 284, and the title of this analysis: “It makes me wanna keep him at arm’s length.” Contrary to popular belief, this does not just apply to the idea that Katsuki wants to stick around Izuku to keep him from destroying himself.

...it’s also a major contributor to the reason Katsuki bullied Izuku in the past.

So let’s backtrack to the River incident. Katsuki takes one wrong step on a log, slips, and falls down into the river below. Izuku is the only one that goes down to help him. This infuriates Katsuki because he was fine, as was said by him and everyone but Izuku that was present that day. This is also the first time Katsuki becomes aware of something he echoes in the Ch. 284 flashback:

“He just… Deep down, he doesn’t take himself into account, y’know?”

This is Katsuki’s first run in with Izuku’s inherent selflessness. Initially, he takes it as pity; in his words, Izuku is “looking down on him.” And this bothers him a great deal. Then when it comes to Quirks, Katsuki gets one and Izuku doesn’t. This assures Katsuki of something he shortly discovered previously: Izuku isn’t all that special.

It’s a brief comfort. Because Izuku hasn’t taken the damn hint and stopped hanging out with him and his friends. The Quirked kids. The normal kids.

And worst still, he’s willing to get in Katsuki’s way just because someone else is in his line of fire. In the back of his mind, it’s the River Incident all over again, though he’s not being feared for; he’s being feared of. It’s all wrong. Deku isn’t strong like the rest of them. Deku can’t be a hero. Deku knows that.

...he knows that he doesn’t stand a chance, right? He knows how the world really works. Is he… is he putting on an act?

One of the few remarkable traits Katsuki has right from the get-go is his disdain against dishonesty. So, when he sees Izuku putting on a brave face and acting like a hero, and Katsuki decides that Izuku’s just “pretending,” Katsuki takes the matter into his own hands. He’ll get Izuku to show his true colors in due time. That’s what heroes do, right? Take down the bad guys? And Izuku faking about caring for others when everyone else clearly puts themselves first and foremost sounds pretty bad guy-like, at least at the time.

So, Izuku keeps on trucking, occasionally trying to join back up with Katsuki’s group on a near frequent basis. Even when that fails, he tries his damnedest to catch up.

But what many people forget is that at some point, Izuku stopped following, at least actively.

By Chapter 1, he’s making sure to keep from drawing attention to himself. He’s not as enthusiastic as everyone else in the class, he tries backing away from Katsuki and shrinking down on himself, tries defusing the situation. That doesn’t sound like Izuku’s still trying to keep up. Even in the special two-shot manga dedicated to Heroes: Rising, Izuku isn’t the one to draw attention to Katsuki’s presence. And even when he does go after Katsuki and the villain, his attention is more so focused on the villain, thoughts of staying out of Katsuki’s way to not offend him likely somewhere in his mind.

So then why does Katsuki keep antagonizing him in the first chapter of canon proper? And even before that, most likely?

“It makes me wanna keep him at arm’s length.”

...Izuku didn’t stop being Izuku. Izuku didn’t stop being selfless.

And his selflessness is what pisses Katsuki off to no end. So, he keeps pursuing Izuku, keeps trying to get him to “drop the act.” Makes him a “punching bag,” as Izuku states in Chapter 8. Because the way things work, Izuku should not be trying to be a hero. He should not be trying to put on a brave face when he’s scared s***less. He should not be sticking his neck out for others when he doesn’t (or rather, didn’t) have anything to stick up for himself.

Katsuki was born with something that made everyone consider him prime hero material. Izuku was born without that, and was considered the opposite… and yet, he still tries.

And this character trait, this selflessness, it drives Katsuki insane. And it continues to do so well beyond the Battle Trial Arc. Even when Katsuki is able to begrudgingly accept that Quirkless Deku has a Quirk now, somehow, his selflessness continues to bring Katsuki grief. While it’s never inherently brought up, this is the dividing factor between Izuku’s fight against Shoto in the Sport’s Festival and Katsuki’s fight with Shoto in the Sport’s Festival.

Izuku was willing to go all out at the cost of himself just so Shoto could accept what was his. Katsuki just wanted a good brawl, to be the undisputed first place.

This even continues well into the Final Exams, though the fact that Katsuki is running high on arrogance and anger does nothing to soothe matters. It takes a deck to face and later an explosive kabedon wall smash to get Izuku and Katsuki working together, and let’s not forget that when Izuku was trying to get Katsuki to realize they were still fighting All Might, regardless of whatever handicaps he may or may not have, he gets decked in the nose for his efforts. While it’s technically a subtler play on Izuku’s selflessness and concern for others, Katsuki likely took it as further mockery, another attempt for Deku to try and get under his skin and throw him off.

In any case, throughout this time period, Katsuki cares f*** all for Izuku or his philosophy, opting to brute force things up until the very end of the time frame. But what causes the eventual shift?

II.A) Breaking The Barriers

A number of things, actually.

None of the proceeding events ever do a clean cut on Katsuki’s worldview. It’s more like chiseling through a wall than breaking it down with a hammer.

The Sludge Villain is the first hint that Izuku might not be faking and Katsuki might not be at the top. While many claim that Katsuki leaves Izuku alone because he feels indebted to him but doesn’t want to admit it, it’s more than likely that he’s more focused on his own self-loathing. This incident is what defines him for a good chunk of the series, to his chagrin.

The Battle Trial is just another nail in the eventual coffin. Katsuki thinks he’s finally got Izuku right where he wants him, only for Izuku to pull a 500 IQ play and prioritize the exercise over his and Katsuki’s squabbles, taking the brunt of Katsuki’s attack and attention while giving Ochako the opportunity to capture the bomb. That look of frustration is Katsuki realizing that not only did Izuku get ahead, he got ahead with the very thing Katsuki despises. Needless to say, it f***s with him well until the aftermath outside of UA’s gate.

Shoto refusing to use his flames is another chip off the marble that is Katsuki’s pride. It reinforces the idea that Izuku is doing something that Katsuki isn’t, something that Izuku shouldn’t have in the first place, beyond a Quirk at least. So, Katsuki rages, because he can’t understand why it’s such a big deal, in both Izuku’s and Shoto’s cases.

The Final Exams just hammer the point home further. Katsuki’s one-track minded attempts to bring down All Might are met with no results. He would have failed that exam if it wasn’t for Izuku’s selflessness or Katsuki “lowering himself” to cooperate with him. Had Katsuki not gotten decked in the face and dragged off or got saved at the last minute while he was knocked out, he definitely would have failed on account of becoming a liability.

The Training Camp attack is an odd mix of Katsuki’s current philosophy and the next stage in it. He knows Izuku’s gonna go and save his ass, and he wants no part of that because hasn’t he made him suffer enough already? Hasn’t he already proved time and time again that he’s getting better, despite the fact that Katsuki doesn’t want or believe it? Despite the fact that it shouldn’t even be happening if things were right in the world? Izuku does recognize Katsuki’s wounded pride, however, which is instrumental in getting him out of All For One’s clutches during Kamino.

If we briefly direct our attention to the Make It! Do-Or-Die Survival Training! OVA, Katsuki is pretty adamant on claiming he only got the power back on in the underground mall to complete the exercise. And I don’t think that’s Katsuki’s “tsundere” talking, either: I genuinely believe that Katsuki’s only thoughts at the moment was getting the exercise done. Everyone else was just secondary. And remember, Katsuki hates dishonesty, which is probably why he doesn’t take credit for “saving” Izuku and Shoto. While his actions did save the two of them and everyone else in the mall, that wasn’t his intention, which is an interesting flip on Izuku’s performance back in the Battle Trial. Couple that with the fact that Katsuki is injured (and therefore weak, and in need of help), and it’s no wonder he’s in a sour mood towards the end of it all.

And this sour mood carries over to the final nail in his coffin: the Provisional License Exam. He only gets by the first half because other people had the sense to tag along, but the second half regards his undoing because he still doesn’t get the whole selfless aspect of saving people in the second half of the exam. This was also foreshadowed back in the aforementioned OVA with Katsuki’s excessive animosity towards the victim dummy. Whether they be real or fake, Katsuki’s disregard of either victim doesn’t grant him his hero license.

This is the straw that breaks the camel's back for Katsuki. And ultimately, this sparks the start in his shift to the second phase of his development.

III) The “I Can’t Let You Get Ahead Of Me” Phase

Time Frame: Ch. 117-~Ch. 257 [Late Provisional Hero License Exam Arc-Early Paranormal Liberation War Arc]

Since this is only the second phase of Katsuki’s development (and given that this is Katsuki we’re talking about), don’t expect to get much of an upgrade with this shift.

Essentially, it boils down to two things: Katsuki stops viewing Izuku as an annoyance, and starts viewing him as an obstacle. Simultaneously, he starts seeing the viability of saving, at least as a tool in a hero’s kit.

Let me explain.

While Deku vs Kacchan 2 is the first time Izuku and Katsuki have attempted to talk out their issues… not much gets addressed. Sure, Katsuki becomes aware of Izuku not looking down on him, but Izuku is never made aware of the deeper issues regarding Katsuki’s loathing beyond that. It primarily serves as a half-barebones narrative checkpoint, a segway for Katsuki to get in on the secret of One For All.

...let’s also talk about that, shall we?

So Izuku’s been getting better as a hero and with his Quirk. Then Katsuki finds out after he gets kidnapped and rescued that Izuku is the successor to their mutual idol. And that’s after essentially being told he can’t be a hero in his current state due to the PLE. And what is his usual response to adversity? He decides to get ahead of it.

He’ll surpass Class 1-A so there won’t be another Battle Trial. He’ll surpass Izuku and One For All so he can truly claim that he’s the best of the best.

Unfortunately, we don’t get to see more of this development until the Joint Training Arc. However, keep in mind that this is only the second stage. Katsuki wants to prove that he’s the best, so of course he’s gonna step up his game. That means taking advice from the LITERAL (former) #1 HERO, and making the victory as flawless as possible. After all, Katsuki himself said in Chapter 208:

“I’ve decided! We’re gonna win this match with a perfect victory! 4-0, with everyone unscathed! That’s the kind of victory there is for the strongest guys out there!”

...it might be a slight exaggeration when he says he’s hardly changed at the end of that chapter, but then again it is a stretch to even call it an exaggeration.

That aside, Katsuki also makes it part of his agenda to keep tabs on OFA. This would fit into the “Katsuki secretly cares” agenda, but we haven’t reached that point. Right now, in these moments, Katsuki figures that if One For All starts getting freaky, he wants to know about it so he can get a leg up. And maybe part of him still wants to call Izuku out.

He was minorly ticked when Izuku allowed himself to make a mistake during their unauthorized fight. And he constantly reminds Izuku to not forget that he’s supposed to surpass him (or the other way around).

Taking off the rose-colored glasses for a moment, it does make sense for Katsuki to say this beyond the context of positive motivation. We are talking about the same Katsuki who lashed out at Shoto for holding back. It’s reasonable to assume that he doesn’t want Izuku to do the same, and lagging behind more or less equates to holding back.

And Katsuki still isn’t completely invested in Izuku’s training for Izuku’s sake. After the Joint Training, Katsuki tries getting Izuku to manifest Black Whip again, and nopes out shortly afterwards when nothing comes of their sparring sessions in Chapter 217. This still isn’t the Katsuki we see in the 284 flashback. He’s still got a ways to go.

Yes, this even rings true for Katsuki during Heroes: Rising. While the film might be the ultimate Bakudeku dream come true, there really isn’t… much depth in regards to Izuku and Katsuki’s past. Y’know, the thing that most people are hoping gets resolved? It only gets referenced a few times in the film, but doesn’t overall factor into anything meaningful. Most of the time when Izuku and Katsuki team up, Katsuki only gets to the fight because he wants to throw hands with villains on an island where (if the status quo had remained unchanged) was likely selected because it had little to no serious villain activity. It just so happens that protecting and working with Izuku is an unintended byproduct of these fights. Katsuki even drops the infamous “lowering myself to work with Deku” line just before the big climax. And even with the transfer of OFA to Katsuki, it strikes less as overcoming a longstanding obstacle and more as plot convenience, especially since by the end of the fight OFA nopes back into Izuku so hard that Katsuki gets mind wiped about the whole thing.

Even during the Endeavor Arc, we don’t see much growth beyond the Ending fight, where Katsuki prioritizes saving Natsuo over throwing hands like he usually would, learning to take saving as more than a tool. This is significant considering it’s Katsuki, but unfortunately, there’s not much else thereafter. The entire arc won’t get referenced as an overall stepping stone until Ch. 284.

And thus, we head to the final phase.

IV) The “Why Don’t You Care About Yourself” Phase

Time Frame: ~Ch. 257-Ch. 284 [Early Paranormal Liberation War Arc-Paranormal Liberation War Arc (Present)]

So here’s an interesting tidbit: Katsuki can’t handle nonphysical confrontation.

Leave him with the fact that his kidnapping could have gotten most of the class expelled because they decided to go rescue him or avoided such while knowing of the operation? He’ll pay back Eijiro for the expensive night vision goggles and make Denki suffer Quirk overuse so he doesn’t need to be reminded.

Get stuck in the middle of a Todoroki Family Drama scene? He’ll try bragging about how he did better than the current #1 Hero to attempt curbing off the situation.

Put him in a discussion with Izuku where they address his additional Quirk manifestations and the full weight of his potential/legacy? Katsuki will brag about having a skill already in his toolkit to ignore the fact that he has the potential to fall behind.

This defines the earlier days of this phase. We don’t see what happens in the timeframe between that and the start of the War Arc until the Chapter 284 flashback. I believe that during the gap between 257 and this flashback, Katsuki allowed himself to process the full weight of what he and Izuku were told during that meeting.

And this marks one of his biggest revelations to date.

Izuku’s selflessness is no longer something annoying. It’s a potential fatal flaw.

For the first time, it’s hitting Katsuki that Izuku is no longer an obstacle, or just an obstacle. Izuku is a person who is working himself to the bone and past that, who would die at the drop of the hat if he thought the payoff was well worth it. He’s finally starting to see that what Izuku is doing to himself is dangerous, and he wants to know what he can do to prevent the serious ramifications.

This is a big phase in his development, no doubt, but um… it’s not the last phase.

If I’m being honest, we’re nowhere close. Why? Well, two reasons:

A) Katsuki still has yet to properly take a loss.

Any and all of Katsuki’s losses are either in his head or narratively negated. And his disproportionate win/loss ratio doesn’t do him any favors either. He’s culminated a philosophy that he can’t and shouldn’t lose, but losing is a crucial aspect of improvement and being human in general. In the case of the story, Chapter 275 suggests that Katsuki wants to face off against Tomura as payback for Kamino. He essentially wants to extend the narrative and treat that loss like a delayed win, as if the loss hadn’t happened yet. Many people claim that this is a bluff he used to cover his true intentions of keeping an eye on Izuku, but I don’t think that’s the case. While sticking by Izuku is a contributing factor, getting a win is equally so, because Katsuki hasn’t properly adjusted to a loss. His strategy for dealing with any kind of loss is just to bulldoze through it like nothing happened, instead of taking the time to understand why he lost and to apply that knowledge for future encounters.

Be aware of your surroundings during the Sludge Villain.

Focus on your priorities and communicate with others during the Battle Trial.

Don’t ignore the situation just to focus on your own intentions during the Training Camp attack.

HELP PEOPLE during the Provisional License Exam.

There are so many lessons Katsuki could have learned sooner if he had taken the time to properly digest his losses. But he didn’t. He still doesn’t. He might have learned some of them eventually, but the fact remains that he nearly ran head first into a suicide mission just because he couldn’t take the loss and was dead set on getting even.

And keep in mind, Katsuki was lamenting on struggling to keep up with Izuku earlier before their encounter with Tomura, and how he couldn’t afford to stay a loser, so this is likely less far-fetched than you think.

Okay, so then what’s the second reason Katsuki’s development is far from over?

B) He hasn’t fully connected the dots on what he did to Izuku.

So far, Katsuki has recognized that he was off-put by Izuku’s selflessness, and that he bullied him over that.

What he hasn’t recognized is how much of a role he played personally in that part of Izuku’s personality, or at least it’s present day incarnation.

Let me clarify a bit. Katsuki is aware that he was distrubed by Izuku’s selflessness. He is aware that bullied him and that, at some degree, was wrong. But I don’t think he’s quite connected the dots on how his intervention has led to Izuku’s current brand of martyrdom.

At the start of the series, Izuku just cares about others. After making sure he gets down to the river safely, he’s willing to lend a hand to Katsuki, who fell from a pretty concerning height ig we’re being honest.

But this unnerves Katsuki. And it leads to his physical altercations with Izuku from time to time.

Remember, Izuku followed Katsuki at the time, but somewhere down the line he stopped. But he never stopped being Izuku, so Katsuki continued to pursue him. Izuku had already been willing to give up in some degree on ever keeping up with Katsuki the way he used to. He knew, at some level, that he wasn’t accepted.

That he wasn’t worth as much as everyone else.

Katsuki bullied Izuku because he was selfless. But Katsuki’s bullying, coupled with the rest of society’s ostracization, twisted and warped that selflessness with low self-esteem, low self-worth, and self-destructive tendencies. Katsuki wasn’t the sole bully of Izuku, but he was a primary perpetrator. And his actions only made the very thing he despised so, so much worse.

...and until he can recognize THAT aspect of his relationship with Izuku, his journey is far from over.

So yeah, Katsuki’s making progress, but we’re still not out of the woods yet.

V) Final Address+Conclusion

So now for the obvious question: why did I write all of this?

I said it at the beginning, about how some people claimed that Katsuki cared all along. I brought up a bit about how it pissed me off. Why, exactly?

Because when people insist that Katsuki threatening Izuku to not go to UA comes from a place of concern, they disregard Chapter 1 Katsuki’s gigantic ego and utter disregard for others, much less so for Izuku.

Because when people insist that Katsuki’s shocked face at the end of the Battle Trial was because he was upset with how he hurt Izuku, they disregard the fact that Katsuki was willing to almost murder Izuku, and if not that then brutalize him, and that at this point Katsuki absolutely loathes getting shown up, which is what Izuku inadvertently did.

Because when people insist that Katsuki always cared from the very beginning, they (un)intentionally undermine one of the few things that draw people to Katsuki’s character: his character development.

On his own, Katsuki is an prodigious, antisocial and angry teen looking for fame and fortune in the industry who grows into a dedicated source of confidence and understanding as he finally allows himself to branch beyond his initial handicaps. If you insist that Katsuki always had the awareness and concern he displayed in 284’s flashback, what do you get instead?

A selfish, self-centered, fickle, emotionally-constipated asshole whose growth is more comparable to a ramp instead of a mountain.

...not as impressive, is it?

While I’m pretty sure this is just a minor trend, that doesn’t excuse the lack of care it demonstrates. If you aren’t willing to admit and live with the fact that Day 1 Katsuki is the worst of the worst and that he did progressively get better through trials and tribulation, why bother? When you insist a character like Katsuki was fine from the start, you take away part of what makes that character so endearing. If they were never an ass to begin with, then what the hell was their problem at the start, or even now? Why the hell would we condone that? It’s important to recognize character flaws and to give them their due, because seeing a character grown out of them is far more self-fulfilling and relatable than insisting that they were always in the right place from the start.

...but then again, that’s just me. Thanks for reading.

-Crimson Lion (20 September 2020)

[cowboyshit]

twenty questions

tagged by: @dustofinsanity (thank you so much my dear!!!!!!)

what do you prefer to be called name-wise? honestly I’ll probably answer to most things as long as they aren’t mean. but ash, ashley, doe, those seem to be the solid three I’m known by around here when is your birthday? november 30th!  where do you live? in a tiny, backwoods cow-town smack dab in the middle of california three things you are doing right now? filling this questionnaire out, eating dinner I just finished cooking, and petting sadie with my foot since she’s curled up at my feet after she finished her dinner four fandoms that have peaked your interest. I guess I can go with four I’ve been heavily involved with, even though there’s plenty more than that since I’m a little fangirl at heart, but wrestling (obviously), black sails, the night shift, and pirates of the caribbean how has the pandemic been treating you? uh, I mean, it hasn’t been great and I’ve had to deal with some pretty bad shit as all of us have, and probably some of my worst mental health battles I’ve had to face in about a year or so, but honestly? I just kind of count my blessings these days. lucky to still be employed, even if my pay got a little cut it was nothing that keeps me from paying my bills. all I had to do was take away a few luxury things to make ends meet, and that’s a lot, LOT less than other people have had to do. so yeah, it’s been pretty shitty, this year has been bad news after bad news both personally and globally, but whatever. it could be worse. a song you can’t stop listening to right now? it is no-joke like a four-way tie. a bunch of good songs were in my discover weekly and I’ve been playing four of them on non-stop repeat one after the other. oh! and one my best friend showed to me. this baby don’t cry by k. flay, rock bottom by grandson, ok ok by hoko, and insurgents by the poolside by denny recommend a movie. i’ve jumped into holiday mood early af because tbh I need the holiday cheer, so keeping in that theme, I suggest the holiday with jude law because DUH how old are you? thirty! school, university, occupation, other? had some college, been working in my current career for the past ten years. hoping to pursue a promotion finally since my supervisors have been telling me for the past eight years that I need to promote do you prefer heat or cold? cold pleeeaaaase! I’m a radiator and put off heat like nobody’s business. I’m always warm. name one fact others may not know about you. this is hard because I just constantly blab everything about me, and I have two people who literally know EVERYTHING about me lmfao uhhh I guess... something people may not know... uhhh... on my dad’s side of the family one half was ashkenazi jewish who had to flee germany to avoid the holocaust, where they went to live in italy, while the other half were nazi’s committing some pretty bad stuff that my family won’t talk about, even to this day. funny how two descendants eventually met in america and fell in love, huh? and when they DID fall in love one of them was half italian and in the mafia! so I always joke that my bubbly cheerful self is a descendent of some pretty evil shit, and it feels like a nice little stab at those shitty ancestors of mine. are you shy? uhhh yeah and no??? like. I think I’m shy, since all interaction terrifies me and exhausts me, but everyone tells me I’m a social butterfly? and I’ve noticed in places I’m comfortable and confident, I do tend to be less shy and more involved and interactive? but I think I can be shy. a lot of waiting for other people to initiate because I’m too afraid to, struggling to talk or carry a conversation at times... I don’t know I think I’m overcomplicating this answer LOL preferred pronouns? she/her!  biggest pet peeves? gatekeeping, to be perfectly honest. I stopped following wrestling back in 2014 because when I first tried to get into the fandom, someone was trying to gatekeep a wrestler I also liked and had started making content for and they made me feel like shit for liking them, and I absolutely hated it. that’s why it took me an entire two years of quietly lurking in the wrestling fandom before I finally got brave enough to come out of the woodwork, and I’m grateful I’ve been so well received this time around. but now I’m hyper-sensitive to gatekeeping and I fucking hate it. no joke. and since it’s a pet peeve and I’m irked just remembering all that bs I went through, ima say I’m only a part of fandom to share my love of whatever that thing is with other people who love it too. I can’t stand anyone who thinks they have some sort of “claim” over a celebrity or a show or anything. get a different identity that isn’t wrapped up in that thing and stop seeing it as a threat when other people like it. be happy someone else is as passionate about that thing as you are and make a friend. damn. what is your favorite “dere” type? I’m pretty sure this is something with anime or that originated from anime, right? unfortunately I don’t know what they are so I can’t say LOL I don’t even know if I’m right about it coming from anime tbh rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be. 4, 5, but I’m putting in the foundation now and working to make it a 6, 7, or possibly 8 by a year or two from now. what’s your main blog? funnily enough? this one. my OTHER blog that was my main blog since I joined tumblr in 2009 got shoved to the side for this one last year LOL I assumed I’d log onto this blog once in awhile, but now it took over my whole damn life so here I am I guess list your side blogs and what they’re used for. I’m going to be fair and ONLY list my active ones because I have a few side blogs from when I role-played on tumblr that I haven’t touched in over a year. @doedreamss is my non-wrestling blog that WAS my main blog before this one, @cowboysht is my archive where I am ONLY putting my original gifsets/analysis/fanfiction so that one day I can offer people a blog of just my original work and no other posts (the queue is very slowly catching up I think I’ve queued posts up until june this year), @illfatedandstarcrossed is just a non-frequently used outlet for me to mope and dump emotions when I get sad about my relationship things (like a diary! but... public? and not my original thoughts? LOL), and then I have one more blog but it’s locked and private and it’s LITERALLY my diary where I can just vent when I got shit I wanna get off my chest but don’t necessarily want people to see it. Is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends? I probably won’t talk to you daily, tbh. I may not even talk to you weekly. socializing takes a lot out of me, on top of an already energy draining day-to-day in my personal life. I have a handful of people I connect with who I talk with frequently, but unfortunately as much as I’d love for it to be endless, I have to keep that list short for my own sanity. my infrequent conversations mean absolutely nothing about my lack of interest in you or how much I care about you. my granny once said I would be the perfect friend for someone you only want to talk to twice a month and she thought she was insulting me, but deadass I just said “YEAH! EXACTLY!!”

tagging: I really like this one so I WANT to tag people, but I feel braindead and also just want to post it cause I feel like I am definitely gonna forget to tag someone tbh aaaaahh okay okay I’m just gonna throw some names out there but please don’t feel pressured to do this (it is TWENTY questions) @kennyhoemega, @champbucks, @superkickparty, @adampage, @hintsofsunshine, @audreyhrnes, @sheslikealostflower, @lancearchers, @champnick, @janelanutella, @edgecution, @superrezzy00, @wardl0w, @writinglionqueen, @orangechuckiet, @hungmanhorsecarriage, @icouldbesus, @thatnerdwriter, @rampagewriting, @snarkandsarcasmftw, @tetsuyainthesky AND I DUNNO JUST ANYONE WHO WANTS TO OK I LOVE YOU ALL BYE

[izukyu]

𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - oboro shirakumo x reader.

this is a suuper late entry for @heroheads​‘s 500 followers writing contest! you’re so lovely and i hope we can talk to each other more in the future mwah.

pairing - oboro shirakumo x reader.

word count - 1.4k +

warnings - none!

summary - who would’ve guessed a run-in with the school’s resident kitten would score you a date with a cute cloud guy?

★ - requests are open!

chasing after troublemakers was part of a hero's job. providing aid in rescue missions and the occasional patrolling duties were also in the to-do list, regardless, it all paled in comparison to actual action. fighting for the good in the world, protecting smiles - that’s the kind of hero the world needed. the kind of hero you devoted yourself to becoming one day.

except chasing down a cat of all things wouldn’t be something you signed up for exactly.

“get back here!” you called, hoping for the feline struggling to run with your essay in his mouth to answer your pleas.

how come a cat that size could make a swift getaway with five printed pages worth of knowledge? in a way, life didn’t seem to favor everyone, especially the hard-working students starting and finishing their assignments the night before the due date.

karma, perhaps?

arriving at school with ten minutes to spare had never seemed like a better idea before, given your morning so far had consisted of having your acquaintance of a cat snatch the homework you dropped before you could retrieve it. truth being that particular assignment wasn’t anything ground-breaking per se, but still. that was your night you sacrificed to finish the damn essay.

the cunning cat, and his rather odd expertise in school shortcuts, eventually drove you two to a deadend. once the troublemaker was cornered, you squatted, carefully closing the distance between the kitten and your mentally exhausted self.

“no quirk culture analysis for you on this fine morning,” a mewl of protest wasn’t enough to make you give in, instead making quick work to retrieve the severed papers. “trust me, it’s really not worth it.”

while your essay crumbled in your hands, you realized maybe social studies and the upbringing of quirks was a pretty boring subject after all - a conclusion even a kitten could come to.

a sigh slipped past your lips, scooping up the furball in your arms before standing up, “you’re a real mean guy, y’know? my teacher’s not gonna buy the old excuse again,” the rather soft to the touch kitten paid no attention to your scolding, opting for pawing your hand instead - a prison of sorts.

another loud voice busted you out of the impromptu petting session, getting closer which each hurried step that echoed in the hall.

whoever was yelling out what they were having for lunch (seriously, was there any need to shout ‘sushi’ so many times?) seemed to catch the kitten’s attention, who swiftly scrambled out of your grip. the more you thought about it, the more you realized that cat would make a damn good houdini impersonator.

your aggressive pspsps-ing wasn’t enough to catch his attention back again, and you found yourself unable to hide the kitten away in time.

“sushi, geez, don’t scare me like that again!”

surprisingly enough, the first thought that came to your mind was how ‘sushi’ was such a lame name for a pet.

the mystery student crouched down to greet the cat, grinning as sushi nuzzled his palm, “i missed you too, ya rascal.”

“... is that your cat?”

you couldn’t help but snicker as oboro, along with sushi, fell backwards, certainly not expecting a third-party to join in. “oh! well... yeah, it’s my cat.”

after that initial greeting, you straightened your tie, getting on your feet with a relieved scoff. “that little guy is certainly something else, it’s not the first time he’s messed with almost all of my notebooks and homework.”

the sudden movement caught sushi’s attention once again. without a single care in the world, he jumped back to you, to which you answered by picking him up in your arms like before. your attention was clearly somewhere else, and you failed to notice oboro’s confused gaze on you.

“yeah, sushi’s a mean one,” he scrambled to get back on his feet, effortlessly towering over you, “if he can’t find somewhere decent he’ll just pee on me.” which part of his brain told him that would be a good way to carry the conversation?

by some sort of miracle, you didn’t mind the odd confession, “you’re just a mean roll - the bad type of crude, ain’tcha, sushi?” a brief pause consisting of you pampering his cat ensued. it wasn’t necessarily an awkward silence, but there was tension in the air apparently only oboro could feel.

he scratched his neck nervously, “you’re not gonna tell the principal, are you?”

“i’m sure that man’s certain i hallucinate cats in my sleep,” you sighed in defeat, gently pulling your finger away from sushi’s mouth. “your secret’s safe with me.”

almost as if a switch had been turned, oboro visibly calmed down, his once uptight shoulders loosening up. “thanks, i’ll make sure to keep him away from bothering you!”

you hummed in acknowledgment, still too busy scratching behind sushi’s ears. “you’re a second year too right? i don’t think we’ve met each other before.”

oboro adapted to the sudden change of topic rather quickly, “yeah, i’m from class a, kinda hurt you haven’t noticed me before.”

his feigned sorrow made you smile.

“oh, i’ve seen you around. your hair’s not exactly the subtle type,” you pointed out, a giggle crawling out of your worn throat as oboro’s hand instinctively shot up to comb through his hair. “plus, it’s a two-way street, it‘s not like you’ve made any attempts to interact either.”

“i have!” oboro’s eyes shot open almost comically, “remember during last year’s culture festival when someone accidentally spilled their soba on you?”

“oh my god,” you were no longer unable to contain your tittering, soon reigning the empty hall with boisterous, genuine laughter. “that was you?”

“i need to emphasize the accidentally part,” oboro reciprocated your emotion, his smile widening by the second, although the small tinge of pink in his cheeks implied it was more of flusteredness than anything. “you were just - your costume for the show… you looked really pretty, and maybe i got distracted!”

too busy to tease him any further, you made an attempt to contain your laughter, alas, a rather vain attempt. “pretty, huh? i would have never guessed you’d be into jumpsuits and tophats. god, costume design for that gig was a hot mess.”

oboro crossed his arms in indignation, although the twitching of his lips quickly invalidated his serious facade, “well, you pulled it off really well. you should’ve heard yamada after, he tried to scold me for spilling his food, but he was too busy laughing at how red i was.”

“you’re too much, shirakumo.”

he blinked in confusion, “you know my name?”

now it was your turn to stutter, lips moving, although there were no words exactly coming out of them. “o-oh, it is? it’s actually a pretty common surname and, truth be told, it was just a wild guess-”

“hey,” a small voice crack cut his words short, “no, no - it’s okay, i know your name too!”

before you could attempt to bail out of the awkward predicament, an quiet purring interrupted the conversation, gradually becoming louder and louder. apparently, sushi saw it fit to doze off in your arms, no longer in any rush to mess with you or your studies.

a lifesaver in disguise.

“right, the kitten,” oboro seemed to be equally thankful for the adorable disturbance, moving closer to take sushi from your arms. “sorry for all the trouble this little troublemaker might’ve caused you, i’m still trying to find him a home.”

“can’t say he wasn’t a pain in the ass, but i’ll live,” you sighed, patting your shirt in hopes of shaking off sushi’s keepsake. all efforts were in vain though, cat hair doesn’t come off as easily. maybe this time it could serve as an alibi for your missing homework.

‘teacher, a cat tore my homework apart’ had a nice ring to it.

“well, i’ll see you around, loud cloud.”

oboro squeezed his eyes shut as you walked away, sushi nibbling on his arm pushing him off the edge. “wait, (y/n)!”

you stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the gremlin and his awfully cute owner.

“i was thinking,” he started, searching deep inside his heart for his trademark courage or wit, really anything that could save him. “i’m pretty sure my internship’s gonna be really close to yours, so maybe we could go out for coffee sometime?”

the loud ringing of the school bell muscled into your chat, leaving you with no other option than to scream your answer out.

“not gonna ask how you know where my internship is,” you joked, smirking at his own flustered grin. “but that sounds... good actually, maybe you could even help me with the homework handsome sushi over there stole from me!”

as students started to fill the hall, some more eager to get to class than others, your cloud friend snickered, his toothy smile serving as a goodbye, “it’s a date then.”

★ - check out the rest of my works!

★ - wanna get tagged in my stuff?

general: @brattyquirks​ @quirkless-fics​ @tooloudarts​ @bringingpinkbac-k​ @thewaterlily​ @kittyatemytaco​ @nyantodamax145​ @iachan03​ @imconfusedanditsok​ @nishigo​ @torrpe​ @bakugo-baby​ @lovingshoto​ @yuueimagines​

shirakumo: @witchy-anna​

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Like a Lover

Words: 6, 713

Ship(s): Remile, background Logicality and Prinxiety, I think Background Dorry is mentioned

Warnings: Swearing, caps, a lot of jokes about condoms (and various NSFW mentions as well as an ending that alludes to some NSFW... activities), Emile gets tipsy at one point, food mentions, mentions of Dysphoria and improper binding. (There’s technically a continuity error from part one but Mama Mia 2 had plenty of errors so basically I’m already doing better than Mama Mia.) 

Additional notes: Genderfluid!Emile and Trans!Remy, This is an unofficial sequel to 2 A.M but you don’t need to read that to understand this. (Eventual) Fake dating. There was only one bed. *Gasp* and they were ROOMMATES!

Tags: @fandermom @my-analogical-romance @patchworkofstars

---

“Guess who’s back,” Remy said in a sing-song as he crawled from his balcony to Emile’s.

“You’re going to kill yourself one of these days,” Emile teased, stabilizing his arms.

“Oh, please, Babe, you’ll have to prove that I’m not immortal first.” Remy stood straight as he regained his balance. Emile’s hands were still touching his skin.

“I’m pretty sure your death is exactly what it would take to prove that you aren’t immortal,” Emile said. The two locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter and pulling each other close. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Remy glanced down to Emile’s wrist, seeing the blue ribbon tied around it. “I’ve missed you, too,” he said softly, almost as if he weren’t sure if he wanted Emile to hear.

“C’ mon in,” Emile said, “my dads are gonna want to see you.”

Emile intertwined his fingers around Remy’s and lead them both through the foreign familiar bedroom. “You repainted,” Remy said. “Very, uh... it’s blue.”

“You’re not the only one growing up, College Boy,” Emile teased.

“So all the Funkos?”

Emile rolled his eyes, swinging open the bedroom door and leading Remy out of it. “All on shelves in my closet. I’m not a monster, Remus, of course, I still have them.”

They walked downstairs to where Logan and Patton were sitting at the kitchen table, reading the news and sipping on coffee over quiet conversation. Remy couldn’t help but notice how softly warm and domestic the whole moment was. He almost felt bad for intruding. Emile coughed quickly, drawing their attention towards them.

“Remy!” Logan greeted with a smile. “Welcome back. How’s college going for you?”

“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in last night!” Patton said with an innocent smile.

A blush ran through Emile’s cheeks and up to the top of his ears as he released his hold on Remy’s hand. “He just dropped in ten minutes ago.”

“Sure thing, Kiddo,” Patton laughed, hiding a smirk behind a sip of coffee.

Logan cleared his throat, embarrassed either on his son’s behalf or on his own accord. “So...College, Remy.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, college.”

“Yep,” Emile squeaked. “College. Let’s talk about college and nothing else.”

Remy and Emile took seats at the table and Remy began to give a practically day by day analysis of his past school year. Emile was totally enamored by his every word as he mockingly imitated his professors and talked about how he was shocked to actually enjoy a few of his classes.

“And how about summer plans?” Patton asked with a mischievous grin.

Remy shrugged. “Not sure I have any. I’ve been too busy with finals to make any.”

Emile forced out a cough under his dads’ stare. “Well, um, my uncle is getting married. And I, uh, he told me to bring a plus one.” Emile took a deep breath and only then did Remy notice the way that he was shaking his hands. “I thought it’d be a little less awkward with you there.”

“And, of course, we’ll pay all of your expenses,” Logan said.

“When is it?” Remy asked.

“We leave next weekend,” Emile said. “It’s a seven-day cruise.”

“A... a cruise wedding?” Remy asked. “I’m in.”

“I don’t know, Em, you might need to twist his arm a little more,” Patton teased.

The group continued to talk, eventually roping Remy into a family breakfast. They shared jokes and made plans and Remy couldn’t help but feel like he was home.

The time before the cruise came and went in practically the blink of an eye as Remy found himself boarding the large ship by Emile’s side. “Woah,” he muttered out, seeing the large chandelier that hung over the elegant lobby. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Emile laughed. “Uncle Roman is pretty, uh, extravagant. I just wanna know how he got his fiancé to agree to this.”

“You say that like your uncle would marry anyone less than half as extra as himself,” Patton laughed.

“Why don’t you two check out the ship a bit while we take the bags up?” Logan suggested.

“Are you sure?” Remy asked hesitantly.

“Just don’t go overboard,” Patton teased. He took Remy’s bag and gave the other a pat on the back. “Have fun, Kiddos!”

“Alright! What first?” Emile said with a smile as their dads headed towards the elevators. The skirt of their dress fluttered back and forth as they swayed where they stood.

“Two words,” Remy said with a smirk. “Pool. Deck.”

“Follow me, my good sir!” Emile teased.

Remy tried not to think too hard about how Emile’s callused hands were bigger than his own as they maneuvered through the crowd. When they snuck into a crowded elevator, he tried not to focus on how their bodies pressed together (and how Emile was noticeably taller). When they reached the pool deck, Remy felt like he could breathe again, free from the crowds and embracing the fresh air. Speakers blared a mumbled version of some generic pop song he had never paid attention to and kids yelled as they splashed around in the pool.

“This is our lives for the next week,” Remy said with a smile. “Nice.”

“With a few wedding events sprinkled in, yes,” Emile laughed. “Dinner is semi-formal so if you see a man in a red sequin tux, it’s Uncle Roman.”

“A red sequin tux?” Remy asked with a laugh.

“Yep. His fiancé sent us pictures once.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way, I’ll show you them at dinner,” Emile said. The two continued to walk around the pool deck, arms brushing against each other, as they explored, making themselves acquainted with all of the elevators.

Emile and Remy had been childhood friends for as long as they could remember. They had been there for each other through each of their coming-outs, sleepless nights, and years of holidays and birthdays. If a couple... /feelings/ had developed, Remy didn’t consider that anyone’s business but his own. Of course he felt /close/ with Emile, but never in /that/ way. Right?

“Oh look! An arcade!” Emile said excitedly. “We should totally go sometime!”

“Oh, hell yeah. Let’s kick some greasy 12-year-old’s ass.”

Emile laughed, pulling Remy’s hand forward as they announced, “Adventure is out there!”

“Can you ever go five minutes without a Pixar reference?”

“Nope!” Emile replied, popping the ‘p’ and tapping Remy’s nose lightly.

“Bet you can’t get through ten during dinner,” Remy challenged.

“With my uncle?!” Emile asked. “You’re on.”

+++

Despite Emile’s constant reminders that dress codes weren’t strict and that the first night everyone would be more focused on catching up than appearance, he still couldn’t help but feel anxious the entire way down. Logan had always been rather formal but seeing Patton in a pastel three-piece suit was certainly a surprise. Emile was wearing their usual go-to look for such events, though without the colorful tie. Their green ribbon had been discarded from their wrist.

“Are you okay?” Remy whispered. The four of them walked down the hall, seeming to be ridiculously ahead of schedule.

“Hmm?” Emile looked up, their fingers rubbing the hem of their cardigan. “Oh, yeah, it’s just... there’s a lot of people to explain it to. I’d really rather not.”

Remy brushed his arm along Emile’s as a small reminder and a silent question. Emile nodded scantily and Remy intertwined their fingers, squeezing with just enough pressure to let Emile know that he was there for them. He pressed the button to call an elevator and gave Emile a smile. “So what’s this Uncle Roman like?” What followed was a long conversation with more embarrassing stories than Remy imagined that Roman would want to have shared.

Inside the restaurant were about three tables filled with Emile’s family members and a man in a dark red suit happily waved them all over. “I’m noticing an obvious lack of sequins,” Remy teased.

“Oh please, this is only night one. He still has plenty more time to cover himself in fake jewels,” Emile assured.

“There’s my favorite non-binary pal,” Roman said, keeping his voice restrained to just the small group as he ruffled Emile’s hair. “And this must be your date.”

“My plus one,” Emile corrected. “This is Remy.”

“Nice to meet you, Remy, I’m-“

“The infamous Uncle Roman,” Remy said with a shit eating grin.

“Oh this one’s a keeper,” Roman said, nudging Emile’s arm. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what are your pronouns?”

“Oh, uh, he/him,” Remy said.

“Emile, you need to bring him around more,” Roman teased.

“You say that like anyone can separate these two,” Patton teased. They took their seats and Roman’s arm fell across the shoulders of a man dressed in black with faded violet hair.

“Oh! Remy, this is my fiancé, Virgil,” Roman introduced. “Virgil, this is Emile’s friend Remy.”

“Hey, kid,” Virgil greeted with finger guns.

“Uh, hey,” Remy replied, shooting back an awkward smile. As the rest of the group settled into casual conversation and catching up, Remy couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He began to debate whether or not coming had actually been a good idea when he was taken from his thought by an arm pressing against his. He found Emile’s hand and intertwined their fingers, smiling slightly as Emile squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Emile said. “But I’m glad that you’re here.” It didn’t take a genius to know what they meant. (Unfortunately, Remy had one brain cell.)

“Thanks, Em,” Remy said. They held hands all throughout dinner, and Remy was starting to realize that his crush might have been bigger than anticipated.

Of course, a tiny crush turned into a big, gay disaster when they got back to the cabin. “The couch is a pullout, right?” Remy asked nervously, chewing on his lip.

“I think so,” Emile said. “Remy, I’m not going to make you take the couch. It’s not like we haven’t slept together before.” Emile thought back to his father’s teasing, face blushing as he then realized what he had said. “I mean sleeping in the same bed. Separately. Asleep.”

“Gotcha.” He dug his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground.

“If it makes you uncomfortable,” Emile blurted out, “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Em, you don’t need to do that,” Remy said. He took Emile’s hands in his own and the two found themselves in a stalemate as they locked eyes.

“Well I’m not letting you sleep there either,” Emile said, their face crinkling as they tried to appear serious and threatening.

Remy couldn’t help but laugh, breaking his stare. “I nearly forgot how stubborn you are.”

“Ha! I win then!” Emile said. “My stubbornness is my best quality.”

“No way,” Remy said, breaking away from Emile to pull a pair of pajamas out of his suitcase.

“Oh yeah? Then what is my best quality?” Emile asked, their breath hot against Remy’s neck as they leaned over his shoulder.

Remy thought for a moment, panicking on what to say. Your compassion. Your thoughtfulness. Your sense of humor. The way you don’t care about what people think of you. Your smile. Your eyes. The way you’re making my heart beat so loudly I feel like it’s going to burst!

“Your ass.”

Emile laughed and rolled their eyes. “Whatever, I’m gonna go get changed.” As they went off to the bathroom Remy groaned in his hands silently asking himself whhyyy?

Remy was used to friendly flirting. Hell, he was used to real flirting! He had dealt with crushes before and was certainly experienced when it came to relationships, but Emile was different. Remy has never considered Emile his type; he was into more edgy, dangerous people. Those who weren’t afraid to get a little messy or even get some blood on their hands.

But Emile? They were a mediator. Emile was the calm during the storm and they had been a constant in Remy’s life for as long as he could remember. He couldn’t imagine living in a world without them. He was but a blade of grass and Emile was the entire universe.

Remy shook out his thoughts as he took his binder off and quickly threw on a baggy shirt with his school name on it in large print. He continued changing into his pajamas and put his clothes off to the side until Emile walked in.

“Since when do you sleep shirtless?” Remy asked, trying to hide a blush as Emile raked their hands through their wet hair. Truthfully, he wished he could stop his eyes from wandering across Emile’s soft stomach and toned arms. Someone had clearly kept their New Year’s Resolution.

“I guess I just made a habit of it,” Emile said with a laugh. “I can put something on if you’re uncomfortab-”

“NO! I, uh, no, I’m not uncomfortable at all!” Remy said, blushing both in embarrassment and from his inability to peel his eyes from the sight in front of him. Suddenly he felt rather fortunate to be trans. “You can be as clothed as you want and I’m going to shut up now.”

Emile giggled as they climbed into bed and patted the space next to themselves. Remy tried to contain his heart rate as he slowly climbed into bed, busying himself with the way he adjusted the pillows. It’s just Emile. It’s just sleeping. Calm down.

Of course, it wasn’t long before Emile was half asleep with their head against Remy’s neck and their shoulders overlapping. “Em,” Remy whispered, just to make sure that they weren’t listening. He pushed their hair away from their face and fought back thoughts about how wonderful it must feel to kiss those lips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

+++

The next morning proved that Emile, dawned with a blue ribbon, only had one thing on his mind: The arcade. He had quickly gotten dressed- and urging Remy to do the same- excited as they headed to meet his dads for breakfast. Remy soon realized that Emile was very much a case of like-father-like-son as he saw an exuberant Patton dragging along a very tired Logan.

“Coffee?” Logan asked quietly as Emile and Patton talked loudly and excitedly about their plans for the rest of the cruise.

“Definitely,” Remy agreed.

Logan patted his back with a small laugh. “Welcome to the family. You’re either a morning person or addicted to caffeine.”

“Let me guess which Roman is.”

Logan groaned, pushing up his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Excruciatingly loud in the mornings. We can only pray that there’s enough coffee in the world to allow Virgil to keep his sanity.”

“So,” Emile said, excitedly drumming his fingers on the table, “Remy and I were planning on going to the arcade later!”

“Kids,” Patton said fondly, exchanging a glance with Logan. “Just be ready for tonight. Roman invited us all to join him and Virgil later for swing dancing.”

Emile let out an excited squeal, smiling and shaking his hands slightly. “I love swing dancing!”

“Since when?” Logan teased, his eyes darting to Remy for a quick moment before landing back on his son.

“There are some things you don’t know about me, Dad,” Emile teased.

Patton was considerably less subtle than his husband had previously been as his eyes darted between the younger boys. “Care to elaborate on that, Em?”

“Nope!” Emile squeaked, hiding behind his hands.

Remy couldn’t help but laugh at Emile’s blush. He was bright red and possibly the cutest thing that Remy had ever seen. “How do we need to dress?”

“Just a bit fancier than jeans and leather,” Logan teased.

“I think I can work with that.”

“Now eat fast,” Emile said, “I wanna get in as much arcade time as possible.”

It was no secret that Remy had a competitive streak. He certainly let it show as soon as they had hit the arcade. After rage quitting at Pac-Man, he bought a few more tokens and had his eyes set on Skeeball.

“You ready to lose, Picani?” Remy teased, nudging his friend’s arm.

“Oh, you’re on,” Emile bit back, just as fiery but with a wide smile.

Unfortunately, Remy has a terrible aim and quickly had his ass handed to him. “How are you so good at this?!”

Emile chuckled, teasingly messing up Remy’s hair. “It’s called ‘patience’, Remus, you should try it sometime.”

“Patience can eat my ass.”

Emile rolled his eyes but Remy couldn’t miss the fond smile that graced him. “I have enough left for one more game,” Emile said, digging through his pocket. “Let me help you.”

Remy was quick to arm himself, just about the toss when Emile stopped him. “Patience, Remy,” he teased. “Just follow my lead.” Emile grabbed onto Remy’s hip causing Remy to blush as he took in a sharp inhale. Emile’s freehand traveled down Remy’s arm, just barely intertwining their fingers together at the end. Emile slid his foot between Remy’s and opened up his stance, widening his legs slightly.

Emile was his best friend, and Remy did /not/ like where his mind was going. Emile drew back Remy’s arm, each of their bodies twisting together in sync. Remy’s mind flooded with a thousand poisonous thoughts and he began to wonder how he would ever survive the trip.

Skeeball, he reminded himself, we’re playing Skeeball. Nothing... else.

They made the first shot and scored 40 points. “See what patience can getcha?” Emile teased. “C’ mon, let’s shoot for 50 this time.”

Remy forced out a small laugh ignoring the way his body wanted to melt into Emile’s. He focused on the game. “Yeah. Patience.”

Unfortunately, that night’s events weren’t much easier. The club was dimly lit save for the spotlight on a loud, brassy band. In the corner of the room was a bar where Roman and Virgil had been waiting, sipping on margaritas. The rest of them took seats at the bar and ordered drinks- specifically only getting water for Remy. (Which didn’t matter as he took sips of Emile’s drink when no one was looking.)

By the time they got to the dance floor, Emile was already tipsy off of his second daiquiri. “C’ mon, Remy, dance with me!” Emile laughed, pulling Remy by the arms. Even if Remy wasn’t saying ‘no’, Emile still brought out his signature charming smile and puppy dog eyes. Remy wondered if Emile knew that he was his only weakness.

Emile brought Remy’s hands to his own hips as he wrapped his arms around Remy’s neck. He wants me to lead. Sure, Emile might not have been entirely sure what kind of dance they were doing, but he wanted Remy to lead. That seemed to be all that mattered.

Remy wasn’t blind. He had noticed the ways that Patton enjoyed using him to embarrass Emile; he saw Logan ever so slightly testing him when he and Emile were being particularly affectionate. It was the same way his own parents teased him about Emile long before he had a crush on his neighbor.

Only, that’s where the line was drawn. Emile didn’t have a crush. Parents just like being assholes sometimes. They like teasing. So Remy just had to ignore it. He couldn’t get his hopes up. And as he felt his hands against Emile’s soft fingers as they danced, faces not even an inch apart as Emile came back from the twirl, Remy pushed his hopes down deep into the darkest part of his mind.

“Remy! Dip me!” Emile yelled.

“WHAT?” Before Remy could stop him, Emile was already leaning back too fast for Remy’s noodle arms to catch. They both fell to the ground with Emile laughing the whole way down. Remy’s face was just above Emile’s, their lips practically touching, prompting Remy to sit up quickly in a panic as Emile kept laughing.

“Oh get a room,” Virgil teased as he swung by. Remy noticed that he was straddling Emile and quickly scrambled off of him.

“We, uh, we fell,” Remy said. “That’s it, I swear.”

“Relax,” Virgil laughed. “I saw you fail at dipping him. Patton said he’d give me a dollar if I could embarrass Emile.” Virgil looked the giggling man up and down before helping him up. “I don’t think I’m getting that dollar.”

“I don’t think anything can embarrass him at this point,” Remy said. “He doesn’t drink, well, ever.” The realization felt like a rock hitting Remy’s chest. “Guess we’ve both changed a bit.”

“Young love is adorable,” Virgil teased. “Just because he’s 21 now doesn’t mean he won’t stop acting like he’s 12.”

Remy let out a fond sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Now,” Virgil said, jokingly pushing the two back into the crowd. “Go have fun.”

They spent about another hour dancing and giggling before Emile had sobered up and Remy had begun to push past his limit. “Rem? Are you okay?” Emile asked, stopping their dance and bringing Remy to the edge of the crowd.

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy said. “Just- my binder-“

“Nope, say no more, I’m taking you back to the room so you can take it off,” Emile said stubbornly. A few passing patrons glanced suspiciously at them.

“Em, it’s fine,” Remy said.

“Nope!” Emile swept him off of his feet (literally) and carried him out of the room. Remy hid his blush as he saw Roman and Logan’s glances before the door closed behind them.

“Emile, I’m perfectly capable of walking to the room myself.”

“I’m aware, I just don’t give a shit.”

“Em!” Remy yelled in surprise.

“Like you haven’t sworn before.”

“Oh I’ve said some shit, but this isn’t about me,” Remy said. Emile gave him a stern glance before the two began to laugh. When they got to the hall, Emile used his knee to call up an elevator. “You literally could have put me down.”

“Could have,” Emile repeated. “But I won’t.” As a man of his word, Emile continued to carry Remy all the way up to their room. “How long have you been wearing that thing?”

Remy mumbled something from inside the bathroom that Emile couldn’t hear.

“C’ mon, Rem, tell me.”

Emile’s voice was cold and commanding and it sent a chill down Remy’s spine as he inspected the red lines on his torso from the mesh of his binder. “Twelve hours,” he mumbled, a bit louder. Despite the door between them, he could already feel Emile’s disapproving glare. He was so much like his dads at times. “But it’s fine!” he yelled before Emile could get a word in. “I’m fine, just a bit sore.”

“Which is exactly why you aren’t wearing that thing tomorrow,” Emile argued. Remy groaned, trying to avoid looking at his reflection as he pulled on a baggy shirt.

“You, Sir,” he said, swinging open the bathroom door, “are an asshole.”

“Yeah, but I’m an asshole who cares about you,” Emile said. He gently pressed his hands against Remy’s ribs, just below his arms. The moment was quiet and intimate in a way neither knew how to describe.

“Does it hurt?” Emile asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No.”

“Good. Lay down, I want to help you relax.”

“What?” Remy asked as a soft blush rose to his face.

“I just wanna work out the kinks-“

“This, Emile, is why your dad keeps asking you about condoms.”

“The kinks in your back, pervert.”

Remy opened his mouth the argue but found himself speechless as Emile pressed his gentle fingers into the curve of his neck. He let Emile lay him down and began to relax as warm hands unwound the knots in his neck and shoulders.

“Do you mind if I go under your shirt or would you prefer for me to stay over?”

“Over,” Remy said almost instinctively. With the way his crush was getting worse by the minute, he could only imagine what the touch would do to him. “Please.”

“Of course,” Emile said, his voice soft and light. Loving, almost. Almost.

Remy let his face sink into the pillow. As Emile’s hands traveled down his back (with just the right amount of pressure) Remy wished that he could focus on anything. Fortunately, it didn’t take long before he was fast asleep.

For the first time in years, Remy had been disappointed to wake up from a dream. It hadn’t been sexual, but it had certainly involved the man beside him. They had been dancing, only more coordinated and less tipsy. They each moved effortlessly and the feeling of Emile pressed up against him was now permanently seared into Remy’s brain. In a good way at least. The dream was hauntingly vivid and Remy could still feel the phantom Emile’s hand on his cheek and his soft lips pressed to Remy’s.

Remy slid out of bed, immediately going to search for his binder. “No binding,” Emile said groggily from under the covers. “C’ mon, you promised.”

“I didn’t promise shit.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I know where your binder is and you don’t.” Emile sat up from bed, his hair in a million different directions as the fabric fell into his lap.

“Emile Picani, you’re going to hell even if I have to put you there myself.”

“Oh no,” Emile sarcastically whined. “I’m being a good friend.” He crawled out of bed and rested his chin on Remy’s shoulder. “I have an idea I think you’ll like though.”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Well, you did seem pretty excited to go to the pool deck.”

Remy’s eyes widened and he dashed to his suitcase. “GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES AND WE’LL GO!”

Remy was like an excited child the whole way up and Emile couldn’t hide the fact that it made his heart flutter. He let Remy lead them to the seats with “Optimal Hoe Lighting” presumably to tan.

Now, it would be a lie to say that Emile had never seen Remy partially undressed. As children, they often took family trips to beaches where the two would run around in bathing suits and build sandcastles. As they grew up, however, Remy drew back slightly. It was understandable, of course, no teenager is perfectly content in their own skin and adding his dysphoria made his desire to be so public with his body even lesser.

But Emile shouldn’t have been so surprised when Remy took off his coverup. He couldn’t stop his eyes from raking over Remy’s body. His muscles had become more defined and his hips bones stuck out just over the top of his board shorts. His tongue stuck out from between his lips as he adjusted the straps of his bikini top. His were hidden behind his sunglasses and Emile silently wished that he hadn’t noticed his staring.

Remy smiled at Emile with a small giggle. “You did not blend that sunscreen in at all.” He stuck his tongue out in that same concentration and cupped Emile’s face in his hands. Despite being nearly a foot taller than him, Emile thought he just might melt into Remy’s touch. “Let me help you.”

His hands were warm against Emile’s skin and the taller of the two couldn’t help but smile. His face was twisted in concentration but he worked with the utmost care. He took the excess sunscreen and worked it into the skin on his ears and neck. Emile couldn’t help but smile at him adoringly.

“What?” Remy asked with a laugh.

“You’re adorable,” Emile blurted out and failed to hold back his giggles when Remy began to blush. “Aww, are you getting flustered?”

“Yes! Now shush!”

Emile laughed, tapping Remy’s noise with a sound effect. “Well, I just can’t help it if the most handsome man in the world is easily flustered! D’awwh and look how cute he is with his face bright and red.”

“Emile Picani, I swear to all things good and holy I will absolutely push you in that pool,” Remy said, trying to look angry but ultimately failing.

“Why? I’m only stating the tru- OOF!” Emile grabbed onto Remy’s wrists as he fell back into the pool. He came up, coughing up a bit of water but laughing the whole time. Remy splashed him across the face.

“You’re the worst.”

Emile playfully splashed him back. “But you loooooovvveee meeeee.”

“That’s gay,” Remy countered splashing back as the two engaged in a full out battle of splashing only to stop when the lifeguard yelled at them. They had made their way out of the pool to tan (Remy tanned; Emile panicked about burning) as he lay there with earbuds drowning out the world around him, Emile attempted to recall the last time he had seen his friend so at peace.

He was happy for him. After all that Remy had been through, he deserved a break. Emile selfishly hoped that he was partially to credit for such a state.

“Like what you see?” Remy teased.

Emile muttered gibberish under his breath as he hid his blushing face from his laughing friend. If he heard that gorgeous laughter until the end of time, it still wouldn’t be enough.

+++

When they were getting ready for dinner, Emile still refused to give back the binder. He really missed the relaxing laughter then, it would have been a much better substitute for the yelling. “Your body needs time to rest!”

“My body can survive another hour or two without your advice!” Remy shot back, his voice seething with venom. The venom began to pool in Remy’s eyes, though he would never admit it, and Emile’s heart shattered. “I- I can’t- Em, I can’t go out in front of everyone without it.”

“But, earlie-”

“Your family, Emile. I can’t go out there without it in front of them.”

“Remy,” Emile whispered softly. “I... if you’re worried about passing, you can borrow some of my clothes. I’ll make sure you’re the most handsome man in the room with it without a binder.”

Remy opened his mouth to speak but just as quickly closed his lips and hesitantly looked to the floor. Emile smoothed out Remy’s hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I can call my dads and explain to them.” He could see the gears turning in Remy’s mind. “Just be prepared for the inevitable jokes from my dad.”

“I’m more surprised he hasn’t given you a box of condoms already,” Remy teased.

“Worse,” Emile groaned. “He gave me two.” Remy exploded into laughter with a smile bright enough to make the sun seem like a lightbulb; Emile was absolutely smitten.

“I’m fine with going to dinner,” Remy said. “Dress me up as your own living doll.”

Emile dug through both suitcases and gave Remy a pair of his own black slacks while frantically digging through his own clothes. While Remy would never have considered wearing a white button-down under a sky blue sweater, he loved the look more than he’d admit. The soft fabric was a comforting weight on his shoulders and it smelt like Emile. It was perfect.

At dinner, he sat between Emile and Virgil and he let his mind wind down and relax. His fingers ran up and down the sleeves of the sweater as he watched Emile talk.

“So,” an old woman, presumably Emile’s grandmother, asked suddenly, “how long have you two been dating?” Her voice was sweet and full of adoration. Emile and Remy glanced to each other quickly.

“Oh, we aren’t-“

“Two years.”

Emile looked like an owl with his wife eyes being magnified by his lenses. “What are you doing?” he mouthed quietly.

“I’m so glad Emi is doing more than just watching those silly shows,” the old woman teased.

“Remy, I think we should talk,” Emile said sternly. “Alone.”

Logan and Patton exchanged glances between themselves and the two as they walked out of the restaurant. “Okay! Okay! Before you say anything, I panicked!” Remy justified.

“What? HOW IS THAT YOUR SOLUTION TO PANICKING?!” Emile yelled. “NOW I’M PANICKING!”

“I’m sorry! She just seemed excited and I didn’t want to-“

“It’s fine,” Emile said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not upset just... confused.”

“Do you want to stage a dramatic breakup?” Remy offered.

“No, no, I don’t want to make a scene the week of the wedding. Uncle Roman would have my head on a spike,” Emile said.

“Hey,” Virgil said from the doorway behind them. “Patton asked me to check on you too. And, uh, make sure that you’re using condoms. I’m not gonna make you answer that.”

Emile winced with a groan. “He really needs to stop worrying about that.”

“STDs aren’t a joke,” Virgil said, falling to hold back a teasing laugh. “Let me guess: This dumbass lied and now you’re figuring out how far to take this bullshit?”

Emile stared at him in horror; Remy was trying to telepathically communicate with Virgil. “How did you figure that out?” Emile asked.

“Magic,” Virgil deadpanned. “Also I’ve been eavesdropping behind that wall for the last minute.”

“I’m sorry,” Remy said. “I didn’t mean to lie, I just-“

“Kid, it happens,” Virgil said with a genuine smile. “Now, c’ mon, they’re bringing dessert out and I’m sure you two ‘love birds’ don’t want to miss.” Remy blushed, intertwining his hand with Emile’s as they walked inside.

The next day had Emile whisked away with his Uncle for last-minute wedding preparations leaving Remy entirely alone for the day. Somehow, on a ship full of thousands of people, Remy was alone.

An hour before the wedding his phone began to ring. “Em?” he asked, not even having bothered to check the caller I.D.

“Go, uh, go ahead and get ready,” Emile said. “There’s still a bit more I need to do and, uh, just meet me here, okay? My dad, Patton, will help lead you here.”

“Lead me there?” Remy asked. “Em, I’m a grown man.”

“A grown man who gets lost a lot,” Emile clarified. “Now hurry up.”

+++

“Care for a dance?” Remy jokingly flirted, holding out a hand to Emile. The pink tie she wore in place of a ribbon was subtle enough to go unnoticed to everyone else; but not Remy. He knew her too well.

“My prince,” she laughed, taking his hand as the opening notes to a song from Cinderella began to play. Neither could remember the words, but the melody was all they needed.

Remy intertwined his fingers with Emile’s and let his other hand gently curve against her side. She smiled shyly as she laid her free hand on his shoulder. “I haven’t danced in forever.”

“That’s what I’m here for, my dear,” Remy said with a laugh, pulling her onto the dance floor. He led her into a simple rhythm and smiled softly when she relaxed into it. “You look... beautiful, by the way.”

“So do you,” Emile said. “H- Handsome, I mean.”

“So this is love,” the speakers sang. “So this is what makes life divine.”

Their foreheads pressed together as the world melted around them. All that mattered was each other and keeping their feet in time. Remy pulled Emile closer, snaking the arm that had been on her side to the curve of her back as his other hand cupped her cheek. Emile’s hand stayed against Remy’s, rubbing circles onto the skin and beckoning him ever closer.

For a brief moment, more than ever, Remy wished that he hadn’t been lying. No, he didn’t wish he could take back the falsehood, he simply wanted to make it true. For a brief moment, he forgot that it wasn’t.

Their lips connected softly and moved in sync, each slowly pulling the other closer. Emile’s hands were on Remy’s neck, holding him until neither had air to breathe. Emile’s tongue traced against Remy’s bottom lip and that’s when the panic set in. He pulled away quickly, staring at Emile with wide eyes and a gaping jaw.

Emile was blushing with a natural smile on her face. “That was...”

“I gotta go,” Remy blurted out, quickly taking Emile’s hands off of him and dashing out of the room.

“REMY! Wait!” Emile called out, starting to run after him when she got caught by the arm.

“Sweetie, just let him go,” Logan said softly.

“He needs some time to himself right now,” Patton agreed.

“But- But he’s my best friend! A- And he needs me!”

“Is this about him needing you or you needing him?”

Emile was breathing frantically, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know, but- He-” Her hands were shaking and tears began to fall down her cheeks. “He actually likes me back,” she whispered. “I’ve been in love with him for three years and the minute we finally- something finally happens he just runs off.” She glanced behind her at the couples dancing and laughing gracefully.

“Give him ten more minutes. Then go find your Prince Charming.”

+++

It had been forty minutes since Remy had left the wedding. “Go away,” he said weakly to the pair of shoes in front of him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Emile said. “I just want you to listen to me. Please?”

Remy silently moved to his left, leaving just enough room for Emile to sit down. He kept his face mostly covered, but Emile could still see his red eyes and stray tears.

Emile took a breath, fiddling with something in her lap. “Remy, I- I think you’re incredible. You’re smart and kind-“

“Are you really reading this off of your phone?” Remy asked.

Emile quickly put her phone behind her back as a red blush grew on her face. “N- No! I just-“ She sighed defeatedly. “My dads helped me edit and revise.”

Remy laughed, snatching Emile’s phone and holding it above his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And in love with you,” Emile blurted out. Remy almost dropped the phone. “I’ve... I’ve been in love with you for the past three years. You’re my best friend, Remy, and I... I thought if I told you then I’d... lose you.”

“Em,” Remy said softly. “You’re not going to lose me.” He pressed a small kiss to her knuckles. “I love you, Emile. Sure that love has changed and evolved over the years, but it’s always been there. It always will be.”

“How do you love me now?” Emile asked.

“I love you like a best friend,” Remy said.

“Oh.”

“I love you like a lover.”

“O-Oh!”

Remy’s heart was pounding in his chest and he wondered if his face was any redder than Emile’s strawberry skin. “Emile,” he asked softly, “can I kiss you?”

Emile laughed, leaning up and brushing her lips against Remy’s. “I thought you’d never ask.”

+++

It was nearly the end of summer. Another sleepless night, but Remy took the time to start packing. His eyes were strained and he knew he’d be exhausted by sunrise, but for now, he chose to embrace the tranquility of midnight.

That’s when something hit his window.

He pulled back the curtain and saw Emile, clad with a blue ribbon, standing on the balcony and waving. He climbed out of his own window and let the summer air hit his face. “Hello, my love.”

“Hey, Rem,” Emile smiled and held his arms out towards Remy. “Mind helping me over?”

“You’re coming in through the window?” Remy asked, holding onto Emile.s sides and helping lift him into the balcony. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“I didn’t want to risk my dads being awake tonight,” Emile whispered softly. Remy’s face flooded with color and Emile pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Emile Picani, are you being a bad boy?”

“Mmm, I’m your bad boy,” Emile said, pressing a kiss to and nipping at Remy’s bottom lip.

The two slipped inside, fingers tightly interlocked. “I love you so much,” Remy whispered. “And I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’ll be waiting for you here when you get back,” Emile said. He pressed a soft kiss to Remy’s lips, following it with a trail of kisses down his neck. “Now, why don’t we make up for that lost time in advance.”

“O-Okay.”

[team-free-will-oneshots]

Breaking Point

Title: Breaking Point (part five of the ‘Buried Secrets’ series) Summary: Dean realises exactly how badly he messed up - but you’re not ready to forgive him. When you and Sam get even closer on a hunt, how much of a rift will be driven between you and Dean? Will you ever be able to cross it? Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader (fem pronouns) (mostly sam x reader in this part) Warnings: some swearing, Angst™, canon-typical violence, also more angst :(  Word Count: 4,811 (its a long one, sorry...)

note; ok so this part is based around 11x07, ‘Plush’ - I stayed somewhat true to canon but ended up tying up the hunt a lot more quickly and easily than the episode for my own convenience lmao. also sam isn’t having the visions from “God” in this series, at least it’s not gonna be brought up bc that’s all just A Lot for me to try and keep track of and i wanna keep focus on the fic plot not canon lol, sorry! anyways hope u enjoy this part!

Part One | Two | Three | Four

Masterlist

It was too bright, and his head hurt. It was almost enough to make him forget the events that had transpired the night prior - almost.

Dean rubbed his tired eyes as he stumbled to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee as he bit back a yawn. He poured a cup and stared at the nearly-full pot for a few moments before realising no one was coming to join him. Right - Sam had taken your side.

The anger raging through his veins had burned out long ago, replaced only with a hollow feeling of guilt that made him feel sick to his stomach as his brutal words bounced around the chambers of his mind. The hurt in your eyes was branded into his brain, and he clenched his jaw as he recalled your timid voice, your shaking hands as you fled from him as though you were scared of him.

Scared.

Of him.

As if he could ever hurt you.

But you did, his brain whispered. Dean slammed his mug down on the table, hot coffee splashing onto his hands, the tiny droplets scalding his skin as he swore and shook them off. He clenched his fist midair, bringing it to crash back against the wood of the table. He felt so guilty - why did he feel so guilty? You lied to him, lied to Sam, to Cas, to everyone - and he was the one feeling bad?

But the spark of anger fizzled before it could grow, and he resolved to set his feelings aside, at least for now. He was good at that - avoiding things. It was practically in his Winchester genes to ignore his emotions until they broke him. And he wasn’t at breaking point - not yet, at least.

Dean’s fingers found his phone, and he toyed with it absentmindedly, thumb hovering over your number, and then Sam’s. After staring at it a little longer than he’d have liked to admit, he slipped it back into his pocket. You weren’t coming back - not yet, at least. But even though you were gone, Amara was still a threat. Weird connection to her or not, he needed to find a way to get rid of her.

Assigning his pain to the backseat, Dean hit the books.

---

“Hello, Dean.”

The eldest Winchester started awake, the shape of the book before him sharply imprinted onto his cheek. He rubbed it, wincing his bleary eyes at the discomfort.

“Cas?” he groaned. “What is it?”

“Have you slept?” The angel’s voice was weighed with concern, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Obviously,” he muttered, wiping the dried spit crusted at the corner of his mouth as he swallowed back the unpleasant taste an unexpected nap always left. “Found anything?”

“Nothing new,” Cas said, glancing around the empty bunker. “Where are Y/N and Sam? Shouldn’t they be helping you research?” he asked disapprovingly, and Dean chuckled dryly.

“I haven’t heard from them in two days,” he said, plastering on a humourless grin. Castiel’s brow creased.

“Are they on a hunt? They could be hurt, we should-”

“No, they’re not on- Y/N’s a witch,” Dean blurted, and Castiel’s eyebrows flitted skywards in surprise.

“A witch?”

“You heard me,” Dean growled, turning back to the books. “She- she used a hex bag on me, so I kicked her out. Sam went after her - texted me, told me not to follow ‘em.”

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Cas remarked, and Dean scoffed.

“Yeah, tell me about it. She said it was to help me, whatever that’s meant to mean,” he muttered. Cas gave him a knowing look, and Dean’s defences shot up.

“What? I’m fine, I don’t need help!” he said angrily, and Cas made a disbelieving sound.

“Right. Of course not. Have you considered that Y/N might just have been worried about you, and really did want to help?” Cas prompted, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Of course I have, Cas. But that doesn’t justify her lying about being a monster! We’ve known her years, and she never told us the truth!” he exclaimed. Cas hummed disapprovingly.

“Dean, you know that witches aren’t all bad. You just happen to have a great deal of experience weeding out the… bad apples,” he said slowly. “Can you really blame her for keeping it a secret, considering how you’ve reacted?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, and your teary face flashed again into his mind. He wondered how long you’d cried - if Sam had comforted you, like the big softie he was. If you’d thought about him at all the last few days. If you wished he’d reacted differently. ‘Cos god, he was wishing that right about now, too.

“She-she’s dangerous,” Dean protested lamely.

“If you really believed that, you would never have let Sam go after her alone,” Cas reminded him gently, and he couldn’t find the words to argue back. He let his eyes fall on the yellowed paper before him, the fading ink blurring into a meaningless jumble of letters as he struggled to make sense of the mass of emotions tangled amongst his thoughts.

“Why was I so angry?” he asked eventually. “She lied to me, and- and I was so pissed. But now I just… I miss her,” he admitted. Cas offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“You do have a tendency to lash out when you’re hurt,” he informed the Winchester. “I know that better than most. And it’s understandable that you could feel… betrayed,” Castiel continued slowly, and Dean grunted in agreement.

“Yeah, well, she did lie to me,” he muttered.

“So has Sam. And I, in the past. Don’t be angry, but… you do tend to latch onto small things to push people away. And I know,” Cas interjected as Dean opened his mouth to protest, “this isn’t exactly a tiny secret. But I think that the reason why she kept it was quite clear. The real question is - why did you feel the need to push her away in the first place?”

Dean swallowed hard, hating that the angel was right in his analysis, and hating even more how obvious the answer seemed to him now. Why had he pushed you away, just as you were starting to get close?

The answer came to him as easily as the alphabet. Because he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your concern, your care, your smiles. And above all, he certainly didn’t deserve your love. He didn’t deserve to be happy with you - he knew he’d only bring you down.

And so, Dean had done what Dean did best - found a means to push you away. To alienate himself from you, so that even if he changed his mind, you wouldn’t want to be with him after the way he had wronged you. So that you could be free of him. And it just so happened that your newly exposed identity as a witch was the perfect excuse to slice a rift between you.

Dean ran his hands over his face as he groaned. “God, Cas, she was just trying to help. She was trying to help me and I was such a fucking dick to her. How do I go back from that?” he asked helplessly, voice cracking as he raised his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. The angel’s face was solemn.

“I’d imagine you start with an apology.”

Dean sighed, mouth half open to speak when his phone vibrated against the table. His jaw fell closed, and he shot Cas a tense look before holding the phone up to his ear.

“Dean,” he muttered.

“Hiya, Dean!” Donna’s cheerful voice greeted. “Look, it could be nothing, but I might have a case for ya…”

---

You glanced up from your book as Sam’s phone vibrated across the room - the youngest Winchester had gone for a walk to clear his head from the seemingly endless lore and news articles the two of you had been picking apart since your hasty departure from the bunker. Sighing, you heaved yourself to your feet, rubbing at your temple absentmindedly as you glanced at the caller ID.

Dean.

Breath catching in your throat, you set your jaw and purposefully declined the call. Thoughts of the eldest Winchester didn’t bring you sadness, not anymore - instead, they fuelled your system with rage. How could he treat you like that, say those things to you after all you’d been through together? You humphed in annoyance, and just as you were about to re-take your seat, the phone began its incessant buzzing once more. Defeated, you held the phone up to your ear, bracing yourself for what was to come.

“Sam’s phone,” you said tersely, and the line fell dead silent.

“Y/N?” Dean asked, voice barely rising above a whisper. You cleared your throat, careful to keep your voice steady as you responded.

“That’s me - the one you kicked out, remember?” you said brightly, though your voice was underlaid with acidic anger that corroded your cheerful tone.

“I remember,” Dean muttered. “Y/N, I-”

The door opened, and you exhaled in relief as you pulled the phone from your ear. “Sam, it’s your brother,” you said stiffly, and Sam quirked an eyebrow before accepting the phone in your extended hand.

“Dean?” he asked in surprise, and you picked up your book again as Sam walked into the bathroom, closing the door while he continued the conversation with his brother. You heard his voice rise in irritation, but after a few more moments, he walked out with a defeated expression.

“Donna needs help on a hunt,” he said apologetically, beginning to gather his things. You jumped up and began to prepare your own, but paused at the confused expression clouding Sam’s face.

“Uh… Dean’s gonna be there. You don’t have to come,” he told you, and you shrugged half-heartedly.

“I feel so cooped up in here, I honestly don’t care. A hunt would do me some good - help me get out some pent up anger,” you explained, and Sam frowned but didn’t object again. “So, what are we looking at?” you asked.

“Uh, Dean said something about a “killer bunny,” Sam said, and you shot him a confused look.

“A what?”

“That’s all he said - it might not even be our kind of thing. I say we go down, give Donna some peace of mind, and if it’s not our kinda gig we let the police take it from there,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s hop on down and check out this killer bunny,” you said, smiling cheekily. Sam groaned.

“Really, Y/N?” he asked, though his tone was tinged with amusement. “Puns?”

“Hey, maybe it was an accident - you really ought to stop jumping to conclusions,” you defended, and he rolled his eyes.

“An accident? Yeah, I doubt it - you’re hardly being subtle,” he replied, and you grinned slyly.

“I guess you could even say I’m dangling a carrot in front of your face,” you pressed, and Sam turned to you in exasperation.

“You done?” he asked, despite the smile playing on his features. You grinned.

“Not even close.”

“Well, I’m putting an official ban on rabbit puns for at least the ride down,” Sam said, and you pouted.

“Why?” you whined, and he shot you a playful grin.

“They’re just not bunny.”

---

A pun-filled car ride later, the two of you strode into Donna’s precinct in your FBI getups, where Dean was already waiting for you.

“Sorry if we’re a hare late, traffic was a nightmare,” you greeted, pointedly ignoring Dean as you gave a laughing Donna a hug. Sam rolled his eyes fondly, and you winked at him before your sights fell on Dean. His eyes met yours, and he quickly lowered his gaze, clearing his throat before turning to Donna.

“So, what makes you think this is our kind of thing?” he asked. Donna explained the situation - gruesome murder, and an apprehended perp whose mask refused to budge. You whistled as she finished.

“Well, it’s certainly a hare-raising tail, but I’m not sure it’s our thing,” you said with a mischievous smile. Donna laughed, Sam rolled his eyes affectionately, and Dean tried a tentative smile of his own.

You ignored it.

“Yeah, but if uh, you’ve got a wild hare...” he added playfully. “See what I did there?” Donna laughed again, but you rolled your eyes and acted as though he hadn’t spoken, refusing to even meet his gaze. His heart sank, and the smile fell from his face.

A short while later, Donna led the three of you to the holding cells, where you frowned at the sight before you.

“Any witnesses?” Sam asked, and Donna nodded.

“Ex-wife - thought she was next, but the bunny just up and walked out the door!” she exclaimed.

“You ID him yet?” Dean queried, and Donna shook her head.

“Nope. No wallet, cell… ran his prints, but no prior record. Couldn’t even get our hands on him long enough to check for any identifying marks. Only thing we do know is he’s caucasian, roughly eighteen to twenty-five… and terrifying,” she breathed.

Donna was called away by Officer Stover, leaving the three of you, plus bunny, alone. You frowned, stepping closer and squinting at the bloodied mask.

“Are we sure it’s not just a really committed furry?” you asked slowly. Sam’s brow furrowed.

“What’s a-”

Dean frantically shook his head at his brother. “You don’t wanna know,” he interrupted, and the exaggerated fear in his voice brought a smile to your face. You quickly composed your expression, clearing your throat as Dean stepped forward and threw some mocking quips at the masked figure.

“What, took too much molly? Super-glued your mask to your head? Got paranoid, stabbed a guy? Been there,” he chuckled, and you scoffed. Dean turned around, frowning at your reaction, and the bunny seized the moment of distraction to grab him by the neck and slam him against the bars of the holding cell.

Sam busted out the holy water, to no avail. “Not a demon,” he remarked. You stood to the side, panic flaring in your chest at the sight of Dean struggling. No no no no no!

“Well, he’s strong!” Dean snapped, and Sam grabbed the bunny’s hands, trying to pry them off his brother’s neck. You rubbed your temple, trying to soothe your stress headache and willing yourself to think when it hit you.

“Wait, I’ve got this,” you muttered, pushing Sam back as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

“Any time now, Y/N!” Dean pressed.

“Shut it!” you snapped, before thrusting your hands forward. A surge of power had the attacker flying backwards and slamming into the wall. It didn’t seem to faze him - he got to his feet and stood perfectly still, those fake, glassy eyes seeming to stare straight at you. Dean winced, rubbing at his neck. As the adrenaline seeped from your veins, you felt your headache fade away.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, and you folded your arms, resolutely ignoring him. Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes fell on the bunny’s t-shirt - Minnesota Tech - and the tattoo on his arm - ‘Kylie Forever’.

“Kylie forever,” he mused. “That’ll work.”

It didn’t take you long to compile a list of potential ‘Kylie’s’, and Dean whistled at the length of it. “Alright, Y/N and I will take the first ten. Sam, you can-”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, actually, I’ll go with Sam,” you interjected, and Dean raised his brows in surprise.

“But- but we always team up,” he objected, voice ringing with hurt. You shot him a tight smile.

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t want you to have to swallow your disgust, would I?” you spat, and Dean flinched at your words as the reality of the situation crashed over him. How could he forget?

“Listen, Y/N…” he began, but you shook your head.

“Just… leave it,” you grumbled. “We’ll check in later. C’mon, Sam,” you dismissed, grabbing Sam’s arm and walking away. Sam shot his brother an apologetic shrug, letting you guide him towards the exit.

Dean watched as you left, expelling a deep sigh as he ran his hand over the side of his face before shaking his head to himself. He jumped when Donna’s voice echoed from behind him.

“What’d’ya do to get her knickers all up in a bunch?” she asked, and Dean barked a dry laugh that died on his lips.

“I messed up, is what I did,” he informed her. “Things were good. Great. Better than, even - we were… well, we were about to be somethin’, anyways, but I… said some things I shouldn’t have. And now I dunno if she can forgive me. If I even deserve to be forgiven.”

Donna frowned. “Sounds like you should try apologising, bud. Don’t be afraid to go real sappy, neither, just make sure ya bein’ honest,” she advised, and Dean grunted.

“Yeah, I would if she’d actually talk to me,” he scoffed, and Donna hummed.

“Well, if she needs space, you gotta give it to her,” she said simply. “Can’t expect a girl to give ya a civil conversation if you didn’t give her one to start with, can ya? Piece of advice, though - if ya wanna patch things up, ya betta get in sooner rather than later. She and Sam are lookin’ real chummy,” she said, elbowing him slyly. He frowned.

“Her and Sam? No way. Really?”

Donna whistled. “Oh, yeah. Besta luck,” she said, patting him lightly on the back. “Catch ya later.”

As the blonde left, Dean stood for a moment, stewing in his own overwhelming emotions and chewing on the advice Donna had offered. You clearly wanted your space… and if you really were moving away from him and towards Sam… well, wasn’t pushing you away exactly what he’d wanted in the first place? Wouldn’t it be better for you to be with his kind, thoughtful brother instead of being stuck with… well, whatever kind of a mess Dean himself was?

He sighed, shaking his head and ignoring the hollow aching in his chest as he forced himself back to work. He could deal with this later - he wasn’t at breaking point.

Not yet.

---

It didn’t take long for the puzzle pieces to fall together - once you realised you were dealing with a ghost and managed to piece together a list of the costumes he was attached to, it took near no time at all to sort it out between you, Sam, Dean and Donna. You’d stuck with Sam the whole time, communicating with the others in quick phone calls and texts.

Sam was by your side when you tossed a match on the final costume, watching the fire sear through the fabric and the reeking smoke drift into the air as the ghost of Chester Johnson was eaten up by the tongues of hungry, flickering flames. You exhaled heavily as silence fell across the forest the two of you had found yourselves in, an echoing quiet broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“Well, that’s that,” you murmured. Sam swallowed, nodding.

“Yeah. Nice work.”

A smile sloped your lips. “You too. Now what?”

Sam’s phone buzzed before he could reply, and he tugged it from his pocket, glancing at the screen before his eyes met yours.

“Now we meet up with Dean and Donna,” he said. You were quiet.

“Right. Dean.”

“Y/N… maybe you should listen to what he has to say. It seems like-”

“I can’t, Sam. Not right now, not after he… it’s just too soon,” you mumbled, and Sam offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. I get it. But you can’t stay mad at him forever,” he reminded you. You averted your gaze, eyes cast downwards.

“I know. But… I can’t forget. Not yet.”

Sam’s eyes softened, and he rested his hand soothingly on the curve of your waist. You ignored the stutter of your heart.

“Come on, let’s get back.”

The car ride back to the station was quick to draw the lingering tension between the two of you, replacing it with easy banter and refreshing laughter that still bubbled on your lips as the two of you stumbled into Dean.

“Hey - is it done?” he asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah - he’s gone. Everything’s burned,” Sam confirmed, and Dean grinned, clapping his brother on the back.

“Great work, Sammy!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s Sam,” he corrected affectionately, and Dean brushed him off with a nonchalant,

“Pssh.” He turned to you. “Good work, Y/N - you always could handle yourself on a hunt,” he complimented, and the smile died on your lips. Your jaw was taut as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you muttered. As much as a small part of you appreciated that Dean was making somewhat of an effort, the memories of that fateful night weren’t so easily erased. Years of friendship reduced to ashes in a single moment as Dean’s rage sent you packing - the echoes of his words still cut you, and you were yet to determine whether their scars would be permanent. At any rate, you knew you weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet.

Dean sighed. “Look, Y/N… can we talk?”

You half scoffed, feeling your defensive walls rise as you shook your head. “You didn’t exactly give me the liberty of a discussion the other night, did you?”

Your words came out harsher than you intended, and you felt a flicker of guilt at the hurt in Dean’s eyes that you quickly forced yourself to quell. Dean shook his head in disbelief, the action paired with a sharp intake of breath as your words slammed into him like a brick.

“C’mon, man… I was angry. It was a lot to take in, you can’t expect me to just-”

“Dean,” Sam warned, cutting his brother off before he could raise his voice. Dean took a breath, nodding, and you interrupted him as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Whatever, Dean. I’ll be seeing you.” The words were cold, your tone colder as you spun on your heel, stalking back to the car. Despite the hurt welling in your chest, you found yourself half-hoping that he’d follow you, that he’d properly apologise, that things could go back to some semblance of normal…

But Dean watched as you left, Donna’s words ringing in his head. “If she needs space, you gotta give it to her.” As much as every bone in his body longed to follow you, to hug you and kiss you and whisper the words that would fix everything, he stayed put. There were no magic words, no embraces nor kisses that could fix the mess he had made.

And so, with a heavy heart, he let you leave.

---

The car ride back to the motel was draped with a silence so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife. You didn’t want to think, not right now, so you busied yourself staring out the window at the scenery, leached navy and grey in the moonlight. The road was quiet at this time - the two of you were alone, your only company the yellow glow of the headlights bouncing back at you from the green road signs you passed.

You could feel another headache coming on, so you popped some aspirin and swallowed them dry. The pills were bitter and powdery as they started to crumble on your tongue, and you winced as you finally got them down. Sam glanced over at you when he heard the crinkle of the aluminium sheet of tablets, but maintained his silence.

When he pulled into the parking lot, you headed to the room in sullen silence. You collapsed onto your bed still fully clothed, kicking off your shoes as you sighed. Your conversation with Dean had left a hollow sensation in your chest you weren’t quite certain how to shake. Glancing over at Sam, you saw him climbing into bed and shooting a concerned glance your way. You met it with a ghost of a smile.

“Do you mind…”

He chuckled. “C’mon,” he invited, nodding to his bed. A breathy laugh fell from your lips as you crawled into his bed, letting him tuck you against his chest. You’d slept beside him every night you’d stayed in the motel thus far - his warm presence helped you drift off better than any of your hex bags ever could. Your magic couldn’t replicate the gentle rise and fall of his chest, nor the patterns his fingers would trace over your spine.

“This is just a mess, isn’t it?” you asked weakly, and felt the sudden sinking of Sam’s torso as he sighed.

“Maybe a little,” he allowed, shooting you a small smile that you instinctively returned.

“I just… I don’t know how to feel. I wish things could just go back to the way they were, but… that’s not going to happen, is it? Not now that he knows,” you whispered. “God, I wish I wasn’t… me. Everything would be so much easier.” Sam fell into a thoughtful silence, and you almost thought he’d fallen asleep until his voice broke the comfortable quiet hanging over the room.

“Things won’t be the same,” he said eventually. “But… maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe this is something you needed, something to push you towards…” He trailed off, sighing again as he shook his head. “I dunno. But I don’t think you should just give up on things getting better,” he said. “And you definitely shouldn’t regret being true to yourself. You… God, you’re incredible, Y/N. And if Dean can’t see that, then that’s his loss.”

You smiled at his soothing words, glancing up at him in the darkness. Shadows clung to his skin, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the perfect disarray of his hair. He caught you staring and chuckled, the dimples in his cheeks protruding at the action.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you said eventually, and he shook his head, fingers moving to comb through your hair, gently tugging out the knots. You stared at him a moment longer, your lips forming your next words before you’d even realised you’d spoken.

“Why do you let me call you Sammy? You always correct Dean,” you realised, and Sam laughed sheepishly, the sound swallowed by the darkness. He shrugged.

“I dunno. I guess… when Dean says it, I know he’s seeing me as just his kid brother. But when you say it… it feels different. Almost comforting.” He shrugged again, ducking his head in embarrassment. “That probably sounds stupid…”

You shook your head. “No - not at all,” you breathed, breath catching as his eyes flitted to yours. You were vaguely aware that at some point during your conversation your headache had faded, the space it occupied replaced with Sam’s smile, the warmth of his voice, and solid presence of his arms around you.

His proximity seemed to become more apparent as you became aware of your heart thumping against your ribs. If he noticed, he kept it to himself, though you knew there was no way he could miss the sudden hitch in your breathing as he adjusted to nestle you snug against his side. The simple, caring movement unleashed a wave of emotions you’d been fighting to hold back for longer than you cared to admit - feelings you’d bottled up and pushed away, dismissing them as faint impossibilities, distant fantasies that would never see the light of day.

And so, how fitting it was that you found your breaking point under the dark protection of the night.

Before you could stop yourself, your mouth was slanting against his, sleepy and soft and slow. Sam froze beneath you, and you quickly pulled back, but before you could panic he was returning his lips to yours. Your eyes fell closed as his thumb found the side of your face, brushing along your cheekbone as he tilted your chin up to gain better access to your mouth. Sam’s hand wandered to your waist, clutching you close against him as he twisted his neck to deepen the kiss, the press of his mouth on yours a far more important cause than maintaining his own comfort; your smile, captured in the gentle exploration of his lips over yours, made the straining of his muscles worth it.

But as all good things do, the kiss came to an end. You couldn’t keep the smile from your face as you leaned into Sam’s chest, closing your eyes as his lips found your hair, whispering his goodnight into your scalp. But as sleep began to carry you off in her gentle waves, your mind couldn’t help but drift to Dean - in the bunker that felt more than a thousand miles away, the other side of his bed cold but for the empty bottle he was surely nursing. Dean - still sleeping alone.

His tired, green eyes were the last sight your mind conjured, before sleep finally washed you away.

__________

Read part six here!

Buried Secrets tags: @clarinette07 @demonsofhunting @carryon-doctor-lock @coupleofgoons @colie87 @non-exclusive-trash @txnii-hxrdyy @spaghettiwoes

Forever Tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @spnlovr73 @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting

Sam tags: @sammys-dimpless

Dean tags: @polina-93 @justagirlinafandomworld @coupleofgoons

If you want to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know!

[artigas]

(1) Hi! Its the anon that asked about lizzie and tatiana, I’m currently halfway through s5 and i really like jessie! I thought she was gonna be the one to finally resist tommys advances. I liked the scene where he goes to her apartment and they have a good back and forth. But alas she cant resist and sleeps w him, and he’s essentially just using her. I love her as a character and how she manifests her ideals into actions but, so far i thought she’d call out tommys shit by now!

And specially i cant help but resent how they set up the women to compete against one another, i rolled my eyes at the scene where they are exiting the polls and jesse and lizzie size each other up. Girls, please move on. I did like in season 5 where tommy is drunk meeting w jessie and she just gets up and leaves. I think the show has good female characters it just that they prioritize the male ones more. Unlike the women, the male characters dont revolve around a relationship. and finally, And idk if im just overthinking things but i think the show has upped its sexist comments? specially w tommy and arthur. W tommy telling lizzie shes his property and arthur telling linda to just be a good wife. Meanwhile polly and ada are really well written characters for the most part! Sorry this is so long i just have a lot of thoughts regarding the women of this show. And i love your analisis!

Nope! Don’t apologize, friend, I’ve absolutely adored reading all your feedback and your experience watching the show! I think Peaky Blinders, for all its good, has a lot of space to grow when it comes to women characters who are potentially romantically/sexually available to the protagonists- it does sometimes feel like the quality of writing and the depth of character for women characters waxes and wanes, but I also think that a lot of these characters- Lizzie, Grace, Polly, Esme, etc- have these great foundations, these building blocks of characterization that make them really compelling and really promising so long as they have free reign to be written as complexly and as thoughtfully as their male counterparts. I think Grace is a really stellar example, you know? Love her or hate her, she has a history, a back-story, individual motivations, and a social/political ideology that can actually really be broken down in some pretty interesting ways! Polly, too, is another character who is probably most obviously allowed to be pointedly ambitious, sexual, manipulative and outright cruel and still someone the show clearly roots for and sides with. I love what we get with Polly, especially considering how most shows would probably limit her to being maternal, chaste, and uninvolved in the family business (likely because of her age, too). Overall, I think the show does a good job of giving women characters flaws- none of them are meant to be perfect. But I really do think Peaky Blinders could benefit from occasionally resisting the urge to have all its women have romantic subplots, primarily with Tommy almost unexceptionally. 

As far as Jessie goes, I really do love that she’s someone who has this strong ethical and political foundation. I mean, Jessie and Freddie in a room together would’ve been a sight, right? I especially adored her scenes with Ada. I think they had such interesting chemistry and so much could’ve been done if the show had the real estate to really contrast Jessie’s idealism and dedication to the communist cause and Ada’s disenchanted relationship with that same movement she once honestly dedicated herself to. The fact that Jessie and Tommy both draw together because they represent to one (or, at least, invoke the memory of) their respective lost loves was also a refreshing change in terms of the sort of “romantic” relationships Tommy has had thus far. (How authentic we want to think that ‘relationship’ was from either Jessie or Tommy’s end is a different story and definitely worthy of suspect and investigation in the funnest possible way, I think, but I don’t wanna rant).

As far as season five goes, I think the hike in misogynist language and ideology wasn’t coincidental or without thought. I think Arthur and Tommy both are progressively getting worse as the show goes on and went through separate, but equally erosive psychological processes that took out a really ugly side to them both, especially in their relationship with the women in their lives. It felt to me like both characters were scrambling for control and finding a way to express authority over women who depend on them became one of the ways that need made itself manifest. I think it’s no coincidence that Lizzie and Linda look for solidarity in each other. I think their joint decision to write those letters, advocate their needs, and then respectively find some sort of approach to the state of their lives so that they could carry on with some semblance of safety, security, or (dare I say it!) happiness was interesting and heartbreaking- Linda tried to find it by leaving the family, finding another person to speak to and find solace with, and then eventually breaking down to the decision to attack Arthur and it hurt to see it! Lizzie’s own process was so complex, I think. I could go on and on about her belief that life wasn’t about what one deserves, but what one agrees to, settles for, etc. Her sex scene with Tommy, too, really just invites so much analysis and criticism, right? Which makes it, I think, a very effective sex scene as far as writing goes, because it isn’t a pause from characterization or plot, but rather a moment of intimacy between Lizzie and Tommy that reveals a different facet of their respective character developments. Was it kinda messy for Tommy to call her his property? Absolutely! But I also don’t want to dismiss how much I liked hearing Lizzie advocate some boundaries in that sex scene, too. It’s complicated, man! It’s a scene a lot of people have interpreted different and I’ve loved hearing all the different takes, there’s so much validity to be found in the different readings I’ve already seen out there. 

I think the show made no excuses for how awful Tommy and Arthur were being through season five. I think we as the audience are meant to recognize that their conduct and their comments weren’t something to emulate or exonerate, but instead symptomatic of their downwards progression throughout the season. It’s just a shame that these condemnations probably aren’t overt enough for the real Meat-Head faction of the fandom to catch onto- reddit is a nasty place to venture off into if you’re invested in any of Peaky’s female characters, that’s for sure. But man, if you’re here on tumblr, boy does this fandom have a lot of people churning out meta worth reading! If you want some blog recommendations, let me know!!! Thank you for keeping my in the loop with your watching journey ♡

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Song Analysis: Convoy by C.W. McCall - FTWD

Good morning! Remember I said that I wanted to say more on the trucker song they listened to last week on Fear? Well, here it is! I’m basically just going to give you the lyrics and highlight the symbols. They’re things I and others on TD have talked about for a LONG time. I’ll also try to link to discussions of these symbols if you want a refresher, but I don’t really want to repeat all the info for each symbol. If you’ve followed my theories for any length of time, you should be fairly familiar with them. If not, you can always click the links. 😉

I guess my biggest take away with this song is that they chose it specifically for how well it ties into the show and how heavily it references the symbols they use in the show all the time. And that just makes us happy, you know?

So, the song is Called Convoy by C.W. McCall. It was a big deal back in 1975 when it hit number one on both country and pop charts.

In terms of what the song is about, it basically tries to show a dialogue between truckers on the road who speak to each other via CB radios. Already right there we have an interesting tie to the show. While they predominantly use walkie talkies, we have also seen many CB radios in both TWD and FTWD. In the latter, we saw them this season at the denim factory and at the gas station in 5a.

The other thing you should know about this song is that it uses a lot of CB slang. So if you just read through the lyrics and you’re NOT a trucker of CB radio enthusiast (which I’m guessing is most of us) it won’t make much sense to you. Go HERE to get an interpretation of the CB slang and it will make way more sense.

Here are the full lyrics. I put the bold text in to draw your attention to those words/phrases:

[CB radio chatter] Yeah, breaker one-nine This here's the Rubber Duck You got a copy on me Pig Pen, c'mon? Uh, yeah, Ten-Four Pig Pen, fer sure, fer sure By golly it's clean clear to Flag Town, c'mon Yeah, its a big Ten-Four there, Pig Pen Yeah, we definitely got the front door, Good Buddy Mercy sakes alive, looks like we've got us a convoy

Verse 1:

Was the dark of the moon on the sixth of June In a Kenworth pullin' logs Cab-over Pete with a reefer on And a Jimmy haulin' hogs We is headin' for bear on I-one-oh 'Bout a mile outta Shaky Town I says, "Pig Pen, this here's the Rubber Duck. "And I'm about to put the hammer down."

'Cause we got a little convoy Rockin' through the night. Yeah, we got a little convoy, Ain't she a beautiful sight? Come on and join our convoy Ain't nothin' gonna get in our way. We gonna roll this truckin' convoy 'Cross the U-S-A. Convoy!

[CB radio chatter] Yeah, breaker Pig Pen this here's the Duck And uh, you wanna back off them hogs Uh, ten-four 'bout five mile or so Ten-Roger them hogs is gettin' intense up here

Verse 2:

By the time we got into Tulsa Town, We had eighty-five trucks in all. But they's a roadblock up on the cloverleaf, And them bears was wall-to-wall. Yeah, them smokies is thick as bugs on a bumper; They even had a bear in the air! I says, "Callin' all trucks, this here's the Duck. "We about to go a-huntin' bear."

'Cause we got a little convoy Rockin' through the night. Yeah, we got a little convoy, Ain't she a beautiful sight? Come on and join our convoy Ain't nothin' gonna get in our way. We gonna roll this truckin' convoy 'Cross the U-S-A. Convoy!

[CB chatter] Uh, you wanna give me a ten-nine on that Pig Pen Uh, negatory Pig Pen you're still too close Yeah, them hogs is startin' to close up my sinuses Mercy sakes, you'd better back off another ten

Verse 3:

Well, we rolled up Interstate 44 Like a rocket sled on rails. We tore up all of our swindle sheets, And left 'em settin' on the scales. By the time we hit that Chi-town, Them bears was a-gettin' smart: They'd brought up some reinforcements From the Illinois National Guard. There's armored cars, and tanks, and jeeps, And rigs of ev'ry size. Yeah, them chicken coops was full'a bears And choppers filled the skies. Well, we shot the line and we went for broke With a thousand screamin' trucks An' eleven long-haired Friends a' Jesus In a chartreuse micra-bus.

[CB radio chatter] Yeah, Rubber Duck 'tis Sod Buster C'mon there Yeah, Ten-Four Sod Buster Listen, you wanna put that microbus In behind that suicide jockey Yeah, he's haulin' dynamite And he needs all the help he can get

Verse 4:

Well, we laid a strip for the Jersey shore And prepared to cross the line I could see the bridge was lined with bears But I didn't have a dog-goned dime. I says, "Pig Pen, this here's the Rubber Duck. "We just ain't a-gonna pay no toll." So we crashed the gate doing ninety-eight I says "Let them truckers roll, 10-4."

'Cause we got a little convoy Rockin' through the night. Yeah, we got a little convoy, Ain't she a beautiful sight? Come on and join our convoy Ain't nothin' gonna get in our way. We gonna roll this truckin' convoy 'Cross the U-S-A. Convoy!

[CB radio chatter] Ah, Ten-Four Pig Pen what's you're Twenty Omaha Well, they oughtta know what to do With them hogs out there, fer sure Well, mercy sakes good buddy We gonna back on outta here So keep the bugs off yer glass And the bears off yer...tail We'll catch you on the flip flop This here's the Rubber Duck on the side We gone Bye, bye

Okay, so like I said, read HERE for a complete interpretation of the CB slang in the song, but it’s worth mentioning a few things that are important. The song is about a bunch of truckers who basically stage a “rebellion” by tearing up their log books, driving cross country, and busting through a bunch of police blockades in the process.

The conversation is mostly between three main people: “Rubber Duck,” “Pig Pen,” who has a truck full of hogs, and “Sodbuster.” I’m assuming those are their CB call signs. Here are posts on Rubber Ducks and Pigs. I don’t have one on Sodbusters, but that’s basically slang for a farmer, and just makes me think of Hershel.

So the song also mentions bears a lot. Guess what a bear is slang for in CB lingo? A cop! Specifically highway patrol. That’s because they often wear hats similar to the Smokey the Bear mascot.

So when the “bears get smart,” it means the cops are being resourceful trying to stop the convoy. Going hunting for a bear metaphorically means hunting for cops. And, just a point of detail, in the song, they’re not REALLY hunting for cops. Rather, they’re doing things that will draw the cops toward them because their activities are illegal. Just wanted to point that out.

And the “bear in the sky” is a—wait for it!—HELICOPTER! Yup! A police helicopter that’s also following them.

See why this song made us excited! It screams so many TD symbols that we’ve talked about for a long time, including Grady cops. If you read the Wikipedia I linked above, even the trucks in the convoy (mentioned in slang, so you’ll have to look it up to see what they are) have some significance. There’s the pig truck, of course, but also a REFRIGERATED boxcar truck, which works well with @frangipanilove’s refrigeration/Sirius theories.

I highlighted the “11 Long-haired friends of Jesus” for two reasons. 1) Jesus/bible reference. 2) 11 is also significant. Me, @wdway and @frangipanilove were talking about this on Sunday. If you read the theory I re-posted yesterday (also by @frangipanilove) I’m sure you understand. Oh, btw, Omaha, Nebraska is mentioned in the “CB chatter” part of the song as well.

I also highlighted the “hammer” in the first verse because we saw the hammer symbol brought up a lot last week. The young guy at the end used a broken hammer to break into the generator room at the gas station before Logan showed up to shoot up his three wheel bike. 

And then it caught my attention that on the S10 special, Tyreese’s hammer was given away in the special drop box. I’m feeling like there’s something significant about this symbol right now. And the only thing we an really connect it to is Tyreese, who died in the episode after Beth was shot and whose death hallucination, Beth was in. Just saying.

Also notice the moon and bridge symbols. I don’t think I need to explain those. Plus some others I highlighted on principle: some eights, some fives, cars, tanks, a reference to suicide and explosives, etc.

And I maintain what I said in my original analysis. If hunting a bear = hunting a cop, and what character was most heavily associated with cops? That would be Beth, because of Grady. Then hunting a bear suggests hunting Grady cops (or drawing them out) which has to lead to Beth eventually. And I have no idea when. Maybe not even this season. Who knows? But what the group is doing now by helping people will probably eventually lead to it in some way.

And then we had that thing Lenny said on TTD about how something really unexpected will happen this season. Something no one will see coming. Juuust saying. ;D Thoughts?

[valencing]

i watched mamma mia! (2008) for the first time today and realized that the reason l0vett quit the white house in 2011 was that he got pregnant and okay, one option would've been to determine which of the three men he'd slept with recently was the father, but he basically just didn't feel like getting into it. 

he's just not gonna tell them. he doesn't wanna watch tommy, shocked, start calculating the damage to whatever white picket fence life he'd planned. he doesn't wanna see the pity in dan's eyes as he explains that he'll do whatever's right, but they need to keep this mess far away from obama. he doesn't wanna stand there like an idiot while jon immediately goes down on one knee, even though a marriage of obligation is the last thing a romantic like jon would ever want. lovett knows that maybe each of them wanted him for one night but none of them want him for a lifetime. he's just not that kind of boy.

"look, it's time for me to follow my dreams," lovett tells dan, who nods supportively and doesn't mention that lovett is the only real dream dan's ever had.

"you don't need me here, not really," lovett tells jon, and then, because jon's just staring at him without saying anything, lovett launches into a bit about how many speeches he's basically sabotaged anyway, and really he's leaving for obama's sake. "you're what?" says jon, slack-jawed, after a few minutes of this. it's like he hasn't even been listening, so lovett snaps, "ask dan," and stomps out of the room.

"if i'm ever gonna make it in la, i gotta start now," lovett tells tommy, who claps him on the back awkwardly, because he doesn't know how to touch lovett any more, not since the time he asked lovett on a real date and lovett laughed at him and said, "jesus, tommy, give me a break." 

lovett doesn't want to ruin anyone's life so he goes to los angeles and drops out of touch. he's busy being a hollywood sensation anyway – his new sitcom's a giant hit (shut up). eventually a picture of lovett in the park with a stroller ends up online and that's how jon and tommy and dan find out lovett's a dad. "good for him!" they say, but it's embarrassing when obama asks them for details and they don't have any. it hurts, that lovett didn't even tell them he was expecting.

they read lovett's interviews. every time he's asked about his daughter's father, lovett says that the father was an astronaut who never returned to earth, or a foreign spy on a dangerous mission, or a scuba diver rarely seen on dry land. every couple of years jon or tommy or dan go to a party in la or ny, the kind of party an award-winning screenwriter might attend, and wonder if they'll run into lovett, but they never do. he's always out of town, or on a shoot, or across the country, or across the world.

"do you ever wonder, like. who the dad was?" jon asks tommy once.

"some asshole, i'm sure," says tommy, looking vaguely into the middle distance.

none of them know. neither does lovett. his daughter is four by the time trump is elected and she's got dan's flair for strategic thinking and tommy's knack for keeping a secret. on the other hand, she has a gap between her teeth and doesn't know how to read. anyway, lovett hasn't spoken to dan or tommy or jon for years, so it's not like it matters.

meanwhile, tommy and jon and dan are podcasting, but it's not really catching fire. sometimes they just feel like—well—hacks. it's as if there's a big hole in their podcast right where a more searching analysis of political culture or a monologue delivered in a bad russian accent should go. they want to feel useful to the new wave of democratic activism, but they're not sure anyone except their moms is listening.

one day in 2017, after a particularly limp recording session, dan sighs deeply, yanks off his headphones, and says "this isn't working." even jon, the optimistic one, can't argue with him. so they brainstorm for ways to get people listening. tommy could give away security secrets. dan, the communications expert, could give relationship advice. jon could take off his shirt. but after they eliminate every other possibility, it's tommy who finally says it. "we need lovett."

it's like a taboo has been broken. they haven't talked about him in years. after all, each of them thinks he's the only one who slept with lovett. each of them thinks he's the only one with a broken heart. all they know is that lovett won't answer their emails or take their calls. while dan and jon process their emotions, tommy's busy googling. "next week he's dropping his daughter off for her first day of kindergarten," he tells them. "he'll be alone and he'll be emotionally compromised. this is our chance."

dan remembers the night lovett spent in his arms. lovett seemed so vulnerable and trusting. then the next day he pretended not to remember dan's name. "it seems kind of creepy and intrusive to just turn up at his house," dan says.

"look," says tommy, his heart beating faster at the thought of seeing lovett again. "do you want to beat trump or not?"

dan and jon look at each other. "we do."

and that's how lovett returns home to find the three of them sitting on his doorstep. what follows is a giddy romp in which a simple invitation to a podcast spirals into psychological breakthroughs, hidden agendas, feather boas, secret love, actual earthquakes, and freaking the fuck out, with crowds of mysteriously appearing and disappearing los angeles peasant folk who manage to be present for the most intimate revelations and plot twists. at the end, the guy gets the guy, and while to be true to the original source material the guy you wanted lovett to pick would have to become heterosexual for no reason and the other guy would have to be revealed as emotionally stunted and afraid to commit, in this version of the story the two guys who don't end up with lovett can have each other, it's fine. maybe you never find out who the dad is and you're like wtf i feel strangely unsatisfied but at least once lovett joins the pod it’s a megahit so whatever.

in the credit sequence trump and his associates are eaten by sharks while the soundtrack plays "defying gravity."

[amm-loover]

SUPER LONG KO/TKO CHARACTER ANALYSIS POST THAT NOBODY ASKED FOR (part 1)

Hey guys so can we talk about KO/TKO for a bit?

So remember when TKO first showed up in the appropriately titled episode TKO.

So  in this episode, TKO is revealed to have always been a part of KO. He was just little blob of negative energy and even then he was in a cage.

Weather KO realizes it or not, he has been forcing his negative emotions deep down inside him for what we can assume is his whole life. 

The fact the when KO was finally pushed to his breaking point by Shadowy Figure to the point where it manifested his negativity into an entirely separate being able to take control of the body speaks volumes to me.

But if we take a closer look at things, That means KO has been angry all this time and hasn’t had a healthy outlet for his frustration, all this time. Meaning, TKO hasn’t had a healthy outlet all this time, not to mention he was trapped in a cage like an animal on top of it all.

When TKO challenges Rad and Enid to a power battle, he states “I told you, it’s T.K.O.. And I’m a whole different animal now.“

Honestly, i think that line says more than what it sounds like. TKO has been trapped in that cage, like an animal, for so long, that he considers himself to be an animal, even when he is free, he still identifies as an animal, just an animal that is no longer caged. 

Now before we talk about all the violent things TKO has done, let’s talk about the non violent things he has done. 

In his debut episode, TKO finally came to be and is told to go show his friends his new power. 

When he gets to the scene Enid and Rad are obviously in deep trouble. 

TKO swoops in and saves the day, absolutely obliterating the huge Darrell. 

Even if it was for the selfish purpose of showing off, I don’t think that’s all it was. 

One of the things that caused TKO to even come out of KO’s mind was Rad, Enid, and Mr.Gar’s words. 

“Power isn’t everything, at least you’re cute”

“Good hustle kid” 

“You’ll catch up to us someday...or not”

Now with as angry as TKO gets later in the episode from simply being called cute by Enid again, why wasn’t he angry enough to attack them right there?

No seriouly. TKO was very mad and was told to go show his friends how powerful he’s always been. Not show them your power by saving them from Darrell. 

Honestly if TKO is really so hostile and careless as he is shown to be later within the same episode, why didn’t he just attack Rad and Enid right there?

After he defeats Darrell and ushers his new name, TKO goes home. With his mom. Yet another person who triggered him to even manifest in the first place. 

In KO/TKO’s words “Mom said hard work will make me strong, but it hasn’t!” 

Meaning he is also mad at her for “wasting his time” Just as he is mad at Shadowy Figure for sort of doing the same thing, saying “You said getting mad at my friends would work, but it hasn’t!” 

Like, KO/TKO was willing to believe in his mother’s advice, after all he went along with it for a while, but he became so impatient with his mother’s way of training that he was willing to get mad at his friends, which he clearly didn’t want to do in the freaking first place.

Now back to Carol, If TKO was ready to beat up his own mother at the plaza in the episode’s nearing climax, what the frick was keeping him so chill? 

Like FOR A FULL DAY!? 

TKO, an actual manifestation of negativity and anger decided against fighting his friends and mother so he could go home with his mom, presumably eat dinner with her, record a video on KO’s video channel (as shown in the episode KO’s Video Channel) go to sleep, and wake up the next morning and then the meanest thing he does then is take her eyeliner without asking. (and then he yelled at her when she was in the background of his video so i guess that’s pretty mean too)

And when Carol asks about it, TKO just calmly says “I don’t feel like talking right now” and casually turns up his metal music. And the Carol turns it down. Now you’d think TKO would get mad at that little action. Like “Ugh! MOM! I want to listen to my music louder!” But no, he just lets her turn it down and continues to look out the window while she drives him to work. 

AND THAT’S ANOTHER THING!!! WHY THE HECK IS TKO EVEN BOTHERING TO GO TO WORK AT ALL?!

Like based on the personality we have been shown so far, why wouldn’t TKO wanna stay at home and be his edgy self, maybe re-record his video diary in privacy or do his nails and make-up and dress in black and listen to his music loud and break a few things. Why is he going to work? 

And why is he like, for real doing the work? Albeit, haphazardly but doing it nonetheless. 

And honestly, it super clear that TKO not only doesn’t want to be bothered but also doesn't really wanna bother others anyway. He ultimately just wants some space. Like any edgy child/teen.

I mean, he’s not even really mean to Enid and Rad. Maybe a little rude, but not really mean. He manages to hold a conversation with Enid, correcting her on his name, answering her question, and yeah he insults her by calling her a “wage slave” but he probably felt insulted since she called his answer to a question she asked “dramatic”. TKO was probably thinking: “You insult my world view, fine, I insult who you are.”

And yeah he ignores Rad, who is obviously trying to impress him, but TKO wasn’t impressed. If you think about it, TKO could have made fun of him or something but he didn’t he chose to ignore.

And like I said, TKO clearly had no intentions of doing anything particularly bad that day. It looks like he just wants to get through the day. That’s probably why he came to work, he just wants an excuse to fight another robot. Might as well occupy himself while he waits i guess.

I mean look at him. He is 100% chill and clearly wants to be left alone.

And then Rad and Enid come in and ruin his whole little mojo.

Now I know Enid and Rad are just trying to be good friends, they think KO is in some sort of Funk™ and they wanna cheer him up. And they do a sort of good job at trying, but during this, TKO is clearly struggling to get out of Rad’s arms. (honestly in my opinion, they should've took that as a hint and really leave him alone)

But that’s yet another thing! TKO, you know how strong you are. You DESTROYED the giant bomb Darrell bot in a single slash! And he was made of metal! Surely you know you are perfectly capable of getting out of Rad’s fleshy grip.

He does know. He is 1000% aware that he can get out of that grip. But he also knows that if he does, it will probably hurt Rad.

Remember, when he was talking about his metaphorical pizza worldview thing? He said “so called friends”

Guys, TKO identifies Rad and Enid as his friends, even if they laugh at him.

KO really doesn’t wanna do anything, the upcoming outburst that he is about to have wasn’t his intention.

Eventually he even stops struggling when Enid begins to shove nachos in his face. Almost as if he’s just gonna let them be annoying. But then Enid had to go and call him....

“Cute stuff...”

Alright, so we all know what happens from this point. Enid’s final “cute” is the final straw for TKO’s temper. He finally breaks free from Rad’s grip (without a single frame of struggle.) and challenges his friends to a power battle.

As the power battle continues, TKO becomes more and more aggressive and almost like he’s a predator after his prey. And notice how Enid is his target. Both times when Rad steps in to help Enid fight, TKO gets rid of him really quickly and begins focusing on Enid again. 

When Enid tells on him to Carol, notice he doesn’t attack right away, he just scoffs/growls like an angsty child/teen.

He doesn’t even really target Carol of anyone, he just starts being destructive on things.

Then Gar show’s up and says “I love your mom”, which manages to catch TKO off guard. 

He is genuinely confused and he almost seemed ready to hear Mr.Gar out on the sudden topic but when Gar goes and changes the subject and starts spouting compliments at him. 

Now while his compliments arent really lies? You can hear in Gar’s voice that he doesn’t fully mean what he is saying and he is clearly only saying to try an calm him down. 

And we all know when people are really angry, that last thing you want to tell them is to calm down.

So then TKO just snaps, he’s had absolutely enough!

There’s a blind rush going through him right now, he’s never had the chance to let out all this pent up rage. It feels great! All his life he’s been caged and now he’s out. Who care’s if someone gets hurt! letting out these years of rage, proving once and for all that I am strong, stronger than everyone! It feels great! 

Who’s next!

“any last words”

Then the episode ends with TKO getting put back in the cage after KO save his mom. Not the best idea..

Now, im not trying to say TKO is justified for trying to punch his his own mother, he obviously never wanted to. I’m just saying he had a lot of pent up rage and frustration and he was just a ticking time bomb of destructive emotion that was waiting to explode, waiting for someone to push that last button. 

AKA: Enid’s “cute stuff” comment and Mr. Gar’s somewhat “empty praise”

This whole thing, in my opinion, was just the result of KO holing in his anger and frustration for all those years. If you do that, you are bound to become a toxic version of yourself sooner or later. And sooner or later that means you will hurt those you hold dear to you. 

This also lets us know a little something about TKO. 

He’s a person. Yes, he is a manifestation of rage, but he has interests outside of that. He enjoys his music and dark make up and he likes making video diaries just as much as the original KO. TKO is a person and deserves to be treated like one, after all he’s been through. Yeesh...

Now let’s move on to TKO’s second major appearance: 

COMING SOON IN  A PART 2 POST (honestly i can’t put all my thoughts in one post)

[unoriginaltoast]

Whump bingo (if you’d like): Garrison trio in ‘we are fine. Narrator: they were not fine’

This sounds so fun and one of my favorite ideas I put on my card! Thanks as always for your wonderful prompts!!

Warnings: Blood, injuries, nothing too intense, but beware if you’re squeamish!

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Excruciatingly simple, as Lance would put it. So simple, he had no idea why he, Pidge, and Hunk had been sent out to do it. Shiro mentioned that he would have tagged along, but he and Allura were on another planet for a diplomatic meeting and Coran was working on updates to the ship. Keith probably would have been asked to come, but he was off somewhere with his mom.

“I really can’t believe all three of us are needed to go on a shopping trip,” Lance said with scorn in his voice as he settled into the pilot’s chair of his lion. “I mean, how hard is this going to be? We’re just going to pick up an order a few lightyears away.”

“It’s not that simple,” Pidge corrected as she had multiple times that day. “We have no way to tell if the Amigalors are in their aggressive season. Remember what Allura told us–for three months of their 18 month year, they are extremely hostile to outsiders. Not to mention, we haven’t been to the parts of the universe we’ll have to travel through to get there. Anything could be out there.”

“Besides,” Hunk chimed in, “We might as well use the buddy system if we can!”

“Exactly,” Pidge agreed. “Besides, what else were you going to do today?”

Lance didn’t really have an answer for that. He wouldn’t have minded just going on this mission alone, but he knew voicing that would get him first a lecture from Pidge about not being stupid and then a lecture from Shiro about teamwork when they got back.

And so, they flew off into the universe. The ride was peaceful. They passed planets and stars and other solar systems that looked closer than they actually were. If they hadn’t been in space for so long, they would have been more amazed at what they saw, but this was everyday stuff to them now.

Amiglor, a purple planet with little oxygen and beautiful multicolored canyons appeared before them in no time. The trio guided their lions carefully, trying to navigate the different gravitational pull of the planet. Before long they landed on the dusty surface of the new world.

“Alright,” Hunk said as he exited his lion. The other two weren’t far behind. “Get in, get out. Right? I mean, what are the odds that these guys are in aggressive mode?”

“Statistically speaking–”

“Yeah, we probably won’t run into aggressive Agamila-whatever things,” Lance answered before Pidge could finish. She shot him a pointed glare, but Hunk looked relieved. Pidge realized that a simple yes was much more comforting than some statistical analysis. 

They had parked their lions just outside of town, but the road in was short and well maintained. As they approached, they smelled delicious food from the nearby market and heard cheerful sounds of music flowing through the village.

“How can they be aggressive with food that smells so good?” Hunk asked, tilting his head back so he could get a better whiff of the scents that floated over them. “We’re going to be just fine!”

“Yeah!” Lance agreed. “Maybe we can pick up lunch too?” His mouth was beginning to water from the scents. 

Pidge also heard her stomach rumble but wanted to keep everyone focused on the mission. “Let’s get to the consulate first and then we can grab lunch.” The other two agreed and they made their way into the town. 

It was at the gates that they were stopped. One particularly husky looking Amigalor stared down at the Paladins with a relatively blank expression on his scaley face. “Who goes there?” he asked.

“We’re Paladins of Voltron,” Lance told him with a confident smile. “We’re picking up some Quintessence that your leader is gifting to us.”

“And where are you from?”

“Uh. Earth?” Lance replied though it came out as more of a question. One thing he had noticed in his few years roaming the galaxy was that people didn’t generally ask where you were from. It was just assumed if you didn’t look like them, you were from somewhere far away.

Suddenly, the Amigalor looked very agitated and his buggy eyes narrowed down. He puffed out his chest and bared his teeth at the Paladins. Green spikes popped from his shirt and covered the backside of his body from neck to bottom. The Paladins jumped away with cries of surprise, but the Amigalor didn’t heed their retreat. He started to swipe at them until all three were forced to turn and bolt back the way they had come.

“I think they’re aggressive!” Hunk shouted over his shoulder. Pidge and Lance were close behind him.

“Ya think?!” Lance replied. 

Pidge was pulling up information from the mini screen in her left arm. “We have a straight shot back to our lions,” she reported in puffy breaths. “But we’re not gonna be faster than this Amigalor!”

Lance swore under his breath and Hunk started to say something, but before any more words could escape any of the Paladin’s lips, the Amigalor rose up and swung a clawed paw at them. He managed to catch all three of them in his swipe and all three went careening through the air. 

The road into town was along a cavernous canyon and the three of them were flung over the edge of the cliffside and sent tumbling down along with the rocks that loosened in their wake. The noise surrounding them was deafening, and then, suddenly, all was silent.

***

Pidge was the first to wake, having been knocked unconscious for little more than a minute. She gazed up at the bright purple haze that was the planet’s atmosphere and blinked to rid her vision of blurriness. As she tried to sit up, she realized she was pinned under some rocks, but they were easily moved, albit with a little struggle and pain. 

“Lance?” Pidge called. “Hunk?” She looked around her, careful not to make any sudden movements that might aggravate injuries or move the rocks too much.

“Ugh. ‘m here,” Lance replied to her right.

“Are we alive?” Hunk asked to her left.

“I think you answered your own question,” Pidge replied with a relieved smile. “Are you guys alright?”

There was a pause and then she saw Lance sit up. Hunk followed immediately after so that all three of them were sitting up with their backs to the canyon wall.

“Yeah,” Lance said, glancing around. “Yeah, we’re fine. Wow. We’re fine.”

“We’re fine?” Hunk seemed to question before adding. “Fine. Yeah, totally fine! Nothing but fineness here.”

But, it didn’t take long for Pidge to realize that they weren’t fine. In fact, they were so far from fine, she assumed it was just the adrenaline that kept the three of them sitting upright at the moment. 

Lance’s suit was ripped and he was bleeding quite heavily from both arms. His foot was bent the wrong way and he was breathing heavily. Hunk was no less worse off. His arm was bent weird and he was bleeding from his neck. Pidge was bleeding from the head, something she only realized when the ruby drops once again started to cloud her vision. She went to wipe away what she thought was sweat but came back to a gloved hand covered in red.

“Hey, guys?” Lance ventured in a weak voice. “I don’t think we’re fine.”

Pidge nodded lamely and tried to move, but felt intense pain in her leg. “I’m stuck,” she said, her voice sounding distant. It wasn’t until Lance snapped at her to open her eyes that she realized she had closed them.

“I think you have a concussion,” Hunk said as he peered over her.

“I think we all have concussions,” Lance replied, noting Hunk’s unfocused eyes and his own struggle to push himself into a standing position. “Hey, is anyone’s comms on?”

Hunk checked his and shook his head. Pidge tried to pull her communication devices up but found the buttons and options confusing so Hunk checked for her.

“Pidge’s is working. Hey, Pidge. Call Shiro.” Hunk was able to guide her to the right option and before long she had patched a static-filled line over to their team leader.

“Hey, Pidge,” Shiro’s friendly face filled her screen before worry took over his expression. “You’re bleeding, what happened?”

“Amigalor,” Pidge replied, finding the words thick on her tongue. “Aggressive.” 

“Hang on, we’re coming.” Shiro’s video feed suddenly poofed away and Pidge was left blinking into the canyon below. She put a hand on her head and tried to sit up more, but Lance pushed her down.

“Hey, Shiro is on his way,” Lance told her. “Just relax.”

“How will he know where to find us?” Pidge asked in a more combative tone than she intended. Lance looked helplessly over to Hunk who just shrugged.

“I guess if he needs directions, he can call when he gets here?” The Yellow Paladin suggestion. That seemed to satisfy both Lance and Pidge. “Hey, let me see your leg, man.”

Lance glanced down at his injury and shifted. This caused a searing pain to shoot straight through him and he sucked in air through gritted teeth.

“I think it’s dislocated,” Hunk said as he examined the area. “Or broken. Maybe sprained.” Lance shot him an intense look. “What? I’m not a doctor. It doesn’t look good, though, dude.”

“Your arm looks like shit,” Lance commented as his eyes drifted to Hunk’s obviously dislocated arm. 

Hunk did a strange sort-of shrug with one shoulder and looked over at Pidge who was slowly losing consciousness. “Pidge!” He shouted, the booming of his voice jostling her awake. She shot an irritated look in his direction, though the weight of the glare was lifted due to her not being able to make direct contact with his eyes. “Sorry, man, we gotta keep you awake.”

“Don’t wanna,” she muttered, blearily wiping at her eyes. 

“Well you have to, big brain,” Lance shot back.

“Creative,” Pidge replied, sarcasm dripping from every consonant. At least she could still be sarcastic, Hunk thought. 

They struggled for the next long while to keep everyone awake and keep their minds off the pain they were in. Eventually, they heard the distinct sound of a Lion in the distance and soon found themselves face to… snout with Black.

“Guys,” Shiro came jogging out after he carefully maneuvered the Lion into the canyon. “Are you okay? Who’s hurt?”

“All of us,” Lance said, gesturing to his food, Hunk’s arm, and Pidge’s entire self. Pidge was a few blinks away from slipping off to sleep entirely, so Shiro quickly scooped her up and had Allura and Coran help the other two into the Lion.

***

The next time Pidge awoke, she was lying in her own bed in the castle. Her head pounded, but she felt like she had all of her wits about her. Slowly, she pried her eyes open and found herself looking straight back at Shiro who was perched on a chair going over some notes. When he heard he shift, he looked up and offered a friendly smile when her eyes met his.

“Hey, glad you’re up,” he greeted, setting the papers down on his lap.

“No healing pod?” Pidge questioned as she sat herself up against her pillows.

“No good against a concussion. Have to ride those out. Lance and Hunk are alright, though. Good as new.” He gestured behind him and Pidge peered around his chair to find Lance sitting at her desk and Hunk standing against the wall next to him. They both offered her a wave and she returned the gesture, noting their lack of injuries.

“We didn’t get the Quintessence,” Pidge reported as she dropped her eyes.

“I’d much rather have the three of you then some Quintessence we can collect another time,” Shiro replied in a serious tone. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah,” Pidge agreed. “We’re fine.” She shot a big smile to her friends and added, “Now. Now we’re fine.”

More prompts can be found here! Still taking any and all whump requests!