#ITS JUST THE SHITTY PEOPLE I GOTTA DEAL WITH THAT HAVE MADE MY LIFE HELL

[weebsinstash]

People keep asking me if I have any 'yandere Alastor vs. yandere Lucifer fighting over Reader' ideas, and I gotta say one of my favorite ones is uh

Ok so I just am trying to kick myself in the ass to write this in of itself, but, I really like the idea of Alastor just straight up tricking you into giving him your soul. "Oh what if Reader takes a deal from him" no what if he makes a deal for your soul and you don't even fucking realize what you're doing and it's completely unintentional. I'm talking, my specific idea, is that after a prolonged series of events where you both gain and then lose Alastor's respect, he then approaches you when you're just like DRUNK DRUNK and, you're being all social and slurring and honestly he's embarrassed for you but at least you're talking to him, and, he sets his trap: making it seem like just an innocent little game, Alastor suggests you two have some kind of drinking game, and the winner can take ANY ONE THING from the other, and he's even all "oh, you don't even have to bother yourself with thinking about it! I could simply JUST TAKE IT and not even inform you, so then you wouldn't even have to worry yourself about whatever it is I decided to... acquire for myself :)"

And here's your drunken delusionally confident ass, thinking YOU'RE gonna pull one over on HIM, YOU trick ALASTOR "oh haha there's definitely nothing I have he wants lol, what would he do, take my cellphone or some of my shitty clothes or collectibles, lmao, I'm gonna win and I'm gonna ask him for some sort of special power or cool thing or gossip, this is low stakes high reward for sure"

Cue you like IMMEDIATELY losing his challenge, and even then, you're all smiles and laughs, "aww, I thought I had you there! So what are you taking?" And he just "Ohhhh, nothing :) actually I... even already took it from you!" And he starts LAUGHING laughing and you're just like "oh, you bastard, you got me! >u< more drinks, yay!"

I like the idea that Reader wakes up the next morning STILL in compete ignorance but uh, eventually you find out exactly how terrifying having someone else own your soul is when Alastor gives you some sort of command of something you REALLY do not want to do and you can't even control your own body to stop yourself from doing it anyways. Just the... violations of privacy, the loss of autonomy. He can force every thought and secret out of your mouth, your head, and move your body to the best of its abilities, and also just, PLUCK you to his location at will

So. Lucifer finds you just absolutely BROKEN in bed, like emotionally devastated, you are as close to suicidal as you can be for someone who cannot die, and, maybe you've even self-harmed. And after some gentle prodding from the Devil, you reveal what Alastor did, but, even more than that, how it made you FEEL. Alastor had approached you as some kind of friend, then started to want to exert some kind of ... control over you, commenting on your lifestyle choices, wanting you to do things with him in HIS way, and then when you resisted, he acted like you were a disappointment, even stopped spending time with you, and THEN, after you thought he was done with you, TRICKS YOU into giving him YOUR SOUL. It's just completely destroyed your psyche. It's reinforced horrible things you've thought about yourself your entire life. It made you feel alone, and now, you don't even have your soul anymore

So naturally Lucifer is like, "That's horrible! I'm so sorry he hurt you like that, I won't let him do this!" AND JUST FUCKING UNDOES IT. Contract WHAT? Radio Demon WHO? this is HELL and Lucifer is, you know, THE DEVIL FROM UH, THE BIBLE, and he's just snapping his fingers and you FEEL your soul come back to you and now you're breaking down crying for entirely different reasons while Lucifer holds you

MEANWHILE ALASTOR, who is fucking off elsewhere, may or may not be lovingly gazing at whatever form your soul is taking within his grasp, HAS IT RIPPED AWAY FROM HIM AND STARTS LOSING HIS MIND. Some "Wait, what just happened? Ffffuck." shit for real, he's, abruptly jerking out of his chair so hard it's sliding across the floor and he's racing back to the Hotel. Charlie stands up for him and shouts down her father that he has no right to ask the Radio Demon to leave, but, Charlie "attempts" to give Alastor "a stern talking to" about how "friends don't take other friend's souls, taking other people's souls is not how we get into Heaven" which, of course, falls on deaf ears, but Charlie isn't the Morningstar Alastor is wanting to concern himself with

And of course, there's Lucifer, making sure he's standing close to you, maybe even between you and Alastor, standing in front of you protectively, MAYBE EVEN HOLDING YOUR HAND TO COMFORT YOU. Alastor just immediately putting two and two together what happened and all but grinding his teeth into dust. Not only has Lucifer interfered and taken something IRREPLACEABLE from him(which was something he took from YOU lol), but, Lucifer has driven a wedge between you ans the Radio Demon. Alastor is watching you regard him with nothing but anger and sadness and fear while clinging to the tiny fallen angel and just, ohhhh, if looks could kill, the staredown these two are having with each other over you...

You've got one yandere who had your soul within his hands and had it taken back before he even got to enjoy having it, didn't get to DO anything with it, and another yandere who, quite understandably, feels that it isn't safe to let you leave from under his protective wing, and BOTH of them are convinced you have to be protected from the other while ALSO being super powerful

You know, the perfect combination of dangerous abilities and dangerous minds :) obviously our favorite Appletini is the more powerful one, but I think our Bambi could give him a good run for his money through sheer trickery alone. If you thought it was annoying getting pulled into antagonistic musicals BEFORE--

[astharoshebarvon]

Ranma 1/2- the fact that it made me laugh and be like, uh what, at some scenes again tells me they did this anime right. If i can just ignore those few not so good things, it's still hilarious and interesting and i loved it. Not to mention my old ship of ranma/ryoga came back again. the new anime made me love them even more, and it’s only going to get better as the seasons progress.

Also happy marriage, you gotta love all the so called concerned people who say, “you hate women in gay erotica, slash fics, MM novels”  but when you say this garbage has been present in straight media for so long, in almost all stories, you get complete silence.

why is kiyoka's mom a bitch? and sorry if we dont find her sympathetic or if she changes. Or the girl's family who treated her like garbage and she was still kind to them. uh, dear, what? they literally abused you, why'd you give a damn about them?

And why the hell is wikia lying about this mom? From what angle is she good looking, she isn’t, her daughter is alright, she is not even shown average looking, she is quite bad looking. also, she is not like Kiyoka, please. he looks exactly like his father.

i am not sorry to say this, but it's kiyoka the ml who is so good looking and nice and the fl is such a perfect self insert for het shippers that the story is liked. there is no reason otherwise to think it's a masterpiece, it isnt. just like that annoying, obnoxious pink haired female, i forgot her name and i don't want to remember it of that josei isekai  anime whose husband, arnold, is the main reason it's liked.

that novel's illustrator should be praised and applauded for her beautiful art because the girl is just so insufferable and intolerable. She is exactly like most josei/straight het smut heroines are. you know it's the male lead who draws the viewers and readers, lets not pretend they can ever be like actual good female characters like violet, yona, sakura and Misaki from famous shoujo maid sama .

and lets not forget that none of these so called fem characters fans have anything to say when you say, why dont you like mrs bennet, caroline bingley? they are females, why do you hate them?  you get no answer.

according to these weirdos logic, a celebrated woman author hated women. please get over yourself, in real life too, women are shitty, girls bully other girls, try to come between a couple, sometimes  break marriages, same goes for men. so, yes people will side eye you and ignore you if you rant all fem characters should be praised, because from what i've seen it's this scenario. all straight stories females should be praised even if they are atrocious and if other fem characters in same story are shown as bitch, shrugs.

but we have problem with gay erotica and its popularity, oh god why is slash so popular, why are bl mangas so popular, why is yaoi so popular, oh god, they hate women, oh god why is my het ship not even in any consideration and hated and seen as absurd and laughed at, oh wait, they hate women.

i can tell you, same sentiment is present in ff ships, men are hated, its not such a big deal if females are disliked and side lined in gay erotica and straight stories. Why are you even reading slash and gay erotica if you want a woman, there is plethora of straight stories, go be tired in them. the excuses spoken by het shippers are as bad and tiresome as their ships. no wonder they are forgotten and most are laughed at.

Not gonna lie, it gives me vindictive satisfaction seeing next to no fm ships in top ao3 and tumblr ships, it’s very pleasing to see het ignored and disliked. That’s what you get for laughing at slash fans and readers and being so so bloody homophobic. That’s karma for you. I will never forget those atrocious tags, female will graham and female merlin, just stop. Please stop. Have some decency. Female harry is as irrelevant as the ofc x character stories. Stay mad that you can only feel better by turning a gay, MM ship het and being homophobic to boot. the male lead wont do you no matter what.

and what is up with some people hating on mufasa, they already made it stupid by saying that they are not blood brothers and the whole dumb being after sarabi thing. but the movie was good as an AU of original.

kiros' song is also absolutely fine, mad mikkelsen sung it very well, i doubt any villain song can be as good as be prepared of lion king original movie sung by jeremy irons who voiced scar, everything about it is perfect.

2019 one was just so weird- my mother and i when to see it in hall, we were like but it was so good in anime movie, what is this? neither did my father and sister found it good when we all watched it at home.

but bye bye fits kiros perfectly, it's condescending, eerie and mocking. I like the song. the movie was good too, if anything it showed scar was evil in every universe, whether in original or in live action. how can you just leave your mother to die? what the hell?

i saw comments saying simba was mean, we hated him simba's pride. what?

my god. yes, kovu wasnt bad, he overcome years of brainwashing and grooming of zira, you do feel sorry for him in that song "not" one of us but simba wasnt wrong to doubt him. he was and will remain one of the most beloved and best characters ever. sorry, if you dont like good parents. he was protecting his daughter and he was right to do that.

[soulvee-animationz]

RAWR X3 IM SO UNSTABLE AND MENTAL IM GONNA KILL YOU!!!! XDDDD IM GONNA KILL MYSELF YEAH JUST LIKE REBYXX!!! /LYR!!!!!! LOL TREAT ME LIKE IM THAT INSANE CONTINUE TO TREAT ME LIKE IM DANGEROUS GET AWAY FROM ME DONT TOUCH ME IM A FUCKING BERSERKER THREAT TO YOU ALL IM FUCKING TERRIBLE

[kavaeroexe]

Well i just thinking about a crossover honkai and star war , reader is like valkyrja , and died because trying bring back Kiana , fyi reader trying bring back with Himeko yeah u know both died but success bring back Kiana and reader its look like Cecilia Schariac , because reader its the twin with Durandal

Reader died but they/she transmigration to Star war universe , she maybe become a senator ... Well its up to you make this a Yandere stories or not

Sorry for my bad grammar , i hope u can understand what i said

And luv you writing , i enjoy with teh fic/hc hc u made

-xoxo

Oh my good IDEAAA, i actually have a few version of reader reborn to star wars universe, but i want reader to have the version of Jedi or a Senator, so i made both version of them, lets go!!

warning : typos, bad grammar  

attention! please do not try to repost my works, i only post my works on tumblr, if anyone see someone stole my works please inform me through the comments, tag me in the works, or message me!    

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reader as a Jedi

oh no wonder

i mean you got the basic skill to fight at the first place

as a Valkyrie, kicking droid’s ass, dealing with a Sith(shitty) is an easy part

but to become the jedi itself, you have to learn many things you gotta say, patience, calm, generous, you take quite a long time to masters those, but people in the council takes it easy with you fighting skills because they could see you already masters those, they focus you more on learning the force

oh god, nobody doubts you if you have to vanish the droids or even.. people-

Obi-wan in the council if he has a mission that he have to be dealing with many droids : “yeah i’ll take Y/N with me, we need a killing machine for those droids”

Anakin loves to randomly spar, like..

“Y/N take this!” *swing his lightsaber to Y/N’s head

“ KARKING HELL SKYWALKER” *proceeds to break Anakin’s lightsaber

master Windu whenever Y/N is beside him : “One mistake than this young Y/N falls into the wrong hand.”

master Yoda seems to be enjoying his life whenever you be with him after you done with your mission, cause everybody knows that you’ll be recharging after mission and you grows silent, generous and calm 

Padme loves whenever you visit her cause you love to teach her tips on self-defense

“hit them in the chin, the harder you do, the more their legs go numb”

Ahsoka likes you, you seem reliable, trustable, and...better than her master, you can think in a difficult situation and knows how to beat the shit out of people without lightsaber, idk, when you’re with her, all she sees is like every problem that she has seems easy for you to take care of, so she rely on you a lot

“Master Y/N! master Anakin told me to eat vegetable!!”

“you have to eat vegetable under my roof, Ahsoka!”

“listen Skywalker, she’s carnivore.”

if you reveal the secret that you once a Valkyrie or a warrior on your world, everyone seem to be understanding why you grow as a killing machine

“so warrior in the past, you are” -Yoda

“so you kick ass for droids.. human.. ship!?” -Ahsoka

“damn, must be sucks for that ‘Herrscher’“- Anakin

“damn, must be lucky for that ‘Herrscher’ to be kicked by you” -Padme

“i see now why death never scares you..” -Obi Wan

“well at least force is better use than Honkai right?” - Master Windu

“so how did you die?” -Anakin

“burned.”

Anakin after Obi-wan leaving him in burned state : “oh so this is what it feels like..i smell like grilled chicken, that’s why Y/N said it smells like grilled chicken”

“so like...do you eat the Honkai beast to get the energy.. or..is it tasty? did you cook it?” -Ahsoka

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reader as senator

interesting..!

you probably don’t want to go through training and kicking people’s ass, so you decide to play with politics

you probably once in a state where “damn Palpatine wants to be an asshole like Otto i see”

you play pretty much a good role for being a senator

many people admires you

Obi-wan doesn’t want to admit but he likes it whenever he got the sneaky lil time when you both could discuss about each other’s problems like politics and Jedi duty

Anakin finds that you often spend time with Padme, mostly about your works, but its not rare to see you guys having a normal chat and talking about personal diaries.

you only heard Ahsoka through Anakin’s story so when you got the chance to meet her, you talk a lot to her

honestly you both be friend well with many people, except Palpatine

since he reminds you like Otto, maybe this one’s old man doesn’t do it for love but he’s just as annoying as Otto apocalypse

actually when you’re in honkai universe, you maybe don’t watch a lot of star wars but you know that Darth Vader and Anakin is the same person, but how hard you try, in the end you couldn’t change Anakin’s destiny

and so does with Padme’s fate as well.

since you have normalized yourself to work 24/7 you never be see to be tied or exhausted, and you don’t mind keep joining meeting, taking care most of documents, and go to any formal party that you should go to

actually most of the people that knows you grows a little worried about your work, habit, and behavior, its just.. when was the last time you sleep? because they never seen you asleep at any time

actually surprise to see you could actually beat the kriff out of people whenever you need to get everything in line, but you insist everytime you being asked that fo you want to be trained as jedi, the reason is you dont want to move your body to killing things, and that is because you’re lazy lmao

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[buckysgoldenheart]

Watching You

Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: Walter did not like to waste time on stupid things, and being asked by some young troublemaker to start following an ex-girlfriend around fell under that category. At least, it did, until he found out just who the ex-girlfriend was.

Words:  2334

Warnings: Cursing. Slight smut. Not Edited or anything of the sort, so expect little!

Note: This is just something I had saved that I thought I’d post while I finish up the Vampire Henry Series (Unexpectedly Bitten). I plan to post the rest of that fic all at once, most likely this weekend. As always, comments are appreciated :)

What a no-good loser. That’s what Walter thought the second Jimmy Masters walked through the front door of his office on a Saturday evening. He was a good six inches shorter than Walter, much scrawnier, ten years younger at least, and in desperate need of a haircut. He was the kind of kid Walter hated, the kind of kid that had probably seen the inside of a jailcell for a night or two for some stupid, petty crime, yet refused to learn his lesson.

Walter’s eyebrow arched in disinterest and he sat back in his chair, arms crossed as a coworker led the kid inside.

“We think this falls in your area, Marshall.”

Walter had only nodded and told the boy to sit to explain his reason for interrupting the first moment of peace in the day.

“I got a friend who says detectives know how to follow people real well,” Jimmy said, his voice an aggravating tone that Walter already couldn’t stand.

Walter cleared his throat. “Your friend is rather astute.”

“What?”

The detective blew out a breath, exhausted after speaking with the kid for less than a minute. “Just tell me what you want.” And when Jimmy was done with his pitch, Walter said with a sigh, “You want me to follow a girl that clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you?”

“No, man. She loves me. She does. She’s just confused right now, and I gotta make sure there’s no other guy, ya know? I don’t want her messing around. It’s disrespectful.”

Walter heaved out another long sigh, rubbing at his temples. “But she’s your ex-girlfriend.”

Jimmy shook his head, his shaggy, dusty-blond hair swaying vigorously with the motion. “That’s temporary.”

Snorting, Walter sat up in his chair. “Sure it is. Look, you think maybe she just isn’t interested anymore?”

“Hey, I’m not here for additional commentary. Can you help me or not?”

“From what you’ve said, she’s not breaking any laws, she’s not a danger to herself or others, so I have no reason to—”

“Please, man. Please,” Jimmy said, putting his palms together in lame prayer. Walter was sure this boy hadn’t prayed to anything in his entire life. “I’ll never step foot in here again if you help me out just this once.”

Walter eyed the kid, trying to weight the pros and cons of wasting his time on something so inane, but if it got the little, blond twit to go away, then he figured there were worse things. It had been a slow week as it was. He groaned and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. “Fine. What’s her name?”

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“Walter,” You said, trying to hold back any emotion in your voice as you moved aside to let him pass the threshold into your small apartment. As habit had it, you were much happier to see him than you wished. Walter always had a way of lighting your every nerve on fire from just your bodies being in the same room. You couldn’t help wanting him, missing him, but you hid it well.

As he walked in, his body trailed the outside chill behind, sending a shiver down your spine. Then he pulled the beanie you’d bought him off his head and turned to face you. Though the irritated look on his face was not an uncommon one, you didn’t appreciate it directed at you.

You crossed your arms. “Well?” Walter hung around quite often until you had asked him to quit it, and though he didn’t usually listen to you--putting his own concerns above your wishes--you knew he held a respect for you that made him at least try to keep his distance. If he was stopping by now…well, it could only bring you trouble, but not seeing his face in so long had you more lenient.

“Why is some punk walking into my precinct and asking me to follow you?”

Your eyebrows rose. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. How many punks could you possibly have hanging around?”

Being a decade older, Walter often made you laugh at his distaste for younger adults. You were the one exception, he’d always said, but all others were ‘punks.’ He feared the day Faye had to deal with boys your age, if she were ever so unlucky. “You met Jimmy?”

His fists kept clenching and unclenching, his shoulders somehow broadened, and the frown on his face made his eyebrows pinch and dip deep. “This idiot is really attached to you, Y/N.”

The more he spoke, the more you realized that ‘irritated’ may have been too sweet a word for what Walter really was. “He just doesn’t like his ego being bruised.”

Walter shrugged off his winter coat and tossed it on the couch as if it was still normal for him to do so, then ran a hand through the dark, messy curls you always loved. “Why the hell are you messing around with a--?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not messing around with him anymore.”

“Well, he seems to think it’s temporary.”

“It’s not.”

Crossing his arms, Walter shook his head like a disappointed parent would at their bratty, misbehaving child; the way you’d seen him look at Faye every time he found out she was spending too much time on social media. “Stay away from this guy, alright?”

“You would tell me to stay away from any guy,” You mumbled to yourself with a snort.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

“Do not give me attitude,” He snapped back. “You’re not being safe! If you were, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation!"

Instantly, your shoulders stooped and the same old headache began to form. “Not this again, Walt. According to you I’m never safe unless I’m in your line of sight.”

“Yes!” He yelled, stomping your way, stopping just short of ramming his body through yours. “Now if only you could stay in it!”

“You can’t have eyes on me all day every day.”

“The hell I can’t!”

“You promised, Walter.” You let out a small whine. “I told you it was too hard for me to keep seeing you around wherever I went, and you promised you would stop watching me.” You wished it didn’t have to be that way. You wished seeing his face didn’t bring on such a potent punch of pain, but it did. Every single day when you left your apartment, you saw him standing by his car, a coffee cup in hand, unashamedly watching you like some creep. Eventually, you stopped looking in the direction you knew he would be, hoping you may forget he was there at all, but you always felt his eyes on you; such a strong stare, he might as well have been touching you. But you couldn’t take it. Months of your every move being tracked by the man you loved but couldn’t have was taking its toll, and so you begged him to leave you alone, to give you some relief.

“I did stop, and what happened? Barely a month after I made that stupid promise, some dumb, obsessed kid comes asking me to stalk you.”

You leaned back against the wall, growing more exhausted by the minute. “Well, with all the past practice you’ve had watching my every move, I’d say he was rather smart to pick you of all people. Shitty coincidence that he would though, since now I’m getting lectured.”

“I am not lecturing you.”

“Fine, but whatever this is you’re doing here, you’re out of line. My business is not your business anymore. It hasn’t been your business for the last five months.”

“Your little boyfriend came to me,” He said, pointing a finger at his chest, “so yes, it is my bus--”

“It is not!” You bit back. “You could’ve turned him away. You could’ve told him not to follow me around unless he was itching to get a restraining order, but you didn’t, did you? You took this opportunity to check up on me. Again!”

He stepped back, looking as if you had slapped him. His aggressive, guarded barrier of emotions cracked, and you could see the vulnerability he hadn’t shown since your relationship ended.

“Walter” You sighed, “You’re the one who stepped back. You’re the one who said it would be best if we weren’t in a relationship. You said I was a distraction and—”

“I said you’d be at risk, not that you’re a distraction.”

“It doesn’t make a difference.”

“Damn it, Y/N, it does! I only did it because I love you!” He said without hesitation, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know that!”

You blinked. “No, I did not know that! You seriously broke up with me because you love me? That’s ridiculous.”

“I broke up with you to keep you safe, but I clearly suffered for nothing seeing as you put yourself in unsafe situations even without my association.”

You wanted to believe him, so bad, but people don’t leave behind the ones they love. After all, you loved him and the thought of leaving him made you nauseous, even now. When you were together, he may have appeared in love, but after a year he still hadn’t told you and you knew you’d let yourself get a little too hopeful. If you were honest with yourself, him breaking up with you was not as much of a shock as it should’ve been. But as you looked at him now, you could see that he truly believed you already knew.

“It doesn’t make sense that you would do that,” You said. “People don’t just break up with someone they love.”

“Fuck, Y/N, did I ever seem unhappy with you? Did I ever come across like I didn’t want you every second of every day? My every other thought was of you,” He said loudly, like a rant, and you were having a hard time figuring out who he was mad at. “So don’t try to tell me how I felt, and feel now. I still love you and that’s not going to change, but I can’t have criminals, murderers even, coming after you because they are pissed at me for hunting them down or having a case against them. It would take nothing for the average officer or detective to figure out that you and I were together even if we were hiding it. How hard do you think it would be for some psychopath?”

You hadn’t realized a tear slipped down your cheek until you tasted it at the corner of your lips. It was salty but somehow bitter and left a thick burning path along your skin. You quickly wiped it away. “Why didn’t you tell me this months ago?”

“Because, stubborn as you are, you wouldn’t have listened. You would have told me it didn’t matter.” He fell backwards onto the couch, closing his eyes and letting out a groan. “I try to do the right thing. I try to protect you, thinking everything will be fine as long as no one can link you to me, but I can’t…stay away.” His eyes met yours. “And then you beg me to, and it’s excruciating to obey. When I was able to watch over you, it reminded me that I did the right thing. You were safe and I could constantly be reassured of that.”

You walked over to him, your heart thumping with every step, then sat on your knees in front of him, placing your hand atop his own resting on his thigh. His other hand reached for your face and his fingers softly grazed your cheek before they tucked some hair behind your ear. “Walt—”

“That kid…Jimmy,” Walter interrupted as he began tracing the back of your hand with his thumb. “He thinks you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not.”

“You swear?”

“Of course, Walt. I told you--”

“I know,” He said with a single nod of his head. “I know. Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep now.”

You rested your cheek on the inner side of his knee and said, “You could sleep here.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” You bit your lip nervously. You couldn’t even dare to count how many times you’d had sex during the course of your relationship, but now, asking him not to leave made your pulse thrum in your ears.

He leaned forward and looked down at you. “Because I don’t think I can say no to you.”

“Then why would you bother trying,” You whispered without a second thought and slowly inched up on your knees so you could connect your lips with his.

It lasted only a second or two before he broke the kiss, grabbed you by the arm, and yanked you onto his lap. His grip at the back of your neck pulled your mouth to his as your hand slipped between your bodies and quickly started to undo his belt buckle.

“God, baby,” Walter groaned against your lips when you wrapped your fingers around his thick cock and released it from his jeans. He pulled the ratty, old t-shirt of his over your shoulders and softly settled his hands on your hips. “Damn it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…missed these,” He said, placing a kiss on one bare breast, then the other. “I missed you, so much.” He placed his lips to the curve of your neck, then met your eyes. “I miss you every fucking day.”

You kissed his forehead, and his arms tightened around you as you lifted your hips and sank down onto him. “I missed you too, Walter,” You said, but the words melted somewhere within the mix of your moans and his groans.

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Tags: @agniavateira​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @summersong69​ @starlite13​ @mstgsmy​ @purplelove75​ @defffcc​ @the-soot-sprite​ @kissthatlifeaway​ @atomicpaperhairdouniversity​ @aquariuslavenderhoney​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @the-problem-of-leisure​ @meganwinchester1999​

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?Pairing: Joel Miller x OC                                                                                      Note: An update? Could It be? After all this time?...Yes. It is I! I come with a thousand apologies for taking so long to update. I didn't plan for it be so long but with Covid and going back to work during Covid and family stuff, I just haven't had the time but I'm back my lovelies and I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint :)

Chapter Seven 

Tommy woke up late for the first time in weeks; he didn’t often sleep in but given his late night chasing lost cattle through the town after they’d somehow managed to escape the paddocks; he figured he more than deserved it. Maria had woken him when she made to leave and insisted he stay put while she made a start on the morning checks. She kissed him goodbye and they promised to meet later for lunch together.

The morning air was crisp and fresh as he stepped down onto the path, his jacket zipped tight to fight off the dwindling cold. The snow had long since melted and there were clear telltale signs of Spring fast approaching in Jackson.

And while the cold wasn’t as biting as it had been, there was still the odd chill that needed to be shielded from with a layer or two.

It wouldn’t be long before they were preparing for a new harvest to grow throughout the year. The sacks of seeds and planting equipment appearing all over town as families began to prep the soil and start their planting as the wildflowers poked their heads through the ground to bask in the warming sunlight.

Tommy made his way through the streets heading straight for his brother’s house. It was still hard to believe that it had been a whole two months since Joel’s attack.

Two whole months since his sister in law had lost her husband; his niece, her father. And unfortunately for all of them; it didn’t seem like Joel was making any progress to getting his memories back. He tried to help of course but his brother, being the stubborn grump that he was, had only pushed his younger brother away, insisting he was capable of handling the trauma alone.

He hated seeing his brother struggling, especially when it seemed that some details were coming through. It was little things but it was better than nothing. The only problem was, it was things Joel seemed to dismiss without a second thought.

Tommy honestly believed if Joel focused on them, they’d help process bigger things. Though it certainly hadn’t helped matters that the older Miller had stopped going to his weekly check ups to help his mind improve. The head of the infirmary had voiced her concerns to Tommy a few days earlier. His constant dismissal and disregard for their importance to his slow recovery; not just frustrating the Doctor but also Tommy himself.

He just hoped he could talk some sense into his big brother.

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He knocked but no answer greeted him as he stepped inside the house. It was quiet but clean. Each room meticulously organised and tidied to within an itch of its life. He figured this was what Joel must have been filling his days with over the past few weeks. The sound of muffled hammering caught his attention, leading him up the stairs to Joel’s workshop room. The door slightly ajar. Tommy had barely entered the room before Joel acknowledged him.  

“What do you want, Tommy?” Joel grunted without even bothering to turn around. Tommy just shrugged silently, his hands awkwardly stuffing into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Well good morning to you too, just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

“As good as I can be I guess.” He muttered as he continued to work, never taking his eyes off the wood in his hands. It felt nice seeing his brother once again taking an interest in an old hobby that he had enjoyed before his injury. It felt like maybe they were finally heading in the right direction. But Tommy had to hold off, he didn’t want to push anymore than was necessary. He knew Joel well enough to know that if you pushed too far; Joel would only push back twice as hard. “Right, sorry... whatcha making?”   Joel hobbled back a little from the table, giving Tommy a better view of the work in question. The long neck and the four legs beginning to take shape made his heart skip. The older man had always had a talent; that was for certain. The horses he made were always magnificent. The wolves and the deer along with any other animal the people of Jackson had asked for; were always made with utmost care. And it seemed this work of art was no different.

“I think I meant for it to be a giraffe before... everything. Figured I might as well finish it. Hell if I know who it was supposed to be for.”

“Ellie.” Tommy whispered.  

“What?”

Tommy took a second for his brain to catch up with his words as he quickly cleared his throat and tried not to fidget too much. “It’s just...uh.. that it’s her birthday in a couple of months and she always liked giraffes, maybe it was meant for her?” He offered nervously. Joel just hummed casually. With a quick dismissive shake of his head and a sigh; he moved the half carved giraffe onto a nearby shelf along with his other unfinished projects. Turning to face his brother, his arm reaching out to grab his cane to steady his balance.

“Yeah, maybe...maybe Ada asked me to make it for her to give to Ellie as a gift.” He wondered out loud, stopping Tommy in his tracks.

“You talked to her?” He asked almost a little too quickly. Causing Joel to frown slightly in response at his brother’s unexplained eagerness.  

“Who Ada? Briefly, why? Am I supposed to know her or something?”

“You guys were...friends I guess…” Tommy replied weakly. He knew he had to be cautious here, baby steps. They were moving into uncharted territory when it came to Ada and Ellie. Joel had only just started to accept the life they had lived in Boston as smugglers and that was before he had even had the courage to bring up the Fireflies. He needed to steer clear of things deeper than that for now  and ease into the conversation he wanted to have. But his patience was starting to run thin. “Look, the reason I came by is because I was talking to Elizabeth and she said you’ve stopped going to your check ups.”  

“Oh not this again Tommy!” Joel snapped, his brother rolling his eyes in frustration as Joel hobbled away from his work space and further towards the door. But Tommy was quick to stop him, stepping in the threshold and blocking Joel’s exit.

“Look I know I don’t understand what you’re going through but-”

“You’re damn right you don’t!” He yelled. "You have no idea what it’s like Tommy; to lose years of your life in an instant. Forget everything you’ve done and the people you used to care about. I don’t see how bitching about how shitty this is to the damn Doctor is going to help!”

“But you’re starting to remember things Joel! That’s a big fucking deal!”

“How?! All I’m remembering is crap no one cares about! How are horse’s names gonna help me? Or how I take my coffee in the morning? I couldn’t even remember holding my little girl in my arms after she was shot! Oh but thank the lord I could remember what colour shirt I was wearing when it happened!!”

With every word Joel got closer, his nostrils flaring in anger as blood continued to boil. But Tommy never backed down, squaring up to his big brother wasn’t unusual and certainly wasn’t the first time they’d been at odds on how to handle something. Joel’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

“It’s been two months Tommy...two months of this and it ain’t getting better any time soon. This ain’t your problem so just back off!” He hissed between gritted teeth.

“You can’t just push me away Joel, I want to help. I’m trying but you’re just being so damn stubborn.”

“Then leave, I didn’t ask you to babysit me. And I sure as hell don’t need you sticking around outta guilt.” The words stopped Tommy dead.

“What?”

“I might not remember what happened but I know enough from what you told me about Boston...You survived because of me. All those years I took care of us. Just like when we were kids. So what? You feel like you owe me? You gotta take your turn to take care of me now? You can keep it baby brother because I don’t want it. And I didn’t ask for it.” The words spit venom with every ounce of bitterness Joel had in him. And Tommy felt his lip snarl in response. The ungrateful bastard; he thought coldly, after everything he’d done to keep his brother alive on the way back to Jackson after the Fireflies had almost beaten him to death and this was what he had to say in response.

“How do I know the people who did this weren’t after you. I mean they did a pretty good number on you too right? Big brother to the rescue to save your sorry ass; yet again! You think I want to live like this?! Huh?! Trapped in a life of a man I don’t even know. A house full of memories I can’t even goddamn remember!”

That was it, Tommy was done. Joel was frustrated and angry, he knew that. He understood that. Of course he did. But to blame him for this?! How the hell was that fair? His hands shook in pure anger, chest heaving as he held back his punches as much as he could. He stumbled away from the door. His trembling hand reaching up and running through his beard in a poor attempt to calm himself.  

“You know what screw you! Screw you Joel! You wanna give up, you wanna feel sorry for yourself? Fine! I’m done. You give up on your family-”

“Family?! What damn family? There’s no one left Tommy! Sarah is gone!”

“She ain’t the only one you got!” Tommy cut off without thinking. Joel’s face dropping at his brother's outburst. The younger man’s eyes widened in shock as he realised what he’d said. But it was too late to take it back now. And Tommy knew that. They both did. Perhaps now was the time to tell the truth.

“You want to know who your family is Joel? Take a look in your damn attic.”

Tommy uttered the words into the thick silence left between the two men. Before turning on his heel to leave, never giving Joel a chance to answer. Leaving the man to stew in his confession. He just hoped that somehow...Ada could forgive him for this.  

[adhdeancas]

Dean Winchester (and the script leaks last night) possessed me to write this.

Dean happens upon Chuck's latest book: Carry On. Except it ends differently than it really went, and the ending? It's really fucking bad.

tw: suicide mention, transphobia (quickly shut the fuck down) 

Dean doesn’t make a habit of going to bookstores. Not because he hates books, contrary to what Sam might think; he just prefers to buy used books. There’s something comforting about a book that has already been worn and read over and over, that already shows how much the previous owner loved it. Plus, y’know, big corporations are evil and all that. And Dean only allows himself to overlook that when his stomach or his wallet wins over his hatred of the shitty mass-produced products. 

This time it was Jack who won; he’s obsessed with this new fantasy series and the new book just came out, so there’s no way he can hunt it down on Ebay. He makes his way to the fantasy and sci-fi section, eyes roaming over the displays of new releases, and his eye catches on something that turns his blood cold. 

“Supernatural: Carry On, The Final Book of the Winchesters’ Epic Journey” takes up a whole table, the generic and overly serious cover jeering out at him. 

He storms over to the display, anger covering up for the way his body feels light as a feather and like lead all at once, and picks up a book. “Why is Sam always fucking shirtless?” he mutters, the only thought that allows itself from the mess inside his head to his mouth. 

“Book sales.” A voice behind him says. He turns to see a teenager with their arms crossed over their work polo, pierced lip fixed into a customer-unfriendly frown.

“People want to see that?”

They snort, a small grin turning up the corner of their lips. It reminds Dean of Cas. “No. But that’s what advertisers think all ‘women’ want,” They use air quotes. 

He raises an eyebrow and asks. “Women?”

They shrug and uncross their arms, leaning back against the display table behind them. Their nametag says Jadyn. “Supernatural’s biggest block of readers is queer. I’d go out on a limb and say a lot of those the marketers think of as ‘women’ aren’t, or if they are, they aren’t itching to see Sam’s six pack.” Jadyn smirks. 

Dean takes a second to digest that, then grins down at the book, thinking past Sam’s apparently badly-received nudity now. “So how’d they like it?” he asks, waving the book a bit and looking up at Jadyn. Apparently they know a lot about the fans of the books, and for once, he’s proud of the way the story ended. 

Jadyn’s face sets into all hard lines. “Most people fucking hated it.” they say bluntly, then, probably remembering that he’s a customer, correct. “Sorry. I mean, it got some good reviews, mostly from people who like Wincest, but beyond that, it had some problematic plot points.”

Dean winces at the reminder of the ship between him and his brother, then scrunches his whole face together in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” Why would Wincest fans like it? What was problematic about their end?

Jadyn shifts from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna spoil anything for you-”

“I don’t care about spoilers, just give me the short version.” Dean says quickly. A quiet panic is rising in him, and suddenly he has a horrible feeling that he’s not holding the truth in his hands anymore. 

“Uh, okay… Well, the most obvious thing is the bury-your-gays thing, then there’s the fact that it completely contradicted the rest of the lore. And it was ableist, misogynistic, and messed up, like, every character’s arc.” they take a breath, clearly worked up by it. “Even if they changed any of the details too, it was all built on Dean’s death, and that’s just bullshit. Sorry.” they apologize again, apparently mistaking Dean’s stricken expression to be in reaction to their rant and swearing. 

“No, nah, you’re… you’re okay. Uh, thanks.” he waves a hand and wanders away from them, only remembering Jack’s book when he’s almost to the register. He manages to make his way back and find the damn thing, but he’s still in a fog when he gets to the register. 

“Did anyone help you in the store today?”

“Huh?” he looks up and meets the middle-aged cashier’s gaze for the first time. Brent, from the nametag, looks at him impatiently. “Oh, yeah, uh… Jadyn. Jadyn helped me.” Brent scoffs and starts typing with a shake of the head. “Uh, is there a problem?” Dean asks, a little annoyed at this cashier’s unnecessary attitude. He usually doesn’t care if an employee’s rude, because they have to deal with assholes all the time and honestly Dean isn’t much better, but this one gives him a bad feeling. 

“No, no, sorry. It’s just - “Jadyn’s” got this idea that he’s a girl. Makes everybody call him that name now too. Just-” Brent shakes his head. “I mean, you get it. Their generation, everybody wants to be special.”

Dean glares. “No, I don’t get it, Brent.” He says through gritted teeth. “Seems to me like Jadyn probably deals with enough assholes like you that her asking for a little basic decency is the exact opposite of special. Sounds pretty normal, actually.” He can see the fear creep into Brent’s eyes, and he knows the cashier is reacting to the murderous look in his eyes more than his actual words. 

Brent hands Dean his bag of books with a quiet, “Here you go.”

Dean snatches it away. “Oh, Brent?” he checks over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone and then leans across the counter into Brent’s space. “You should find a new job, one where you don’t have to interact with other people. At least until you learn how to stop being a piece of shit.” He starts to ease away but thinks better about it. “And if you think that’s a suggestion, it’s not. My husband likes this book coming out next month that I’ll need to buy, and if I see you here when I come, well… it would be really embarrassing for you to tell all your little friends that you got your ass beat by a ‘special’ guy, huh?” He pats Brent on the cheek condescendingly and leaves with a huff. 

Damn transphobes. 

He only remembers the book once he’s back in Baby, and he takes the time to drive out of town before he pulls over to read it. It’s an old abandoned church, the cross long since fallen from the roof and the doors hanging off their hinges. He sits on the steps just because being in Baby seems claustrophobic for once in his life, and going back to the bunker to look at this is just… not happening.

Dean only skims the beginning to see that it starts the same. The ground erupting with bodies, hell spitting out its most-conveniently placed nasties, Rowena sacrificing herself, Cas leaving. His throat closes up at that, at Chuck’s description of Cas’s heartbroken expression as he climbs the stairs of the bunker. He clears his throat and skips to the end, right past Cas’s death that he doesn’t have the time to think about right now, past them defeating Chuck and then stops. He goes back a few pages, trying to find the disconnect. 

The story’s different.

After Jack takes on God’s power, in the book, he’s totally fine. Not almost vibrating out of his skin or anything, not crying like the three year old he is because he’s scared. Not like it really happened. He just smiles and leaves him and Sam, and they let him go. 

Dean scoffs, skimming over the story as it just gets more ridiculous. 

In the book, he doesn’t even try to save Cas. They barely even mention him. And they never mention Eileen, either. In fact, Dean notes disbelievingly, practically the only characters in the last few chapters are him and Sam. They’re hunting again.

“What, is Chuck trying to keep the series going?” he whispers to himself, anger flaring through him. They let Chuck live, and he decided to write obnoxious fanfiction about them? He’s gonna kill that shameless little fucker. For real, this time. He deserves it.

In the book, Sam and Dean torture some vampire mime, and they enjoy it. Dean cringes; this is really what Chuck thinks of them. Then they tussle with more vamps in a barn and- 

Dean’s brain stops working. He rereads the scene again and again. 

“There’s something in my… something in my back. It feels like it’s right through me.” 

Dean Winchester dies in a dirty barn, on a piece of freaking rebar. 

More than that, Dean realizes on his fourth read-through. This Dean? He tried to drag out his speech, Dean can tell by the way he pauses for fucking drama. He would never do that. He would never talk to Sam for fifteen hellish minutes when he could be trying. Trying to live, so he can actually get his life back on track, get his family back. No, he made that speech stalling. He made that speech so Sam wouldn’t try to save him. 

“You gotta admit, I had one helluva ride.” He was strangely calm.

Chuck made him kill himself.

Dean reads the rest of the book through blurry eyes, reading an ambiguous and nothing-ending, one where he’s somehow happy to be dead and driving around in heaven alone while Sam raises a kid into hunting and cries about Dean decades after he’s died. Eileen isn’t mentioned. Cas is mentioned once, and Bizzarro-Dean doesn’t even think about seeing him, apparently. The whole book ends with a hug between him and Sam, both dead. Both alone. 

Dean rips the ending up. He tears through the stupid paper covering and keeps ripping the pages up until they’re the size of confetti. His lower lip wobbles. He throws the whole thing against the side of the building, and it tumbles through the broken doorway and drops into a pile of dust and dirt. “That isn’t the fucking ending.” he grounds out, knocking his hand against the flimsy handrail. It gives a little under his fist and he kicks at it. “That isn’t the fucking ending!”

He’s having a panic attack. Again. He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re gulping, too big, they’re making him panic more. He scrambles back to Baby and grabs his phone, presses the first number on his favorites list and waits for him to answer on speaker phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam sounds like he’s been laughing. There are voices in the background, and Dean tries to convince himself one of them is Eileen. 

“Hey Sammy.” he chokes out, trying to sound normal. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and then the sounds in the background. “Nah, Rowena’s just over.” he says casually. 

“So those voices in the background were-”

“Rowena and Eileen, yeah. They’re trying to convince me we need to go to Mexico. For the beaches.” A smile in his voice. Dean lets out a sigh of relief.  What’s up, Dean? You need something?” The smile drops, and Sam’s worried. 

Sam’s okay. Sam’s okay. “No, nah. Hey, you heard from Donna lately?” Dean just needs to triple-check.

“Uh, no, not since Sunday dinner… Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah, she just- she hasn’t been answering my texts. Just wanted to make sure.” Dean lies quickly. His breathing is still uneven, but his body is settling into uneven shakes. 

Sam sounds skeptical. “Yeah, well, she did tell us it’s been pretty busy at work lately. Y’know, everybody going out for the first time with COVID, getting stupid. Plus, y’know, nowhere’s drowning in EMTs right now.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean takes a deep breath, a distant memory of Donna talking about that coming back to him.

“Pretty sure you were setting up a D&D session with Charlie while she was talking about that,” Sam laughs. Dean knows he means it as a subtle jab, but there’s too much relief flooding through him to care. Still, a string is pulled taut in him, and Sam can’t fix that completely.

“Gotta go, Sam,” Dean hangs up before Sam can say anything else, and goes to his next contact. It rings for far too long, and Dean’s heartbeat picks back up to thundering.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes out. “Cas, you know I love you, right?” He needs to test all the bounds of this, to make sure, just to make sure. Make sure Chuck isn’t still fucking with him. Because apparently, Chuck won’t let him be queer. Not in his story. Not out loud.

He can hear Cas’s eyebrow raise through the phone, and his chest is overcome with stupid fondness. “I would be a little worried if you didn’t.”

Dean grins widely. “Like, romantically. I’m in love with you. Because you’re the love of my life and I’m bisexual.” He says it all like it’s a checklist, like he expects some cosmic being to slap a hand over his mouth before he gets each next phrase out.

“Yes, Dean. We’ve been married almost two months.” Cas is smiling. It happens everytime he talks about their wedding. Dean adores it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, now it is.” His whole body relaxes, still vibrating with leftover panic, but satisfied. “I got Jack’s book.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so pleased.” Cas pauses. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean eases off the ground and sends a last look at the dilapidated church before climbing into Baby. “Just- read a bad book. I’ll tell you about it later. When I get home.”

[seyaryminamoto]

my school works are piled up this past few weeks (graduating tingz) and i just started reading the deadlock novel it feels like i'm reading a sokkla fic every time Mcashe has a scene because they just give off the vibes skskskskksksks. BTW, what's your top5 fav scenes from the novel? PS: I'm smiling like an idiot while reading the novel ughh i hate myself

I KNOW, RIIIIIGHT?! *-* and don't hate yourself, my anon friend, I spent the whole novel smiling and laughing and losing my goddamn mind because I was having the time of my life xD enjoy this beautiful content as best you can!

I mean, frankly, Reunion already had all the Sokkla vibes I could've wanted/needed to ship these two like FedEx and I always knew I wasn't getting off this ride anytime soon. But gosh, this book... it gave me everything I wanted and MORE! Their dynamics are soooo similar to Sokkla team-up dynamics, two power couples kicking ass and taking names... oh, I just love it so much. I probably will end up reading the book a third time soon x'D

As for my favorite scenes, damn, this is tricky xD

KEYCHAIN! HE MADE HER KEYCHAIN!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! God, it's just amazing how the book explains the "vintage" look for Ashe's hoverbike the way it does, and that they literally built it together *screams!!!*, but then he gives her that keychain for her birthday present, and the implications!! THE IMPLICATIONS!!! He gave her a keychain she's held onto for TWENTY YEARS?!?!?! Ships in the OW fandom have sailed far and wide with less than breadcrumbs: we literally have been granted a boon from the GODS with all this extra context for the little things in Reunion xD

Ashe going to hell and back to save her kidnapped BFF-for-whom-she-totally-doesn't-have-feelings-yeah-yeah-sure-Jan. I love the fact that McCree is, in a way, Ashe's damsel in distress and not the other way around xD Of course, it's what you'd expect from an Ashe-centric story, but it's still an amazing sequence, all around. Gotta highlight how she loves the way he smiles like a madman when they have that shootout at the end, and how he worries so much over Ashe's injury when he took an even worse one than she did (the Sokkla vibes in that particular situation were SO STRONG! I SWEAR!).

"Jesse McCree, are you trying to make me say you're handsome?" "Am I?" ... do I need to say more. That FLIRTING. These two were on fire already and they'd only known each other for like... weeks, at this point? x'D He has no sense of moderation, he's soooo into her and doesn't hide it at all. Ashe is so busy trying to plot all the crime and Jesse's practically like a shojo heroine, "oh I can feel it, this is how my love story begins!", basically xD

Finally I pick a not-McAshe scene... to bring up the one where Ashe picks up the Viper on her last moment in Lead Rose Manor. That moment was just... POWERFUL. The feeling of epicness in that scene just overwhelmed me when I was reading it xD

The ending of the book :'D the fully formed Deadlock Gang ready for business, down to the explanation for the Est. 1976 in the logo... *sobs* the fact that so much about the character design choices in these two characters is a shoutout to the past they share is just... *gross sobbing* oh, I just love it to pieces, I'm not even sorry.

Ashe's bike race to save B.O.B. x'D that whole situation was bonkers but I looooved how fierce she was about protecting her one and only buddy while growing up (AND THAT JESSE BLUSHED WHEN SHE TAUNTED HIM WAS JUST THE CHERRY ON TOP!). I appreciated learning more about the Omnic War and its consequences, how Ashe reflects on having escaped it practically untouched in virtue of her money and societal privilege while her new friends all faced many hardships to survive. But I can't help but also love that, however uneasy others could have been about the Best Omnic Butler, Ashe was so fiercely loyal to B.O.B. that she nearly broke Julian's nose herself over his ridiculousness x'D That's HER big omnic buddy and she's not about to lose him to anyone, not her shitty parents, not a bet in a race, NOTHING! (and it's so cute that B.O.B. is just as loyal to her, too *sobs*)

Ashe grabbing McCree's arm to explain things to him on their first heist and him being all "you gonna leave that there?" and only then does she realize her hand's still on him x'D what a McCree line, and he was absolutely enjoying the attention, he doesn't even pretend otherwise.

Everything poetic McCree says or does... meanwhile Ashe's like "um yeah I don't care about poetry I want money", right until his poet soul totally smashes her square in the heart with the KEYCHAIN!!! But damn, I swear I thought McCree would hold back a lot more, and yet there he was, saying things like Calamity was brilliant and mysterious... you could practically hear B.O.B., Julian and Frankie going "I can see what's happening..." in the background xD

The conversation about what they wanted to do once they were loaded with all the cash they could possibly want. That one was a real number on my heartstrings. It ties up to what I said earlier with Ashe finally being in touch with people who are completely removed from the ridiculous social circles of her parents and her school, people who really lost a lot in the war. But where Julian and Frankie seem to look at the past a lot, I loved that Jesse is basically just thinking about the future. The fact that he says he wants to chill out in a farm and that this is what he wants in life... many, MANY, shippy wheels have turned in my head since I read that <.< maaaany...

WHEN JESSE NEARLY FALLS AND ASHE CATCHES HIM!!! UNDERRRATED AS HECK!!! The fact that he's taunting her about fear of heights, then he nearly plummets to his death because ironies are beautiful xD and Ashe pulls him back to safety only to say that she's not afraid of heights but afraid of ~FALLING~??? I mean, okay, sure, maybe I'm reading too much into that line... or maybe I'm not <.< either way, the truth is I just love how absolutely broad of interpretation that scene and that DIALOGUE are :> ehehehe.

Oh, their first encounter. The fact that it's so cute and fun, and that it's this low in the list tells you how GOOD this book was x'D "You've got an awful lot of grit for a rich girl," first words he spoke to the love of his life xD then how they talked and laughed together about the crazy stories he shared (she was crying of laughter for the first time in her life! precious girl!), and then how she sat in the car thinking about the strange feeling she was left with after meeting him... they seriously had a meetcute in prison, how can a ship get any better? xD

WHEN HE COMES BACK TO HER WHEN THEIR FIRST HEIST GOES WRONG!!! That Ashe expects him to just leave after she falls off their getaway vehicle, but Jesse saves her and goes "pfft that's just not my style", basically... *sobs* without realizing it she ends up picking up that particular philosophy of his, saving her friends no matter the cost...! Honestly, though, the fact that every time something like this happens it hits Ashe like a truck racing downhill with no brakes because she's NEVER been cared about by anyone but B.O.B. and she's completely new to friendships and bonding with people... and in the mean time, Jesse immediately is "ride or die" with her because that's how he rolls... beautiful relationship dynamics between characters who influence each other for the better are just beautiful :')

A silly one here: Jesse enjoying the good life in Lead Rose. That description of him looking like a marshmallow in the CHAISE LOUNGEEEEE!!! (the one he references in their in-game interactions *CRYING SO MANY TEARS*), was just too cute to bear x'D Ashe just jumping back into work mode... while he was just thrilled to be a marshmallow in a towel xD

... So, um, I went overboard because I love this book a little too much for my own good :> what can I say? When things I love are good, I go wild xD There's probably more scenes I loved, but these... thirteen? XD are the ones that came to mind.

I think one of my favorite things now is reexamining Reunion with all this extra context in mind. The first time I watched that cinematic I, of course, fell in love with these two outlaws because how could I not? But while subsequent rewatches revealed a lot of things I didn't pay enough attention to the first time around, the book has done even more than I could imagine possible for a short that was already as shippy as could be xD

Ooookay so, shippy ramblings about Reunion, coming up! (simply because I have to put these down SOMEWHERE XD and your ask was a good idea for that, anon!)

First off, Jesse very much staged the whole rodeo in Reunion. He sent the tip to Ashe, he wanted Echo's crate specifically. He thought they could work together, basically, despite knowing it was entirely possible that those hopes wouldn't pay off. This train, according to the wikia, was a government train, so Jesse is very much telling Ashe to give a finger to the government for all he cares, all he wants is one (1) crate.

Ergo, Jesse, for all his "nice guy bountyhunter" deal, doesn't disapprove of Deadlock's actions. If anything, he counts on them to be exactly what he needs in order to get what he wants. He practically trusts Ashe to pull off the train heist disaster perfectly and only steps up when it's time to collect Echo.

Then the wacky shoot-out happens, it's veeeery charged (the UST is so thick, I swear...), and Jesse wins. He ties up Ashe, floats her off on the payload with the rest of the gang, and he sets Echo free. He's helping her out very nicely and everything, but the context in question is... he received the recall notification thingy XD Winston called him back to Overwatch, and Jesse...

... Jesse doesn't want to go back.

Jesse says "they want me", and the displeased tone of his voice, paired with the look on his face when he says that line, speak for themselves.

That, in my humble opinion, isn't the sequence of expressions you'd expect from someone who intends to return to the group where he thrived, had the time of his life and found his true calling. To me, he actually looks irritated about the recall (the sequence of expressions during that line is much better when you watch the full thing x'D), as though he REALLY doesn't want to return. He's not against Overwatch, I'm not quite saying that, otherwise he wouldn't have set Echo free and told her to go back at all... but this isn't remorse. It's not "Oh, I'm not good enough for Overwatch anymore". Nope... this is "My time with them is over and I don't plan on going back unless I have no choice", as far as I can tell.

If OW2 does bring him back into the fold and he's a perfectly chill and happy guy about it, I'll seriously be surprised. I mean, he could have set Echo free and, once his business is over, returned to Overwatch with her, he could have been in the Paris cinematic if he'd done that...

But he's not there.

Which outright says he didn't do that :> oops.

Basically, I think Jesse's reaction in Retribution (where he's markedly the most morally correct one of the bunch, and he's the former outlaw :'D) tells you his displeasure with Overwatch ran very, very deep. And someone can very easily say he felt the same way about Deadlock and that's why he left them for Overwatch... but that's conjecture. His displeasure with Blackwatch (and, in consequence, Overwatch), however, is FACT. And the previous conjecture falls flat pretty quickly considering he's perfectly fine with Ashe's train heist, even sets it up himself, from what the story suggests, so... how ~appalled~ was he over her choices and actions? Not appalled at all, if you ask me, and after you read Deadlock Rebels, you actually understand why: Jesse trusts Ashe.

From the first moment she enters the same prison block he's in, he's drawn to her. He wants to impress her, he absolutely enjoys her company and making her laugh (just as much as she enjoyed laughing at his wacky stories), and he's plain thrilled that she comes back for him when she does. Ashe manages the gang with inexperience but she's always willing to improve, and you see Jesse sticking with her through thick and thin, supporting her at the best and worst times alike, always putting his faith on her and constantly watching out for her (he protected and shielded her from attacks with his own body sooooo many times *sobs*). Ashe starts out intending to keep most profits for herself, and Jesse doesn't care much at first... but then she starts to share profit equally between their team. She works on her own bike herself, her own ride, and she plans and solves problems as best she can, to a point of even going overboard with planning too much. She's wild, reckless and takes insane risks... and this guy loves every second of it. The matter of morality regarding the actions of a criminal gang is, of course, something to think about... but as far as the book goes, Ashe mainly targets her own family, their specific brand of bullshit, and in the process she ends up helping lots of people and even saving lives that might not have been saved otherwise. I'm not going to put my hand on the fire here and say Deadlock never ever did anything absolutely wrong to people who didn't deserve it... but for a criminal gang? They're honestly the most wholesome one the OW team could have come up with, if you ask me.

So where you see Jesse is very much antagonistic with Reaper/Reyes, where he loses his temper with the guy's choices, he doesn't ever do that with Ashe. Overwatch ARE supposed to be the good guys... so how weird that Jesse McCree, reformed outlaw, ends up so disappointed with these guys when he was actually thrilled with Ashe's managing of their gang, as far as we saw. So much so that, when it came down to it, Jesse McCree, 20 years later, still counts on Ashe to give him a hand (without her full awareness) with a little operation to help out an old friend of his. Also worth pointing out: he doesn't want to fight at all, while Ashe, of course, does. Deadlock for life, is what Jesse said... and he's not Deadlock anymore, hasn't been for who knows how long. Worse yet... his tattooed arm is gone. It's like all his ties to Deadlock have been severed.

And even so, he came to Ashe and hoped she wouldn't want a shootout with him. Even when he knows she might be beyond unforgiving because of the betrayal (he has seen directly how outraged she was about a certain someone betraying her in the book...), Jesse goes back anyway and hopes it won't come to this.

THE IMPLICATIONS, MAN!!!

Carrying on: Echo is surprised that Jesse shows no intentions of going back to Overwatch. She asks him what he's going to do... and what does Jesse say?

He puts his cowboy hat back on (the symbolism in this short, I swear...), and when she asks him what he's going to do, he tells her "I've got some business to attend to."

THE MUSIC PICKS UP.

AND THEN HE CLIMBS ON THE BIKE HE BUILT WITH ASHE.

YOU GET A DELIBERATE CLOSE-UP TO THE KEYCHAIN.

THEN THE CAMERA PANS UP TO FOCUS ON THE PICTURE, TORN AND TAPED BACK TOGETHER, THAT ASHE CARRIES ON THIS BIKE, A BIKE WHICH, LET'S BE REAL, IS BASICALLY A MCASHE BABY CHOPPER/HOVERBIKE HYBRID, AND AS SHE PUTS IT LATER, IS...

HER

BIKE!!!

When Jesse says he has business to attend to, he could pick up any bike he wants (since it'd stand to reason that the other guys Ashe came in with would have bikes of their own). He could escape on horseback for all we know xD so there are lots of options... but no. He takes HERS. Right after saying he has "business to attend to".

Look, I could be wrong. I could be dead wrong. I can absolutely be digging around and going INSANE because nothing I ship EVER gets this much content.

But we literally get a guy saying he has "business" to take care of, and the cinematic focuses exclusively on elements that, even BEFORE Deadlock Rebels, all point towards Ashe?! You could easily say that taking her bike is just the final nail on the coffin, his last trolling idea to mess with his one true love... but that picture is right there. That picture, with them in their youth. The picture, btw, was bigger than just them: B.O.B.'s hand is there. The top of the picture is uneven, suggesting Ashe probably tore it to shreds in a fit of rage... and then specifically put together THEIR PART. And then she taped that to her bike's dashboard. Meaning, she carries the goddamn memory of Jesse with her EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. And she does it WILLINGLY.

Which, in turn, answers why Jesse expects MAYBE Ashe wouldn't go full-on hostile when they meet: this trolling cowboy knows exactly what he means to Ashe. He's not surprised when he sees that picture on the bike. He doesn't toss it away, which he could have, if he were saying "we are history now, forget it gurl" (and let's be honest, what a dick move that would have been @_@), he doesn't flinch after noticing and then goes "yeah, no, I'm picking another bike".

NOPE. The familiarity with which they talk, the way he hopes she'll just let him walk away, the fact that she DIDN'T change the keychain and bike in all those years and he's not even SURPRISED...

Jesse knows how much she loves him, point-blank. He's completely aware of it... and he's very much okay with it.

So much so... that I'm something of a 90% sure that the business he intends to deal with is ASHE HERSELF.

And no, I don't mean he's going to go on another shootout with her... I mean, evidently, that Jesse wants to come home. That he's tried the life of Overwatch, and he's decided to leave it behind. He's turned bountyhunter now, vigilante, pretty much... but he comes back to Ashe all the same. He's come back for the first time in who knows how long (going by Ashe's expressions and sarcasm with the "you promised you'd write" line, it miiiiiiight be they haven't seen each other since he got recruited into Blackwatch), and he expected a peaceful encounter, no less.

A good question to ask here is... what did Jesse hope would happen, if the encounter HAD been peaceful? He would've released Echo, sent her away to her business, and stayed behind anyway because he had business to deal with. Which business? :'D why... the business that would've been standing right in front of him.

There's no other, logical reason why this cinematic would put Ashe and McCree's picture into focus right when McCree says what he does to Echo. There's no other reasonable choice why McCree would turn his back on Overwatch quite so firmly. We know he had two important ties in his life: Overwatch and Deadlock. And Overwatch stole him away from Deadlock for a VERY long time. Well over half the time Deadlock has been in operations, as far as I can tell. He picked Overwatch over Deadlock once before... and now, it seems he's picking Deadlock over Overwatch instead :')

The follow-up short, Roadtrip, doesn't do anything to change my mind. The trolling jerk, Jesse McCree, hovers past Ashe's payload, where she's just... complaining, as she hovers xD going by what I know of the game and that map, the payload may just be en route to the gang's hideout, so that, I'd say, could explain why she hasn't climbed off it or escaped in any way (which she reasonably would have, if Jesse was trying to, I don't know, send her and her people to the authorities).

My point here is, however, that Jesse is headed the same way the payload is. If his destination is the same one, he'll beat it there for sure. Maybe, yes, he'll go away and drive well past the hideout... but maybe that's exactly where he intended to go.

Maybe, in the end, Reunion is about a man who's finally coming home :D

In addition, goes without saying, Ashe's rant about how everyone falls to pieces over Jesse showing his "stupid mug" (uh-huh, stupid, ANGELIC mug, we know what you really think, girl xD) ends with her saying she should have "put a bullet in him the minute he showed up".

Which begs the question of why didn't she.

Then, of course, she says she hates McCree when he drives past her while listening to some really ridiculous honky-tonky-sounding music x'D I cannot even help but imagine him deliberately picking that radio station or whatever it was just to annoy Ashe when he drove beside her, and so that she can get extra pissed when she retrieves her beloved bike, turns on the music and it's just more honky-tonky stuff x'D but anyway, the thing is she shouts after him, tells him that's her bike and says she hates him. B.O.B. wordlessly speaks for us McAshe shippers by giving Ashe the most "sure, Jan" side-eye in the history of side-eyes, and Ashe notices and is outraged enough to knock B.O.B.'s little hat right off his head again.

Again... this is renowned outlaw Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe, sitting on a payload, groaning about the guy she once very much had feelings for (and that doesn't even begin to cut it, if you ask me x'D) and for whom she tooooootally doesn't anymore, that picture on her bike doesn't MEAN that, OBVIOUSLYYYY!!, and so, she sits up, complains and doesn't do much of anything to get out of her current situation, right? :>

So, summing up my current understanding of EVERYTHING, thanks to Deadlock Rebels and my obsessive rewatches of Reunion + Roadtrip:

Jesse deliberately sought out Ashe so she would indirectly, unknowingly, help him set Echo free from the government's clutches.

Jesse hoped for a peaceful encounter despite knowing he might not get one.

Jesse has no intentions of returning to Overwatch but was willing to perform one final act of service for them by releasing Echo so she'd go give Winston and co. a hand.

Jesse is NOT surprised to see that Ashe: 1. Didn't change bikes at some point in the twenty years since they built it. 2. Didn't swap the ignition key for a button, the way she says she thought to do it in the novel until he gives her the keychain. 3. KEPT THE POETIC AF KEYCHAIN, despite resenting Jesse for his betrayal. 4. KEEPS A PICTURE OF THEM IN THEIR YOUNGER YEARS PASTED ON HER BIKE'S DASHBOARD.

Jesse claims he has business to deal with: he doesn't clarify said business verbally, but every shot after he says those words focuses on elements related to Ashe... and then, along with the novel's context, it's elements related to their BOND. Everything in that shot, EVERYTHING, is connected to the two of them. Elements that weren't shown before or during their shootout, and that are only introduced in that final moment when McCree is off to deal with his "business".

Ashe doesn't climb off the payload or stops it (which, going by how McCree simply pressed a button, and Ashe isn't immobilized in the least, she easily could have done it too if she had wanted to). Suggesting that, wherever the payload is heading, it isn't anywhere dangerous for Ashe and her crew, ergo, she is 100% sure McCree isn't trying to screw her over by turning her in to the authorities or so (or, at worst, she's completely confident that, even if he is going to do this, she'll be able to get out of it easily).

Jesse drives in the same direction the payload is headed. Another hint that suggests he might intend to head to the Deadlock hideout and that, whatever business he has left to deal with, it involves them.

If his intent ISN'T to go to the hideout... Jesse is still guaranteeing that Ashe will come after him by stealing her bike, the 18th birthday gift he gave her, and the picture she keeps of them. That he takes that very bike practically serves as painting a target on his back for her to hunt down, and he KNOWS IT.

In short: Jesse will have plenty of business with the Deadlock Gang in his future, and going by how pleased he seems to be when riding the bike, he's perfectly happy to handle that business on his terms, whenever he wants to handle it.

Extra tidbit: there's nothing in Deadlock Rebels about Jesse's smoking habit, something he definitely did pick up at some point while in the gang because, hahaha, he IS smoking in the picture Ashe keeps of him :> Which makes me wonder why, of all pictures Ashe chooses to keep on her bike's dashboard, she picks one where he's smoking.

Then, it makes me wonder about the fact that Jesse deliberately starts smoking when he's standing right in front of her (and then he winks at her!). He tosses that cigar after things get kind of dangerous for him because B.O.B. does something, and then... then he goes back to smoking.

RIGHT WHEN HE'S CLIMBING ON THE BIKE.

Like... seriously...

*unintelligible fangirl screaming*

I could be looking too deeply into this. I know I could be. Maybe Blizzard just wants me to go CRAZY with little symbolism and hints charged with SO MUCH MEANING that maybe don't have as much meaning as I thought it did...

... But man, I've sailed into the depths of the shippiest oceans for many ships that have gotten actual breadcrumbs from canon. I've gone wild over ships that have zero opportunity to become a thing in canon continuity. I've written a nearly 3M words story based on a ship that is just UNEXPLORED AMAZING POTENTIAL and ngl, I love exploring it myself, so I don't even begrudge canon that much for not giving it to me anymore.

But the fact is, no ship in OW, as far as I've seen, has remotely as much content, hints and strong ties as McAshe does -- at least, no ships between heroes. We had a cinematic that was CHARGED with significance, with little gestures, with even the smallest facial expressions that carried soooo much more meaning than whole episodes or even seasons in TV shows. And then? We got a novel. A full novel depicting their origins and exploring their dynamics, how tight their friendship was, and how some strong feelings were certainly brewing there, even if neither one was ready to act on them yet (as far as we saw...).

Finally... I'll say I did start working on a Sokkla Western AU ages ago because the idea I had for one was pretty amusing. Then Reunion dropped, and I said "Why would I need to finish that story anymore when the Sokkla Western AU is RIGHT HERE?!"

And that's it, I will stop rambling now because this got insanely long x'D but thank you very very much for giving me this chance to go WILD on everything I can see, within all those canon hints, with these two *-*

[dabislittlemouse]

Always by your side

Dabi cheering you up on a bad day

A soft Dabi x reader for @dabi0118 . A little flirting too. Hope you enjoy it ♡♡

12.30 pm

If it wasn’t for your phone ringing you wouldn’t even have woken up. You turned off the phone, not wanting to deal with anybody’s bullshit because today was not it. Or mostly like, this week was not it.

You cried yourself to sleep last night, your head full of thoughts about your life and future, all your fears and insecurities eating up your mind. Usually you would put these thoughts aside, act optimistic with a smile on your face but sometimes it’s hard to do so, especially when the night comes and all the “demons” in your head start waking up.

You’ve tried distracting yourself. Watching movies, drawing, reading, cleaning up the house, but nothing. You felt sad all the time, even though your life was going good. You felt so alone, worthless, like everyone hates you. Not even your friends would find some time to talk to you. You couldn’t fully open yourself to any of them because you didn’t want to be an annoying crybaby and make them run away. You didn’t even notice you were crying again. Jesus, the hell was wrong with you, you thought.

The phone rang again and you groaned in annoyance, but that feeling washed off quickly when you saw the name on the screen.

“Dabi💙”

Your heart started pumping out of your chest. Despite of him being a villain, you had developed a little crush for Dabi. Of course, he never knew. Or did he? Anywyay. But you remained as “friends”, even though Dabi’s flirtings would be thrown in the air and you, like those shy middle school girls, would giggle and blush. He would usually come and visit you but today you didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to get affected by your negative energy today, nor did you want him to see how you looked. Your hair was a mess, your eyes puffy and tired from crying too much. No thank you

“Hey Dabi” you said with a weak voice, almost shaking but you coughed a bit and tried to sound more stable. “What’s up?”

“Hey doll. Up? The sky” you could hear him smirk like the jerk he is and you just rolled your eyes at this lame joke and giggled. His voice was low but soothing. “Just wanted to say I’m on my way to you”

Oh shit.

Find an excuse.

“Oh I didn’t know. I... I’m sorry though because, maybe I’ll go to sleep. I’m feeling a bit sick, maybe it’s the flu. So... yeah, we won’t be doing fun stuff at all” You felt bad for lying but you didn’t want him to see you like this. Not today at least. You felt ugly today, inside and out.

“I’m sorry princess. You can sleep next to me alright? You like how warm I am so that will make you feel better” he said with full confidence. Damn, he is so cute.

“Yeah but, I... don’t want you to catch the flu either” you bit your lips, hating yourself for lying to him. But he was stubborn, it’s not like he was going to listen. Before you could say anything , you heard a knock at your door.

“Oh sorry Dabi, I gotta go. Someone’s at the door”

“Yeah yeah okay. Talk later” he chuckled. You shut your phone and opened the door, only to be faced with Dabi himself. You jumped in surprise and hid behind the door, feeling embarrassed as he laughed.

“Dabi jeez! I didn’t expect you to be here so soon” you said, trying to look anywhere but him, hiding yourself behind the door.

“Well I did say I’m on my way didn’t I? And stop hiding, I won’t bite” he got inside. “At least not until you want me to” he winked. You gave him a weak smile, his flirtings usually would give you a whole zoo in your stomach but during your hard days, it wasn’t that easy. Dabi noticed the strange aura surrounding you today.

“Hey, are you okay?” He came closer. You looked down, not trying to face him. He grabbed your face to turn it to him. “Look at me... what is it?”

“N-nothing. It’s just... one of these shitty days that’s all. You shouldn’t have come though..” you said, your voice almost shaking. He raised his eyebrow, meaning to give him a reason why. “I knew you came here to stay and have fun together as always and I’m so sorry. I just don’t want to affect you with my shitty mood, and especially with my.... shitty face toda- “ You couldn’t finish your sentence as he put his index finger on your lips to shush you.

“If anything here is shitty, is whatever you are saying right now.” He said, his finger touching your soft bottom lip doing small circles. “If anyone is to worry about shitty mood affecting other people, it should be me” he said, his finger tracing your jawline. “And if anyone is to worry about shitty face scaring other people, again that should be me”

You shook your head, placing your hands on his warm chest and finally looked him in the eyes. “N-no, don’t say that. You never affect me in a bad way, you’re the only person who I enjoy being with. And you face is beautiful”

He softly smiled, leaning closer to you and whispering in your ear. “Well, you said the exact response I was about to give you a minute ago”. You blushed as he sat down in the couch, patting the seat next to him. “Come here”. You sat next to him as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his warmth, as his chin rested on your shoulder. You both remained like that for a moment, no words shared as you stared blankly at the TV, and then he spoke.

“You know...despite having shitty days I’ll still be here for you right dolly?” he softly whispered. “I know how it feels like to be... sad and alone, feeling worthless and disgusting” he grabbed your hand and softly kissed it. “Nobody was there for me back then, but at least I can be here for you now”

You just froze, a million emotions filling your chest as you listened to him.

“I know it’s hard but I can assure you babygirl, you are the most worthy person I’ve ever met in my life” he cupped your blushing face with his warm hands. “And the hottest one too”

Your face went tomato as you tried to look down, a chuckle escaping from Dabi as he buried his head on your neck, hands now in your waist.

“You are so beautiful princess, if anyone says otherwise I’ll turn them to crisp, you know it”. You remembered the day your shitty neighbor went missing just the day after you fought. You complained at him for his loud music every night. He had told you to shut the fuck up and called you an ugly bitch. Strangely, the next day he went missing. You knew it was Dabi’s doing even though he would play dumb.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you noticed his turquoise eyes staring at yours , a smug smile plastered on his face.

“What?!” You yelped, feeling embarrassed.

“Nothing. Just processing on my mind all the blessings I have in my life.” He started grabbing your face, examining it you as you giggled. “Oh wait, it seems to be only you” he smiled.

“You’re an idiot” you laughed as you finally wrapped your arms around his neck.

“And you are gorgeous”

“Stop!”

“What? Too much for telling the truth huh” he sighed as he held you close to him. You started feeling good now, after all these days of feeling down. You felt...happy. Happy being with him. You could forget all your worries whenever you were with Dabi. He had that kind of effect on you, whether he did it on purpose or not. It was hard to crack him open when you first met, but now you got to see the side of him he never showed to anyone, his soft charming self. He would kill you if you told anyone about it though. It ruins his villain reputation, he would say.

You both spent the rest of the day close to each other, cuddling and him giving you soft kisses all over, praising you so much you felt like some goddess. Your mood already got better. Then you started watching some dumb movies, where you would laugh at Dabi for mocking the characters in it, with tears in your eyes. Also the dumbass almost burned your apartment while trying to boil an egg. You both shrugged it off by laughing like idiots. Then you played a game, trying to find which pro hero is on your mind. You would draw or imitate the pro hero and the other would find it. It was fun though cause you got to see Dabi slandering the pros. He drew a deformed chicken with a man face, trying to take out an egg from its butthole. You were rolling in the floor from laughing when you found out that is the number 2 hero Hawks.

As the night came in, you were resting on him, his hands running through your dark hair as you would hear his soft heartbeats.

“Thank you” you whispered.

“For what?”

“For staying with me today. You made me feel better”

He smiled as he kissed your head. “Of course, dollface. If you are sad again and you don’t call me to come over, I’ll be upset... anyway it’s not like I’ll be leaving you alone too much from now on. You’re stuck with me”

You smiled as you kissed his neck softly. “You are so charming and soft when you want to be, almost as soft as a baby when-“

“I’ll turn you bald”

“Okayy, jeez!” You laughed at his blushing face, and rested your head on his chest. Your eyes felt heavy and it didn’t take much for you to fall asleep. He kissed your head again and rubbed your back.

“Goodnight precious”

[oikawaplssteponme]

PART 14 | previously: part 13 | masterlist

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing [some more soft bakugou oops]

synopsis: When UA’s hot heads, Katsuki Bakugou and you, are forced to put your hatred for each other aside and plan the third year Prom, things end up getting a little heated...

a/n: AHHHH ITS HERE!! omg this is the finale🥺 i will be posting a little epilogue after this but after that ‘Hot Heads’ will be completed :,) i cant even begin to thank you all for the support on this fic, i was so nervous to post this since it was my first mha fic but seeing how you all liked it meant so much💕💕 i wish you all a happy holidays if you are celebrating and if not, i wish you a wonderful end of the year :)) enjoy xx

•

Fourteen: remember

Bakugou stared out into the crowd of people until he found you. The two of you locked eyes, causing your face to grow indescribably hot. Bakugou reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. His hands were shaky as he attempted to unfold it.

“YOU’VE GOT THIS BAKUGOU!” cheered Kirishima, breaking the silence of the room.

“SHUT IT SHITTY HAIR!” Bakugou had opened the paper and looked at it. He looked over at you and down at the paper again. He sighed, crumpling the paper and turning it to ashes.

“So here’s the deal. There’s, uh, this girl…”

Oh my god.

“And this girl is a complete pain in my ass,” he smirked. You felt everyone’s eyes shift over onto you but you kept your on Bakugou.

“This girl drives me crazy. She pushes all my buttons. This girl gets on all my last nerves…”

“...But I wouldn’t trade this girl for the whole world.”

Your eyes began to get glossy. You cupped your burning cheeks into your cold hands, attempting to hold back a smile.

“I fucked up what I had with this girl and I don’t deserve her one bit but… I just need her to hear this.” Bakugou took a deep breath.

“Look, that bullshit I said in the common area? It was just that. Bullshit. The thing is, as you probably know by now… I’m pretty shit at telling people how I really feel. So, uh, when it came to you… I panicked. It’s a hell of a lot easier to pretend you don’t care. When I said that I don’t care about you, it's because in all honesty it's the exact opposite. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone in my entire life...”

“...and that terrifies me because what if I’m not there to protect you? Fuck- that day when you fainted during training, I felt like a failure. It was my fault that you got hurt so I promised that I would never hurt you again. Clearly, I-uh, need to do better since I’m making this apology right now,” he said nervously. You shook your head, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You’re the only person who can put me in my place. The only person I’ve ever opened up to. The only person who can keep up with me. I-I’m honestly such a mess without you.”

“IT’S TRUE!” budded in Kirishima. Bakugou gave him a glare before turning back to you.

“Fuck- from the moment I laid eyes on you I knew that I wanted nothing more than for you to be mine. I may have been pretty shit at showing it but it's true. Of course you and I both know that things between us didn’t go that way. From our first year, we were constantly competing with each other, which I didn’t mind since I got to be around you. And now that I was forced to plan this shitty dance with you, I remembered why I...why I-uh…”

[earlier that day]

“Bakugou we’re supposed to be helping to set up-”said Kirishima. Bakugou didn’t release Kiri from his grip, dragging him to the dorms.

“I need your help with something…” mumbled Bakugou.

“Well you can let go of me.” Bakugou led him to the common area couches, letting go of him. Bakugou sat down across from him with his arms crossed.

“What’s going on man?” asked Kirishima. Bakugou looked down at the ground.

“I fucked up…”

“Yeah you do that a lot. What’s the actual problem?” Bakugou huffed.

“I want to tell someone something but I don’t know how…”

“Tell them what?” Bakugou kept quiet.

“Come on man, I gotta know in order to help you out,” insisted Kiri. Bakugou took a deep breath.

“I want to tell someone I love them but I don’t know how…”

Kirishima’s eyes widened.

“This is about Y/N, isn’t it?”

“WHAT- UH- fuck...yeah it is.”

“Well you definitely messed that up when you told her you don’t like her,” teased Kiri.

“Don’t remind me… you idiots made me nervous with all your damn questions…”

“Why don’t you just tell her? It’s kinda obvious she feels the same. Or she’s still mad at you.”

“I CAN'T JUST TELL HER! W-what would I even say?” Bakugou buried his face into the palms of his hands. Kirishima laughed.

“Wow you really do love her, if not you wouldn’t be so nervous about this. Why don’t you just straight up tell her. Blurt it out.”

“She won’t talk to me. She hates me…”

“We both know she doesn’t. You both have a tendency to say crap you don’t mean in the heat of a moment.”

“When would I even tell her?”

“It doesn’t matter so much ‘when’, more so ’how’. Make sure she knows how you feel. Expressing your emotions is super manly.” Bakugou sighed.

“Fuck-I just hope she still feels the same.”

“She will, man.”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Bakugou looked directly into your eyes from the stage.

“I remembered why I fell in love with you in the first place. That’s right Y/N L/N, I am in love with you. I don’t give a fuck if these damn extra’s hear me because you are the only person I care about. If I have to spend one more second away from you I might just lose my damn mind because I love you Y/N. I do. Fuck- I really do.”

Bakugou was shaking slightly, the microphone he held was covered in his sweat. The entire room went silent, all eyes on you.

You wiped the stray tears from your face. You grabbed part of your dress, lifting it up above the ground slightly for you to walk. You walked towards the stage. Your breath was shallow, nervous was an understatement. You came face to face with Katsuki. His eyes stared into yours. You moved your hand up, placing it gently against Bakugou’s cheek.

“I didn’t take you for a confession kind of guy,” you smirked. Bakugou smiled.

“Well you’re lucky I love you dumbass. I wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.”

“Well good thing you’ll never have to.”

You grabbed Bakugou’s suit jacket and pulled him in to kiss you. He instantly held your face, keeping you close to him. It wasn’t until the room was filled with clapping and cheering that you remembered that you weren’t alone. You smiled against Bakugou’s lips and broke from the kiss, your face burning. You buried your face into Bakugou’s chest and looked down at your friends, who gave you big smiles and thumbs up.

“Damn extras…” mumbled Bakugou. You chuckled, taking his hand and leading him off the stage.

“WELL FOLKS THAT WAS JUST BEAUTIFUL! I LOVE LOVE!” cheered Present Mic, “I can't even remember what we were doing before that…”

You rejoined your friends on the floor. Bakugou’s face was a bright pink but you didn’t bother him too much about it.

“Well that just happened,” you smiled. Bakugou wrapped his arm around you, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you dumbass.”

“I love you too.”

~

The rest of the night was perfect. Todoroki ended up winning Prom King and Bakugou certainly wasn’t gonna let him live that down. Momo won Queen, even giving a speech thanking everyone who voted for her. You and Bakugou were inseparable the rest of the dance. You even forced him to do the photo booth with you. Reluctant of course, but he even had a small smile on his face when the camera clicked.

“See! Told you it would look good,” you said, holding the picture.

“Mind if I keep it?” He asked. You smiled.

“Not at all.”

When Prom ended, it was just you and Bakugou in the theater. You both were picking up whatever leftover trash people had left. Everyone else had headed back to the dorms for an ‘after party’.

“We could probably take care of all this tomorrow,” you said.

“Mind if we do something before we go?” He asked. You nodded. Bakugou took your hands, placing it on his shoulders. He then placed his on your waist and held you close.

“I was hoping to get to dance with you princess, if that’s okay?” You smiled, resting your head on his chest.

“Even if the whole world was watching I’d still dance with you Katsuki.”

“Lucky for me that I get to dance with my world.”

•

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[venicebitch1999]

Late Night Confessions

Pairing: Fezco/Reader

Summary: You and Fezco spend some time stargazing. Who will make the first move?

Warnings: Profanity, mentions of underage drinking and drug dealing.

A/N: Hey, y’all! This is my first writing I’ve actually posted, so bear with me. I love Fezco so much, he’s my fucking cinnamon apple and deserves more writings. Let me know what y’all think though! Feedback is always appreciated. ❤️ Much love.

You were currently driving out to your favorite weekend spot, the cliff about three miles out of town that overlooked the city. You and your best friend, Fezco, had made plans to meet up and stargaze. Every once in a while, when you two needed an escape, you would go to your favorite spot and observe the night sky. It wasn’t often that you did this, but you never passed the opportunity up. You loved these little moments with him.

Fezco had been in your life for close to seven years. You had met him the first day of seventh grade, and although people came and went throughout your school years, Fezco stayed by your side. Fezco, eventually, dropped out to help take care of his grandma. When money became tight, he started drug dealing. He thought this would scare you away for sure, but no. Best friends stuck together no matter what.

Eventually, you grew to love him, beyond just friends. He was charismatic, polite, soft-spoken, and protective. He would take a bullet for you. Because you didn’t want to risk your friendship, you kept those feelings to yourself. He had enough on his plate already.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Fezco’s car parked near the cliff’s edge. You were so in love, even the sight of his car had you feeling giddy. You parked your car next to his and unbuckled your seatbelt. You knew he was already waiting for you at your usual spot, a grassy area farthest away from the road. You both thought this area was the best place to see the nighttime skies, as no trees or dirt were present.

You walked towards your spot and saw that he was already laying down on the blanket, looking upwards. You could hardly make out his figure, but you knew he looked just as good as ever. Hearing your footsteps approach, he turned to look at you. You smiled at him, placing your backpack with the radio you both used to play your tunes down, and greeted him with a shy “Hey, Fez.”

He moved over, giving you some room on the blanket to get comfortable and replied “What’s up, Y/N?”

Yep, you were right. He did look good. He was dressed in a simple long sleeved black shirt, gray sweatpants, and his favorite duo, socks and slides. How the hell did someone manage to look so fucking amazing in something so plain? You had no idea, but he did it with ease.

Fezco thought you looked amazing too. Your attire consisted of a cropped red sweatshirt, black leggings, and black high top converse. He couldn’t help but stare at you. You always looked beautiful.

Fez had had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. Before he had even officially met you, he’d seen you at school and thought you were one of the prettiest girls on the planet. The day he mustered up the courage to talk to you was the best day of his life, because that was the start of your friendship. Over the years, Fez watched you grow up. He was there when your first boyfriend broke your heart at winter formal sophomore year, even threatening to beat his ass afterwards. He was there when your parents separated. He was there when you graduated high school. He was there when you dropped out of college to help take care of your younger siblings after your dad’s alcoholism reached its peak. He was there for it all. Your friendship meant everything to him, so he never told you about his true feelings. He couldn’t lose you.

“Oh, you know, just getting ready to hang out with some loser.” you answered, with a wink.

He laughed sarcastically, “Ha ha ha, you think you cute or something, huh?” he said while he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, or something.” you sassed, pulling your speakers out of your backpack and connecting your phone to it before turning it on shuffle and laying down. The sounds of “Ribs” by Lorde started playing.

“No lie, I fuck with this kinda music.” Fezco admitted.

You smiled and looked up at the trillions of tiny, twinkling stars. “Yeah, I know. You haven’t complained once about my music.”

“It’s nice to hear new shit. I like all kinds of music, like that one chick. Uh, I think her name is Lana? Ion know, but she kinda fire.” he commented.

You gave him a little side-eye. “Del Rey?” you asked causing him to look at you.

“Oh yeah! Her. Yeah, she got some hits. Some of her shit got me sad as hell.” he said.

You laughed loudly, “More like all her shit.”

Fezco smiled and you both fell into a comfortable silence. Gazing up at the thousands of twinkling stars, you let your mind wander. You thought about your relationship with Fezco. Did it have the potential to be anything more? You wondered what it felt like to kiss him, to have his hands on your thighs, to feel his arm around your waist. You wondered what it felt like to be called his.

“So.. Rue told me something today.” Fezco said nervously, still looking upwards.

You quirked your eyebrow up, and looked at him. “What’s she gossiping about now?” you asked with a joking twinkle in your eye.

“Ion know if it’s true or what. She said she overheard it at last night’s party or some shit.” he claimed.

Fuck. Last night’s party was a trip, you hardly remembered it. “Spit it out, dude.” you pressed.

“Ight. Well, she said you was fucking around with Cameron Gates. She said someone saw y’all making out? Ion know, that’s just what she heard.” he finally said.

Your eyes widened. “Fuck, I was so drunk last night. I don’t even remember that. I mean, Cameron always tries to get with me at parties and shit, so I wouldn’t be surprised.” you admitted, feeling embarrassed.

“Cameron is a dick. I didn’t wanna believe it, but I mean, you do you.” he said icily. He could feel the jealousy creeping in. He didn’t like knowing other guys were into you.

You looked at him, a little confused at his tone. “Uh, okay? I mean, I’m not into him like that. I was just wasted. Besides, I’m 20. I’m allowed to make out with people if I want to,” you snipped. “I’m not even into guys like him anyways.”

Fezco snorted. “Whatever you say.” he said sarcastically.

“The fuck? We were just having a good time. What’s with you?” you asked him with a glare.

“I mean, you’ve only ever dated guys like him, so Ion know why you lying.” he pointed out.

Yeah, Fez was right. You dated a lot of guys that ended up being really shitty boyfriends who only wanted one thing. In your defense, the one guy that you did want to date had friendzoned you, so you had limited options.

“Yeah, well if I could date who I wanted to, I would’ve never dated those guys.” you said while sitting up. You didn’t like this conversation, you felt defensive.

Fezco followed your actions and looked at you. You looked angry, embarrassed, and hurt by what he said. He instantly felt bad for making you upset. You were right, you were having a good time. He just wanted to confirm what he’d heard. It was selfish, but he was bothered by it.

“I’m sorry, ma. I just don’t fuck with that Cameron guy. He only wants to fuck you and dip. You deserve more than that shit.” he said softly as he grabbed your hand and observed the rings on your fingers.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach. “Oh yeah? And what is it that I deserve?” you asked, with a little smile playing on your lips.

Fezco’s eyes met yours and he placed a tiny kiss on your ring finger. “You deserve everything good in life, Y/N. All the shit you’ve ever dreamed of having, you deserve it. You too good for all these dumbass guys around here.” he declared.

You looked at him and gave him a shy smile. You felt lost for words. Nobody had ever told you that before.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Fez letting go of your hand to trace the small tattoo on your exposed waist. “Can I ask you something?” he inquired.

You hated when people asked that question. Your anxiety heightened immediately. “Um, yeah. Go ahead.” you answered.

“You said you wanted to date someone earlier. Who was you talking about?”

Fuck. Should you tell him? It was always hard to lie to Fez. He knew immediately when you were bluffing. Lying would be obvious, no matter how hard you tried to mask it.

You stumbled over your words, trying to come up with a vague answer. “Um, I mean- Well, I-.. He’s uh- Fuck, I can’t talk right now.”

Fezco raised an eyebrow at you. “You about to lie,” he chided. “Lying ain’t ever get you anywhere with me, mamas. Might as well tell me the truth. I ain’t gonna tell nobody. You and Rue the only people I fuck with.”

You sighed loudly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll be honest, but like you gotta promise this won’t be weird, alright? You’re my best friend. I don’t want us to be awkward.”

He looked at your serious expression and nodded. “Ight, swear on my life.” Fezco was feeling nervous now. Why were you so serious?

You hesitated before speaking. “Um, okay. Uh. Well, the guy I like may or may not be you.” you finally managed to say.

Your face was beet red and your palms were sweaty. You watched as he looked into your eyes for any signs of a joke. He thought for sure this was a prank. There was no way you felt that way about him.

“Like deadass?” he asked, feeling nervous.

“Deadass.” you replied simply.

Wow, he never thought you’d felt that way about him before. He was for sure his love would always be unrequited.

“But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I love our friendship. We can pretend this never happened.” you stated, feeling a little defeated by his silence.

He laughed. “Y/N, what the fuck? I been having a crush on you. Like ever since you walked onto the fucking playground that day at school and punched Nate Jacobs’ brother in the face for trying to kiss you.”

You were shocked. Holy shit. Fezco felt the same way? No fucking way. All these years, and neither one of you said a thing. How could you have been so clueless to one another?

“Oh my god. We seriously been having secret feelings for each other all these years? What kinda soap opera shit?” you laughed.

Fez laughed with you before taking your hand and kissing the palm. “Come’ere, ma. I wanna give you a kiss. I been waiting like ten years for this.” he admitted.

You moved closer to him and let him grab hold of your waist. You put your arms around his neck and looked him in the eyes. “Then kiss me.” you said.

He moved his head downwards and locked lips with yours. The fireworks that people claim to feel in movies? Yeah, that feeling is real. You had never been kissed with such passion and love before, and you definitely didn’t mind it. His hands moved to your lower back as he pulled you closer. He moved his lips from yours down to your neck, where he placed a chaste kiss to the spot behind your ear, before looking into your eyes with a smirk.

“How about we make this official, huh?” he said.

You laid back down, pulling him over your body. “Okay then, boyfriend.” you winked.

He leaned down to give you another kiss. “I like the sound of that, mamas.”

[passivenovember]

If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields.

Billy's job at Willowbrook Elementary is the only reason he puts up with this weather at all.

His hatred for winter, a season which hardly existed when he taught in the Valley, morphs and becomes something violent on the first Monday after Christmas break.

He wakes up feeling like his toes have gone missing, frozen black and blue with the cold, and after his phone tells him it's below zero outside, with wind-chill, his heart stops beating.

Hawkins is -10 degrees, to be precise.

And it leaves him feeling like that's gotta be illegal, or. He could for sure call all the scientists on Earth and have a law passed that clarifies: those born and raised in a Southern climate get a free pass on days when Hell is actively freezing over.

But it's not snowing today. And all the ice on the street has been scraped into terrible, disgusting drifts that block his driveway, and Hopper would immediately call bullshit. All, gonna have to suck it up if you wanna live here, buttercup.

So Billy decides to be an adult, or whatever. He spends another five minutes on his phone definitely not stalking his ex Instagram before rolling out of bed to get dressed.

And, like.

Even his underwear drawer is stiff from the cold so Billy decides to bundle the fuck up--a trick he learned from Max last fall, during the coldest year Indiana had ever seen. He manages to stack five layers in total; one pretty pink thermal set just brushing his his skin and a button down shirt to stave off the goosebumps. A sweater and jeans for professionalism. One Grateful Dead hoodie, because it makes him feel like he's not a total sell out, and a thick winter coat, sent special from the snow capped mountains of California this Christmas.

It still smells like his mom's pikake lei perfume.

Billy tries not to think about that, of home, on a day when he'd give his left nut for a ray of sunshine.

Instead, he spends ten minutes filling his thermos with coffee. Boiling the rice milk more than once so it'll stay warm on the ride across town. He sticks his pinky under the lip after his third go, and fuck that shit is so hot it will burn his mouth tomorrow, before checking the weather app again for closures.

Hoping against hope that something has changed in the last five minutes.

Of course, nothing has.

The superintendent believes that everyone in Hawkins is somehow used to temperatures that makes their eyelids freeze shut in the thirty second walk to the car in the morning. Billy jams a knit cap on his head and seriously considers calling in.

A last ditch effort to quell the rising fury in his veins, that like.

He's gonna have to scrape his windows, and freeze his dick off, and deal with the neighbor.

The one who looks like he doesn't mind the cold so much because he carries the sun with him, fucking asshole.

People shouldn't be wandering the streets when their eyelids could freeze shut, right?

Billy checks his phone one more time, frowning at a text from Joyce to pick up some coffee on your way in, and tosses his bag over his shoulder before he can change his mind.

--

It's so much worse than expected.

Billy's lungs seize up on his second intake of fresh air because no one should be huffing sulfur or gaseous ice or whatever the fuck this shit is first thing in the morning. On a Monday. The first one after Christmas break, and.

"God damn, holy shit, holy shit,"  Billy bounces the whole way to the Camaro, breath coming in short, comical bursts of steam that make his nose run. He swipes dramatically at his face, struggling to get his keys into the lock while balancing his thermos on one arm and his messenger bag on the other.

Billy's in the middle of forcing the door open, its hinges are frozen solid with ice goddammit, when Steve fucking Harrington appears like a cloud on the wind.

"Howdy neighbor," Steve says. Like they're cowboys in a shitty film from the 1970s. The wind kicks a lock of brown hair into Harrington's face and he shivers. "Wow, it's really blowing out here, huh?"

Midwesterner's love doing that.

Pointing out the obvious.

Billy grumbles a response, flinging his car door open and jamming the keys into the ignition.

Steve's saying something.

Talking like always, about his cat or maybe the beer they keep saying they'll have together, and generally Billy puts up with it but not today. He isn't going to freeze to death for a pair of legs.

The Camaro roars to life, clearly pissed at having to work on such a disgusting day, and. Alright. Letting your car "warm up," is something so Midwestern Billy can't even talk about it.

It takes him all of two minutes to scrape his windows, electing to carve holes in each wall of ice rather than clear the whole thing. The metal handle of the scraper Max got him feels like the ninth circle of hell against the peachy skin of his fingers.

He should've bought some mittens.

Joyce is always saying he needs mittens, he should've asked for some--

Billy tosses the scraper into his back seat and climbs in, slamming the door shut behind him and cranking the heat up to high. Steve's watching from next to the fence in a fucking pea coat, and a scarf with care bears on it and.

Nothing else.

Fucking asshole.

Steve waves at him, like; hey I'm talking to you. Frantically, like the mouse Mr. Bane caught last week is important.

But Billy's too busy trying to back out of the driveway with five layers of shit restricting his movement. He cranks the music up and cautiously pulls onto the street. Nice and smooth like he's seen Steve do effortlessly, even with three inches of ice on the ground. Fucking asshole.

Billy makes it halfway before he hits something.

The wind kicks hair into his face as he assesses the damage.

"You should've scraped your driveway last night." Steve says helpfully.

He's got a cigarette hanging from his lips, stark in contrast to the weird home made scarf he's got folded around his neck. Billy tries not to think about Steve's lips as he makes his way to the back of the Camaro to see that, yup.

Of course.

His baby is stuck in the snow. Billy kicks the tire. Like that'll fix anything.

"That's not gonna fix anything." Steve says, leaning against the fence.

"Jesus, fuck. I know, Steve." Billy scrubs a hand across his face, gesturing to the Care Bear scarf. "Why the hell are you wearing that thing, you look like a fruit."

"I am a fruit."

"Well you look like the whole goddamn bowl, pretty boy." Billy digs around for a cigarette. "My kindergarteners don't even fuck with the Care Bears enough to own scarves." Billy squints, assessing Steve from head to toe, delighting in the awkward squirm of his limbs. He clicks his tongue, disappointed. "Couldn't look any fruiter if you tried."

Steve shrugs his shoulders, like. Don't yell at me, this isn't my fault.

And okay.

He's cute.

Billy gets struck by that every time he sees the guy, all over again, like. His profile is perfect. Sharp nose, pretty eyes. Thick lips.

Steve holds out a cigarette.

Billy takes it.

"One of my residents made it for me. He's learning how to flat pattern." Harrington says shyly. "Well, he made it for his grand daughter, but. It turned out worse than he expected so I offered to take it."

Billy squints. "The fuck does that mean?"

"Just means I was trying to be nice--"

"No, the." Billy grins in spite of himself. "The flat patterning, what's that?"

Steve shrugs again. "I'm not sure, I think it's like. A sewing term. Or something." A pretty blush the color of Steve's scarf spreads across the bridge of his nose. It looks like strawberry ice cream and Billy.

Has to look away.

"My mom sews," Billy says gruffy. "I've never heard her say that."

"Well, maybe she drapes?"

Billy squints again. "What?"

"Draping. That's another thing people do--"

Billy stamps the cigarette out and kicks his tire again. Steve jolts, like. Billy tried to kick him or something, which just makes the situation worse.

"God, they should've cancelled classes." Billy states. Well, screams, to no one in particular. "Who wants to go to work in the snow, who fucking. Likes this white bullshit?"

Steve leans against the fence and looks thoughtful. "I love the snow."

"You're not helping."

"You asked."

"No, I didn't." Billy shoots back. He digs his cellphone out and shakes his head. "Why are you still here, Harrington? Don't you have old people to take care of?"

Steve chuckles again. Light, like Christmas bells. "Don't you have screaming brats to teach?"

"My car's kinda stuck in the snow, you fucking dick." Billy's so focused on trying to order a lyft that he doesn't waste time on pleasantries. He expects that to be the end of it, when the wind picks up and he swears again, but. Steve just moves closer.

"Let me drive you." Steve says.

And.

The moment sort of hangs there.

In the two years that Billy's lived next to the guy, they've never hung out. Never house sat for each other, never spoken outside the occasional could you make sure your idiot friends don't block my driveway, and empty promises to grab a beer sometime.

So the offer catches him off guard.

Billy glances up from his phone, confused, to find Steve looking everywhere but at him. Harrington's shifting his weight, like. He's fucking nervous, or something.

Or maybe hoping Billy will say no because he's just being polite.

Billy glares.

Of course he's just being neighborly. Charitable. That's what Midwestern assholes do.

Billy waves his phone in the air, like, "I'm ordering a lyft." And it comes out sharper. More aggressive than he means it too, but Steve doesn't seem to notice.

"Just ride with me, it's on the way."

Billy points at the screen. "Jason will be here in ten minutes."

"What's Jason got that I don't have?" Harington quips, and.

Billy just wants shit to go back to normal. He shakes his head again, "Nah, 's okay, pretty boy. Thanks anyway." Before turning back to his phone like he's got important shit to worry about.

Steve stands.

Stares.

Waits, for longer than is necessary, before clearing his throat. "Okay, well. Happy first day back." He says.

And if Billy didn’t know any better he'd say Steve sounds almost.

Disappointed.

--

When Billy gets off of work that night the snow is gone from his driveway.

--

Billy still has bad days.

They always start before dawn. With the claws of his nightmare leaving scratches down the lining of his throat. It's like Billy's carrying an anchor around his neck, or his veins are filled with playdough the color of the sun on those afternoons. He feels lazy and sluggish and like if someone looks at him for too long he'll break. Snap and crackle, like an open flame against fresh skin.

Billy still has bad days but they don't come unless he's been slipping for a while. Like forgetting to take his medication, or not writing his letter every night before bed.

The one to Neil, that his therapist says will help him work through the last of the road blocks that stand in the way of, "ultimate healing."

Billy used to think it was horseshit.

But Neil. Everything that happened, everything that still happens--when Billy goes home for Christmas, or when Susan calls and he can hear the slur of hate on the other end of the line--is standing in the way of something.

There are so many letters.

So much he wants to say.

Written on anything Billy can find, like. Napkins and the backs of take out menus--old drawings that the kids send home with him after Art class on Fridays.

The pages are kept in a binder.

His therapist says it's important to decorate the binder with, like. Stuff that makes him feel good. Words and phrases, stickers, pictures of the people he loves and drawings of all his favorite things. The folder is supposed to act as a visual reminder of the blanket of love that surrounds him, or something.

Melvalds only had brown folders when he went to pick his up, so.

The folder is brown. Disgusting.

And so far the only decorations he's been able to stomach are one of those fancy stickers from Redbubble that depicts his favorite episode of Daria, and a picture of him and Maxine with underwear on their heads.

Billy thinks it could be sad to some people.

That a poor, little abused boy only has two things in life that protect him from the shadow which falls with the setting sun, but it's the truth. Life is hard and fucked up. Billy has trouble letting people close, letting people in, so he sticks with the basics. The tried and true.

Maxine and his gravity bong.

Billy Hargrove is a simple man.

--

So it's two weeks after Steve shovels his driveway and Billy tells his therapist, like. "This fucking guy just. Did something nice for me."

And she clearly wonders what's wrong with him. "Did you say thank you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," Billy tries not to get defensive about shit these days, because. It's only a hop-skip-and a jump from defensiveness to downright aggression and Megan, his well meaning shrink, doesn't deserve that even on her most annoying days.

His leg bounces under the table, thwacking against its mahogany edge loud enough that Megan can hear it over the fucking phone, so she says, "Billy. Stop."

Because they have a deal about nervous ticks.

Billy is supposed to say his safe word when he starts to feel anxious, but.

He fucking hates that shit. Hates being babied. Hates feeling like he's a goddamn basket case that needs to be rooted in reality when his trauma rears its ugly head. Billy smiles, the whole thing falling flat against his face. "I'm stopping."

Megan sighs. "Why haven't you thanked Steve for his act of kindness?"

"Because, like." Billy's shaking his leg again. Softer this time; it's a secret. "How do I know he isn't trying to, fucking. Get information out of me. Or out me to the community, or. Make fun of the way I'm a grown man who can't shovel his own driveway after a snowstorm--"

"I think you're internalizing your fears, Billy."

"Yeah, no shit." He snaps. Billy feels bad for half a second but then she's giggling, like she always does, which makes him feel less like the big bad wolf and more like one of the three little pigs. The guy with the straw, maybe?

Billy sighs, scrubbing at his face. "What does that even mean?"

Megan makes a noise on the other end of the line, like. In the six months that Billy's been in therapy he should've learned this by now.

Dude's got a short attention span, sue him.

And, sure enough. "Twice a week we meet over the phone and you don't know that internalizing your fears means you're trying to write the ending to a story you haven't even read yet?"

"Like, uh," Billy says intelligently. "What's that shit you're always saying? About seeing a book on the shelf and--"

"Guessing the ending. Yup, that's right." Megan sounds pleased. Billy ignores the bloom of happiness in his chest, because like. He doesn't really deserve it. She doesn't give him time to dwell, though. "Steve did something nice for you. Maybe he has suspicious intent--"

Billy sucks in a breath, like.

Dramatic. Loud enough that Megan snorts and says, "Hold on, you're jumping to conclusions again."

Billy really fucking.

Hates how perceptive she can be.

Megan keeps talking and Billy listens, because he pays her after all. "If you're really worried that his intentions are cloudy, do something nice for him in return."

"Something nice," Billy repeats. Like he's never heard of such a concept. "Something nice, like. Buy him flowers?"

Megan snorts. "Do you want to buy him flowers?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"Because you--" His therapist sighs. Billy embraces the feeling it gives him, yanking her chain a little bit. "Listen. I don't know this Steve person, and I've never heard you talk about him beyond this beer you're supposed to have together, like. Never. But has he ever given you a reason to think he's out to hurt you?"

Billy thinks back over two years and a million one-dimensional interactions.

Steve never loses his temper.

Not when Billy calls to have the cars that block his driveway towed, not when Billy bitches about the daisy bushes shedding into his yard in the fall, and Steve always picks up Mr. Bane's cat shit from Billy's front porch when the Gremlin actually goes outside.

Always with a smile and a sweet little, I think Mr. B likes you.

And, like.

It was pretty nice of Steve to offer Billy a ride that morning.

And shovel his driveway after work, just because he knew Billy probably wouldn't do it.

The whole thing, it. Fills Billy with something he can't quite express, a warmth he only ever feels when Max calls a dozen times to remind him to eat dinner when he sends a few intense messages.

Megan takes his silence, as always, like a breakthrough.

"So," She says, clearly satisfied. "Same time next week?"

--

Billy spends three days waiting for Steve to make it easy for him.

Because Harrington's a home owner, and there's always something, right? A problem he needs help with, like. A leaky pipe that needs fixed, a cup of sugar for a recipe that he didn't account for, ghosts in the attic. Typical HOA bullshit.

Billy stares out his window at the lovely split level next door and decides he'll take anything, do anything, to get this fucking anchor of guilt off his back for the whole driveway situation. The opportunity never presents itself.

The ducks never fall in a row.

Steve just leaves the house every morning, same time as Billy, same as always, with a gentle Howdy neighbor. And a smile tugging at his pretty pink lips, hair perfect and windswept because he's a fucking asshole and it only takes two days.

Forty-eight hours before Billy's hatching a plan to pay Harrington back and inventing problems to solve, like some sort of demonic Bob the Builder.

He calls Max on Thursday and comes up with a list. Something tangible, like breaking Steve's garage window with a ski ball. Or trapping Mr. Bane in a sweater and pretending like he's gone missing so Steve will have to round up a search party, but.

Billy knows Megan would call that instigating, antagonizing, and causing trouble, which Billy's trying not to do anymore.

So he brings up flowers again, because.

Fuck it--maybe he's wanted to see Steve behind a bouquet of Lilies of the Valley for months now.

And Max goes all soft.

And quiet, too, before whispering, "I'm really proud of you, you know? For getting better."

Then suddenly Billy can't breathe because there's a lump in his throat.

Because he is trying to get better. To live honestly, to lead with love--whatever hippie-dippie bullshit Megan is always spoon feeding him, so.

With Max's blessing, Billy's about to, like. Knock on Steve's door with a plate of pot brownies and a shitty thanks for being a decent human card when Mr. Bane leaves a dead bird on Billy's porch, the third one in a month, and Billy hatches an idea.

--

Steve's front door is yellow.

Like. Sunshine yellow. Valley girl yellow.

Which Billy used to think was charming but now thinks is kind of annoying, when coupled with Steve's perpetually sunny disposition. And okay. Maybe it sort of pokes and prods at that piece of him that's always missing home.

Maybe it makes him a little bit sad, like. He'll never really feel at peace anywhere else.

But before Billy can dwell on it, or raise his fist to knock on the door, Steve's opening it and preparing to step through. He's using his foot to stop Mr. Bane from running out into the yard so he doesn't see Billy right away, which.

Also means he's going somewhere.

Which inherently means Billy's caught him at a bad time. Billy holds the paper bag closer to his chest and feels the words bubbling up before he can practice his breathing, or. Stop them. Because this is his third biggest fear after arguments and spiders.

"I've caught you at a bad time, I'm sorry, I'll just come back la--"

Steve breaks out into a grin so big. So bright, that it rivals anything Billy's ever seen before.

"Howdy, neighbor!" Steve says.

And Billy shifts nervously from one foot to the other, like. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, it's not a--"

"Because I can come back later." Billy nods, already turning on his heel to escape, and like. Fly into the sun. "Or not at all. I can just mail it to you, that's. Yeah, I'll just stick it in the post or something."

Steve grabs his elbow.

Billy looks at the hand on his elbow, and down at Steve’s feet. There aren’t any shoes or anything, so.

Billy's overreacting.

Fuck. He swallows, raising his eyes with caution to see Steve smiling again. Even wider than before, if that's possible.

Harrington licks his lips. "Whatcha got there?" He says, nodding to the bag, and Steve.

He's wearing glasses today.

Billy feels like someone hit him on the back of the head with a ski ball. Steve looks so soft, in white stripped overalls and a green sweater, that Billy doesn't know whether to fluff him like a pillow or fucking.

Punch him in the face.

Billy holds out the paper bag. "It's for you."

Steve looks at him strangely but he's still smiling, which.

Is good.

Billy thinks it's good but then he knows its good when Steve giggles. "I gathered that. What is it?"

"It's a, uh. You know." Billy tries. "You know one of those things? Where it's, like, a thing but you aren't supposed to know what it is?"

Steve blinks at him, cheeks turning pink like they always do. "A surprise?"

"That's the one." Billy snaps his fingers, like. Ah-ha. Except it isn't a surprise, it's just. "It's a way to say thanks. For the whole," Billy concludes, gesturing vaguely to their front lawns, to. "The driveway."

Steve blushes even harder. "You didn't have to get me a present--"

"It's not a present."

"That was just me trying to be nice." Steve leans against the door jam, eyes searching. "It doesn't call for a--"

"It's not a present." Billy says again. Steve doesn't look like he believes him, so Billy, like. Shoves the paper bag to his chest. "Look, open it now or don't. Fucking, throw it away for all I care, it's fine."

Billy turns on his heel because fuck this.

Fuck trying to pay back nice with nice and fuck Steve for starting this whole debacle to begin with. Billy makes it down one step and then Steve is laughing so hard he can't stand up straight.

Which just makes Billy feel worse, because.

"You're laughing." Billy gapes. "I bring you a present to say thanks for not being an asshole, and you're laughing."

Steve doesn't answer, he just.

Keeps on laughing, and okay.

This is Billy's third greatest fear. After abandonment and fighting. Fists covered in blood--his or someone else's, it doesn't matter. He frowns, turning to leave again when Steve straightens and coughs once into the palm of his hand.

"Thought it wasn't a present," Steve quips, and he's looking at Billy with, like. Sparkly eyes. He shrugs. "I'm not sure what it means."

Billy doesn't get it. "It doesn't have to mean anything--"

"No, like." Steve peers into the bag again, clearly holding back tears. "Why did you get me a bag of dead mice?"

"You can get them at the pet store." Billy says, because. You can, alright? He fiddles with the sleeves of his winter coat. "They're for Mr. Bane."

Steve just stares at him, eyes twinkling like two polished diamonds in his head.

And he's not saying anything, or. Laughing anymore, he's just. Watching Billy fall to pieces on his walkway as he tries to defend himself.

Billy focuses on the clouds that inch across the sky. "Mr. Bane, he's. He's always catching shit, like. Dead shit and leaving it on my porch. I just thought if he wants to eat dead things I can just. Buy him a pack or whatever. Like a normal person."

Steve grins. "You know they do that because they think you can't feed yourself."

Billy wrinkles his nose. "Well I fucking appreciate it, but I don't want to eat dead mice and birds and shit."

Steve chuckles once before staring again.

Like he's memorizing Billy's face, or like. They're having a competition that Billy doesn't know about.

Billy gestures to the bag again. "Would you just accept it, Steve? Please?"

Harrington looks down at the mice in his hands and nods slowly, like the decision is really requiring some thought.

Billy feels stupid.

This was so fucking stupid--

"Sure, Billy." Harrington says. Soft, and. Sweet. "No one's ever given me such a thoughtful gift before, so. Thank you."

And Billy feels like the tin man getting oil on his joints after a year of rusting in the forest, when Steve accepts his weird ass gesture. He nods, mouth lapsing into a thin, unamused line. "Okay, then. See ya 'round," Billy says.

And then he's turning, and.

Leaving.

Before Steve can say anything else.

The clouds inch like caterpillars across the bright winter sky and Steve's walkway seems so much longer on the journey home.

[nanoland]

Title: Besyd the scarcety of bread amowngst us

Fandom: Supernatural 

Pairing: Crowley/Dean Winchester

Summary: In which Dean asks a question.

Warnings: Crowley being Extremely traumatized and kind of oblivious to that fact + SPN demons being SPN demons (i.e. remorseless bodysnatchers) + Dean being his casually misogynistic self + graphic descriptions of starvation + exhibitionism (sorta?) + sexually explicit content because this was MEANT to be straightforward smut and then Crowley happened, the prick.

Also on AO3!

0  

“So how come you aren’t a hot chick?”

The glass stills an inch from Crowley’s pale lips. “I humbly beg your pardon?”

It’s late. The bar’s quiet. He doesn’t need Dean to repeat himself. Just a moment to decide on a response.

Well on the way to utterly shit-faced, Dean gestures vaguely, meaninglessly. “You offer people stuff. Then, ten years later, you drag ‘em to Hell. And – and they know that’s what’s gonna happen if they make a deal with you. Which means that you gotta be real fuckin’ persuasive. Which you are. Grade A Bullshit Artist and don’t I know it. But... uh, what was I gonna… yeah, wouldn’t it be easier, right, just way easier if you were a hot chick?”

Crowley can tell he’s not done, so he keeps his silver tongue behind his faintly yellowed teeth for the moment.

While Dean is usually delightful company, in his surly, macho way, this evening there’s an uncommonly obnoxious edge to everything he says. That almost certainly means his insecurities over what he’s been letting Crowley do to his arse lately are acting up.

Understandable. Still annoying.

So Crowley’s more than willing to let his favourite human dig himself a wee bit deeper before pouring boiling tar into the pit.

After quickly throwing back the last of his drink, Dean goes on: “Now, I didn’t go to some dickslurp business school. I ain’t that brand of asshole. But I’ve seen enough beer ads in my time to have an idea of how marketing works. You got something you want people to buy? Fastest way is to get a hot chick in a bikini to hold it up. Because guys have most of the money in this shitty world of ours and guys think with their dicks. I know I do. So why did you decide to possess someone who looks like a balding, middle-aged banker going through a stressful divorce? That ain’t enticing. That ain’t capturing anyone’s interest. Y’know?”

“Mm,” says Crowley, and stands up.

“Fuck’re you doing?” Dean slurs, watching him take off his tie.

“Ever heard of the Seven Ill Years, Squirrel?”

“Nope. Seriously, what’re you doing?”

Draping his overcoat over the back of his chair along with his tie, Crowley sets about taking off his jacket. “‘The Seven Ill Years’ refers to a particularly shitty time in early modern Scotland; the 1690s.”

He tugs off his costly leather shoes and places them side-by-side under his chair. “I was in my… early thirties at the time, I think. Thirty-two? Maybe thirty-one. Whatever.”

Dean is gaping now. He’s never seen Crowley without his outer layers, much less the growing slice of exposed chest as Crowley unbuttons his shirt.

“For a lot of complicated reasons relating to oceanic thermohaline circulation, solar activity, and a few ill-timed volcanos, the weather turned rotten. These days, it’s called the Little Ice Age. Us pigshit stupid peasants who lived through it didn’t know anything about all that. All we knew was that it was freezing bloody cold and the crops kept dying.”

“Dude,” Dean hisses, red-faced as Crowley sets his shirt alongside his jacket and overcoat. “Stop it! We’re going to be thrown out!”

“No. Look around. Is anyone paying attention to us? Precisely. We’re invisible to them at the moment, Squirrel. One of my little tricks.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good. But that’s still not an excuse to take your fucking pants off in public oh my God oh my God!”

They’re expensive pants and Crowley takes care to fold them before putting them down. “To cut a long story short; famine struck. And famine, it’s…”

Crowley pauses, thinking, ignoring Dean’s pathetic attempts not to gawk at his dick.

“It’s hard to describe famine to someone who hasn’t lived through one,” he says eventually. “Language – English, at least – isn’t equipped to convey what it feels like to be so hungry you’ll try to boil and eat someone else’s shoes. Then someone else’s children. Then your own children. There are no words for it. Or, if in some distant corner of our monstrous universe there are, then they’re words that would drive a human raving mad to speak them.”

Naked now but for his black socks, Crowley scratches his stubble. “Sometimes I think that’s why I got on so well in Hell.”

He sits back in his chair. Folds his legs. Taps his fingers on the side of his empty glass. “Don’t get me wrong; having someone cut open your lungs, fill them with scorpions, and sew them up again isn’t fun. But – how can I put this? – you can process it. You can grapple with it. You know why you’re suffering; because you’re in Hell, and that’s what Hell is for. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is going about your everyday life and watching all the people around you – the baker, the priest, the prettiest girl in the village – go about theirs while they turn into walking skeletons. And knowing they didn’t do anything to deserve it. Couldn’t have done anything to deserve it, because no crime, no matter how vile, warrants that kind of punishment.”

Dean says nothing.

After a moment, Crowley pulls himself from the dark, sucking well of memory to add, “Anyway, to answer your question; I don’t want to be a hot chick because a. I’m a man and b. hot chicks are skinny, and I will cheerfully burn this world to the ground before I endure living in a hungry body ever again.”

He glances down at his unclothed meat suit and smiles proudly, running a hand up one of its thick thighs. “Also – y’know – I personally think this long-deceased lad of mine is sexy as Hell.”

Gazing at his shoulder, Dean says roughly, “Didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Oh. Those. Yeah. Can’t stand them. Worst decision the stupid bastard ever made.”

“I think they’re kinda cool.”

“Do you? Well, you do have incredibly bad taste so perhaps that’s not surprising. Now, are you going to get over here and put that erection to good use?”

Oh, bless him; he’s adorable when he squirms.

“Here?” Dean asks, eyes wide.

“Here.”

He says it like a challenge, for Dean can never resist one of those. Immediately, those wide eyes become narrow and determined.

The boy stands. Looms over Crowley, who casually flicks both their glasses to the floor and moves to sit on the cool wooden table. It’s clean, more or less, thanks to Dean (for once) agreeing to follow Crowley to a semi-respectable establishment.

“These hands,” Crowley murmurs, running them across Dean’s broad chest, “don’t have a single callous or scar. See? Soft as butter. Not a single day’s honest work, either of them.”

Dean swallows. Leans in to kiss him, hesitant and gentle.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley likes gentle. Or, more accurately, Crowley likes being pampered.

He goes on: “And these legs…”

A groan escapes Dean’s lips as one presses up against his crotch.

“…these legs haven’t walked more than ten miles, collectively, since I moved in. No muscles. No blisters on the undersides of their feet. Not so much as a splinter.”

“Jesus,” Dean mumbles, drawing him in and latching onto his neck.

“And this stomach is never empty. Never even close. Never once forced to digest anything that isn’t purely, perfectly delicious. I treat my meat suits better than most people treat their family heirlooms.”

“Crowley. Fuck.”

He squeezes Dean’s arse and growls, “Because this is my reward, Dean. I won this. This softness, this safety. This nurtured, nourished flesh. I endured the seventeenth century and all humanity’s horrors. Endured my mother. Endured Hell. Built myself a reputation and a kingdom. All for this. And isn’t it wonderful? Say that it is, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean moans, even though he can’t understand a word; Crowley slipped into Gaelic a while ago.

(The things Crowley wants to tell Dean and the things Crowley wants Dean to know are categories that rarely overlap.)

Crowley takes Dean’s leaking cock in hand.

“Say I’m beautiful.”

Dean’s knees buckle as he whimpers, so Crowley wraps an arm around his narrow, underfed waist.

“Say you love me.”

Dean comes in his palm, gasping and cursing.

“Say you love me more than anyone else.”

“I’m guessing that was all Scottish dirty talk?” says Dean when he has his breath back. “You were – what? Calling me your bitch?”

Crowley smirks, licks the sweat off Dean’s jaw, and gives his backside a pat before reaching for his clothes. “None of your business. Go get me another drink, would you? Ta.”

 the end

NOTES: The title is taken from a quote found in Karen Cullen’s ‘Famine in Scotland: the ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s’ (you can find extracts via googlebooks). Yes, canonically Crowley WOULD have been about thirty when this happened. Just in case his origin story wasn’t horrific enough wheee :D

[rotzaprachim]

be gentle with the people who were not made from The Fall

- Gen, Declan Lynch &  Mór Ó Corra

2k ao3 here

She passed Declan a blank manilla envelope. He ran his fingers gingerly over the edges, life having long ago built up a healthy suspicion of anything from the channels of the Fairy Market. He couldn’t feel anything, but he’d also never had the touch for it. At some point he’d always ended up having to hold his breath and jump in in order to get the rough work done. 

He slit it open with the knife in his pocket.  

There were answers he’d had before he even knew what the questions were. Firstborn, Niall told Declan. My All-American son, Niall told Declan. When you were born the rivers dried up and all the cows in Rockingham County cried blood, Niall told Ronan. When you were born, I wasn’t here, Niall told Declan. 

The silence swallowed his voice for a long time. 

“Ó Corra?” 

She gave him a look that said, you can’t pronounce your own name. Finally she said, “You have my name. It’s what they did when the father couldn’t be found.” 

He studied the certificate in the small crescents of yellow light that bounced in through the tinted windows of her sports car from the streetlight outside. The Births and Deaths Registation (Northern Ireland) Order 1976, Article 34. Registered in the District of Belfast. 24 July 1997. Declan James Ó Corra.

There was a box that asked for Name and Surname and Dwelling Place of Father (6). It was blank. There was another box that asked for Rank or Profession of Father. On that one, someone had gona back with a red pen at some later point, scrawled angrily, messily, bleeding jaggedly out from the neat black boxes, GONE. 

It made sense, in a strange sort of way that Declan’s brain dimly seemed to recognise in the same way that the drowning man thinks the sun streaming through the surface looks quite nice even when he’s being pulled under. Niall Lynch’s sons. The dreamer son of a dream and the dream of the dreamer the son of a dream. And here now was the odd one out, the liar the son of a lie. 

“I was two years younger than you.” The woman finally said. He couldn’t think of her as anything other than the vague idea digging at the back of his eye turned hard, angry secret when he started to shift through his father’s boxes of crap after death. He’d left a fuckton of a lot of loose threads, although Declan hadn’t thought he’d be one of them. Letters and phone bills from a far-away woman, even a photo or two, all the vitriol and anger he’d carried around bubbling up again acridly through a mirror. Collected in an old file box next to IOU’s and pay me bastard or i’ll fuck you ups in seven different languages, three of which Niall didn’t know how to read. Collected, and never returned. Even some photos of him as a kiddo in a tiny knit sweater. 

“No explanations.” Declan finally said. His voice sounded like when he’d had the lights punched out of him by one of the goons his dad owed rubles, or rupees, or riyals, in the parking lot of a Fairy Market. It could have been all three. “You don’t have to give me one.” I don’t know if I want one, he didn’t say. 

“I’m a very dangerous woman to find, Declan. You wouldn’t have found me if you hadn’t been looking.” 

He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted safety, although he’d ruled out that as a possibility years ago. He wanted the ones the world had left him to care for to be safe, and he’d jeapordised all that on a wild goose chase to find the woman in one of his father’s fucking dream objects on a hunch of a hunch. He’d done exactly what he’d warned Ronan not to do, relied on himself to be smarter, sharper, more careful. All attributes hard won on his own,  like learning from imitation from a mirror. You see what this who looks like you does? Now do the opposite. 

He sighed. The air bristled, and he realised he sounded a lot like Mór Ó Corra.

“Maybe I-” 

Maybe he hadn’t been angry, almost, to find out. Maybe he’d almost been relieved. A voice to his darkest thoughts saying, you did not dream this up. The part of himself that’d been forced through seven years of Catholic school and then forced himself through a few months of therapy where he couldn’t tell the therapist about any of the things that had most profoundly fucked him up said a good man should have loved any child, regardless. He was about fifteen years past thinking Niall to be a good man. 

“Maybe I spent so many years dealing with all the fucking dreaming, the dreamers and the dreams and every fucking thing that’s come to kill us because Dad couldn’t fix any of his own shit and the fact that none, none of it was ever part of me that I thought I wanted some kind of fucking explanation for it all. I wanted some- some explanation for it all. Why I was different. WHy dad- … WHy dad. I wanted some part of a past that was mine.” Selfish, maybe. Learned. If you spent a lifetime you were different from other people, eventually you came to a wanting a reason for them to be different from you. 

“And you think I’m going to be the dear old Mam who darns your socks and calls to remind you to bring a good girl home to the family?” 

“No. I didn’t ask for that. You know what I asked for.” 

The second Manilla envelope she gave him was far thicker. This time, he could feel the slightest trace of- something. Not a buzzing, not a mist, a- something. He slid it into his briefcase. No expectations. Nothing more. A deal that was a deal, only a birth certificate instead of a handshake. 

“I was two years younger than you. Sometimes life doesn’t hand you many choices. I’d say you didn’t understand, and you don’t, but I’ll also say you’ve been a hell of a lot more of a father than Niall ever was. All the more so since the world’s made you be one.” 

Niall was drunk off some kind of spiked slivovitz when he’d come round to it the first time. Retrospectively, he was probably scared shitless, and rightly so. “Anything happens,” he’d slurred into the hotel couch. “You’re the man of the house. Take ‘em to church. Make ‘em proper. Make ‘em fear God. There’s money in the bank, anything happens.” And Declan had almost said, you know it’s my number Matthew’s school’s had down on the books for a year now? You know the priest there already thinks we’re orphans? 

“You’ve got a number and an adress. You’re a smart boy. You know if you use it my women’ll kill you just as likely as the dreamkillers.” 

“Everything has a price. At least you’re up front on it.” 

“I’m not a good woman, Declan. Don’t make your father’s mistake. Don’t dream me into being one.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

--- 

He didn’t open the package until he’d driven two hours, switched lisence plates and then cars, moved a state line, and walked two miles out to a sublet Jordan knew from a friend of a friend of an enemy in the art underground, where two dreams were now. It came with two dozen forged Miró’s in the living room, all done with a variety of blue paint with a distinctly incriminating synthetic binding agent manufactured solely post 1986, and even in the palest strands of morning light it made the living room into a riot of psychedelic stick-figure Catalan sunshine. He opened the door carefully, walked gingerly past the still-sleeping Matthew, TV still flickering from where he’d probably been watching it far later than Declan would have let him. Flicked the kitchen light on and made himself a cup of instant coffee, and more than anything else resisted the urge to upstairs and collapse next to Jordan in the bed that was for the moment theirs and sleep till noon. But if there was a lesson he’d learned by know it was that he couldn’t do any of the things he wanted to in life. So he downed the shitty instant coffee and he opened Mór Ó Corra’s folder and he got to work. You do what you gotta do for your family, Niall had told him. A deal had gone south and they’d made it out with their lives and stacks of money shoved in their pockets. One day you’ll have yourself a wife and some kids and then you’ll know. And he’d swallowed what he now knew was his rage. 

     “Ready to make a deal with the devil?” The voice on the other end of the number had said when he’d dialed it, and he said, only the devil can help me now, and he’d been right. No one with their head above the water could know the things he wanted to know about the Moderators. I have two dreamers and two dreams to keep out of the reach of a shadowy intergovernmental agency who’s whole M.O is about killing every dreamer they can find to stop the end of the world. Only a shadow knows its kind. And for her part, Mór Ó Corra had been thorough. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust her and he didn’t even know if he trusted the birth certificate. When you were the lying son of a lie, another one would be more natural than anything. He wouldn’t act on any of her information until he could put some feelers out, a few red herrings, get ahold of some of Nialls’ other bullshit to run cross checks. It was a start. At some he’d always ended up having to hold his breath and jump in in order to get the rough work done. At some point, he’d always just been shoved in. 

He didnt’ realise he’d fallen asleep until he was woken up. By Matthew, prodding his neck with the tines of a fork. 

“You said to wake you up if you slept past noon.” Jordan set down a massive plate of something exactly an inch from his eardrum with a loud clatter. 

“It’s 12:02,” Matthew added generously. 

He looked down. He hadn’t gotten through the pile. There was still more- 

Jordan’s eyes flicked notably towards the floor tiles. Declan followed them. In his early morning haze he’d somehow missed a second, smaller envelope within the envelope. He slipped it into his jacket before Matthew could see. He slid all of the papers back into the envelope before Matthew could see more. 

“Two whole extra minutes? Well, that’s where’s where the rest of my day went.” 

“You looked like you needed it. Like, you definitely looked like you needed it.” She handed him the day’s second mug of instant coffee and it hit him again that he loved her a not, which would have felt all new and electric even in circumstances that were not the current ones and when and if this was all over with hopefully no more deaths she deserved a really really nice vacation to somewhere sunny. Which he would not promise until he knew he could actually pull it off, because Declan Lynch was a liar but he was not a man who broke promises. 

  He didn’t open up the other envelope until he was in the bathroom with the door firmly locked. Magical all female mafias ran on the power of the sticky stuff at the top of a Manilla envelope, apparently. Only a few sheets inside. A surprisingly blurry print-out map with a building circled, a clipping from the Belfast Telegraph about the NHS’s most recent warnings on the loneliness epidemic among young adults and seniors, and new local projects for seniors to form new connections through knitting circles, classes in French and Irish, and mentorship opportunities with Sixth-Form students. “Former school teacher Anne  Ó Corra recounts feelings of isolation after the untimely death of her only daughter in 1999. She says that mentorship opportunities with Saint Mary’s Compre-” Declan scanned the article. On the back the same hand that had scrawled, GONE, wrote, THink the old bat’d be happy to see you. 

[atsunflower]

Rated: SFW

Author notes: fucking finally, I'd say. Sorry it took me so long to post it after I decided to revamp this series. Here goes my belated 300 special med student!Kuroo. Please note that this is written based on the med school model we have here, in wich we get the MD degree right away, without the pre-med division they have in USA.

PS: DAI¹ stands for diffuse axonal injury, a type of brain damage caused by violent shakes (acceleration/deceleration/shaken baby syndrome) of the head. No worries, banging your head against a hard surface isn't supposed to give you it. If you get confused by any medical terms, pls hmu!!

Warnings: me trying to be funny. Cursing (reader swears like a sailor here).

I – Lehninger principles of biochemistry

Previous || Next

Your head was throbbing. The professor's voice dragging through your ears made the discomfort you felt even bigger.

The first class of the day have barely started and you were already regretting leaving your bed.

You let out a shuddering breath while your fingers found their way to your temples. You massaged the area, trying to ease the headache.

"You look like shit" the voice came from your right. Shirabu gave you a sideways glance before going back to his notes. "Let me guess, your neighbor again?"

"Yeah, the bastard was up all the night. I still can hear his bed pounding into the wall and the girl trying to muffle her voice" You groaned.

"Ew. Gross" The blonde's face contorted in a grimace "Am I the only one weirded by the fact you never saw the guy?" He asked frowning.

"Hell, no. But I don't think I wanna meet him anytime soon." Your reply was earn; you wouldn't know how to react if you ever saw the said man. "Besides, the guy has this strange schedule. He leaves early in the morning and comes back late at night, it's kinda weird"

"Weird is the way you know him so well and never saw him before" You ignored your him and turned your attention back to the professor. Twenty minutes into the lecture, the door was open and a raven hair peaked from it, sitting on the desk available in the front row.

You mood automatically got worse just by the sight.

"You're staring" Shirabu's uninterested voice ringed in your ears again "Why don't you admit you have a thing for him already? It would make our lives a thousand times easier"

"I just dislike him. I can't stand that dumbass" You retorted grimacing while scribbling down in your notebook. God, you hated biochemistry.

"Yeah, keep repeating that and someday you'll believe it."

"Why you all keep saying it?" You winced at the high pitch of your whisper "The guy ain't special. He is an asshole, honestly"

"Deep down you only say it because he told you were 'just okay' in our first week of freshmen year" The male gave you a pointed look. "I know it's you just being petty, but it's pretty obvious you have a crush on him"

"Hell no, I'd rather have the whole Lehninger shoved down my throat" Your classmate scoffed by your side, resuming to his notes.

"By the looks Haruno-sensei is sending in our direction, it's going to happen anytime soon."

"For this term, you'll send me an essay about peptides with especial focus on physiologically active ones and their major role on human organism." The professor said, sending a stern glare though the class. "Pay attention to the next slide. It contains a table with the pairs I've assigned for this paper"

What the hecking heck?

Your mind went blank but you still heard Shirabu snickering by your peripheral. For such a stoic man, he was pretty out of character today. That little shit.

"Beware the addressed pairs won't be changed in any circumstances. Don't even bother to try" The woman said as she addressed the whole class a cold glare. Goddammit med school and its goddam professors. "You now can discuss this paper. Remember this essay is worth half the grade"

"Fuck" you cursed as your forehead banged onto the thick textbook.

"Whoa, be careful" The teasing voice made you painfully groan "We don't want this pretty brain of yours getting a DAI¹ before we start this paper"

"It's too early in the morning to deal with you, Kuroo" Your retorted came muffled as you pressed your face even flatter into the book. 

"It's too early in the morning for you be ranting about everything but you don't hear me complaining, kitten" He jabbed at you, laughing it off as mere teasing "Is it fine if we start the paper on this weekend? I gotta volley practice the whole week."

"Sure. Wanna meet up on the public library?" You asked gathering your things, as you turned to Shirabu and saw him cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Fine by me" The male scratched the back of his neck, giving you an awkward glance "Actually, I wanted to ask you phone number" You stiffened "Aw [Surname]-chan, C'mon! You know it's easier."

"But what for? You already have my institutional email"

"You're too formal for your own good, woman" He handed you his phone, nudging the device into your palms "Where do you think this strict act is going to take you?"

You rolled your eyes at him again.

"Actually, Kuroo-san" You made a pause, voicing the words with candour "I want chaos and world domination. But in order to do it, I need to overthrow the dean first" You said while punching the numbers onto the chapped screen of his phone. The ravenette snorted at your reply.

"Oh shit, you're so weird!" And he left out a hyena laugh.

"Way to impress a girl, huh" 

"Only the ones I'm trynna woo" The male smirked when he saw your dumbfounded face.

"Huh? Big words coming from a nerd" You brushed off his provocation. You knew he didn't mean it, but you couldn't prevent your heart to skip a beat.

"Oi, [Name]! What do you mean?"

Surprisingly, the week went smoothly. No Kuroo incidents nor professors bitching over the struggling students.

It was saturday and you were more than ready to spend a whole day inside the library with the ravenette.

Sarcasm? Check.

It wasn't like you hated him. If you were to be honest, it was the other way around — but you would never give Shirabu the taste of being right.

Kuroo just had a special way of getting under your skin. He knew what buttons to push and how to make feel flustered.

You were indeed whipped for him in your first year, but he was an asshole back then — It was kinda comprehensible though: being new to the infamous uni life, freshmen were always seeking acceptance from other people.

Kouhai trying to impress their senpai.

Jocks trying to make a number on the female population.

You trying to grab the attention of that hot guy from welcome ceremony — yes, the one who ended to be the bane of your campus existence.

Yada yada.

But when Kuroo turned you down — without you confessing first, you may add —, your pride was incredibly hurt. You then declared war. Best way to rile up a med student? Make your grades better than theirs.

But of fucking course Kuroo wasn't your regular med student. The competition only provoked meaningless banter — and it annoyed you even more because you couldn't get into his nerves the same way he did to you.

"Oi, [Surname]! You good there?"

"Yeah, yeah, get back to the damn peptides" You definitely despised biochemistry.

You rummaged through the books sprawled over the desk, searching for your Lehninger copy.

"Where the fuck that huge ass book went to?" You murmured, getting ready to go check on your backpack.

Glancing towards your classmate's direction, you spotted it under one of the textbooks he was using, but before you could reach for it, you felt hands gingerly wrapping around your chin, making your eyes lock into his stare.

"What are you doing?" You knew the warmth in your cheeks wasn't being provided by his body temperature.

"Conducting an experiment" He said as you melted under his attentive stare.

"Huh?"

"You know, they say exchanging looks causes an increase on Oxytocin synthesis in hypothalamus" The male smirked when a vein popped on your head, your brain recalled that science paper about the physiology on human and dog interactions. You wanted chaos and world domination — but in order to make it, you had to kill Kuroo first.

"Are you fucking calling me a dog?" You squinted at him, ready to fight. He laughed as your slapped his hands off of your face.

"Oh, come on, it was just a joke. You know the hormone of love doesn't work this way." His hyena laugh made presence as the bibliothecary gave you two a dejected stare.

Just a joke, huh?

For a med student, Kuroo Tetsuro would make a shitty doctor if he didn't know how bad his smile was for your heart.

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[365days365movies]

May 9, 2021: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) (Recap: Part One)

Welcome to the future.

At this point, we’ve mostly looked at the past, present, or the near-future (as in, the next ten years, if that). Additionally, we’ve looked either at nonexistent technology in a contemporary setting, or an extension of existing technology taken to a logical next step. But no more. No more realism, no more real-world rules, and nothing that we’re even close to in this reality.

Well...mostly.

That’s genuinely impressive, not gonna lie. Anyway, yeah, from here forwards (for a bit), we’ll be looking at the future and futuristic technology. Now, there are a couple of ways in which these films tend to go. The first big way that we tend to represent the future in film is the same way we always have: flying cars, futuristic technology, smart houses, and robots.

Now, there are countless examples of this future, and it always changes a bit depending on the present. Which, yeah, makes sense. After all, what I’m doing right now, at this moment, would’ve been seen by many people as a massive technological achievement, even around the time that I was born. Which, yes, I’m old, deal with it (because I can’t). Anyway, the way that this begins is with the first major filmed view of a seemingly idyllic future: Fritz Lang’s 1927 film Metropolis.

The overly mechanized (and politically dystopic) society seen in this film, as well as the visuals and technology, would inform our ideas of the future throughout the next century. Multiple themes and common objects reoccur throughout futuristic fiction. You know the stuff I’m talking about. Flying cars, automatic food machines, robotic assistants, video watches, holograms, jetpacks, so on and so forth.

But here’s the thing about the future. It’s always ahead of us, and eventually...well, we’ve gotten to most of those things to some degree. Either they already exist...

...or is currently being developed.

Well, one of them we’re still working on. And the development of more advanced AI is something we have yet to perfect, or even fully develop. However, the development of A.I. (and the consequences of that technology) are ALL OVER science fiction. Sometimes, they’re merely used for flavor to help establish the futuristic setting.

Sometimes, they’re characters with their own agency and conflicts, which may or may not define the plot. In these cases, they’re often simply there to back up the main human characters, and help with their development, and sometimes their own. You know, manic pixie dream robots.

And then, possibly most often, they’re the abject villains of the piece. they can be mysterious alien technology, like in The Day the Earth Stood Still, or a man-made danger that turns on the race that created and/or abused it.

But then, on occasion, an A.I. is given the chance to develop as a character, without being used to define the development of a human character. Sometimes, the question of what life truly means is raised through these characters, and we become attached to them outside of any other character. This isn’t nearly as common as the others, but it’s definitely not unheard of.

And for the record...things don’t often go well for those AIs. But still, some of those characters have quite a lasting impact. So, there’s quite a lot of potential for this type of character, from a dramatic standpoint. And that potential leads us to the guy who made this.

I WILL MAKE A JURASSIC PARK REFERENCE AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE

Steven Spielberg gives us today’s entry, and this director of a classic science fiction story about science gone awry teamed up with the director of a science fiction film where an artificial intelligence went awry. You know, this thing.

I didn’t forget about HAL. And I won’t forget about him later, either.

Director Stanley Kubrick is pretty well-know for his mind-bending films, especially The Shining and 2001: A Space Odyssey. But he also worked with Spielberg on this film before his death in 1999, as this was one of his dream projects for many years, and the two directors were well-known friends.

And so, eventually, Spielberg was given the reins from Kubrick, and results were...mixed. It’s funny, because I’ve never actually seen this movie, but I remember it through its surprisingly widespread ad campaign. I used to go to NYC as a kid a lot, and there was a massive building-side plastered with the iconic logo of this movie. So, I’ve been hovering around this movie for a long time. Enough navel-gazing!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (Part One)

It is, unsurprisingly, the future. A marrator informs us that climate change has caused the ice caps to melt, and global flooding drowns several countries. You could say that it’s a...Waterworld.

I genuinely considered watching that movie at some point, and then I decided I liked myself to much to watch 2 hours of Kevin Costner’s emotionless acting. Granted, it’s not much better now, listening to the emotionless acting of...

Professor Allen Hobby (William Hurt) is a straight-up sociopath. OK, technically, he’s a robotics engineer, but dude’s making a speech, right? He talks about how far robots have come, dissing my boi Deep Blue in the process, and notes that pain-memory response can also be demonstrated by robots. He proves this by stabbing a woman in his audience, like RIGHT through the hand. Jesus, man! Why the hell would you do that?

Oh. Holy shit, I got fooled. Advanced technology indeed. But OK, so Sheila’s a robot, and a very advanced one...to us. But Hobby wants more, and proposes to his workers to make a robot that can really TRULY love. And through love may come a true subconscious, which means making a robot that can dream. And what better robot to make than a robot child? After all, all child conception requires a license in this futuristic world, so many childless couples are yearning for a child.

Which is why, twenty months later, the first robot child is offered to Henry and Monica Swinton (Sam Robards and Frances O’Connor), a couple...with a child. Um. Guys. You JUST SAID that there are legit childless couples who need a child, and those people would be best suited to love that robot child back (a VERY GOOD question raised by one of Hobby’s subordinates). So why give it to a couple whose son is still alive? Yeah, he’s got a rare disease that they don’t have a cure for yet, and is currently in cryostasis, BUT THEY HAVE A KID! Surely, that’s going to be a potential emotional conflict! And what if the kid wakes up or some shit? This is a TERRIBLE goddamn idea. Think this shit through, guys.

And yet...

This is David (Haley Joel Osment), Cybertronics’ first child robot, brought home by Henry to essentially replace their son. Which is AMAZINGLY FUCKING TONE-DEAF AND INSANE, GODDAMN. That’s extraordinarily messed up. And, for the record, I totally get what Spielberg’s going for, but Jesus Christ, man. This was a terrible way to go about this. And it gets fucking WORSE.

See, Henry (who actually works for Cybertronics) tells Monica that, once they sign the papers and complete the updates, David will imprint on them and see him as their true parents, loving them unconditionally. Which...yeah, fuck, that’s an entire DUMP TRUCK of ethics issues right there. And, while we’re at it, David is...creepy as shit. I mean it, dude, Haley Joel Osment is a VERY good child actor, but he’s laying on the creepy robot child thing THICK. And yeah, this is BEFORE he imprints on them. Jesus fuck, man, there’s a scene where the still uncomfortable Monica is outside of a glass door, and he looks back at her THROUGH THE DOOR like a goddamn SERIAL KILLER.

And I gotta tell ya, dude does not lay off that creepy-ass dial one iota. And for that matter, the music by John Williams ISN’T FUCKING HELPING. LISTEN to this shit, and imagine a robot child that you don’t know wandering around your house. It’s amazingly fucking creepy.

AND IT JUST. KEEPS. GETTING. WORSE. There’s a scene where they’re all at dinner, right, and David’s just staring at them as they eat, mimicking their actions. After all, he’s a robot, he can’t actually eat or drink anything because of his internal working. And then, out of FUCKING NOWHERE, he starts laughing like the FUCKING JOKER, and it scares the EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME. And somehow, they laugh alongside him, in the never-ending Stockholm syndrome that is this movie! And as soon as its over, he just STOPS laughing, spontaneously. Fuck me, man, I’m tempted to stop watching here and now, and I’m only TWENTY MINUTES IN! I need a fucking break.

And after that...OF COURSE she decides to activate his imprinting protocols to make him, let me remind you, LOVE HIM FOREVER! She reads out a series of words, and after “FREIGHT CAR”, he knows his mission is to kill the Prime Minister of Sokovia. But first, he’ll settle down and love Monica unconditionally (again, FOREVER), calling her Mommy and making me shit my pants in fear. IT WASN’T ME, IT WAS FUCKING DAVID

Oh, and by the way, isn’t it kinda shitty to do that without Henry being involved AT ALL? Like, cool, he has unconditional maternal love, but Henry wasn’t a part of that conditioning at all! And he still refers to him as “Henry” instead of Dad! However, Henry definitely doesn’t care about that, because he still sees David as only a robot. Hey, guys, maybe using these two as your first experiment with a robot child WAS A TERRIBLE FUCKING IDEA, YOU IDIOTS! No wonder William Hurt was cast as Thunderbolt Ross in the MCU. Already shown he can play a character with shitty ideas before.

Anyway, after this terrible series of events, David prevents the parents from leaving one night due to his childlike antics. When Monica goes to comfort him, he asks how long she’ll live, and tells her that he hope she never dies, a COMPLETELY NORMAL THING TO SAY. Look, I get that he’s a robot, but only a goddamn emotionless sociopath would program emotional responses like this into a robot. Which, given what we’ve seen of Hobby, makes sense.

In response, she gives him Teddy (Jack Angel), a technologically advanced teddy bear with sentience, a personality, and the voice of Astrotrain from The Transformers TV series. Because, yes, I am THAT MUCH of a goddamn nerd.

Soon after, the house gets a phone call, which David receives...literally. He takes the phone and allows it to speak through him. It turns out that, shock beyond shocks, THEIR SON IS CURED! Yeah, fuck. Maybe giving David to a family with a STILL LIVING SON is a fucking ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE IDEA, for about a thousand reasons.

And, fucking understandably, Martin Swinton (Jake Thomas) is a little upset to find out that he’s essentially been replaced by a robot kid. Although, to be fair, he’s also kind of a dick to David, holding his humanity over him and treating him as a toy that he attempts to manipulate and bully. My Lord, this is a massively stupid idea. And Martin immediately shows his dickishness by asking his mother to read Carlo Collodi’s The Adventures of Pinocchio to them. Which is meant to be a punishment for Pinocchio. However, of course, David loves it.

Still, however, there’s trouble in paradise for David, as he tries to compete with Martin for being a real boy, and eats spinach at dinner one evening. Despite Teddy’s mildly ominous warning to him (”YOU WILL BREAK”), he keeps eating until he basically has a stroke and breaks, forcing him to be repaired by some of Cybertronics’ technicians. Monica has a bit of a break down as a result, which Martin notices. This causes Martin to go pure supervillain, manipulating David to do creepy things in order to insert doubt into Monica about David. Jesus, Martin’s a creepy kid, too. No wonder Monica grew to be cool with David, her actual son is a FUCKING SOCIOPATHIC MONSTER! Are there ANY truly normal people in this world? IS THIS WHAT THE FUTURE IS?

Martin convinces David to cut a lock of Monica’s hair while she’s sleeping. And lemme tell ya, a little boy holding scissors over someone while they sleep is not exactly comforting. Henry agrees, and after stopping him, believes that they need to return him. Monica disagrees, knowing that they’ll destroy him if brought back. But David, ever the semi-sociopath himself, ignores any signs of humanity in David and dismisses Monica's feelings for him entirely. He also says this thing about “IF HE CAN BE PROGRAMMED TO LOVE, CAN NOT HE BE PROGRAMM-ED TO HATE?”, which...no. No, he cannot. He didn’t learn to love, he was programmed to. And, again, that’s ethically FUCKED, but taking that into account...no. HE WASN’T PROGRAMMED TO HATE, HENRY. Goddamn, buddy, use your head here.

It’s Martin’s birthday, and his friends at the pool party expose David to the fun world of anti-robot (or Mecha) racism, and test to see if he has Damage Avoidance Systems by threatening him with a knife. And he does. Buuut, when those systems kick in, he goes to the nearest point of safety to keep himself safe. That point is, unfortunately, Martin, whom he gets behind...and accidentally drags into the pool.

Thing is, because of Martin’s recent illness, he can’t exactly swim, meaning that David almost drowns him. When Henry and other partygoers go to save him, they abandon David in the pool completely. And now, David’s fucked. Because although this situation isn’t even a little bit his fault, he also just nearly killed Martin. And so, after seeing notes that he’s been writing to her, Monica offers to take for a “ride in the country”. Which definitely means something good. In reality, she’s planning on taking him back to Cybertronics. But once in the car, there’s a change in plans. And hear me out...it’s arguably far more horrifying.

She decides to abandon him in the woods completely, despite how hard it is for her to leave him. She’s sparing him from death, sure, but also throwing him into a world he doesn’t understand, and for reasons that he doesn’t understand. It’s genuinely terrible. And then...yeah, she leaves him forever, to an uncertain future.

End Act One.

I think this is a good place to stop. It’s early, and I need more coffee to handle this shit. See you in Part Two. Of Three. Yup. It’s a long one.