#is it lost forever or does it get stored like if you level lock?

[dyvimcore]

finally reached max level after years of continually getting so close and then KI releasing a new update that ups the cap!!!

[goodlucktai]

Hi! So, I read on ao3 that you were taking requests, so.. here's one. xD The scenario I have in mind is that Luffy can tell Sanji isn't feeling well just because of how the meat/ food tastes. (I was thinking physically sick, but could be like PTSD too) Like, maybe they go adventuring on an island or something, then after eating the packed lunch, Luffy suddenly and urgently wants to head back to the ship to check on Sanji. You can use the premise loosely or however you want too. Love your fics!<3

x

Sanji opts to stay with Sunny when they anchor off the coast of an unnamed island. 

Usopp doesn’t think anything of it—Sanji isn’t the only one. Franky is staying behind, too, holed up in the workshop with some improved schematics for the docking system that came to him in a dream. Brook has been composing a new song over the last couple of days, and cheerfully waves the rest of them off with his violin bow when they let him know they’re going ashore. 

All of them have kind of extreme personalities—some more so than others—so they can get stuck in their own heads sometimes. Usopp is guilty of it, too. It’s not really a bad thing, and their nakama are good at giving each other room to be mad scientist levels of intense when they need to be, and it all works out. 

A few months ago, Sanji locked them out of the dining hall for the two entire days leading up to the new year, carting their meals onto the deck and glaring at them evilly if they so much as glanced in the general direction of the galley door. But the incredible buffet he revealed to them on New Year’s Eve was more than worth it. 

So Usopp just assumes that Sanji is planning something big like that again, or testing a new recipe or something. It’s easy to put out of his mind in favor of the adventure spread out in front of him in the form of pink sand beaches and a dense, mountainous jungle. 

The Devil’s Fruit users clamber aboard the Mini Merry behind Nami, and Luffy drags Usopp and Zoro on, too. It’s a tight fit, and she’s not meant to seat more than four, but Chopper is tiny and content to sit in Robin’s lap, and Luffy and Zoro are sharing a seat less successfully but laughing uproariously about it, and for all Nami’s testy griping, her eyes are bright with good humor. It’s really a perfect sort of day, and they're all feeling it. 

So Usopp sits on the edge of their little paddle steamer, loops an arm through Luffy’s to keep himself steady, and lets his feet drag through the water as the tiny likeness of their beloved caravel carries them faithfully, if a little precariously, to shore. 

Nami and Robin don’t go very far past the beach; there’s some mossy driftwood in the surf that makes a handy lounger. They sit down, and less than one millisecond later, Chopper whips a bottle of sunscreen out of his little backpack, along with a very earnest, very adorable lecture about skin care that his nakama both listen to attentively. 

Luffy, for his part, isn’t happy unless he’s running circles around everyone else and generally being an unstoppable force of nature, so Usopp isn’t surprised in the slightest when he crashes straight into the jungle at full-speed. 

Zoro follows after him, because of course he does, so Usopp goes, too. This island may be small, but it’s big enough for Zoro to get lost forever, and he’s the absolute worst person to leave alone with Luffy in the first place, even at home. Sure, Usopp loves and respects them both, and would—and has!—put his life in their hands with absolutely no qualms or second thoughts.  And they’re both single-minded geniuses about the things they’re good at. 

But they’re also really dumb. And they just instantly compound each other’s qualities, good or bad, by virtue of existing on the same planet together. So Usopp resigns himself to being the voice of reason this afternoon and braces himself for whatever the jungle has in store.

Luffy is in fine form. He hops thickets and ducks under giant palm leaves and follows along natural trails left by native wildlife as easily as if he was taking a nostalgic trip through his hometown. He alternates chattering about the beast kings he hopes they encounter and singing one of his warbling impromptu songs. 

At one point he interrupts himself with a little hoot of delight and plucks a strange, smooth yellow pod from a fruit tree. Clearly he recognizes it by sight, and cracks it open to reveal the fleshy pulp and big, round seeds inside.

“Cacao beans!” Luffy exclaims, picking a few out and tossing them to Usopp and Zoro underhand. “We used to eat these all the time when I was little!”

They’re earthy and nutty, and taste almost like chocolate. Usopp reaches over for a few more and declares, “It was worth coming to this island just for these.”

Luffy nods firmly. Zoro is smiling a little at their captain’s enthusiasm, though he keeps it tucked away to himself. Usopp feels sort of buoyed along by it, too. Luffy is so often happy that sometimes Usopp forgets how important that happiness really is. How much he would be willing to do to keep it. 

They pick a bunch of the cacao pods to take home with them, and some mangoes, too, since there was a tree full of those nearby. Luffy shrugs off his bag and ooohs at the insulated snack boxes inside, as if he managed to forget about them despite hauling them around all morning, and unpacks those to make room for their fruit haul instead.

Usopp tucks into one of the boxes eagerly. The food inside is cool and crisp; cubed melon, hummus and sugar snap peas, a yogurt parfait. It’s perfect for a hot summer day, and desperately refreshing after a couple of hours romping through the humid jungle. 

Even Zoro starts eating without more than a single customary eye-roll at the scowly moss-ball drawn on the top of his lunch box. Luffy, however, takes one bite of homemade jerky and then stares down at the treasure box of snacks in his laps like it betrayed him. He chews slowly and swallows, brow furrowed. 

Then he shoots to his feet, crams the rest of the jerky in his mouth, and garbles out something Usopp absolutely has no hope of translating, before he takes off at a jog back towards the beach. 

“You—what—why—Luffy!” Usopp calls after him. That was too bizarre for Usopp to not need immediate clarification about. Zoro seems content to keep eating, so Usopp pauses long enough to give the swordsman his sternest glare. “Do not move! I swear to god, Zoro! And don’t let our stuff get eaten by a bear.”

“Luffy said crocodiles were more likely,” Zoro replies, unbothered by the idea. “If I see one I’ll catch it. We can have a barbecue.”

“Maniacs,” Usopp grumbles, mostly fond, and follows the obvious trail of flattened leaves and broken branches Luffy left behind him. 

On the beach, his captain is laying face-first in the sand, squirming around like a beached whale. He’s being restrained by a few of Robin’s extra arms. Nami looks exasperated, Robin looks amused, and Chopper looks frantic. So, totally normal on every count. 

“You can’t drink ocean-water Luffy!” their doctor cries. “It’s not good for you! Are you craving sodium?? Do you have a calcium deficiency??” 

“What,” Usopp says at length, bracing his hands on his knees to get his breath back. 

“Our fearless leader just tried to throw himself into the sea,” Nami says, throwing up her hands. “You know you can’t swim, right? You remember that minor detail?” she adds for Luffy’s benefit, who is still growling into the sand and trying to inch his way to freedom. 

“I gotta see Sanji!” he says, twisting his neck at an impossible-for-a-borderline-human angle to scowl up at them as if they’re the ones being unreasonable. “Robin—!”

“Oh, I see. Excuse me, captain,” she says peacefully, and releases him. He springs to his feet, only for his stomach to sprout hands that begin tickling him mercilessly, and he ends up back on the ground a second later, this time rolling with laughter. “If you need to get back to the ship, why don’t you simply slingshot yourself there?”

Luffy sits up, breathless and ruffled, and aims a glowing smile her way. “That’s a great idea!” 

“OR,” Nami says very loudly, “one of us can just take you back on the Mini Merry.” 

“I’ll do it,” Usopp says, in part because he wants to see this play out, and in part because he loves any excuse to spend time with Merry. “C’mon, Lu, let’s go. I left Zoro behind on crocodile duty.”

Luffy hops to his feet and leads the way back to the paddle steamer at a dead sprint. He’s racing the tide, weaving in and out of the way as the waves pull back and forth, and hops aboard the Mini Merry with a battle-cry. 

He’s so extra, about literally everything. Usopp loves him. 

They make it back to Sunny in a handful of minutes, and Luffy doesn’t bother waiting for the docking system. He stretches an arm up to her rail and loops the other one around Usopp’s waist, and with a neat, economic little yank, he has them both on deck. 

Brook glances up as his captain rushes by. “Yohoho! Was the island that boring?”

“He was having the time of his life like six minutes ago,” Usopp replies dryly, following Hurricane Luffy toward the galley. Their musician laughs again, that bone-deep cackle, and Usopp is smiling to himself when he lets himself into the kitchen. 

The smile withers and falls off his face a second later. 

Sanji is sitting at the dining table with his hands wrapped around a mug that looks like its gone cold. His visible eye is rimmed with red. He looks miserable. 

Or he looks like he was miserable, all of two seconds ago, before Luffy burst into the room. Now he looks stunned—understandable—but it’s creeping toward shame—less understandable. As if they haven’t all seen each other at their absolute lowest. As if crying is something to be embarrassed about. Barely a week ago Sanji sat up with Usopp in the middle of the night and let him bawl against his shoulder in a random burst of homesickness for Syrup Village. And what of it!

Usopp is getting worked up for no reason, at Sanji, for Sanji, in confused solidarity. 

Luffy, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He’s across the room in an instant, kneeling beside Sanji’s chair and gazing up at him with that look. That impossible, undivided stare that makes you feel like a mountain is bowing to give you its notice. The cook’s hands clench around his cup for a second, and then all the tension eases out of him like smoke escaping through an open window. His guard visibly goes down.

“Do I want to know how you could tell from three miles away?” Sanji asks ruefully. 

“Food tasted funny,” Luffy replies like it’s totally unremarkable. “Like your hands were heavier while they worked. I could just tell.”

Sanji shoots a bewildered glance at Usopp over Luffy’s head. Usopp shrugs expansively. The hummus tasted like hummus, as far as his refined palate was concerned. 

When Sanji glances back down at Luffy, he’s smiling crookedly, despite himself. “Is that right?” 

“Mm-hm!” Luffy settles tailor-style, and tilts until his spine is resting against the leg of the table, and he can lean his head on Sanji’s knee. “Sanji’s one of my favorite people in the entire world, so he can tell me anything. But if he doesn’t want to, we can talk about something else instead. Like what I found in the jungle!”

With a little huff, Sanji tugs at a piece of Luffy’s damp, sandy hair. It’s making a mess of his jeans, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His blue eye is soft, and there’s barely a trace of that earlier misery in it anymore. 

“Well, what’d you find?” Sanji prompts him, and Luffy launches into his tale. 

His chest is so warm and tender it might as well be slow-cooked meat about to fall off the bone. Usopp lets himself out of the galley, easing the door shut behind him as quietly as he can. Brook is waiting where they left him, head tilted, until Usopp gives him the OK-sign with his fingers to let him know all is well. Then he yo-ho-hos again and sets bow back to string, and Usopp swings himself back down to the Mini Merry with a serenade of violin music swelling behind him.

His friends are all waiting on the beach. Zoro has a dead crocodile with him, easily thirty feet long. Nami is shrieking about how the hell they’re going to cart that thing back to Sunny, and Chopper is hiding from it backwards, behind Robin, who is smothering a smile with her hand. 

Usopp is so abruptly, entirely grateful to know them all—to be sailing out to bring them home, to belong to the same place they belong to—that he can’t help but laugh. He thinks, for a second, he can hear Merry laughing, too. 

[puttingherinhistory]

“Covid has unleashed the most severe setback to women’s liberation in my lifetime. While watching this happen, I have started to think we are witnessing an outbreak of disaster patriarchy.

Naomi Klein was the first to identify “disaster capitalism”, when capitalists use a disaster to impose measures they couldn’t possibly get away with in normal times, generating more profit for themselves. Disaster patriarchy is a parallel and complementary process, where men exploit a crisis to reassert control and dominance, and rapidly erase hard-earned women’s rights. (The term “racialized disaster patriarchy” was used by Rachel E Luft in writing about an intersectional model for understanding disaster 10 years after Hurricane Katrina.) All over the world, patriarchy has taken full advantage of the virus to reclaim power – on the one hand, escalating the danger and violence to women, and on the other, stepping in as their supposed controller and protector.

I have spent months interviewing activists and grassroots leaders around the world, from Kenya to France to India, to find out how this process is affecting them, and how they are fighting back. In very different contexts, five key factors come up again and again. In disaster patriarchy, women lose their safety, their economic power, their autonomy, their education, and they are pushed on to the frontlines, unprotected, to be sacrificed. 

Part of me hesitates to use the word “patriarchy”, because some people feel confused by it, and others feel it’s archaic. I have tried to imagine a newer, more contemporary phrase for it, but I have watched how we keep changing language, updating and modernising our descriptions in an attempt to meet the horror of the moment. I think, for example, of all the names we have given to the act of women being beaten by their partner. First, it was battery, then domestic violence, then intimate partner violence, and most recently intimate terrorism. We are forever doing the painstaking work of refining and illuminating, rather than insisting the patriarchs work harder to deepen their understanding of a system that is eviscerating the planet. So, I’m sticking with the word. 

In this devastating time of Covid we have seen an explosion of violence towards women, whether they are cisgender or gender-diverse. Intimate terrorism in lockdown has turned the home into a kind of torture chamber for millions of women. We have seen the spread of revenge porn as lockdown has pushed the world online; such digital sexual abuse is now central to domestic violence as intimate partners threaten to share sexually explicit images without victims’ consent. 

The conditions of lockdown – confinement, economic insecurity, fear of illness, excess of alcohol – were a perfect storm for abuse. It is hard to determine what is more disturbing: the fact that in 2021 thousands of men still feel willing and entitled to control, torture and beat their wives, girlfriends and children, or that no government appears to have thought about this in their planning for lockdown. 

In Peru, hundreds of women and girls have gone missing since lockdown was imposed, and are feared dead. According to official figures reported by Al Jazeera, 606 girls and 309 women went missing between 16 March and 30 June last year. Worldwide, the closure of schools has increased the likelihood of various forms of violence. The US Rape Abuse and Incest National Network says its helpline for survivors of sexual assault has never been in such demand in its 26-year history, as children are locked in with abusers with no ability to alert their teachers or friends. In Italy, calls to the national anti-violence toll-free number increased by 73% between 1 March and 16 April 2020, according to the activist Luisa Rizzitelli. In Mexico, emergency call handlers received the highest number of calls in the country’s history, and the number of women who sought domestic violence shelters quadrupled. 

To add outrage to outrage, many governments reduced funding for these shelters at the exact moment they were most needed. This seems to be true throughout Europe. In the UK, providers told Human Rights Watch that the Covid-19 crisis has exacerbated a lack of access to services for migrant and Black, Asian and minority ethnic women. The organisations working with these communities say that persistent inequality leads to additional difficulties in accessing services such as education, healthcare and disaster relief remotely. 

In the US, more than 5 million women’s jobs were lost between the start of the pandemic and November 2020. Because much of women’s work requires physical contact with the public – restaurants, stores, childcare, healthcare settings – theirs were some of the first to go. Those who were able to keep their jobs were often frontline workers whose positions have put them in great danger; some 77% of hospital workers and 74% percent of school staff are women. Even then, the lack of childcare options left many women unable to return to their jobs. Having children does not have this effect for men. The rate of unemployment for Black and Latina women was higher before the virus, and now it is even worse. 

The situation is more severe for women in other parts of the world. Shabnam Hashmi, a leading women’s activist from India, tells me that by April 2020 a staggering 39.5% of women there had lost their jobs. “Work from home is very taxing on women as their personal space has disappeared, and workload increased threefold,” Hashmi says. In Italy, existing inequalities have been amplified by the health emergency. Rizzitelli points out that women already face lower employment, poorer salaries and more precarious contracts, and are rarely employed in “safe” corporate roles; they have been the first to suffer the effects of the crisis. “Pre-existing economic, social, racial and gender inequalities have been accentuated, and all of this risks having longer-term consequences than the virus itself,” Rizzitelli says. 

When women are put under greater financial pressure, their rights rapidly erode. With the economic crisis created by Covid, sex- and labour-trafficking are again on the rise. Young women who struggle to pay their rent are being preyed on by landlords, in a process known as “sextortion”. 

I don’t think we can overstate the level of exhaustion, anxiety and fear that women are suffering from taking care of families, with no break or time for themselves. It’s a subtle form of madness. As women take care of the sick, the needy and the dying, who takes care of them? Colani Hlatjwako, an activist leader from the Kingdom of Eswatini, sums it up: “Social norms that put a heavy caregiving burden on women and girls remain likely to make their physical and mental health suffer.” These structures also impede access to education, damage livelihoods, and strip away sources of support.

Unesco estimates that upward of 11 million girls may not return to school once the Covid pandemic subsides. The Malala Fund estimates an even bigger number: 20 million. Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, from UN Women, says her organisation has been fighting for girls’ education since the Beijing UN women’s summit in 1995. “Girls make up the majority of the schoolchildren who are not going back,” she says. “We had been making progress – not perfect, but we were keeping them at school for longer. And now, to have these girls just dropping out in one year, is quite devastating.” 

Of all these setbacks, this will be the most significant. When girls are educated, they know their rights, and what to demand. They have the possibility of getting jobs and taking care of their families. When they can’t access education, they become a financial strain to their families and are often forced into early marriages. 

This has particular implications for female genital mutilation (FGM). Often, fathers will accept not subjecting their daughters to this process because their daughters can become breadwinners through being educated. If there is no education, then the traditional practices resume, so that daughters can be sold for dowries. As Agnes Pareyio, chairwoman of the Kenyan Anti-Female Genital Mutilation Board, tells me: “Covid closed our schools and brought our girls back home. No one knew what was going on in the houses. We know that if you educate a girl, FGM will not happen. And now, sadly the reverse is true.” 

In the early months of the pandemic, I had a front-row seat to the situation of nurses in the US, most of whom are women. I worked with National Nurses United, the biggest and most radical nurses’ union, and interviewed many nurses working on the frontline. I watched as for months they worked gruelling 12-hour shifts filled with agonising choices and trauma, acting as midwives to death. On their short lunch breaks, they had to protest over their own lack of personal protective equipment, which put them in even greater danger. In the same way that no one thought what it would mean to lock women and children in houses with abusers, no one thought what it would be like to send nurses into an extremely contagious pandemic without proper PPE. In some US hospitals, nurses were wearing garbage bags instead of gowns, and reusing single-use masks many times. They were being forced to stay on the job even if they had fevers.

The treatment of nurses who were risking their lives to save ours was a shocking kind of violence and disrespect. But there are many other areas of work where women have been left unprotected, from the warehouse workers who are packing and shipping our goods, to women who work in poultry and meat plants who are crammed together in dangerous proximity and forced to stay on the job even when they are sick. One of the more stunning developments has been with “tipped” restaurant workers in the US, already allowed to be paid the shockingly low wage of $2.13 (£1.50) an hour, which has remained the same for the past 22 years. Not only has work declined, tips have also declined greatly for those women, and now a new degradation called “maskular harassment” has emerged, where male customers insist waitresses take off their masks so they can determine if and how much to tip them based on their looks. 

Women farm workers in the US have seen their protections diminished while no one was looking. Mily Treviño-Sauceda, executive director of Alianza Nacional de Campesinas, tells me how pressures have increased on campesinas, or female farm workers: “There have been more incidents of pesticides poisonings, sexual abuse and heat stress issues, and there is less monitoring from governmental agencies or law enforcement due to Covid-19.” 

Covid has revealed the fact that we live with two incompatible ideas when it comes to women. The first is that women are essential to every aspect of life and our survival as a species. The second is that women can easily be violated, sacrificed and erased. This is the duality that patriarchy has slashed into the fabric of existence, and that Covid has laid bare. If we are to continue as a species, this contradiction needs to be healed and made whole. 

To be clear, the problem is not the lockdowns, but what the lockdowns, and the pandemic that required them, have made clear. Covid has revealed that patriarchy is alive and well; that it will reassert itself in times of crisis because it has never been truly deconstructed, and like an untreated virus it will return with a vengeance when the conditions are ripe. 

The truth is that unless the culture changes, unless patriarchy is dismantled, we will forever be spinning our wheels. Coming out of Covid, we need to be bold, daring, outrageous and to imagine a more radical way of existing on the Earth. We need to continue to build and spread activist movements. We need progressive grassroots women and women of colour in positions of power. We need a global initiative on the scale of a Marshall Plan or larger, to deconstruct and exorcise patriarchy – which is the root of so many other forms of oppression, from imperialism to racism, from transphobia to the denigration of the Earth. 

There would first be a public acknowledgment, and education, about the nature of patriarchy and an understanding that it is driving us to our end. There would be ongoing education, public forums and processes studying how patriarchy leads to various forms of oppression. Art would help expunge trauma, grief, aggression, sorrow and anger in the culture and help heal and make people whole. We would understand that a culture that has diabolical amnesia and refuses to address its past can only repeat its misfortunes and abuses. Community and religious centres would help members deal with trauma. We would study the high arts of listening and empathy. Reparations and apologies would be done in public forums and in private meetings. Learning the art of apology would be as important as prayer.

The feminist author Gerda Lerner wrote in 1986: “The system of patriarchy in a historic construct has a beginning and it will have an end. Its time seems to have nearly run its course. It no longer serves the needs of men and women, and its intractable linkage to militarism, hierarchy and racism has threatened the very existence of life on Earth.”

As powerful as patriarchy is, it’s just a story. As the post-pandemic era unfolds, can we imagine another system, one that is not based on hierarchy, violence, domination, colonialisation and occupation? Do we see the connection between the devaluing, harming and oppression of all women and the destruction of the Earth itself? What if we lived as if we were kin? What if we treated each person as sacred and essential to the unfolding story of humanity? 

What if rather than exploiting, dominating and hurting women and girls during a crisis, we designed a world that valued them, educated them, paid them, listened to them, cared for them and centred them?“

[anastasiaskarsgard]

My whore

Warning: cursing, sex, adult content 18+

I should edit this, but I will later maybe. Just busted this out at lunch for no fun

As she pulled her hood up even more, and briskly walked down the familiar street, she could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her stomach did a somersault as soon as she she spotted the lone figure standing outside the dimly-lit liquor store. She knew better, she really did. You play with fire, you’re bound to get burnt eventually, but try as she might to practice self preservation, she just hadn’t a care when it came to him. It was a well-known fact that he was someone dangerous and she felt the most scandalous rush whenever she was near him.

She gracefully made her way to his side, briefly knitting her brows together in self-loathing for being unable to just walk on by or ignore him.

"What do you want?" The man moved closer watching her with a cold sneer on his handsome face as he studied her changing expressions. He was absolutely fascinated by how expressive her face was. The way she smirked and you could see the hint of a dimple, or how her eyes narrowed into slits when she tried to control herself from telling him off. How her full lips drew together in a bow when she was determined, or if she felt particularly brazen, she’d cock a single eyebrow and grin like a cat.

Being who he was, his facial expressions ranged from various levels of boredom, to every level of rage. Hatred and apathy was all he’d ever really felt, except when he was around this girl. As the corners of his mouth nearly twitched into a smile, he grabbed her hand, forcing her close to his body, chests touching, thrilling at the stunned look on her face.

"You know what I want princess?” His lips found her ear, fangs nipping at the lobe, hyper aware of her dainty hands clutching his shirt, her breathing growing more erratic by the second, and her icy blue eyes scanning his face, searching for his intent.

"Please Roman....." She pleaded.

His hands brushed over an area she never let anyone else touch, moaning in spite of herself. When his fingers took hold of a swollen nipple and tugged at it viciously, she had to bite her lip, to stop herself from screaming aloud. Her knees shook and she tightened her grip on his shirt, scared if she let go she’d fall. She cursed herself for always turning to silly putty in his hands so easily, but she couldn’t help it. He was intoxicating.

Roman scratched his nails down the taut flesh muffling her sweet mouth with his own. Inhumanly sensitive ears, and Jade green eyes became aware of a few of her friends moving their way, and before she noticed them, (or them her) he dragged her down a nearby alley, walking swiftly with purpose in hopes they hadn’t been discovered.

It was no surprise that her friends weren’t fans of his. He’d beaten up the males of the little posse, after they’d tried to confront him for filming himself fucking their girlfriends and posting it a snippet on his Instagram story when he was high. He hadn’t even remembered he’d done it, until they marched up and shoved a phone in his face, and he could understand why laughing and commenting on one of the girls o face, could be seen as a dick move. The rest of the girls in her circle of friends would drop to their knees and service him if he so much as glanced their way, but he had been far too distracted by the girl he was currently dragging behind him to care.

"Where are we - what are we doing?" The breathless girl inquired, as he continued forward like he knew where this lead. Her eyesight needed time to adjust, so she was still practically blind.

"Why do you sound so scared princess? You came and found me." He came to a small alcove and He pushed her firmly against the wall, hands going to her waist, lips finding their way to her neck.

"I had to twist your arm too." She whispered sarcastically, feeling his hands slip under her shirt rubbing, caressing and fondling her breasts. She bit her swollen bottom lip, silencing the moan which threatened to escape. Her own hands seeking out his skin, desperate for the closeness and intimacy found with skin on skin contact. She shuddered with anticipation as she raked her fingernails down his chest, feeling his muscles jerk under her touch. She moaned wantonly as her shirt was pushed up, exposing her to the night air, before her nipple was engulfed by a warm, wet mouth and she gripped his head pressing him closer to her.

Her sudden intake of air, made him look Out of the corner of his eye to be sure the immediate area was free of any sudden movements. Finding none, Roman smirked allowing his eyes to wander back to the half naked beauty before him. Pushing her skirt up, he pulled her panties to the side, sinking two fingers into her aroused body, driving then in a series of quick, hard movements, mouth covering hers when her sounds rose in pitch. Feeling an almost desperate need to be inside her, he Freed himself from his slacks, pressed up against her body, lifting her legs to straddle his waist and pushed his length deep inside of her core. He couldn’t get over how tight her sheath was every time, even though he had worked her over several times with his impressive manhood. Doesn’t mean he ever went easy on her, if anything it made him pound into her that much harder. He wanted to ruin her for any other man. The thought of someone else inside his princess made him see red.

Just the thought of someone else tasting her had His mouth possessively taking hers, in a wild, untamed passion rendering the girl practically breathless. All she could do was hang on, as he fucked her senseless like a man possessed or a demon. She felt fire course through her veins, igniting suppressed emotions, spiralling her to a pleasurable Eutopia of her own creation. Coherent, logical thoughts were lost and she surrendered her mind to the unlikely possibility that this was all there was. Her and him forever.

Just when she thought he couldn’t possibly fuck her any harder, he grabbed her by the shoulders and fucked up into her savagely, almost bruising as he delved deeper. She didn’t know why his rough animalistic behavior aroused her beyond anything so violent ever should, but it quickly brought her to climax, engulfing her in flames, limbs locking around him as she bit into his shoulder, sending a tingle of ecstasy down her spine, as she felt him spill inside of her, stuttering his hips to a stop. He pressed his forehead to hers and opened his eyes to stare into hers, before closing them and kissing her passionately.

"Roman,” She murmured, as they paused for air, dragging them both back into reality. Finally regaining the strength she had lost in their frenzied sexual escapades, attempted to push her partner away. He hesitantly relented, giving her enough space to stand. Legs trembling slightly, she adjusted her clothes, back bracing against the wall and head still dizzy from his presense. Muscular arms wound around her waist and she stood perfectly still as he pulled her close again, and his breath feathered across her cheek.

"Eager to escape me princess?" He purred, mockery making it's way into his voice and she damned him for so damn attractive. Not that he wasn’t gorgeous to look at, but it went beyond his heart throb, movie star looks or tall statuesque form. He had a Raw, primitive sexuality that cant be described in words, but was painfully obvious, that made him beyond desirable.

"I don’t know why I let you do this to me. I’ve got your cum running down my leg and I'm supposed to meet my friends fifteen minutes ago."

"Don't lie to me." He hissed, turning her to face him, thumb and forefinger capturing her defiant chin increasing the pressure when she tried to look away. "Tell me you enjoyed what we just did."

"I didn't." She bit out defiantly, the fire in her eyes growing stronger, fed by his arrogant attitude. "In fact I hated it."

His amused laughter infuriated her even further, and she had to use every ounce of willpower not to scream in frustration.

"That's what I like about you,” His green eyes gleaming darkly. "Always resisting me. It makes complete and total possession of your body that much more sweet."

"A possession? Is that what I am to you?" She shrieked, striking him in the chest, trying to break free of his embrace. This only made him bring her body closer, pressing his renewed arousal against her in an unmistakable way. Lips skimming her cheek, and throat, hands touching her everywhere as she squirmed in his grasp.

"Does this bother you?" He whispered eyes locking with hers, mouths so close they could feel each others breath.

"Yes." She whispered, willing herself the strength to resist him.

"You sure seemed like you liked it when I fucked you, out in the open, in a dirty alleyway like a fucking whore.” His words pierced her heart like a dagger had been laced with them, and in a burst of strength, she threw him off of her, and she stormed down the alleyway. Certain this was how Roman Godfrey, discarded his toys, she let out a yelp when she was grabbed from behind and spun around. Aggressively seizing her in his hold as she thrashed, he bent and whispered in her ear, “I love how you fight me...” before claiming her mouth with his own. The kiss sent a shiver down her spine, causing her traitorous body to move closer to him, practically begging and pleading for more contact. Her long-fingers raked through his chestnut hair gripping the strands firmly, tugging in a confused attempt to hurt and arouse.

A wanton moan was heard and she found herself pinned against the wall again. Their movements desperate and uncharacteristically sloppy. Emotions running wild, not wanting to acknowledge they were already in over their heads. That this was more than just sex, there were true emotions underneath it all, and it was terrifying. No one in their right mind loved a man like him, and no girl could possibly love him ran through their chaotic thoughts as the alarms went off, but neither heeded the call. Pleasure that could be described as unimaginable pain flowed through them, pushing all their insecurities down and finding them lost in each other once again. Their ragged breathing was the only sounds heard and they kissed sweat drenched faces absentmindedly. His low chuckle garnered her attention and she looked at him curiously.

Feeling his member once again free, and pressing deliciously close to her entrance again, she shifted to make access easier.

"Tell me you enjoy this. Tell me you like us." He smirked, eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability that was gone so quick, she wasn’t sure she saw it.

“Or what? You won’t fuck me again?” She asked cocking her eyebrow, and grinning up at him.

“You love it.”

"What if in fact I hated it?"

"You didn't." He proclaimed confidently.

She wished with all her might that he was wrong, but he was right. She loved their fucked up little arrangement. “I don’t love being called a whore.”

“How about just my whore? Only my whore? Hmmm?” He asked, eyes flashing darkly.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“But I’m your asshole.”

“My asshole.” She giggled.

“My whore.” He growled as he thrust up inside of her.

[criminallyfanatic]

Close One

Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader 

Summary: The team don’t know you and Emily are dating, but an incident involving a white shirt and a glass of red wine might put that in jeopardy, and you don’t want to be the one to lose the bet 

warnings: some swearing, the lead up to some sexy times but no actual sexy times

This fills my sharing clothes square for @cmbingo ​ 

                                                              *

The door flew open and she pulled you in, her lips against yours. The door swung shut behind you and you were pushed against it, her hands roving your body, goosebumps trailing behind them. Your hands wound into her hair, pulling her against you, drinking her in like a woman starved. Not until you were gasping for air did you pull apart, her forehead coming to rest against yours, the only sound your heavy breathing.  

“Hi.” you huffed out a laugh, eyes flickering between her eyes and her lips.

“Hi yourself.” she shot you a smile, before pulling away.

Your limbs unwound from each other, your bodies moving away. You felt her loss as she moved further into the apartment, your body craving her close to you again. Following her, you saw the freshly opened wine bottle on the kitchen counter, the two glasses half poured. She topped them up and handed one to you, the smile still painted on her lips. 

You both drank in silence for a moment, simply looking at one another, taking in her form. Her hands played with the stem of the glass and you found yourself staring, imagining all the things she could do with them. When you looked up you saw she had noticed where you had been staring, her eyes locking with yours. You felt your cheeks heat, caught in the act. She held your stare, the air between you warming. 

Then she was on you, pulling you in again, glass discarded on the side. Her hands wound around your waist, pulling you closer, closer, her lips locked with yours. It happened so quickly you forgot the wine still sitting in your hand, and as you raised it you felt the liquid spill over down your white work shirt. 

“Shit!”

She leapt from you as the wine spilled out, her hand coming to her mouth. “Oh god, I’m so sorry”. She reached for the tea towel on the counter, dabbing at the stain forming on your shirt. A seemingly innocuous move, but you felt your body warming as her hands moved across it. You reached out, placing the now considerably empty glass on the countertop, moving your hands to her wrists, stopping her in her frantic movements. 

“It’s fine Em. Don’t worry about it.” Her hands stilled in their movements, hands resting on your torso. Her eyes still held the stain, eyebrows knitted in concern. You reached up your hand, lifting her chin so her eyes were level with yours, before placing a gentle kiss on her lips, cradling her chin with your thumb. As you kissed her, your other hand raised, pulling the buttons apart on the still wet top. She pulled away slightly, eyes flitting down to your movements. 

Your hand fell from her chin, joining the other to speed up the process. She simply watched you, here eyes clouding with the thoughts of what was to come. You dropped the shirt on the floor, her hands now moving up your bare torso, making gentle circles with her fingertips. You shivered slightly, goosebumps once again trailing behind her fingers. 

“You’re so pretty.” She whispered, dropping her head to your shoulder and peppering kissed into your neck. Her hands moved to grasp at your hips, pulling you against her. 

“I think now it’s your turn.” 

She lifted her head from your shoulder, a smirk gracing her lips. Grabbing your hand she pulled you towards the bedroom, her other hand making quick work of her shirt. 

                                                                   *

You lay next to each other, the sound of your breathing filling the silence. You looked across at her, her hair splayed across the pillow, the light from the lamp giving her skin a faint glow. Like an angel. Your hands followed the same paths her’s did early, drifting and swirling across her skin. You wished you could freeze this moment, stay in it forever. Let no distraction pulled you out of it, nothing from the outside world even - 

“Shit.” the shrill sound of your phone buzzed from the pocket of your trousers, discarded in some corner of the room. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, rolling over to rest against you, pinning you to the bed, “It’s probably nothing.” 

You almost believed her, willing yourself to lay back and forget all about it, until the telltale sound of Emily’s phone went off beside you. You both groaned. Typical.  

She reached over to the bedside table, picking up her phone and checking the message before turning it to you. 

Garcia: Hey lovely, we have a case, sorry x 

Rising from the bed you began to pick up the clothes that were scattered across the floor, throwing various items of Emily’s at her, still lounging on the bed. You pulled them on as you found them, Emily still watching you, seemingly making no move to get up. At last you had everything on but your shirt, which was … 

“Oh god.” You groaned, throwing your head back, thinking of the now ruined shirt still left on the kitchen floor. 

“What?” she let out a small laugh at your display, pushing the hair from her eyes. 

“My shirt. It’s ruined. I have another one in my go bag at the office, but I don’t particularly feel like having to explain why I’m turning up in a stained shirt. And I don’t think the FBI or your neighbours would appreciate me walking around shirtless.” 

“Maybe not. But I certainly wouldn’t mind it.” You lobbed a pillow at her that had fallen on the floor as she laughed at you, catching it before it hit her in the face. “I don’t know why you’re so stressed about this. Just borrow something of mine.” 

“You don’t think someone will notice?” As far as your fellow BAU members were aware, you and Emily were just ‘good friends’. They had absolutely no idea the two of you had been dating for the last few months. And you had to give it to the two of you, you were pretty good at sneaking around. 

“Please. I think you give them too much credit.” She finally got out of the bed, moving to her wardrobe. She began pulling clothes out for her to wear, lobbing a turtleneck at you over her shoulder. “Now put that on and stop worrying.” 

                                                                *

Emily made sure to arrive at the BAU before you. She lived closer so it made sense. It had began as a precaution, you didn’t want your relationship to affect the dynamic of the team, if it didn’t work out it could have ramifications, Hotch might not approve. But now it was fun. Last month you made a bet that the person to let the secret out to the team owed the other fifty bucks. And you sure as shit were not losing that bet. 

The team were gathered at the round table as you made your way up the steps and into the conference room. Emily was sat next to JJ and as you walked in she shot you a smile, before looking back to the pictures JJ was showing her on her phone. You sank into the last seat next to Morgan, opposite Emily, but it wasn’t her that caught your eye this time, it was Reid, staring at you like he was trying to figure something out. Or rather, staring at the top you were wearing. Emily’s top. Shit. 

“Hey, isn’t that Emily’s shirt?” Everyone turned to Reid as he said that, pointing at your top. You felt your heart skip as he said it, everyone’s eyes on you, willing them not to notice the embarrassment now seeping in. 

“I don’t know what you mean Reid?” 

“Yeah. She was wearing it the other day.” 

Ok, no big deal, play it cool. There’s plenty of reasons why you would be wearing this shirt. EMILY PRENTISS DON’T YOU DARE START SMIRKING AT ME NOW. I WILL NOT LOSE THIS BET!  Oh god why is everyone staring! 

“Don’t you know, Dr Reid, that women can shop in the same store. Now you say it, Emily probably does have a similar shirt.” You pretended to inspect it, like you were only just noticing that it was the same as Emily’s. Like you weren’t wearing her FUCKING SHIRT.  

Luckily, looking back up it seemed they were convinced, mostly. There was an odd look here and there, like they were beginning to put two and two together, but they were still missing something. The room fell quite as minds seemed to whir for a moment, mulling it over. You cleared your throat, uncomfortable at the amount of attention still being paid to this. 

“Don’t we have a case or something. Is that not why we’re here on a Friday night. Seems more important than where I buy my clothes, no?” 

The room seemed to lighten then, minds shifting into work mode. Hotch nodded at Penelope to start the briefing. Her eyes flitted between the two of you for a moment, before starting to download you on the case. She was definitely not going to be letting this one go anytime soon. The thought made you chuckle slightly, which you tried to pass off as a cough. Emily shot you a look, eyebrows raised in question. You shook your head slightly in reply. I’ll tell you later. 

The briefing ended and the team filed out, readying their things for the flight. You hung back in the room, slowly gathering you files off the table, hoping Emily would do the same. At last, just the two of you and Hotch remained in the room. He shot you both a look before shaking his head, leaving the room. 

“What do you think that means?” She was standing beside you now, files clutched in her hands, both of you looking to where Hotch had just left. 

“I think it means, ‘I think I know, but I don’t want to know’” 

You huffed a laugh in response. 

“You almost lost fifty bucks there, that was a close one.” 

“And completely your fault. If you hadn’t spilled wine on me we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“Pity.” She leaned in close now, her breath wafting across your neck, “You look good in my clothes you know.”

Your breath caught in your chest, eyes following as she walked out the door now, shooting you a wink over her shoulder, leaving you alone in the conference room. The next few days were certainly going to be interesting. 

[writtenvisionary]

Do It Again - fanfic

Read on Ao3

He sighs, stealing a long glance at the beautiful girl standing by her locker. Her friends surround her, listening eagerly to her story. She talks with her hands — her small hands with nails painted pink \ and the smile on her face is contagious as she becomes increasingly more immersed in her tale by the minute.

His heart skips a beat when she laughs. He can hear it all the way from down the school hall and he has to look away. If he didn't, who knows how long he'd last.

She's breathtakingly gorgeous and adorable all wrapped in one petite human. He doesn't think there could be anyone more perfect.

He wants to hold her. He's not so sure why. But he wants her friends to go away. He wants to ask — right now.

It's taking forever. Good heavens, he can't wait any longer. And god knows that girl can ramble.

A grin forms on his face at the thought (and he's sure he looks ridiculous, but he can't bring himself to care).

Man, he's whipped.

Her friends are finally gone, he realizes.

He must have been lost in his own thoughts (about her) for so long that he never noticed their absence.

She turns back to face her locker, opening it with ease.

Shit. Now's my chance.

Swallowing his nerves, he takes a step forward.

Progress. Progress.

Another step. Then he stops.

I can't.

He watches as she pulls out a textbook and expertly opens her backpack with her other hand. He's mesmerized by her abilities. He's mesmerized by her.

Ah, shit. Focus!

He manages another step towards her.

Then suddenly her backpack is zipped closed and her locker is secured once again. Her dark locks flow so elegantly through the air as she whips around.

They meet eyes. She smiles. He nearly trips.

Shit, shit, fuck.

"Hey!"

Is she talking to me?

"Why aren't you moving?"

The melodious sound of her giggle blesses his ears once again. He tries not to smile like a complete idiot, but he fails.

Just his luck.

He forces himself out of his frozen state, pushing back his irrational fears (making their presence known only at this very moment) and takes those last. few. steps. to stand in front of the girl. The girl who will hopefully be his girl, very soon.

When he arrives to his mark, he exhales in relief.

He's pleasantly surprised that he didn't trip and fall on his way there.

—

"Hi," he mutters, nervously. Rolling his lips in, he waits.

"Hi," she giggles.

He takes a deep breath and just goes for it.

"Will you go out with me?"

Her eyes light up in pure excitement.

To say he's relieved at this immediate reaction would be an understatement.

But then her excited expression turns… playful?

Realistically, he shouldn't be worried.

For some reason, he is.

"That depends," she starts, with that beautiful voice which sounds very seductive and oh my god her hand is on my chest—

"What do you have planned?"

Gulp.

—

"I'll pick you up at eight…"

"Uh huh…"

"And we can drive around?" He suggests.

"Mm, sounds nice already."

He gains some confidence, "I'll take you to the beach and then we can head downtown?"

She seems to think about it for a moment.

"Hmm… can I hold your hand?"

He smiles.

"We'll walk around downtown while you hold my hand," he confirms.

Licking his lips, he takes a small step forward, pulling her closer to his chest.

"Then we'll park and lay down on the hood of my car…"

Her smile widens.

"…We can just listen to the airplanes while we count the stars."

This time, her heart picks up. She can nearly feel it beating out of her chest.

"Tonight," he finishes, "I'll be your man."

She wishes she could stop smiling.

"On one condition."

"Yes?"

The innocence in his voice strikes her in the right place. Her smile is still unwavering.

"Tomorrow, we can do it again."

—

He wishes he had more to give her. Somehow, the beach and downtown and airplanes and stars just weren't enough. She was his everything; his world. And he wishes he could give her the world right back.

Because a girl that shines as bright as she does; a girl that is rich in everything but money and fame; a girl that pays attention to him even when he doesn't deserve it…

A girl like her is too good to be true.

Too good for him.

As he snuggles the stuffed dolphin she gifted him for their one-week-aversary, he sighs.

She deserves better than him.

He wishes he had the world to give. He would give it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

Maybe then, he would feel good enough for her. Maybe then, he would feel like he was rich in something, like her.

Maybe then, he'd be rich with love.

And he knows for a fucking fact that he would give her everything he had.

Every. Single. Thing.

—

She had one condition.

And he didn't follow it.

Obviously, she didn't mean tomorrow, tomorrow… right? Because it's been a little over a week.

A WEEK.

But he's not one to break his promises. Would that be considered a promise?

He thinks so.

His finger hovers over the little phone icon at the corner of her contact page. He wants to call her, he does. Her voice is the reason he wakes up in the morning. Hearing it would be amazing right now.

No, that's not the problem.

You see, he doesn't want to admit it, but he's nervous.

Will she be mad if I ask now?

The answer is no, for the record. He's pretty sure he knows that.

'I was kidding,' she'll reassure him.

Deep breaths. You got this.

"Hey, what's—"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

He face palms.

But her gorgeous laugh floats through the phone's speaker and into his ears. He pulls his hand away from his face.

"Silly goose, what are you talking about? We're already—"

"I promised you we'd do it again, so we're doing it again. It may not be tomorrow, like you said a week ago, but it can be tonight."

Her silence on the line gives him a moment to glance at the clock.

7:47.

"Look, I'll be there in 10 minutes. I've got it all planned."

—

That laugh keeps him going. Her smile helps him sleep at night. The feeling of her warm, small hand in his is a gentle reminder that she's there. With him, in this moment of time.

It's all he could ever ask for.

Cars past them as they walk along the strip of stores open downtown. Colorful lights flash on around the couple as it starts to get dark, and their feet guide them around the town, coming full circle.

The lights that were once off are now on, leaving no corner of the little city dimmed.

She stops in her tracks, staring in awe at twinkling lights, which hang from a small gazebo near the park. Her eyes sparkle in amazement, mouth agape.

"Surprise?"

"Oh my goodness, you—"

"I just put the lights on it," he chuckles, "The gazebo was already there."

She shakes her head, "How come I never noticed it before?"

"You were probably laughing at a really bad joke you had just told."

"I don't tell bad jokes!"

"Uh huh."

A giggle erupts out of her throat, to her dismay.

"So… no car rooftop star-gazing tonight?"

He gives a very prominent shake of his head before pulling his hand out of hers'.

"Oh no, we're still doing that. But right now I want to just look at you."

She tilts her head in confusion.

He clarifies, "I don't want to look at the stars or listen to planes or anything. I want to admire you. And your beauty."

A reddish tint overcomes both her cheeks.

"And your intelligence. And your—"

"Shut up," she mutters.

"Okay. For now."

The new couple is silent for a minute as he starts making his way under the gazebo. She follows. He turns to stares at her.

It's not weird. She doesn't know why it's not weird. Like, he's literally just STARING at her and that should creep her out but it doesn't.

Is that a problem?

No. Because when she looks into his deep, brown eyes, she is reminded of the kind-hearted person who carried her books on the first day of classes. When she looks at his blonde locks, she has the urge to run her fingers through it for hours on end. When she looks to his lips, she finds herself wanting to feel them. On hers'.

Now that's definitely weird.

He takes a step closer.

But is it?

He starts leaning in.

If she does too, she doesn't notice.

Suddenly, their lips collide. Melding in perfect harmony; moving in sync. Her fingers live out their dream, running through his hair. His hands rest on her hips, gently pulling her closer.

Lost in their own world, they imagine what it's like to live their lives together. Kids, birthdays, a house, and so much more. It all flashes right before them.

It's over too quick, they think (and it might be awkward to go back for more).

But the night isn't over yet.

—

The stars are beautiful, but not as beautiful as her eyes, in his opinion. Not as beautiful as her laugh, or smile, or personality.

Nobody is really traveling tonight. One airplane so far.

He's ready to book his own flight.

To his honeymoon.

Realistically, he's in way over his head. It's been a week.

His parents will say he's not ready for marriage; that he doesn't know what love is.

Pfft. Yeah, right.

This girl is love. He knows it when he sees it.

He bites his lip. It's too early. He doesn't want to ruin what they have.

But, "I love you."

FUCK. DID HE SAY THAT OUT LOUD?

He must have gotten extra lucky, because—

"I love you, too."

—

Being by her side is one thing, but being welcomed to glide his hands over her body makes him feel alive.

Her lips are fruity. She is beautiful. He wants her.

This is way different than she anticipated. Holding his hand was level one, and now she feels like she's on top of the world.

His lips are soft. He is dashing. She wants him.

Awkward as it was, their bodies moved in perfect harmony.

He couldn't deny it.

She couldn't deny it.

They were made for each other in every way possible.

Soulmates. They were soulmates.

And they only had half an hour before her parents came home.

Neither wanted to rush it, but it was their time.

"Let's just take this moment," he had whispered in her ear just minutes earlier. "It's ours, okay?"

His eyes flicker down to her lips, "You don't want to waste it, do you?"

—

'I'm not sure," she matches his whisper. "It-it's only been a few months and I—"

He breathed, "I love you."

It tickled her face, his breath, and she used every ounce of will not to lean just a millimeter closer.

Their lips were about to connect.

"I'm not ready."

"You'll never be ready, minou…"

She hesitated.

"Babe, I…" she sighed and shook her head. "I can't."

"You don't want to miss out on this. On us. Please."

All she could come up with was, "We'll regret it, A—"

"There is nothing to regret."

"There is a lot to regret."

He was silent for a moment.

But then he smirked.

"Like what?"

"Like… do we have protection?"

A teasing look was sent her way.

"I always keep it in my bag," he offered.

She pondered, then—

"It's too early. We're too young."

"It's not too early," he licked his lips, "And I'd rather experience this when I'm young.

"Before I fade away."

She gulped, searching his brown eyes in the darkness.

"Regrets don't fade away," she stated firmly.

He nodded.

"Exactly."

Her head tilted in confusion. He reiterated.

"If this… us… is something we regret, then we won't fade away."

—

On their one year anniversary, he couldn't think of anything more fitting.

"So," he smiles dopily. "I've got it planned."

He doesn't need to say anything else; this has become routine.

She scrunches up her nose cutely, giving him a smile.

"Perfect. Pick me up at eight?"

"Precisely."

—

He gazes at the girl lying next to him.

The moonlight shines on her face. She's gorgeous.

"Oooh," she exclaims quietly, pointing up above them.

He follows her finger, his eyes landing on the moon.

"That's—" he giggles, "That's the moon, silly goose."

She turns her head to look at him and smiles.

"You're my moon. And my goose," she chuckles.

He mimics her chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugs.

"If I could go anywhere…" she starts, in lieu of a response. "I wouldn't.

"I'm happy right here, with you right next to me, as we fall asleep under the stars just for our parents to call and wake us up."

He lets out a laugh at that, grabbing ahold of the small hand resting on her chest.

She continues, "You're mine. And I'm so glad that I can call you mine."

—

The blonde grins.

"Remember when I first asked you out?" He asks.

"How could I forget?"

His smile wavers as he turns serious, meeting her eyes.

"I said that I'll be your man."

"And you are."

"But I only said for that night."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Your point?"

He smiles again, "I'm really happy you agreed."

"Of course. You're amazing."

"And so are you," he pecks her nose.

They fall into a comfortable silence, watching the stars yet again.

And… just loud enough so she can hear, he speaks softly.

"I'll be your man tonight, and forever… and I'll give you everything I can. I promise."

She looks over at him again, admiring his side profile.

His skin shines in the moonlight so magnificently. It's almost royal.

She gulps.

The heaviness of the statement hit her hard.

Taking a deep breath, she responds.

"I promise, too."

- And tomorrow we can do it again -

[xbaebsae]

Changes and Deleted Content Part 2 - Far Cry 5: Features and Missions

This is a small passion project series of posts where I share some insight of what’s hidden in the game(s) files, but also some general observations. The main focus will be on character changes or deletions with a few words about functions and deprecated missions.

What will not be touched upon are a lot of the things the Resistance Mod on PC restores, namely deleted store weapons and clothes, weather systems and general gameplay related things like skinning animations. I also won’t go into audio files and their content, as @lulu2992 is already working on an amazing series for FC5 that summarizes them per character.

This part will be significantly shorter Edit from post finishing-Angy: This post turned out really damn long despite only discussing some scrapped or changed features and a couple of deprecated mission strings. I still hope you find this as interesting to read as I found writing and investigating it :)

1. Changed and Scrapped Features

1.1 Guns/Fangs for Hire

Just for reference, the release version of the game has 9 unique GFH/FFH available + 3 slots for random specialists you can hire throughout the world.

Among the game’s UI textures for tutorials is this image, showing an earlier version of the GFH screen.

What this indicates is that the planned amount for active GFHs you can have was originally 4; or the top row could function as some sort of favorites tab. We will probably never know for certain. 

Interestingly though, this version has slots for 20 GFHs in total, 18 either filled a character icon or a locked symbol, suggesting the originally planned unique GFH count was 18.

Considering almost every NPC in-game has spawn-able archetypes with battle audio fully in place it is possible that we were supposed to be able to recruit more of them. I will return to the matter of recruitment shortly.

Another thing I’d like to open up for consideration is that there may have been plans for (ex-)cultist GFHs or at least areas where they act friendly towards the deputy. Reason for this assumption is the fact that cultists have recorded lines for when you meet them (spawn them), aim weapons at them (the taunts GFH and friendlies do too), along with idle lines when you use mods to spawn them as friendly followers. The game has no purpose for most of these lines, as you never walk into peaceful cultists outside of the intro. In the intro you have no weapons to aim at anyone, making it impossible to trigger these lines. 

You may argue they were recorded for the arcade, but the Seeds are also featured in it and have none of those. However, they may also be a leftover from scrapped missions that would feature cultists that don’t shoot you on sight. 

Additionally to that early menu screenshot, I have also found an old reddit thread discussing the game’s Uplay page near release because of the following image:

Unfortunately I was not able to find this particular page myself anymore, and knowing how short lived everything is nowadays, it might be lost in time forever. The commenters discuss that the three additional slots here refer to potential DLC characters, but we don’t get to use any of the DLC companions in the main game (nor do the DLCs share the main game’s art direction). So, this might be another indicator for additionally planned GFH/FFH we never got to see.

One of these was likely the Eagle FFH called ‘’Freedom’’ (Character/Unique/FFH_Eagle_Freedom), which was partially restored through mods on PC as its loaders and everything are still present. It is unknown why this was scrapped.

It also appears that there once were inventory (purchaseable?) items for almost each GFH (Boomer and Jess have none), as these placeholder icons exist inside the game’s ui\icons\inventory folder:

Possible functions: Quest items you needed to obtain to recruit them (implying changed missions); Gift items (for potential level up?)

Now to return to the matter of recruitment: Deprecated mission strings suggest that originally you had to hire unique GFHs similarly to random ones; and that was part of quest lines. These lines appear in ‘oasisstrings’, the game’s main language file(s):

HIRE Jess RECRUIT Adelaide Drubman ADD Adelaide to your squad

In light of the old GFH screen I actually looked up the definition of ‘Squad’, and on wikipedia it is listed that a Squad is a team of 5+ members, further strengthening the theory that originally you could have 4 active GFH (plus the Deputy they’d be 5, therefore a squad). 

1.2 In-game Wiki menu

Some of the previous Far Cry titles have a sort of wiki menu that features short bios of characters, explanations of locations, resources and weaponry. New Dawn sort of brought part of this back with the ‘Survival Guide’ (accessible from the pause menu), but 5 does not have this at all. However, in the ui files there are still texture leftovers, implying this feature was planned and it had sections for Animals, Base Jumps, Characters, Destructible Structures, Fish, Locations, Parking Spots (Garages), Plants and Treasure Hunts. The following image shows the ‘undiscovered’ symbols arranged in that order.

Again, no text entries along with a lot of duplicate and unfinished images imply this was scrapped early.

You can view the additional images (minus characters, because they will be handled in the next posts) here.

2. Abandoned Missions

This section will focus on mission strings that still exist in ‘oasisstrings’. For the sake of readability I removed the style code the game uses and the line numbers. You can easily find them by searching part of the text in the files or website listed in References. Please keep in mind that only the mission titles themselves are 100% like that in the files, any assumption as to what they might have been used for is purely speculative, but I attempt to always provide a reasonable explanation with evidence for the theories presented. Also I am not perfect, so it is possible I missed something in-game. In that case please do correct me!

2.1. Investigation Type objectives

There is a set of objectives listed that imply a different setup for Willis Huntley’s mission. It introduces the objectives PHOTOGRAPH, TAG, LISTEN and INTERROGATE:

PHOTOGRAPH potential property PHOTOGRAPH an animal slaughter TAG the target PHOTOGRAPH the target LISTEN to the conversation INTERROGATE the target PHOTOGRAPH cult signs and rituals: BRING the photos back to Willis

The release build mission has you tail someone and steal a VHS tape. None of the above objectives appear. It’s interesting to see that at one point there were mechanics in consideration that included intel gathering.

2.2. Quest centered around Melvin

The only Melvin I could find in relation to Far Cry 5 is Nadine Abercrombie’s grandfather. Melvin Abercrombie joined the cult. It isn’t assured that these objectives refer to him, but if they do it’d mean a potential mission where you speak to a lower ranked cultist.

Please Note that mission strings are not always in correct order.

TALK to Melvin LOOT Melvin's corpse REACH Melvin's house WAIT for Melvin to arrive GO MEET Melvin

2.3. The ‘Redeemer’ Objectives

At some point there was a quest-line revolving around something called the ‘Redeemer’ in Holland Valley. I could not find out what this thing really was supposed to be, but it sounds like it was either a boat or a submarine (???). In this line it appears that the garage in Fall’s End had actual relevance.

FIND a similar engine BRING engine to Mary's garage TALK to Mary's assistant TOW Redeemer Back the Garage (this typo is also in the file) SUBMERGE the Redeemer FLIP the Redeemer upside down GET IN the Tow Truck PUT the Redeemer on the Flat Bed

What this also implies is the inclusion of tow trucks and that there was a ‘Mary’s assistant’ character.

2.4. A few seperate Entries before we focus on plot relevant ones

In light of the afore mentioned wiki menues there is also an objective type that goes very well with its character section:

DISCOVER this character.

This could be attached to unknown entries in the character list.

There also is an unused objective called:

FIND the cow in the field

Which at first glance made me believe it was related to the mission at Cattle co., but it is not used there or anywhere else. I suppose we will never find out what was so special about this mysterious cow.

TAKE Joseph's writings

is also an interesting entry, as it is not related to the mission where you burn his book. This is again an unused string with unknown original purpose.

2.5. Mary May and John Seed

There are two particularly interesting unused mission objectives in relation to these two characters. 

For one, it looks like originally we were supposed to rescue Mary May from John’s ranch:

RESCUE Mary May From John Seed's Ranch

This could either be a replacement for saving her in Fall’s End or it is a mission that appeared later on in which John possibly captured her. It gets more possible applications with the next one, though.

FIND John and Mary May's secrets

Now, this one caught my attention immediately, because there are two big things that come to mind in terms of possible application. It could refer back to the novel Absolution in which Mary May gets captured and tattooed by John, heavily implying that part of the plot that made it to the novel was originally intended to be shown in the game (we will get back to this in the character episode when talking about Holly). 

Additionally, keeping the previous objective in mind, it could also imply that Mary has been converted during her capture (or her capture was planned) and played a different role in the story overall. Of course, all of this is only speculation as we will probably never know, but the objective specifically says ‘John AND Mary May’s secrets’, refering to shared secrets, not just one of Mary herself (which would fit more into the tattoo theory). 

   If you have ever even considered the possibility that Ubisoft might have cut a lot of stuff from the Whitetail region of the game, the rest of this Mission section should finally prove this to you. I’d like to make clear here that this is unbiased. I have tried to dig up deleted content equally in all regions but it just turns out that this is the one they really went wild with. There is nothing that stands out in terms of deleted or changed missions in the Henbane area and the Holland Valley content is mostly not that plot relevant minus the last examples just mentioned.

2.6. Eli and the Wolf’s Den

In the final version of the game we are told that Eli is an important character, but he is not very active in any way. Where Mary May assists you on the way to John’s Ranch and Tracey and the others at the prison fight by your side in defense missions, Eli will stay at the Wolf’s Den and have you run his errands for him. Just like the other mentioned characters he has full fight capabilities though. His AI is capable of using that bow, despite him never leaving the bunker.

As it turns out, he used to be a far more active character and there were multiple ways you could encounter him for the first time. For reference: In the game as it is now you will only meet him when he and his people rescue the deputy after Jacob’s first trial. You cannot enter the Wolf’s Den prior to this point.

Inside the game’s animations folders are these three subfolders including the respective files (JJ and Key03 is how Eli is often referred to in the files, I will get back to this in the character post):

This means there were three ways that you would encounter Eli: Inside a cabin, through being captured in a net or by being released by Perkins. This was most likely Doc Perkins, giving her a bit more significance in the game.

The main cutscene files for these are not present anymore, only the animations remain so I could not find out where the exact locations for these were supposed to be at. I however, loaded these animations into a game cutscene so we get to look at them anyway. I have chosen Jacob’s death cutscene for the simple reason that there’s only the player + 1 NPC, it is daytime and there’s no intrusive DOF blurring everything. The video below shows all of them. 

Keep in mind that only the player animation matters in the first two! Ignore the rest. The third one features Doc Perkins and has her animation applied to her. As you can see it is very very unfinished, but it shows that she possibly unties the deputy or opens an animal cage, then drives away in a car.

This unused mission string supports the theory of these different ways further, as it implies that you met him somewhere and he would guide you to the den:

FOLLOW Eli into the Wolf's Den

There are several other objectives that suggest a more active Eli, who might have accompanied you on some missions:

WAIT for Eli to arrive GO with Eli GO inside the Wolf's Den

2.7. Jacob and the Veteran Center

Before swan diving down a very deep rabbit hole, let’s address this unused mission string first:

TALK to Deputy Pratt

Sounds very unspectacular and like something you would do at some point, but this is never an objective in the game. The intended function will forever remain unknown most likely, but possibilities are vast, especially with the upcoming abandoned objectives.

There are hints at an alternate useage of Jacob’s bunker (specifically called bunker here and not armory). Mission strings are:

FIND a way out of Jacob's Bunker LEAVE Jacob's Bunker

Again, on first sight you’d think these are just what’s there in-game. But they aren’t. During the final mission it goes from RESCUE Deputy Pratt straight to ESCAPE Jacob’s Armory. There is no indicator that you’d need to find a way out. The objectives above hint that it was similar to John’s and Faith’s bunker initially, where you had to do a few more things before escaping. 

An observation derived from the game’s subtitle file is that at one point there might have been a differentiation between ‘Armory’ and ‘Bunker’ as, most likely, a random NPC says "I don't know where Jacob's bunker is. I'm not sure anybody does, but it's out there somewhere." The armory is (other than John’s and Faith’s bunkers) directly next to a main road, next to McKinley Dam. It is quite impossible to miss. Therefore this statement, along with the inconsistent switch between calling it ‘armory’, ‘bunker’ or ‘gate’, could mean there was originally a different bunker and the armory really functioned as such. 

Before moving on to more mission strings, there is one more subtitle entry worth mentioning: "When you tried to arrest Joseph, Jacob got wind of it and things got real crazy here in the Whitetail Mountains." It heavily implies that at some point, Joseph’s family might not have been intended to be present during the opening, and they instead found out about the arrest afterwards. As far fetched as it sounds at first, it does check out with the inactivity and absence of the three heralds after you cuff Joseph (and in case you ever wondered what the three of them are doing while you guide Joseph outside, they de-spawn and are gone as soon as you turn around).

But enough about that and let’s get back to more missions we never got to see.

For instance there is:

GO TO the Veteran's Center

Which, as most of you know, is impossible during the game because you get repositioned everytime you attempt to go close. This string implies a different kind of mission at some point. 

HUNT Jacob

No, this also does not appear in the game. The final mission goes from DESTROY Wolf Beacons to KILL Jacob Seed. Possibility in combination with the previous entry is that you were supposed to follow him back to the Veteran Center and that’s where the final fight would be. It could also imply a different kind of trial.

Small observation because we are talking about the final fight: The Prima Games’ guide (based on a pre-release build of the game, it will be featured more prominently in the next post) depicts Jacob at the bottom of the mountain during this encounter. WIth a lot of perseverance I’m sure you can somehow manage to replicate this in-game. But it is interesting regardless that they chose this image. It might imply that at some point he was not positioned on top of the hill, and instead closer to the area he finally dies in.

Before we move on, here are a few other interesting unused strings:

TRAIN TRAIN yourself INTERACT with Jacob for finishing takedown TALK to Jacob

They imply a different way to end the fight along with the possibility to talk to Jacob at some point (unrelated to each other mind you). I have no clue in what kind of scenario you were supposed to talk to him. The only explanation I have is that trials were possibly supposed to be different at some point and maybe they had more intentions to explore the whole brainwashed aspect of it to the point you casually took strolls around St Francis. Now before you say I just made that up, I implore you to wait till after the next part to call me out on it, because there are reasons I offer that possibility up for discussion here.

TRAIN and TRAIN yourself might not be linked to this region at all. But it is interesting to have these sort of objectives as they form the ‘Train, Hunt, Kill, Sacrifice’ part of the region’s theme, when you refer back to other mission strings: TRAIN (yourself), HUNT Jacob, KILL Jacob Seed.

Now to get to the main part. If you ever used mods on PC that let you access the Veteran Center, you will have noticed that the AI acts very strange. Your assigned GFH might wander around, aim at nothing or even attack civillians. Cultists inside the area will not always attack you, while civillians will do. This is most likely why the developers were so quick to patch out the tricks to access the region without mods.

I have seen multiple speculations circling around, but the one that always struck me as the most plausible one is that there was some kind of mission after Pratt rescues you from the cage. It is a very discontinuous cutscene, in which you transition from the cage directly to the top floor of the Veteran Center, implying there were no problems for Pratt and the Deputy to get there, despite having to cross the entire guarded frontyard and going through multiple building floors to get to the office. So, naturally I wasted some time of my life trying to dig up stuff that proves this theory right and I...well I did find something.

Important note so you understand what’s going on here: It is very common in games to load objects underneath the map (outside of sight of the player) to assure they are properly loaded in when they are needed. I have seen posts circulating around which depicted Pratt underneath the building, suggesting they eventually had an area planned there. The more likely case is that Pratt was loaded there for later use in a cutscene.

Why am I saying that? Well, this following screenshot was taken underneath the map during the cutscene where Pratt rescues the deputy and it transitions to the top of the building. I have changed the time to daytime for a bit better visibility.

What you see here is an entirely unused set of either cutscene or gameplay elements. A truck, Jacob (who’s absent in the cutscene we see), Pratt, a random NPC, a bag, a small table (unseen in cutscene), a single door (unseen in cutscene), a double door and 3 small pieces of paper (only two are in cutscene). I have kept watch on these assets for the entirety of the cutscene and none of them were moved into place. Meaning that all of these were here to be used in either a different cutscene or even a gameplay segment.

It brings me back to the mission theory, where there was a potential stealth segment between leaving the cage and entering the office.  Maybe there was an alternate cutscene for the case where you’d be caught and the one we see in the game is the one after successfully sneaking up there? We will never know for certain again but it is one possible explanation as to why these assets even still exist. It would also check out with the TALK to Deputy Pratt mission string, as you maybe had to speak to him after reaching a certain area.

Here are also some additional screenshots of the room in front of the office:

It was modelled and filled with a few detail props we never get to see much of.

Another potential mission, which would explain the broken AI behavior better, is the already mentioned theory that they might have planned to do more with the whole brainwashing aspect. Cultists inside the Vet Center area do not shoot and are allied, while civillians act hostile, implying while the player is there they are considered to be allied to cultists. TALK to Deputy Pratt, TALK to Jacob or TRAIN (yourself) could have taken place during this also. Something that could support this theory is also this unused timelapse marking days passing:

3. The Game’s Title and Closing Words

Internally the game is often called ‘fc zeta’, ‘zeta’ or ‘fcz’. So *sigh* of course I tried to find a deeper meaning behind it all and came to the sixth letter of the Greek alphabet ‘Zeta’. If you count Far Cry: Primal as a real standalone title, Far Cry 5 is the sixth Far Cry release. But because the Greek were special snowflakes or something, the sixth letter actually has the value of 7. So Zeta is actually 7 despite being the sixth. If you count Blood Dragon as a Far Cry release it’d mean FC5 is the 7th release. However, these theories exclude all the expansions and stuff for earlier Far Cry games.

Another indicator that Zeta might have been more than just a number, is this texture used as a decal on some clothing materials:

I have not found someone in-game who has this anywhere, and they might just disable the transparency and use it only for the American flag. But still, why would they make such a decal texture in the first place? Maybe very early name of the cult or resistance group? 

Before closing this incredibly long essay, here is an old, unused version of the logo found in the files :)

Phew, we finally reached the end. If you made it all the way down here: CONGRATULATIONS you just read a long af essay! Again, i’d like to remind you that a lot of what you’ve read is pure speculation. I tried to prove my arguments as best as I could with evidence that I provided but only Ubisoft knows what really happened. And they are unlikely to tell us.

The next post will focus on the expansive character list and I may split it into parts because there is a lot to say and show about some characters. 

I hope you have a nice day and thank you for reading ♥

_______________________________________________________

References:

text.farcry.info (website where you can look through Oasisstrings yourself!) languages\english\oasisstrings.oasis.bin languages\english\oasisstrings_subtitles.oasis.bin animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_cabin animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_net animations\narrative\cin_key03_q01_b00_meet_jj_release domino\user\fcz_proto_ld domino\user\zeta_dlcm ui\resources\textures\04_menu\tooltips ui\resources\textures\06_icons\inventory ui\resources\textures\05_hud\tutorials\_images __Unknown\XBT\AE800D066AB2E84A.xbt __Unknown\XBT\FD080AA2BBABE691.xbt Zeta on Wikipedia (english) Squad on Wikipedia (english) Prima Games guide (2018, collector’s edition, print and digital) reddit.com/r/farcry/comments/89nsf1/so_theres_3_missing_guns_for_hire_here_maybe_3/ __Unknown\BIK\C6AB10EDBC81E933.bik

[thelordstears]

I think it’s time to show some lines and how much I’ve improved eh?

“ You see, we're all living our lives confined in this little, locked room, we store our thoughts here, our dreams, our doubts, our darkest confessions. But the right people come along with a key and find the real us quivering in a corner of ourselves we fear with all our fuckin' might. All of humanity fears. And so in the span of a blink life created death to separate what is bad, and what is good. “ - Shawn Werdelstein

“ I look deep into my eyes and I swear I can see her darkness flickering in my damn eyes, she took my heart in her murderous stride, flaying me of all my salvation, tellin' me I was nothin' more then livestock on her farm of delicacies and delights. “ - Lupin Rinderez

“In the end I was never really human in the eyes of those who hate me, was I? I was always a toy to those more wicked then I, and so I have rotted in a chest of forgotten dolls and stitched together souls lost to time." - Ingretta Shazowlla

“ Some men are born for prison. They're raised in a cell, and told this is all you can ever be, and when they finally scratch their way out of that prison, they start to get homesick, so they find themselves a new cell, a new Hell, a new home away from home. Chaos is peace ta the broken man. “ - Francis Killvawhile

“ Karma doesn't care about how small the sin was, she just reaps. “ - Scarla Scottaine

“ There's something foreign about an empty bed, something unfamiliar about holding my own hand, it's like love is a language we speak, and when it leaves us we can no longer speak the language of the loveless, because we're already native in the country of love. “ - Finn Desandra

“ The darkness of my past caught up to me and killed the kind pure hearted man I thought I'd forever be, I was always doomed to become a reflection of my father. But with these bloodied and cracked pieces of me I'll bleed him with broken pieces of his reflection. “ - Alviro Conritz

“Isn't it funny? How men and women alike will pull a trigger on another when faced with a gun at their own heart, held steady in the hand of a man who never misses?” - Remington Burlwitz

“ I am Eve luring Adam to his fate.” - Belle Nalroma

“ I am a grave of fireflies and ravens whom head out to war, a wolf of death and anguish that drove me to madness. Don't you call me a freak, I'm just a little bit different, my mind is an eternal state of flickering emotion and madness that has never left me be. In truth the firing of this rifle is the only thing that keeps me alive, it is the beating of my heart and the howl in my soul, so dare you fire back with pieces of your heart shattered in the bullets? “ - Luther Woolhaun

“ I feel like a blank slate that's always re-written. “ - Wendell Ace

"I look at who I am with judgmental eyes.” - Earl Mumford

“ Believe the tales of dead men, they have a perspective like no other. “ - Earl Mumford

“ Stepping up to me ain't a fucking war, it's an execution disguised as such. “ - Saul Northutt

“ Decaying and gentle I shall be lain to rest as the Devil the world mourned. “ - Jonkiv Kramteil

“ Look, the truth is a hard pill to swallow, but swallow it you will. “ - Simon Rossburg

“ I'm a killer and a cheat, if my dagger is unstained remember, there's etches of lives lost on the handle, do you really wanna become another scar on the wood of my blade? “ - Killgrove Butcher

“ Mercy is a surefire way to meet God, so I sling an old club wrapped in barbed wire over my shoulder and watch the river spill crimson. “ - Olivia Juarez

"They call kindness weakness, so I must be the strongest bitch in town.” - Olivia Juarez

“ My wrath comes down like a cold rain of daggers when faced with the wicked, if they ain't ready to die then they best fucking prepare for it, cause those who use the powerless as a simple stepping stone to Heaven don't deserve the breath in their damn lungs. “ - Lucille Ramaswami

“ That man, that wicked fuckin' man, 'e's an old vulture sittin' atop the Church waitin' for the holy ta fall down the steeple, 'e swoops down and picks their bones 'a love, 'a holiness, 'a morality. And den, the holy become the damned. “ - Maxwell Soderstrom

“ The Devils and snakes in the grass should fear the gardener with his shovel ready to bury the pests." - Guarva Plucker

“ Don't call me your hero, cause heroes don't kill good men." - Al Hunderson

  "Brother, there's somethin' sinister brewin' in the bones of humanity, has been since the Neanderthals huddled in caves, lighting fires underneath the murky walls of a place they could call home. I'm afraid you're gonna have to be a little more specific." - Roman Hemlock "Ya can always spot the little, tinges of darkness in the bad man's eye, the little seams of pain that follows 'em." - Sandro Colorfeid

"I slither and slide into the darkness, a basilisk hiding in shadow and sin, biting into the forbidden fruit of Eden with glee and cruelty flickering in my snake likes eyes." - Vexine Hatchet

"I stood with blood on my hands and a snarl on my lip. It was from that moment on, Nico no longer were." - Nico Litchenfels

“ I'm a cutthroat fucker with his heart bared open and cruel on his trench jacket's sleeve. “ - Nico Litchenfels

"I stood like a question never asked, and then before I had the chance to give myself an answer in the echoes of my insanity, she smiled and asked who I was." - Zachariah Rinderez

"I have died a thousand times, Minerva. But you make me want to live again." - Simon Drogace

"I'm not lucky enough to be me." - Simon Drogace

“Do you ever feel like, your mind is a hammer?” - Simon Drogace

"He stood there, like a wicked omen of what never should've been, a testament to all humanity tried to kill." - Neal Marrows

"Losing yourself is a game no one can win." - Neal Marrows

"You know me, just a grave of who I was, grasping the soil wondering why it always slips between my fingers." - Sam Dellwotfire

"Someone once asked me what life before war was like, and truthfully, I've never known." - Hunter Creasey

"You spend your whole life under the shadow of death it starts to become you, and as you let the light it in, as you let your heart burst in seams of color and little figments of love and joy, that's when the shadow casts itself over you the longest. As soon as you start to live, death comes on by to greet you as if she were an old friend, and as I live through the essence of love and peace, I can see a smile filled with the lost lives of all whom ever walked greeting me on a road all too familiar." - Hunter Creasey

"I'm the mad man's greatest friend, but in the eyes of the sane, in the eyes of all whom stand against cruelty, I'm a weapon, an atomic bomb that'll level the city of peace to dust." - Moores Thomas

"It is in madness and grief we find who we really are. So who's to say humanity was supposed to live in peace? After all, even our mind tells us things we could never dream of with intrusive thoughts, and in the end some of us succumb to the darkness every single mind brews." - Moores Thomas

"You see, madness starts with a small seed the human race calls trouble, it comes in many different variants, some get in very small dosages all their lives. But mad men get a taste of trouble long before they know what the word means." - Moores Thomas

"The way I see love, it's an interesting sort of medicine. One moment it stitches together the loose threads of your heart, and in the very next it unravels you like a spool of thread." - Cornelius Combs

"I walked into the Church only to be spat out, falling down the sinner's steeple coughing up bloodied pieces of my faith." - Takizen Fruivein

"Challenging what I've become is a fools game, and my friend, I am no fool." - Allinza Harzvi

"Humanity is not inherently kind, everything we've seen, and everything we are, is proof of that testament." - Allinza Harzvi

"We are never in the same boat, we are in the same storm, facing life's darkness with different privilege's." - Caldvain Lucelo

"You know, someone once told me you have control over your own mind, but as it drifts away from me as smoke in the dying embers of a midnight wildfire, does that statement still hold true?" - Harvin Scoviney

"God does not help. He observes." - Victor Da Ville

“ You can't explain what evil means without mentioning the feared name of Cassidy Vanderberg. “ - Cassidy Vanderberg

“ I'm a hero, and I know, it's a heroes curse to go down in history, shooting her glory through the chamber of a revolver, leaving the world with the gunfire smoke of her gun, but so be it man, so fucking be it. “ - Miella Fang

“ Tragedy runs through my veins like the blood I bleed.” - Harkman Burtrow

“ You can run your hands through these cracked and yellowed pages, wondering when I lost my mind, but you won't find any answers in my chapters. “ - Mortelo Vonenwoft

“ ”You ever feel there’s jus’ this empty box where your heart’s supposed ta be? I've shoved all my monsters in this box, my addictions, my anxiety, the thoughts that don't go away. But sometimes, the box starts ta open, and I can't even push the door back, cause I'm too busy with this ghost followin' me like a yappin' chihuahua. “ - Isadore Rast

“ Everyone is always sayin' you're strong, for fightin' past that hurt, but am I? I didn't fight, I fuckin' stumbled, I fell, it wasn't just a battle, it was a god damn war I still wage. The gunfire echoes and cocaine ghosts will never leave me be, cause I made the mistake of losin' myself ta the bad side of life, and I just can't forgive myself for that kinda shit. “ - Isadore Rast

“ I'm not a recoverin' addict, I'm just a fuckin' ghost. “ - Carrigan Hopva

“ I met myself on a dead end street, she looked distraught, with chunks of hair missing, cigarette on her lip, trying to light a match in the rain, eyes troubled with memories of what would be. She told me to keep my enemies close, cause god damn, they were everywhere, but she never told me I'd be standin' in a house of mirrors. “ - Rain Morvosina

“ I tell myself, I could've done better, I could've saved the circus, but truthfully, not a single man can stop fate in its tracks, he would become another splatter on her railroad within a series of seconds and terrible events. “ - Bortosley Velltwo

“ I'm guilty ‘a first degree, of lil ol' me." - Howard Wraith

“ Oh mum if ya could see me now, sinnin' on the other side 'a paradise lookin' for reasons ta stain me teeth the color of me jacket. “ - Davy Blight 

“ I ain't the poor lil' boy who shot at 'is brother with orange capped revolvers and plastic swords, mate, I'm the real fuckin' deal. This venom 'a trouble and sin flows like blood in me veins, corruptin' the essence 'a who I fuckin' was. “ - Davy Blight

“ I'm the darkness your mother says ta stray away from, the boogeyman ya're mum tells ya snatches away naughty boys and girls in the dead 'a night, and worst of all mate, I'm Lind fuckin' Blight, bastard son of the seas. “ - Lind Blight

“ I'm just old honey whiskey sitting on the shelf gathering dust and mildew, locked in this little cabin of darkness and decay, wondering why no one cares to pop open my cork and let this darkness and mold spill to the soil of a freshly dug grave. “ - Roxane Vanderberg

“ I met her in a garden 'a roses, and there she stood as the only thorn. “ - Kayella Wisp

“ I've gunned bad men down on the streets, cackling and sinful they died, cruel and wicked they lived. “ - Hoshino Akinori

“ I once went into an old confession booth, sins sat heavy at my shoulder, salvation far off as it always seemed to be, and as that preacher listened to my darkest secrets I was sure he would damn me. But he told me salvation is for all, and that God loves whosoever follows the path of the righteous. “ - Erika Vans

“ I used ta live with one foot in the grave, wondering when the hell I'd become my last name, but then I met a wise man in the woods and found myself once again. Sometimes, we're lost, and we don't even know it. So I think destiny sends us a Messiah to lead the way ta who we are, and as Pennington took my hand in the darkness, I knew I'd found who I am past all this trouble. “ - Alonzo Graves

“ I traverse this labyrinth of my heart and soul, trying to find myself in the midst of all this trouble, but these mirrors are starting to look like enemies, and this maze is starting to become a prison cell. “ - Andre Jollows

“ Deep in my soul is the sound of war calling me home, and death whispers in my bones that she wishes to hold me close as I fade gently into the stars, but I sigh strapping my boots on in the morning, putting this old gas mask on my face and facing another venomous day. For I am a curse, wondering where my blessings went." - Max Caldiph

“ If my heart were a painting, it would be a starless night sky, the trees wilted, stripped of their leaves standing as threadbare omens of the bones etched in darkness that hold me up and the roses would be black, decaying with some dead scent of mercy burning whosoever walks into this garden of death's nose. “ - Apollos Quinn

“ Who I am ain't even me, he's just someone I've been for too long.” - Drew Dreadful

“ I died halfway to Heaven and too close ta Hell. “ - Dylan Huffers

“ I was living a life of trouble and cigarette smoke, chasing lies as if I were just a harmless little kitten, batting my hands at another yarn ball, always wondering why it ran away from me, but as my mother held me in a gentle embrace and showed me the way to paradise, I found out that it's better to be you then somebody else. “ - Scottie Bloodvallo

“ My mama once told me sometimes you gotta fall and stumble to learn who you are, because it's as trouble and peace wage war that we discover who's side we're on, and as those old foes grabbed their rifles and loaded their cannons, I came to realize I never wanted trouble to become who I am. So I picked up my guns and fired a couple rounds of peace into my head. “ - Marty Thievekit

“ You wanna run with the wolves, but brother you're sparrin' with chihuahuas, ya wanna play with the big boys, but you're frolicking in a garden full of gnomes and fairies, you wanna go knuckle to knuckle with your demons, but brother you surround yourself in angels. Do you really expect to kill a man while you're swingin' plastic blades and firin' bullets from a cap gun? “ - Walton Burke

"The truth will always sound like a lie to he who doesn't want to admit he's wrong. “ - Stewart Astoria

“ I'm tied up and tangled in the webs of madness, cackling at the midnight sky as these bastards try to fire bullets of sanity my way. But god damn baby, I'm bullet proof. I take what I want when I want it, so as I slam these bullets of madness into the echoed chamber of my revolver and put a few holes in my mind do you think it'll be me seepin' through the corners of this old mental ward, or will the ground pool crimson with my sanity? Guess there's no way of knowin' til I pull this trigger, sanity and purity spilling like crimson ink in my mind. “ - Ares Malstone

“ Forevermore I shall stand as a threadbare omen of the unholiest parts of mankind, drifting away from myself like the wildfire smoke of a dying confession.” - Alastair Sambridge

“ My mother once stared me dead in the eye and said I was not so holy, one day I would sputter up all the pieces of me and succumb to the Devil inside, and I must say, the old wicked witch was right. My father told me I was just a sin, drifting forevermore into the midnight sky, and as I pulled the trigger upon a battlefield I came to realize fate vows for promises made by wicked people. So by God, I vow to die, I vow to choke on these holy pieces of me and sputter up my dying breath. “ - Alastair Sambridge

“ Who I am is such a far cry from who I was, if you looked at a photograph of me at ten years old you wouldn't recognize the eyes that smile, for as you look into the cracked lenses and into my eyes, it is not me you find. But rather, it is the insanity that swam in Calzell's eyes when I met him." - Ackilzo Thyme

“ My mother once told me that rage whispers into the ears of the broken that they deserve nothing more then this unsteady heart beat of broken bottles and cracked knuckles, but it's the ever smiling lip of peace that brings the sorrowed man back to himself. So I oughta wonder why peace keeps on scowlin' at me. “ - Varvaina Escobar

“ It seems it is the nature of humanity to point blame at those who are howling with regret, love beating empty in an open chest. “ - Sarkelus Johnson

“ Sometimes, life just fades before your eyes and ya don't have enough time to catch it, so you slowly drift away from it yearning for the gentle touch of death. But you know what? We all need a hero every once and awhile, and as Barbara lays her head against my chest, dancing her fingers across my shoulders and cheek, I think I damn well found my hero. “ -Rob Percstand

“ I don't wanna die with dreams, I wanna die with memories, man. “ - Revie Scollinew

"In the outback of Montana my tale began in crimson stained history. I look to my aunts and uncles and see murder deep inside of their hearts, but they should've thought twice before taking my heart in their rough hands, for there is something dark that's brewing inside of me, and if I were them, I would start looking underneath the bed for monsters." - Enoch Avoxin

"There's a certain truth, to madness." - Zachariah Rinderez

"Hold honor close to your heart and you'll end its beat." - McKormick McReavey

"You know, everybody says, this won't happen to me, I'm just your average everyday person, collecting my paycheck, paying my bills, living my day to day life just like everybody else. But what we seem to forget is that we're all normal people, we're all just a little bit average enough to stand out. And when these tragic things do happen to us, we stand in a stunned silence our whole world falling apart, and all we can utter is, "This can't be happening to me." - Ray Burzfoll

"If I could strip the emotion from my mind I fear I would do so in a heart beat." - Wyatt Demouchett

"Love comes and goes but power drifts on by and stays." - Dastallio Sanchez

"Darkness has intertwined itself within my heart sputtering the light from out my throat." - Cornelius Shmackelstein

“I am not myself, so what the fuck am I?" - Coraiza Scotchfuel

"Living in reality is the most cruel form of torture for a mad man." - Draven Scotchfuel

"It is as if she makes my black and white heart burst with some form of color it's never seen." - Armello Vanrick

"Perhaps it was always a mirror hiding inside of my closet." - Julie Forkroad

"The world went dark before it fell, we were just playing a waiting game." - Brooke Bergmeir

"I've got more fighting days left than you have years." - Maximo Guanch

"If everything exists, nothing does, really." - Arthur Wellburn

[marshmallowprotection]

“It’s amazing,” his fingers drummed against the screen of her phone with the flick of his wrist. There was just so much to discover and so much to unlock that he’d not the slightest clue where to start. Her mind moved at a rate unlike his, seeing and tracking even the smallest details that he couldn’t even stop to press on his own. It was a wonder where she’d be all this time.

Oh, right, Ray paused to look at the device once more. His mint eyes flickering over the details that felt wrong... mmm, wrong wasn’t the word. There was small minute differences between what she held on her phone and what existed within the confines of an average cell phone in this world.

It proved his theory that she was an angel sent to him from another realm. This was the sign that he had been searching for to help test his faith and further give him the key to revenge and satisfaction. She hadn’t said anything to him since the moment that she had woken up, but that didn’t matter. 

The thrill alone of what they were going to do sent Ray into such a desperate and pleasured flurry that the hours blurred around him. It wasn’t every day that a girl appeared from seemingly nowhere with information about him... about all of his goals and dreams. 

Written in such clear and thoughtful detail. 

Anyone else might’ve been concerned with this level of intel but not Ray, not Ray who had spent so much time trying to find the perfect person to test his game out only for her to fall right into his lap. She seemed to be lost in a daze, though, her brown eyes nervously flickering left and right as his grip on her phone stayed tight. 

The RFA... 

No, no. 

Ray wouldn’t think about them at the moment, not when he got to see someone speak so highly of him and his goals. She wanted to help him. She saw him like no one else did. She saw him and he wouldn’t let her get away from him after it seemed like the world went to so much trouble to bring her to him. 

There was just so much to read.

So much to see! 

Strange, though, every time he tried to access the app that held an icon of someone he knew, it wouldn’t open. It would crash and no amount of pressing and pulling would fix the thing. All he had to read was her thoughts and feelings about him... about his goals. 

He had grasped her by the wrist without thinking and brought her to the information room without thinking. He wanted to see things in a bigger display and with more chance to tinker with whatever was broken. It was like being a kid in a candy store with a phone that wasn’t from his reality. Who got a chance to work with something like this? 

Something where someone had the ability to know about him? 

Something where it was someone that saw him as a strong person and not the crybaby? 

Something where someone had all of knowledge of him and wasn’t working for the devil?

“I was so afraid of involving someone from the outside who could never truly understand our goals,” he murmured, looking back in her direction as he heard the sound of her breath hitch. “But, you’re from the outside and yet, you know me and our goals all too well. You know why I’m fighting so hard... I never once thought I’d... I’d find someone who thought so much of my voice... is this really a dream or... is this real?”

Kaitlyn pinched the skin on her arm once, twice, and thrice. Her head hurriedly shook from left to right.  “It’s— It’s not a dream, Ray. I— I don’t...” she trailed off, unsure of herself. “Ray, could... could you tell me how you found me? I’m afraid the last I remember I was at home, and then...” 

The phone shuddered back to a black screen in his hands. He would have the time, he would have the time to see it. She could whisper it to him aloud, slowly but surely murmuring those sweet words that he read. That would be the goal, after he saw everything—

She could be his tester. 

No.

She was going to be his tester. 

He would need to discuss with the Savior, of course, but she could play them for fools while they destroyed them. Visions of a future where they won and his view of paradise was cemented forever... where he was happy and everyone bowed to the whims of the Savior while he felt the taste of freedom.

“I found you in the gardens this morning,” the device rested against his desk as he took a few steps closer to her. She didn’t budge from her spot, but she didn’t shy from his touch or flinch away. “I thought you’d lost your way here after your ceremony, it happens time from time... people stray in their confusion and they get a little out of sorts, but... you’re... you’re different.” 

Her lower lip tucked under her top row of teeth as her eyes sank to the ground with a small breath. “I... I see.” 

“This must be very... overwhelming for you,” his trembling palm sought hers out with a chuckle. There was something within him that was blooming with some kind of confidence. It was strange for him to feel this way but he welcomed it as he welcomed victory  “But... you’ve given me something that I cannot express in mere words.” 

“Ray...” she hesitated. 

Perhaps, he thought, she wasn’t sure how to talk to him after seeing him as a person that she thought of only within her mind? He couldn’t say he knew that feeling but he knew what it felt like to be lost and confused like a stray doe in the midst of winter. 

“You’ve seen my victory, right?” his grip on her hand tightened. “You’ve seen my past... you’ve seen my present... have you charted my future? Have you seen all of it where we win paradise? Where we succeed and prove to those... to that liar and traitor, our true power? You spoke so... highly of a mistake like me and I... I can’t help but believe in your words.” 

“Ray, you’re not a—” 

“My voice has always been rather small... and my body always too weak.. but you made me sound like... someone strong... someone willing to do everything no matter the cost to defend my dreams... right? So, what secrets are you hiding from me now? Oh, wait... I’m getting ahead of myself, I don’t... I don’t want you to hate me after meeting me like this.” 

His mint eyes were pained when she lifted her head. “You already think well of me, I don’t have to ask you to explain anything.” 

“I don’t want someone who wrote so passionate about me to see me be such... such a disgrace. No, no... no,” he trailed, his mind jolting into a range of his own thoughts once more. He blinked, and then solidified the thoughts that were now running in his head. “That’s right, I was supposed to tell the Savior about what I found out— You will wait for me here while I speak to her, okay? And then... then we can talk about what we can do together!” 

“Ray, wait—”

The door shut with an electronic lock before she could stop him. 

He wanted to use what she knew to destroy the RFA, and her worst fear was the fact that she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She looked down at her hands with a sense of dread pooling in her gut. He hadn’t even let her get in a word edgewise there. He just kept speaking over her with—

Ray had made up his mind already and there was no changing it. 

What was she going to do?

[that-one-gay-girl]

Gone - Ch.3

Pairing: Dean x Reader 

Word Count: 1522

Warning: show level violence 

Summary: Y/n is taking steps to get back to hunting, Dean suggests a lazy day and some information is revealed...

A/n: I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think. I loved writing it, especially the end.

Two weeks had gone by and now you were seated in a room, waiting for Danny. Today was the day you were doing the prosthetic casting, the next step was getting the actual leg.

You were restless, excited to get back to hunting. No more doing research because you had to be sidelined. This leg would bring the normal you back.

A knock on the door has you looking up as Danny comes in. “Nice to see again Y/n, how are you feeling today?” he looks through your chart.

“I'm good, a little nervous but I’m good.” you respond with a small smile

“Alright, well I’ve got all the casting supplies ready. This is going to create a mold for your prosthetic and once it's ready we will do several exams and scans with you to make sure everything is fitting in the socket correctly.” he tells you as he begins the process.

Dean sits in the impala listening to Metallica as he does research on how to help you with physical therapy at home once you get your prosthetic. He wanted to be fully prepared to help you.

After the casting process you walk out to the impala, with a smile on your face, “Two weeks until I get the prosthetic!” you say excitedly. “I’ll be back in the game before you know it.”

“Let's not rush anything Y/n, take it one day at a time.” he covers your hand with his. “How about we have a lazy day? Popcorn, chocolate, nachos, beer? The works!” he asks you. Dean wouldn’t admit it but he was terrified of you hunting again. He had always been protective of you, but you’d never been hurt so badly...so permanently.

You smile at him leaning in to kiss him softly. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

“You could mention it a couple more times.” he teases

“I love you Dean Winchester.” you kiss him again lingering against his lips before you sit back. “To the bat cave!” you joke

After stopping at the small store in town the impala was full of groceries.  “I think we’ve got enough food to last us a month.” you tell dean

“Maybe a week.” he jokes

Pulling into the garage Dean helps you out of the car before grabbing the grocery sacks. Once inside you sit down in the wheelchair, your arms beginning to feel sore.

“Do you want to pick a movie? I’ll make nachos?” You question, rolling into the kitchen.

“Do you want help?” He asks as you shake your head

“I’ve got it Dean, I’m a big girl.” you smile up at him

“I’ll be gone 10 minutes tops, I’m going to grab a quick shower.” he kisses your head before going into the bathroom.

Turning the oven on, you grab a cooking tray lining it with foil. Finding the bag of tortilla chips sitting on the counter you open them spreading it across the tray.  

Realizing the cheese is on the top shelf of the fridge you lock your wheelchair in place standing up slowly holding onto the edge of the counter. Gripping the edge tightly as you balance yourself.

“You can do this y/n.” determined you maneuver yourself towards the fridge. Carefully grabbing the cheese you toss it onto the counter, trying to move carefully back to the chair.

Sitting down you take a deep breath, pumping a fist in the air in victory. You were doing better and nothing could stop you now. FInishing up the nachos and putting them in the oven, Dean walks in with wet hair and a wide grin.

“Pie to go with those nachos?” He asks pulling out the apple pie like a  kid on Christmas morning

Nodding your head you set the timer for 5 minutes, “Did you pick a movie?” You ask

“Batman!” he says with a childish grin

You can’t help but smile up at Dean. Seeing Dean happy and relaxed was the best. In this life, things were different and you’d do anything just to see Dean happy.

When the timer beeps Dean pulls out the nachos, dishing them onto plates. “Come on slowpoke” he chuckles as you follow behind him into his man cave.

Popping the first DVD into the disc player you get comfortable on the bed, munching on the nachos as Dean grabs two beers, sitting down next to you.

“Love you” he mumbles against your skin as his lips touch your head.

As the movie Texas Chainsaw Massacre plays in the background, your eyes begin to drift shut.

It was dark and foggy, you could hear screaming all around you. Looking around confused you spot a small light in the dark fog. Walking towards it you look down, your leg is there. Like it had never been taken. Touching it, pinching it, your eyes widen as it feels real.

“What is happening?” The screams begin again, only louder. Running this time towards the sound, you come across a disturbing scene.

Dean and Sam were pinned against the wall while the witch threw you across the dirty floor, the sickening sound of your bones cracking echoed through the room as you hit the ground.  

Watching in horror as the night you lost your leg plays in front of you. You must be dreaming. You think to yourself. You were on the floor trying to break free from whatever kept you from moving when multiple knives cut through your body.

This was the last thing you remember from that night. You watch as the dream continues to play in front of your eyes.

Another knife was plunged through your body all the while, the witch laughed maniacally. Screams tore your throat apart as the witch continued her assault. Dean and Sam's shouts were barely heard over your screaming. Before anyone else could move Cas appeared behind the witch driving a blade through her heart, killing her instantly.

Looking wide eyed at the dream version of cas you then look down at your dream body. Cas presses two fingers to your head a few cuts healing slightly, but nothing more. “I’m sorry Dean, I’m too weak to heal her.”

Dean's hands press harder against your abdomen trying to stop the bleeding from the biggest wound. “You are not dying! You h-hear me? Keep those beautiful eyes open for me baby.”

Dean picks you up as you groan in pain, you cough harshly as blood spills from your mouth. Dean gets into the back carefully with you as Sam slams on the Gas speeding to the hospital. “D-Dean, I love you.” Your voice cracks weakly as your eyes grow heavy. “Y/n open your eyes! Y/n!”

Dean continues to watch the movie as you sleep, your head lays on his chest like always. Running his hands through your hair as you sleep, Dean looks down as your face scrunches up and your head moves down, gripping Dean's shirt tightly, all of these were telltale signs you were having a nightmare.

Dean had seen it enough times to recognize it, shaking your shoulders lightly he tries to wake you up. “Wake up baby.” he urges. Dean hovers against you shaking your body violently as you begin screaming in your sleep. “Y/n open your eyes! Y/n!” Dean shouts.

Gasping awake you scan your surrounding pushing your body away from danger. “Calm down y/n, just breathe.” Dean puts his hands on your shoulders as you regain your senses. Recognizing your shared room and seeing Dean you begin to calm down.

Dean wipes the tears away from your face as he sits and pulls you into his chest. “What happened baby? You’ve never had nightmares that bad.” he mumbles as he strokes your arm.

After a few minutes your breathing is back to normal as you look at Dean. “It wasn’t a nightmare.” you mumble into the quiet room.

“What do you mean?” he asks you

“It wasn’t a nightmare, I saw what happened that night. The night I lost my leg.” you respond

Dean doesn’t say anything as he looks at you wide eyed. “Why didn’t you tell me I died? I died in your arms Dean.” you cry

After a few moments of silence he responds, “That was one of the worst nights of my life. I never, NEVER want to relive it.” he tells you as tears fall from his bright green eyes.

Looking into his eyes you realize Dean hasn’t stopped since the accident happened. No one has cared for him or looked out for him. He’s been working to make you better from Day 1 and now he was at his end.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I haven’t been there for you. We need to do better, we need to communicate. You can’t get this bad and not tell me” you kiss his lips softly.

Laying down you move his head onto your chest as you stroke his hair. You feel wetness on your shirt as several tears fall from his eyes. “I can’t lose you” he whispers.

Chapter 4

Dean/Jensen Taglist:

@akshi8278​ @hobby27​

Forever Taglist:

@winchest09​

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 24: Someone Actually Called the Cops.

So recently I was like, “I should do something different than my usual” and I decided to open up a little thread for critiquing ppl’s short stories, and I kid you not, the very first story I got was someone’s Seto Kaiba erotica. Which, even in erotica form, did not have very much romance in it. So, now that Yugioh will apparently haunt my every waking move forever until I die, lets get back to S4. Lets desperately get back to canon. I miss canon.

Last we left off, Kaiba lost KaibaCorp...again. Really feels like he loses this company once every couple of years (weeks if we count season 1-3). Except, this time, Dartz didn’t read the fine print in the legal files that says the company must be run by a member of the Kaiba family. While that was a huge plot point with Pegasus, turns out that Seto and Mokuba’s memories have been blended so thoroughly, like a very fine Shadow Realm smoothie, that they just...forgot.

And like I’m positive that Roland remembers, but Roland’s not gonna say something and accidentally reveal he’s the 4th Kaiba brother and have to get abducted all the time and actually work for a living. Anyways, they forgot why Pegasus abducted them in the first place in Season 1, and honestly, so did the writers of this season 4 years later. Not like it mattered, because if Seto and Mokuba did take Dartz to court, the world would end before their case would even start.

Which is how, after one talk with Roland, Seto and Mokuba just sort of laid prone on the metaphorical ground and let it wash over them that yes, KaibaCorp is gone.

I really like this extra-long helicopter, PS.

Both members of Kaiba’s Sunglasses Army decided to align themselves with Kaiba, although honestly, I don’t think anyone else in this company has realized that they’ve been bought. It happened...1 hour ago. Like what do you even do if your company randomly gets bought in the middle of a workday? Like no lead up, no indication, just BAM you’ve been bought?

And if Duke works for Pegasus who got bought out by Dartz and then Dartz bought Kaiba Corp-------What does that make Duke? Is he gonna have to start wearing sunglasses inside?

Anyway, Roland knows better than to tell Seto Kaiba he doesn’t work for him anymore while still in the same helicopter as Seto Kaiba, who already crashed one plane today and will crash yet another plane before this episode is through.

(read more under the cut)

Seto decides to align with Yugi since he needs to confront Dartz eventually. Which is when we find out that Seto always planned to align with Yugi and was just giving him a really hard time.

Because over the last several episodes, Seto has had an entire team at this random museum in Florida in order to take some pictures (that really should have already been on the internet but wtv, it was 2003 so maybe it wasn’t?)

It’s like most of the way through s4 and the biker ninjas still send me. How did he make SO MANY biker ninjas? At what point was Dartz like...and now...all my mooks...will be ninja bikers. Or orcs. Mostly Ninja bikers.

Did Alister or the others ever tell him “hey, Master Dartz, I get that your 10000 years old but like...do you not understand what a biker is?” and was Dartz like

“clearly bikers are the most evil thing in the world, obviously.” completely unaware that most bikers are just 45 year old accountants.

In these scenes we also get a gander at their laptops and, if you ever want to see high level life crippling OCD anxiety in picture form, it’s illustrated very clearly right here:

Not only did they draw this keyboard in 1 pt perspective, they used like a ruler to draw all those letters so they were the same size. Some artist put so much time getting this nice and crisp and smooth...and then this happened.

And I’m pretty sure they died after that. I’m pretty sure this scene killed an artist.

It’s at this point that Yami kinda puts two and two together and was like “WE BOUGHT PLANE TICKET’S, YOU ASSHOLES.”

(It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen Mokuba smile like this, and it’s because he’s been hiding the fact for So Many Episodes that he and his brother prepped like hours ago to get this huge dunk on the rest of the party. He just wants to dunk on them so bad. Look at him. His company was bought today. BUT he gets to spend time with his bro dunking.)

Serious question, will Delta refund your flight if the Great Leviathan appears in the sky and tries to eat your soul to reboot the world from the ground up?

Of course not. They will never refund your flight. Trick question.

We switch back over to Rebecca and Duke, who have been absent from this show for so long, I actually forgot what Duke’s name was and had to think for like...5 entire minutes until I remembered that his nickname sounds like a poop and I was like “oh man, what name of poop would it be???” and then I recalled “Dookie. Yes. His name is literally Dookie. Wow that took way too long!”

Then we start a story arc I’d to call “My Kingdom For a Sharpen Filter” where, much like King Lear, the Yugi crew splays themselves on a battle field just strewn with different ways to sharpen an image, but can’t for the life of them use any other one, but the one deep in the heart of what is now DartzCorp.

And so yes, we are going to fly to San Fransisco, hop into ye Olde KaibaCorp, and log into proto-Noah in order to read a language that Arthur Hawkins can already read.

This is nonsense, but they put it there because it’s something to do. And honestly, it’s not a card game, so I’m down for this change-up. Lets go visit a version of Noah’s brain. At least they won’t drop an orichalcos for the 12th episode in a row.

On the way, Seto decides to try and egg on Yugi.

This backfires as you expect it will because Yami doesn’t freakin care. Like he’s not Yugi, he doesn’t care who the King of Games is, he harnesses freakin Dark Magic. The Wizard never cares if he’s King Arthur or not, and in fact, he probably prefers it....

..................Except in that spinoff where they had Yugi as a reincarnation of King Henry VII.

...................................................never mind.

And then Seto Kaiba says this actual line and I just...

WH.

WHHH

WHAT?

This entire show is just watching Yugi desperately cling to his scary ass hobbies. The tagline of Yugioh is “1001 reasons to go back to school and get a real job.”

What does Kaiba think Yugi does when he’s not around? Does he actually think Yugi attends school or sleeps at night or works an actual job? Like...he thinks Yugi has...NO HOBBIES.

Very interesting insight into what Seto considers a hobby and not hobby.

Especially since this Yami, who spends most of his spare time farting around his scary ass brain castle and getting lost. Occasionally he is forced on a date with Tea and wipes minds. That’s it. That’s all the things Yami does outside of hobbies.

Anyway, what is Dartz doing during all of this?

After this, Dartz pulls back the literal curtains on this room to reveal these candles that each hold the soul of someone he’s murdered.

There are not NEARLY enough candles for this segment.

A very brave man to have candles littered on the floor when his hair is down to his ass and all of his mooks have floorduster coats.

I really want to know what the local arts and crafts store thought when Dartz strode in there and bought every single tiny styrafoam skull during the Halloween sale and was like “can I put souls in these? You sell the kind I can put souls in, right?” and then immediately pulled out like a dozen 50% off coupons like a complete asshole.

Anyway, using this candle hocus pocus, Dartz uses the Orichalcos powers to take advantage of something Yugi did in the first episode. We distantly recall there was a giant eyeball in the sky--turns out if you bust up the eyeball with, lets say, a card that has a dragon on it, the eyeball will explode into many tiny Orichalcos pieces that will fall all over planet Earth.

So apparently Yugi didn’t save anyone at all when he busted that eyeball, because he instead set in motion Dartz’ evil plan to eventually use these many tiny Orichalcos pieces like the one seen here, to kill the hell out of people.

Good job, Yugi. Too bad you missed the Actual Bakura.

In fact, actual Bakura is probably the only one who survived this incident because I guarantee that Ryou Bakura is too busy eating all the contents of his fridge out of stress. He’s probably opened his window at this point, seen the crazy lights in the sky and in the street and was like  “Blooooooody nope nopenopenopenopenope” and just locked the windows and doors, turned up Hercule Poirot to max volume, and stuffed his face with cookies.

(Or biscuits, I guess.)

WELL.

I don’t know how to tally that.

Yugioh not only broke the tally I was using to measure the distance they spent commuting this season, it also broke the tally on the amount of people who have died on this children’s show.

That’s a really big number.

We’ve had real duel monsters for a couple weeks but youknow...this time they’re extra, extra, extra real. More so than the last times. Also they’re all Orichalcos versions of their cards so their extra edge now. They’re the hot topic versions of what were already pretty hot-topic ass cards.

MMM. We come full circle, back at a dock, a warehouse, and some huge ass boat.

Right where we belong. Where all friends meet, where we can all finally be one.

Yugioh found one of the only cities that has a very famous and tourist heavy pier/warehouse district in it just so the Yugi gang could finally feel comfortable in their natural habitat. HOWEVER, there’s just one tiny problem in this scene, and it’s that it’s not overlaid with the actual soundscape of a SF pier, which is that of 100000 screaming seals

I don’t have a seal problem, you have a seal problem.

Anyway, the only healthy adults here attempt to follow the children into danger but someone on the animation team was like “we just lost the keyboard drawing guy to that capslock! We cannot lose any more interns to a crowd scene with 9 people in it and 2 dead bodies!” and they uh...

And we immediately eject Roland and whoever that weird sunglasses guy is out of the script. Mokuba gave them a longing glance as they helicoptered away. Maybe because he missed his Dad stand-ins that he went through such efforts to call in the first place. Or more likely, because Mokuba would have preferred to be on that helicopter and far away from whatever the hell is going to go down on this dock.

Honestly the rest of Joey’s storyline this episode is him going rogue because of Mai rage, and it both comes out of nowhere and also seems very on point for him.

Meanwhile, Rebecca’s unbridled rage towards Yami Muto is still low key hilarious to me.

Witness the only character here who thinks Yami should suffer actual consequences and witness Yami just appear to not give a single damn about it.

Nearly spat out my own drink watching this.

The...

...police...

...exist in this universe?

Anyway, while Tristan and Tea try to locate a payphone to dial 911, Seto and Yugi decide to invade Seto’s own company by going through an elevator that you have to reach through the sewers.

Straight up I don’t think SF even has sewers. At least, not in the sense that you can walk in em like New York or Paris or other cities that have sewers. Our sewer systems are very small cuz we got something called “liquefaction” which means our ground is so soft (and artificial--a lot of the land is fake), that when there is an earthquake, certain parts of the city will...liquefy. It’s Terrifying. We kind of...avoid going and building underground except in certain stable places. (like even BART gives me the heebies.)

I just have a very strong distrust of basements, caves and other underground places in general and it’s not because of spiders, or ghosts or whatever, I’m just afraid of faultlines. It’s like having an active volcano, but you just don’t see it, and we haven’t had a Big One since 1989 so...any day now (I mean, 2020 has been such redic content, that I think we’re finally ready)

Again, Japan has way more intense Earthquakes than we do, and yet they have a billion underground subways and very, very tall buildings, so like, this is mostly a big cultural difference between the two of us. And the bedrock. They probably have better bedrock than we do (honestly, I just have no idea).

MASTER HACKER SKILLS.

Almost as good as that time he hacked into Pegasus’ company by dropping a satellite on it. I’m starting to think Seto actually doesn’t know how to use a computer.

Anyway, Seto is faced with...real cards, real monsters, indisputable evidence, and he decides, it’s time. It’s time to finally face facts.

So, while these two are just flinging cards around willy nilly, Tea and Tristan are ...actually talking to police.

4 seasons. They’re actually doing it.

Although, TBH, they probably should have gone to the Japanese Embassy first? Just throwing that out there.

Ah Yugioh, the only kids show around that tells you point blank not to trust cops. Timeless.

U.S

In some weird underground earthquake hazard, Rebecca proves that she is smarter than Seto Kaiba. She’s maybe even the smartest person on this show. Nice that we gave her nothing to do this season but pine over Yugi who is already taken by Tea who he is also not even dating.

Not that I love Rebecca or anything, I actually have a hard time with her voice, but like...they really dropped the ball on Rebecca.

If she does end up joining Kaiba corp as their back up Felicity Smoak while Seto just runs around aimlessly punching stuff that really is just offbrand Arrow but with cards. And with slightly less resurrections.

So, lets get a gander at that computer.

We didn’t get to see Kaiba pull out 12 other discs to complete the installation process for these all these Hard Discs. Maybe the lure of throwing a very aerodynamic CD across the room like a paper card was so strong that his dev team forced him to switch to these defunct squares?

PS, I am a true millennial, OK? But, I don’t remember Hard Discs.

Hard Discs were SO long go. I stopped using these damn things in Elementary school. The last Hard Disc I ever touched was in college, when I had to put my art portfolio on a disc to submit it to my degree. I don't know even why. Everyone had a mac, so I knew no one’s computer in the department even...HAD a disc drive so it was like...whomst among you has this damn computer from 1997? Whomst among you is still using Windows 95? WHY would I put IMAGES on a floppy when I can just email them to you?

Anyway, I had to get a USB hard disc reader, and to get that reader, I had to call my Dad who had legacy software because he’s a computer engineer, and he had to mail it to me.

In that same portfolio review, PS, I also had to submit my portfolio as slides.

I didn’t even know where to produce slides so I had to ask all these old people and go to the last photo processing store on earth to get digital pictures turned into negatives and then turned into freakin slides.

SLIDES.

I honestly think they just did that to weed people out of the art degree.

Anyway, I tell you this story just to say that there is no way in hell that Kaiba was using a hard disc during the height of the CD era. We were CD or go home since 2000. We had pretty decent jump drives at this point. We had wifi. It was realllly bad wifi, but we had it. Your phone could connect to the internet. It would charge you 50 bucks, but it COULD connect.

Who on the Yugioh team DID this?

Anyway lets see these pictures that for which, we spent thousands of dollars in unused plane tickets, destroyed a Caltrain, killed 2 ancient Atlanteans (and their dog), killed 3 random mid-villains, walked across the entire Peninsula, crashed an international plane, and left both the plane and the train to rot gas fuel into the nearest lake which is right next to a ghost graveyard?

Yeaaaaaaaaaah!

Like he reads it and is all “They’re gonna resurrect Atlantis” and it’s like WE KNOW. Dartz and his hooligans have talked about starting their Utopia to reboot the world since Gurimo. Since Day 1.

Man.

Anyways, there was one plus to the pictures, and it was that Seto Kaiba recognized the Oricalchos logo.

just...

The Oricalchos logo is...

...This logo, Seto?

You...didn’t recognize...seriously? Not until just now? You have been inside of this logo, rearing to lose your soul to Alister 2 times, and he only recognized it...just now.

I mean Seto takes a while y’all. He’s a genius, but his memory is so, so bad, that he will Eventually get smart, but you have to wait until like episode 24. But he’ll get there. Just gotta be patient.

And, when he saw it, he wigged out in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

Y’all I feel like I’ve seen to many weird zooms on Kaiba’s crotch in this show. Or just in life in general, especially after that surprise fic. That’s all.

I don’t know why everything exploded, but maybe the logo is cursed in the same way as God Cards? I dunno.

Anyway, this is when Dartz shows up with his brand new dog.

So they run outside onto the roof.

Now listen, does every Kaiba Corp building need the same weird ass roof? Is it like a McDonalds?

Because I’m just picturing this type of roof in SF and I’m having a time.

Forgive me if I made this lemming joke already. He’s just stood on a cliff’s edge so many times I can’t keep up.

RIP Dragon Jet, who took us from S3-S4, you’ll always live on in our memory, you glorious, wasteful, beautiful death trap.

Seto and Yugi are fine by the way, they just kinda jumped out, as you do when you’re an immortal god possessing a small boy and a...whatever the hell Seto is.

It’s at this point we reintroduce Valon because Joey went rogue and has decided to take on Dartz by himself. This is what happens when Tristan leaves the party. You always need Tristan to hold back Joey by his armpits to keep him from fighting random people.

So I guess Valon’s gonna die next episode. That’ll be nice.

What’s great about this show is each arc is just watching each villain die. You know they’ll die. But...how much?

Anyway, that’s all for today. I’m still drawing a hell ton of stuff so I don’t know when the next update will be...but just now I haven’t dropped off or something. I’ll...eventually get to it.

And if you just got here, this is a link to read all of these in chrono order.

Anyway, I mentioned Hercule Poirot, (because watching a hell ton of BBC was how I spent time with my family when I was a kid, and my very Southern Grandma freakin LOVED Hercule Poirot) So here is the best subplot of that show, which is David Suchet eating stuff.

And which doesn’t want to embed for some reason. Probs can’t embed more than one video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17antzzJrzQ

[abusybuzzingbee]

Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 4 Rewrite | Dean x Fem!Reader

A/N::: I’m so sorry I was away for so long, I have been very involved in the black lives matter movement on my other social media, and have been taking the time to participate in protests around my city. If you would like to get involved in the movement but don’t know how, I would be happy to point you in the direction of helpful websites for petitions you can sign and places you can donate to. Please take this time to do your part and stick up for our black brothers and sisters.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon level violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other

Word Count: 7,927

Summary: The boys and the reader get a call from a man Dean and John worked a job for in the past. We learn a little bit about the reader’s past hunting experience, and possibly a newfound fear for her. 

Series Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

Click here for the series playlist!

You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber. 

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam. 

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to that asshole.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand. 

“Dean found a case,” the younger Winchester informed you.

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?”

Sam sat on the chair across from your bed near the table. “We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.”

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah--” you nodded, “--gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded. 

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts as well as people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?”

“Yeah, I was. I'm—taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied. 

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and-- what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?”

“Oh, uh--”

‘Time to improvise. Probably not the best time to get into the daddy dearest situation.’

“--I met them on a hunt in California, I had just lost my hunting partner and was in need of some new ones.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry described. 

“Why?” you asked.

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britania 2485--” the recording cut out with a static sound, “--immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message--” and cut out again, “--May be experiencing some mechanical failure--” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh...well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“All right,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage...guys--and gal--the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. 

They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“All right, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head. 

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shhh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“’ No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?” 

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation.

“Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied. 

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden. 

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything...unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered. 

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I--I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was...delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up. 

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was...this—man. And, uh, he had these...eyes—these, uh...black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's...that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused. 

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit. 

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. Black eyes give me big demon vibes.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house. 

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair. 

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a...dentist?” Dean questioned. 

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

“In all that time, did you ever notice anything...strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well...uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house. 

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re a know-it-all,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic asshole that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded. 

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you. 

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him. 

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys--” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you. 

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away. 

“Just drive, asshole” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat.

The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident.

Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean. 

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the navy color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good. 

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you. 

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” 

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. 

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a...seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

***

You steeled your nerves as your white, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is, I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped. 

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam. 

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag when you smelled the familiar scents of coconut and tobacco fill the air around you.

“We need to go,” you told the boys.

“What, why?” Sam asked.

“No time to explain, let’s just go, please.”

You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse. 

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building. 

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit. 

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace. 

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

Without hesitation, you lied, “I heard footsteps down the hallway. Sounded like they were running. Didn’t want to chance being what they were running towards.”

“Well then how come we couldn’t hear 'em?” Dean asked, his eyes flickering toward you in the rearview mirror. 

“Maybe you’re just deaf, Dean-o,” you quipped.

“Don’t give me your smart-ass bull crap,” he warned. “I was closer to where we came in than you were. I would’ve heard them coming first. Tell me what really happened.”

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. I heard them coming, you didn’t. Simple as that,” you shrugged.

He studied you for a brief moment in his mirror, and you could tell he knew something wasn’t right. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned. 

“‘Cause I know you’re lying.”

You scoffed. “Can you just get off my back? I’m not lying.”

“(Y/N)--” 

“No, just stop. Get off my dick and leave me alone.”

Dean shook his head, his frustration with you clear.

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean, your frustration with the fact that he had caught onto you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place. 

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed. 

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sat in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur with finger guns, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?” 

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you began.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was one of the toughest cases I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently. 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

***

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease--”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him.

“Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done,” you continued.

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry...Wha—Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?....I'll try to ignore the irony in that...Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone. 

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.”

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of the plane was, in fact, sulfur. 

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there hav====e been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“‘No survivors,’“ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

***

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway. 

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother. 

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean monotoned, his sarcasm strong.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas. 

***

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven. 

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?” 

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment.  “We need to find a phone.” 

He found a courtesy on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen...I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um...flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here...Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—...” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well...there must be some mistake--”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen. 

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged...He's really sorry...Yes, but...he really needs to see you tonight, so--... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic...Oh, yeah...No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!”

Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.”

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

“No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” you huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, (Y/N)?” he spat.

“Oh, man up,” you gibed.

“Hey, hey--” Sam tried to calm you both down before a fight broke out. “(Y/N) and I’ll go.”

Dean turned to his brother. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

“Come on! Really? Man...”

***

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, asshole?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.”

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.” 

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat closest to the window of the plane, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind as he sat in the aisle seat.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered, who sat between you. 

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded, leaning forward in your seat to look at Dean.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later. 

You and Sam snickered to yourselves as you leaned back in your seats.

A few minutes later when the plane had gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from two seats over from yours. 

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied shortly. 

“‘Some Kind of Monster?’ Really?“ you questioned.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.” 

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?” 

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water--” you leaned forward, snatching the bottle, “--And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied. You could tell he had not. 

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?”

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane. 

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before Dean returned.

“All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.”

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence,” Sam coaxed.

“Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four.

“Okay,” you started, your tone harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry I can't,” Dean sassed, his grip still tight on the arms of his chair.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

“Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?”

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“Oh, look at that, Dean-o’s finally taking charge,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.” 

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked. 

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam.

“We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually--” Dean began, “--that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean.

“Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry--” she started, attempting to move past you, “--I—I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

"Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On...on 2485, there was this man. He...had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—”

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Honey, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

Dean, however, shoved his way to that spot just before you could. 

You stumbled back, regaining your footing while fussing at Dean. “Um, Earth to asshole--” you moved to stand next to him against the wall, “--I was kind of standing there.”

He turned his face back to you over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he smirked. “I know.” Dean winked at you before turning back to face the curtain.

“Dick.”

“Bitch.”

“Guys!” Sam objected. “Focus, please.”

You heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth. 

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

“Well, I don't underst—I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam.

“I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal. 

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area. 

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane. 

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual. When you let him go, there was a slight tremble that rolled through the aircraft carrier. You took in a sharp breath, gripping onto the seats on either side of you as you faltered.

You looked up at Sam, eyes wide. “I think this whole demon dealio might’ve awakened my new biggest fear.”

***

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between each one.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah,” Sam conceded.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report.

Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse. 

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. 

“Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man. 

“You know, Jerry,” he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys-- and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. 

“This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him.

You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother.

You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head. 

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Tags are open and feedback is always appreciated!!

Series Rewrite Tags:

@rach5ive​ @ppeachygemss​

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Ch. 10

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Notes: Happy quarantine, US (and some international?) readers! I know most of you in school still have classes, but in case you’re bored, here’s some reading ;)

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Make This Go On Forever - Snow Patrol

Warnings: mentions of abuse, violence, just general angst. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

_____________________

“No special uniform?”

You smiled, setting your bag on your chair. 

After 2 weeks of intensive training, you were officially certified and capable in the eyes of the FBI. You and everyone else on the team knew you’ve been capable since the start; the only difference is now, the Bureau can’t be held legally responsible if you get hurt on the job. 

For the first time since you were hired, you came in wearing your normal attire — black pants, a fitted grey t-shirt, and a pair of boots. You kept your badge clipped to a belt loop, and it was the only accessory you wore identifying you as a paramedic. No more sticking out like a sore thumb. 

“Now that I’m a Federal Agent, I don’t have to,” you answered Derek’s question. 

You brushed past the man, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. You looked into the bullpen to see Spencer sitting at his desk, lost in thought. You felt him leave early in the morning — something about getting a jumpstart on paperwork.  

He looked tired. You reminded yourself to bring him a fresh coffee later. 

“What’s going on?” Emily asked as she entered the kitchenette. 

“Y/N is a Federal Agent now,” Derek boasted.

“Well, congratulations, Agent Y/L/N,” Emily said. She offered you her mug in a toast.

With a chuckle, you clinked your mug against hers, doing the same to Derek’s when he offered. 

“Ah! Good,” Penelope exclaimed from across the room. Her heels clicked on the platform looking over the bullpen. “You’re all here. We have a case.” 

You sat between JJ and Emily at the briefing table. You scrolled through the files on the tablet in front of you, reading some of the police reports while you waited for Hotch and Garcia to enter.

“Hey, are you gonna be okay?” JJ asked in a low voice.

You frowned, looking up at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Spencer mentioned you went to visit a friend a few weeks ago,” she specified. “Said the two of you served together?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“And everything went… fine? Good?”

You nodded again, smiling faintly. “It was good. I learned a lot about him, actually.”

JJ smiled as well. “I’m glad,” she said, patting your shoulder. “And I’m glad you’re back, too.” 

“Sorry for the delay,” Hotch apologized as he entered the room. “Let’s get started.”

Garcia was already at the end of the table, picking up the remote and clicking a few of it’s buttons. “Two men have been killed on the Southside of Chicago in the last ten days. The first is Michael Crowley — he was a repairman who was out late jogging one night. Second, Anthony Rango. He was a convenience store owner.” 

“No known connection between them,” Hotch interjected.

“Both men were beaten to death; Rango suffered a crushed larynx and something called a lefort fracture?”

“It’s a bilateral horizontal facial injury,” you specified.

“Looks like there was also some blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” Derek said. 

“So they were blitz attacked to gain control, then it was essentially fisticuffs,” Spencer theorized. 

“And they were both caught with their pants down,” Garcia said. “Like, literally, their pants and boxers were pulled down to their ankles.”

“But there’s no signs of sexual assault or robbery,” you stated. 

“So it was a message,” Rossi concluded.

“Either they led personal lives, or someone wanted to symbolically demean or embarass them,” Hotch said. “With this level of hands-on violence, this UnSub is filled with rage, and he’s probably just getting started. Wheel’s up in 30.”

“Wow,” Derek said, walking into the convenience store. A rack of bread and chips was knocked over, product spewn across the floor and crushed under the weight of either the metal or a body. There was a smear of blood on the floor that led to the frame. 

“Rango put up a fight,” you noted. “It looks like he regained consciousness at some point, probably soon after the initial attack.”

“He put up a hell of a fight,” Derek agreed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number and putting the device to his ear. “Baby girl, see if the convenience store owner had any military training.”

After a brief conversation, Derek thanked Garcia and hung up.

“So we were right?” You asked.

“But to intentionally pick a fight with a martial artist?”

You shrugged. “It’s possible he didn’t know. Rango could have been a victim of opportunity, like the jogger was.”

“Looks like our guy needed a drink after the beatdown,” Derek said, gesturing to the wine bottles on the floor. “He must’ve worn gloves, otherwise CSI would have taken them in for prints.” 

You looked up at the ceiling to notice a security camera. You went behind the counter, grabbing a napkin as you went. 

“He could have been an addict,” you said, pressing ‘eject’ on each DVD tray that hooked up to the surveillance system. “It would explain the impulsive behavior.” 

Derek clicked a few buttons on the cash register behind you. “You ever met an addict that left a full register?”

Each tray came out empty.

“He stole the discs before he left,” you said. “He was mission-oriented.” 

“Soda and candy were the last things bought,” Derek said, reading a receipt.

“Kids, probably,” you mentioned. “They’re lucky they didn’t get hurt.” 

The two of you began poking around the store, looking for details that local law enforcement may have missed. You mostly stayed behind the counter while Derek paced around the sales floor.

“Is it true you grew up around here?” you asked, looking through a few binders you found under the register. 

“5 blocks away,” Derek confirmed. “We passed the park I played football at on the way here. The corner down the street is where I played kissy-face with my first girlfriend.” 

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

You laughed softly, then considered. “How did you make it out of here?” 

He looked up. “What do you mean?” 

You shrugged. “Junction City isn’t very big — after awhile, it felt like the Army was my only option. Which I was fine with, but… I don’t know. Chicago is a big city, but Southside seems to be a world of its own. I’m just curious how a cute little black boy from Chicago turned into one of the Bureau’s finest agents.” 

Derek scoffed with a smile. “Believe me — I wonder too.” 

His phone rang in his pocket. After taking off a glove, Derek answered it. “Hey, what’s up? Find anything at the diner?” 

Pause.

“What’s it say?”

His entire demeanor changed. His gaze darted around the store, absentmindedly lowering his phone. 

“Give me a second,” Derek mumbled into the phone.

“Derek?” you asked, coming out from behind the counter. “What’s wrong?”

Without answering, Derek stood up and walked over to the front door. He partially pulled down the security curtain, which was made of solid metal. 

“I gotta go,” Derek said before hanging up.

“‘Look up to the sky?’” you read the painted-on words. “Does that mean something to you?”

“Let’s go,” was all Derek said before ducking under the curtain and exiting the store.

“I know what this is about,” Derek said, walking into the room the station reserved for the team.

Spencer, Hotch, and Rossi had been there the whole time, while Emily and JJ seemed to have just gotten back from the diner. You followed Derek into the room, completely unaware of what was happening.

“This is about Carl Buford,” Derek stated.

Like in most situations, you gradually moved over until you found yourself next to Spencer; he was leaning against a table off to the side. You decided to simply stand next to him, your arms folded across your chest.

“Who’s Carl Buford?” you whispered, making sure Derek couldn’t hear you.

“A serial killer and molester,” Spencer said. “We arrested him almost seven years ago for the murders of three prepubesent African-American boys. He framed Derek for the last murder he committed.” 

“Carl Buford is in prison serving a life sentence,” Hotch reminded. 

“‘Look up to the sky’ is what he used to tell me,” Derek said. “Buford was an expert… at spotting and exploiting vulnerabilities of adolescent boys that he coached at the community center. He had the entire community center thinking he was a hero — parents, teachers… cops. Everyone. After my dad died, he locked onto me. And he manipulated me into compliant victimization. I’ve told you how I got into it with a local gangbanger when I was younger. Well, somehow, Buford got it expunged. I didn’t understand why a guy who barely knew me would do that. But… Buford gave me his time. He taught me how to play football. And then, one day… he took me to his cabin on the lake.”

“Morgan, you don’t have to do this,” Hotch said.

“They need to know, Hotch,” he disagreed. “They need to know this guy’s M.O.”

The room was dead silent.

“Buford built up my trust,” Derek continued. “And then he would lower my inhibition… with Helgason wine. And then… he would molest me. And every time he saw that dead look in my eye that said I wanted him to stop, he would just say ‘you better man up, boy. Look up to the sky.’”

“Did you ever tell anyone about that phrase?” you asked gently.

He shook his head. “No.”

“We’re probably looking at someone Buford abused,” Rossi said. 

“The victim could harbor a great deal of anger if he didn’t deal with his own abuse,” Hotch agreed. “With the right trigger, it could develop into this kind of rage.” 

“Buford ran the community center for years,” Spencer said. “An offender like him could have hundreds of victims.” 

“Let’s talk victimology: each of these men had interactions with kids right before they were killed,” Hotch said. 

“The killer switched from white victims to African Americans,” Rossi noted.

“You’d think if they were surrogates, he’d kill only black men,” Hotch agreed, already punching a number into his phone. “Garcia? I need you to compile a list of boys who played football at the community center twenty to thirty years ago.” 

“Excuse me, ma’am?” someone asked. 

You turned around to see an officer you didn’t recognize. He was middle-aged, but young compared to most of the other men on the force. “What can I do for you?” 

“You’re with the FBI, right?” 

You nodded. “That’s right.”

“Detective Gordinski wants these handed to your supervisor,” he said, giving you a file. “Nothing important, just paperwork, really.”

“Thanks,” you said anyways.

He was silent for a moment, then chuckled. “You know, I became a cop to get away from crazy shit like Afghanistan. Apparently, I can’t outrun it.”

He tried to walk away, but your interest peaked.

“You served?” you asked.

“Two tours,” the officer confirmed. “I was discharged after an IED went off and made me lose hearing in my right ear.”

“I was in Syria for 18 months,” you said.

His face lit up. “No way. What’d you do?”

The army had a weird way of bringing people together.

“I was a medic,” you replied. “I was hired on this team as a paramedic, actually. I worked as one for a few years after I got home.” 

“Goddamn,” he whistled. “It’s hard to find girls like you…?”

“Y/N,” you answered.

“Jacob,” he said, offering you a hand.

You shook his hand, smiling faintly. You saw Jacob wink at you before walking away, but you didn’t see JJ, Emily, and Spencer watching you from the next room. 

Back when Buford managed the center, everything was on paper, which meant Garcia unfortunately couldn’t help. JJ and Spencer ended up combing through the community center’s paper records, only to find gaps. They presumed Buford destroyed some of the files before he was sent to prison. The two of them were only able to come up with a partial list of names. 

Derek was incessant; he was the first one to suggest visiting Buford. Hotch was reluctant, instead opting for JJ to attempt a memory recall. It didn’t work, which meant you were back to zero in terms of leads. Derek eventually wore Hotch down, but on the condition that he’d go with Derek. You jumped in, saying you’d tag along.

“What?” you asked. “Garcia would, if she were here. I figured I’m the next best thing.” 

You and Hotch watched as Derek sat across from Buford. They were across the cafeteria, and you were behind a window, so it was hard to completely make out what they were saying. Eventually, though, You saw Derek get up and stand against the wall while Buford wrote names down on a pad of paper. They ended the conversation with a handshake. You could see the fire behind Derek’s eyes. 

“I’m gonna use the head before we leave,” Derek said after handing off the list to Hotch. He walked down the hall and to the bathroom. You waited a few minutes before following him. 

Basically all of the inmates were in the yard, which meant the floor was almost completely empty, even from guards. So, when you heard gagging come from the bathroom, you had a feeling you knew who it was. 

You opened the door, stepping in silently and turning the corner. Sure enough, Derek was hunched over the sink. He flipped on the faucet, bringing some water to his mouth.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he replied gruffly. 

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know that friend I mentioned? The one that died in front of me while I was deployed?”

“I remember,” Derek confirmed after a moment. 

“He wasn’t just my friend — he was my boyfriend,” you said, “and he died in front of me because we were being held captive. 

“He stepped on an IED. It blew his leg off. I ran out to help him, and I was knocked out cold. We were under fire, so no one realized we were gone until it was too late. They weren’t stupid — they knew he would die if he didn’t get proper medical attention. So, they sat him in the corner of the room, and they made him watch what they did to me.”

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” Derek said. 

“I know,” you promised. “You’re my friend. I want you to know. But mostly, I want you to know you’re not alone.” 

He shut off the water, standing up straight. “What did they do to you?”

“They started by punching. When that didn’t work, they moved onto whipping, and when that didn’t work, they laid me on the ground. My pants were halfway down my legs before Austin had enough. He told them everything they wanted to know. And, a few hours later, he was dead.” 

You laughed sadly, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “You wanna know the worst part? A few weeks ago, I found out he was gonna propose to me. He had the ring made and everything. It’s sitting in a box in my closet — his parents couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.” you wiped your eyes. “I mean, seriously dude, compared to my life, yours is a cakewalk.” 

Derek chuckled. He approached you, pulling you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around him. 

“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry too,” Derek replied. 

His hand cradled the back of your neck. It was soothing. 

“If you won’t ask him out, I will.”

You looked up at Emily with a frown. “What?”

“Jacob? That police officer from earlier?” 

“What about him?”

“You were totally flirting with him!” JJ said.

You snorted. “No I was not.”

“He winked at you,” Emily disagreed. 

“In some cultures, you’d be engaged,” JJ agreed with Emily.

“I’ll make sure Spencer fact-checks that one,” you said, standing up with a sigh. You refilled your mug with cheap coffee, bringing the pot over for the girls, who still sat at the table reading files.

“Seriously, what’s holding you back?” Emily asked.

“It just seems inappropriate,” you said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. “We’re working a case. It’s unprofessional.”

“That’s why you wait until the case is over,” JJ said, filling her mug. “That’s what Will did. Look how we turned out.”

“I’m not really looking for a relationship right now, you know?” you said. “I’m in love with my work.”

“I hear that,” Emily agreed. “It’s almost impossible to find men that understand that.” 

Spencer walked into the room. You did your best to not react. Still, he paused, assessing the atmosphere.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked.

“Y/N and the cute police officer she was flirting with,” Emily said, cocking an eyebrow. “Care to join?”

Spencer frowned. “No,” he said honestly. He grabbed something and walked out of the room. 

Emily and JJ shared a laugh. 

“Sounds about right,” JJ chuckled. 

You cleared your throat. “I’m gonna go get the rest of the files,” you said after a beat. You left the room, hoping your intentions weren’t obvious. 

You picked up a stack of files that were sitting on a table opposite of the conference room. Spencer seemed oblivious, simply going back to what he was doing. You approached him nervously. 

“Hey,” you greeted, clutching the files to your chest. “Can we talk?” 

Spencer nodded. 

You walked across the station, eventually finding a hallway that seemed calm and secluded. 

“I wasn’t flirting with him,” you blurted out. “He was flirting with me, but I was only being nice. I didn’t suggest anything, and I didn’t give him any ideas.”

“I believe you.”

A weight lifted off your chest. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Really?” You asked hopefully.

“Of course I do,” Spencer assured with a smile. “There are things I’m insecure about, but our relationship isn’t one of them.” 

You reached out, taking his hand. “So we’re okay?” 

“We’re okay,” Spencer promised. He glanced down briefly.

Your face fell. “What is it, Spence?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “It’s just that sometimes, I wish we didn’t have to hide. It’s not that I want to make out with you in front of our coworkers —” you both laughed, “ — but it would be nice if we could just… be us around everyone else, you know?”

You reached up a hand to his cheek. “I know,” you said softly. “I love you, and I love our teammates. It’s everyone else at the Bureau I’m worried about. Semantically, there’s nothing anyone can do — we technically work in different departments, me being a medic and you a profiler. But if someone wanted to throw a fit, call it sexual harassment or a waste of taxpayer money… we could lose our jobs.” 

“I understand,” Spencer agreed. “It’s in our best interest to stay quiet. I get that. But that doesn’t change that sometimes it just…”

“...Sucks?” You finished. 

“Exactly.” 

With the help of Garcia and a few previous victims, the team was able to find the UnSub. Just like the profile suggested, Rodney Harris was a former victim of Buford’s. Thankfully, the BAU was able to apprehend Harris before he could hurt his ex-wife, son, and her current husband. 

“For once, I can’t wait to get on that stupid jet,” you said, rolling your head in an effort to stretch your neck. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Emily said as you, JJ, and herself filed out of the conference room.

“Am I?” you asked.

JJ pointed to Jacob. “You forgot to ask him out.”

“You two really aren’t gonna let that go, are you?” you sighed.

“Come on, Y/N!” Emily practically whined. “He’s cute, and handsome, and a cop, and he served in the army, and he likes you. What more could you want?”

“Plus, the case is closed, so it’s not a conflict of interest,” JJ reminded with a smirk. 

The three of you approached the gentlemen on the team, who were clustered in front of the exit. You hoped none of them heard what was going on.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked. 

Dammit.

“JJ and Prentiss are trying to get me to ask out a cop that works here at the station,” you explained.

“Oh la la,” Rossi joked. 

“I’m not interested,” you stated bluntly.

“And yet, you can’t give a good reason why,” Emily pointed out.

You put a hand on your chin, feigning deep thought. “I could ask him out, but here’s the thing… I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” 

A collective hush fell over the group. Emily and JJ looked at each other in shock, while Rossi and Derek simply looked impressed. You swore you saw the remnants of a smirk on Hotch’s face.

“Well, there goes pretty boy’s chance of getting with the new girl,” Derek joked.

“Seems so,” Spencer agreed with a laugh.

“You… you have a boyfriend?” JJ asked, stunned.

“Have since I moved here.”

“Who is he?!” Emily practically shrieked. “Can we meet him? Have we met him?”

“He’s a pretty private person,” you feigned. “I’d have to talk to him about meeting you guys.”

JJ and Emily continued to ask questions, threatening to get Garcia involved. You merely walked out of the station, smiling at Spencer before you left.

  You ended up sitting across from Derek on the jet. Spencer dozed off on the couch, like he normally did. You wished you had the ability to sleep anywhere you wanted. JJ and Emily were entertaining each other while Rossi and Hotch sat across from each other. 

Letting out a breath, Derek put his headphones around his neck. “So… this boyfriend.”

“Ask all you want, man: I’m not gonna spill,” you said.

“Does he know about the ring?” 

Your smile faltered. “No,” you said softly, “he doesn’t. He knows about Austin, but… I haven’t gotten around to telling him yet.” 

“Will you?” Derek asked.

“Tell him? Of course I will. It’s just… I’m still processing it. I don’t want to spring something like this on him while I’m still deciding how I feel.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. Just do both of you a favor and tell him before he buys a ring.”

“What makes you think we’ll get that far?” 

“You’re a good judge of character, Y/N,” Derek said. “You do no harm and take no shit. I can’t see you dating a guy without knowing it’ll go somewhere.” 

You lightly kicked him under the table, then grinned. “Thanks, Derek.” 

He smiled, putting his headphones on and leaning back in his seat.

You stared across the jet, eyes focused on Spencer. He looked so peaceful when he slept — knees pulled up, his arms wrapped around a pillow. You wanted to put his head in your lap and play with his hair like you did whenever the two of you watched a movie together. You wanted to hold his hand, lean your head on his shoulder, kiss his cheek. But when it came down to it, all you could do was watch him across the room.

He was right: sometimes, it just plain sucked. 

_____________________

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[izuocha-love]

Hungry

Decided to write another Izuocha fic based on dumb stuff I was doing earlier. Got steamier than intended, and it’s cheesy lol

Deku catches Ochako doing stupid stuff

Ochako tossed and turned in her bed, wrapped up in the warmth her green comforter provided her.

She yawns, eyes peering open and staring up at her astronomy poster with an out of focus gaze.

She groggily reached over to her nightstand, fumbling around to grasp at her phone in the dark.

She felt something that matched its shape and took it from it's place.

Ochako flips it open, immediately regretting it as the light from her flip phone blinded her. She groans lightly, squinting at the phone to gain any sort of clarity.

"2:37AM"  

As she grimaced at the early time, she felt her stomach grumble. She moved a hand over her stomach to silence it's complaints, flipping her phone closed and placing it back on the nightstand.

But her stomach wasn't having any of it.

She was so nice and cozy and warm. Why of all times did her body decide that now was the time she needed sustenance?

"But I don't wanna get upppp.." she mumbled to herself. Almost as if on queue, her stomach voiced another growl. Much louder than the previous times.

"Ugh, fine." She grumbled out, throwing her covers off of herself and planting her feet and standing up. Feeling her head dizzy at the quick action and attempting to stabilize herself.

Trudging over to the other side of her room, she flipped the light switch on. She opened her closet door, eyes scanning over the dry goods she kept to herself.

"Ramen sounds good, I guess." She said, grabbing one of the instant ramen bowls she'd bought at the convenience store a few days ago. She was accustomed to eating them often. They were tasty, quick and easy to make and most importantly, cheap.

She slipped on her house slippers and gently opened her door, careful not to wake any of her classmates. Normally, Aizawa would scold them for being out this early.

However, it was the weekend. They still needed to train and do their best, even on their days off. But Aizawa was more lax when classes weren't going to be held the next day.

She'd been caught more than a few times sneaking into the kitchen late at night. Aizawa was quite strict with curfew rules, so the few times he'd catch her sneaking in he would scold her for being up so late. The most he would let anyone do is grab something to drink and tell them to hurry back to bed.

But he definitely wouldn't mind if she got up to fix herself something to eat, right?

At least, that's what she hoped.

Ochako rounded the corner of the dorm hallway, peering left and right to make sure no one was in sight. She gently walked over to the elevator, pressing the 'up' button. Gently tapping her slippered foot as she awaited its arrival.

"I wonder if anyone else is up right now.." She pondered to herself. Surely, there had to be a few. If she had to make a guess, Tokoyami was definitely one of them. Possibly Jirou, maybe Shouji.

As gentle ding snapped her out of her thoughts, seeing that her metal carriage had arrived.

She walked forward, gently pressing the 'down' button. She leans back against the wall of the elevator, taking in the sounds of pulleys moving her toward her destination.

The door opens, and she peers out, searching for any sight of their teacher. Not seeing anyone, she tiptoes her way into the kitchen.

She flicks the lights on, a buzz resounding in the room. She walks toward the sink and tears the lid off her soon-to-be meal, filling it with water and throwing it into the microwave for three minutes.

She absentmindedly stares at her bowl, spinning around as more thoughts fill her mind. Feeling a little more awake now that she walked down here.

She closes her eyes, enjoying the silence in the dorm. She could swear she could make out the light sounds of a guitar strumming. Maybe Jirou was up, after all. "Maybe I'll pay her a visit if I can't get back to sleep tonight.." She says, to no one in particular.

Ochako stares up at the ceiling, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Her mind recalls the previous week and all the work they've done. They were practicing their basic forms as well as improving their quirks. Everyone was told to try to find a fighting style they felt worked well with their quirk. Some of the less combat-oriented students were a bit lost on what to do about their forms. She looked into other moves she could use to improve her technique, though she found the martial arts Gunhead taught her to be a good match for her.

Looking around the kitchen and making sure no one was around, she decided to practice her moves while waiting on her food.

She pivots her foot behind her, balling her fists together and gives the air a punch. The air whistling past her fist.

She punches the air once more, quickly holding her forearms together afterward to block.

Her mind quickly imagines up a pretend opponent, and she puts up a pretty good fight against them.

After about 20 seconds, she realizes how silly she must look. Practicing her form in the kitchen, in fuzzy pink pajama's close to 3 am. She giggles to herself, and gives the air another punch but in a much more comical manner.

She shuffles her feet around in a goofy manner, pretending to practice kung fu. She kicks high up into the air, mumbling a "wa-tah!"

Soon she's chopping the air in random places, mumbling a high-pitched "hi-ya!" each time she does so.

She continues to shuffle around, side chopping the air. Her movements completely devoid of any skill. She makes more little silly noises, completely lost in her own goofiness.

"Yeah, that's right. You better run away." She whispers out in a silly tone.

She pivots on one foot and turns around to chop another opponent.

She freezes, her eyes meeting a pair of emerald green ones a few feet in front of her.

Deku is standing a few feet away, hand covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

She's frozen in her goofy position, an awkward smile still plastered on her face. The microwave goes off with a resounding 'beep'.

Her face goes beet red, "H-how much did you see..?" She manages to squeak out.

He wheezes and bends over in laughter, unable to stifle it. She throws her hands up to her face, feeling the heat radiating off of it.

And also felt herself float up to the ceiling, wishing it didn't exist so she could float off into the stratosphere.

"Sorry, I came downstairs to grab a bottle of water, and happened to see you practicing your form." He says as he catches his breath. He couldn't help but watch his friend. She looked so determined and poised. Like she was ready to take on anyone. But then she started being silly, and he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. She was being a goober in the kitchen at 3 am, how was he supposed to not laugh?

That, and...he couldn't help but admire how cute she looked.

Ignoring the heat flooding into his cheeks, he approaches her, reaching for her arm to pull her down from the ceiling.

"But I guess you're a kung-fu master now, huh?" He says, laughing heartily.

Ochako peers through her fingers to send him a glare, but is completely unable to in that moment.

He's looking up at her, laughing and smiling up at her. Giving her the purest, brightest smile she had ever seen.

She can't but love the sound of his laugh. Had she ever heard him laugh before..? She didn't think so.

Ochako feels him pulling her down, and she floats down awkwardly. Still in a daze, she can't look away from him. Wonder filling her doey eyes as his own finally open to meet hers.

It feels like everything slows down for a moment. A comforting warmth spreads through her as she peers into his eyes.

Why cant she look away? Not that she wanted to. She could stay here forever and swim in the sea of emerald that was his eyes.

Izuku had stopped laughing as he noticed her looking into his eyes. He's completely mesmerized by her.

She's floating above him upside down, at face level with him. Her deep brown eyes are boring into his soul, looking at him with wonder.

He feels himself become lost in them. Lost in her.

Her chestnut brown hair floats gently around her face, locks of it rippling through the air.

"She's so beautiful.." He hears himself think. Subsequently snapping him out of his daze just enough to realize what was happening.

Her face was just a little too close to his own.

"U-Uraraka..?" He stutters out, his face crimson.

"..Huh..?" She says dreamily, her dazed eyes beginning to fill with clarity.

Oh. OH. Right.

"R-Release.." She says as she spins back into place, her feet falling to the floor once more.

Both of them stand there for a moment, completely silent and red all over.

"Ur....Ur-Uraraka..?" Izuku starts, unsure if he should speak at all with how bad he's stuttering. He clears his throat in an attempt to quell his own nervousness. "Was there..something you wanted to ask me..?"

"Huh..?" She says, glancing over to him. He's looking down at the floor, with a hand on the back of his neck.

Oh..right. She did look pretty deep into his soul just a moment ago. In that moment, it probably did look like she wanted to ask him something.

"Oh, no actually. You just caught me off guard a little." Ochako says, twiddling her thumbs.

Izuku turns to look at her, an eyebrow cocked upwards in confusion. "What do you mean..?"

She walks off to the side a bit, opening the microwave and getting her bowl before her food gets too cold.

"I think..that was the first time I've ever heard you laugh." She says, closing the microwave door with her elbow. If she was honest with herself, she never wanted to quit hearing that laugh.

"R-really?" Izuku says, his head tilted to the side a bit. His face had a hint of surprise written on it.

Sure, he wasn't as silly as the others had been. But had she really never heard him laugh before?

Mirio was right. He did need to learn how to have a sense of humor.

"Yup..It stunned me a little" Ochako said with a nervous giggle, not daring to look into his eyes. "Besides, it was really cute!" She said, beaming at him with a grin full of sunshine.

Izuku could've died just then. His heart was beating so fast he feared going into cardiac arrest.

"Cute. CUTE. Him?!? She called him CUTE?!?"  Deku screamed internally, stuttering complete nonsense and fidgeting. His skin feeling so hot it could rival Todoroki's flame. His mind too far gone to understand she only called his laugh cute.

Ochako watched him fall apart with a grin. She loved making him nervous and teasing him. It was just too easy.

"Well then," She says, resuming her silly stance in crane formation. "You wanna take me on?" She asks, giving a playful jab to his gut.

He stumbles back and out of his stupor, giggling a bit at her playful gesture. "Oh, it's on." He says with whimsical determination, taking on a silly stance of his own.

What ensued was a series of goofy slap fighting and stupid cheesy 'karate' sounds.

She starts giggling uncontrollably through the entire thing, and he's beaming at her. Her laugh was something he never wanted to stop hearing.

She manages to get behind him and put him in an arm hold. Causing him to lean back into her shoulder.

He can feel her soft cheek against his, and he feels like he could stay in that arm hold forever. Was he dead? Was he in heaven? He sure hoped so.

They stay like that for a few seconds. Izuku's body relaxes against her and she becomes quite aware of their position when he does.

She loosens her hold on him, just enough for him to break free and knock her off her feet by swinging his leg just hard enough behind her knees. Catching her before she has the chance to hit the ground.

"I win." He says with a cheeky grin, before opening his eyes.

They both light up crimson for the hundredth time that night. Izuku audibly gulps at the sight before him.

He's holding her, standing above her and slightly crouched down. One hand on the back of her head, nested in her unbelievably soft hair. The other on the small of her back.

"D-Deku-Kun..?" She says in a light whisper. She's mystified at the feeling of being in his arms. The warmth of his hands on her, and his eyes looking into her own. Clearly filled with surprise, but there's something else there she continues to search for.

Without thinking, he leans down ever so slightly more to hear her. His eyes land on her lips once the whispered words leave them. "Y-Yeah..?" He stutters out, his voice cracking a bit. He's lost once more in his beautiful friend resting in his arms.

Ochako continues to stare into his eyes, searching for an answer. An answer to all of her questions about him.

Was this wrong, what they were doing?

Was it longing she saw in his deep green eyes?

How is she supposed to keep her feelings for him hidden when he's holding her and looking at her like this?

Izuku looks on into her eyes, seeing them shift down as if she's in deep thought. He begins to feel a little worried until her eyes fully meet his again.

"H-Have I ever told you.." She says, raising a hand up to cup his face, careful not to make him float. She places her other hand on the curve of his neck. His eyes soften that much more when she does. "-That your eyes are beautiful..?" She finishes, watching his eyes widen.

Izuku feels a surge of confidence, deciding to lean closer to her. His forehead meeting her own. She inhales sharply at the feeling. She felt like she was floating in a sea of warmth and love. She moves a hand into his hair and pulls him slightly closer, their noses brushing.

"Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?" He says, not missing a beat. His voice sends shivers down her spine. He was a completely different person apart from the flustered Deku she saw a few moments ago. His eyes are hazed over with a look of wanting, and need.

In that moment, she couldn't stand hiding her feelings for him anymore. She needed to feel his lips against hers.

She leans up just slightly, her lips brushing gently against his. He let out a low groan at the feeling. He couldn't think anymore, his mind blanked entirely upon feeling her lips just barely graze his.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?"

She whispered against his lips.

And that did it in for him.

He pressed his lips into hers fully, both mewling in mutual pleasure. Both of their lips warm and wet. The sound of moans and lips meeting and separating bounced off the walls of the once empty kitchen. He presses her against the kitchen counter, running his tongue against her bottom lip. Barely feeling her own touch his. They melted into each other, her hands dug into his fluffy dark green hair. Their kiss becoming more heated as the seconds pass by. Izuku widens their kiss so their tongues can meet, writhing against each other in a passionate dance.

They kissed for what felt like hours, but it lasted only a few minutes.

Izuku is the first to pull away, he places both palms on her cheeks, running his thumb across the tears that ran down them.

"I love you, Ochako." He says, with a smile filled with adoration. He hid his feelings for his best friend for so long, pushing them down as a means to keep focusing on working towards being the symbol of peace.

They leaned against each other, holding each other and staring into each others eyes. Swaying back and forth slowly to the sound of silence. Nothing could ruin this night for them.

"Ahem."  

Both of them jumped, being knocked out of their dreamland. They separated a bit to see who was standing behind them.

Shit.

Aizawa was standing there, his eyes glowing a deep red. "Both of you." He began, annoyance clear in his voice. "Are coming with me." He says, annoyance prevalent in his deep voice.

They both know what's coming.

Aizawa takes hold of his scarf and grabs both of them, dragging them down the hall on the way to his office.

Both of them are dying of utter embarrassment, stained red as their classmate's file out of their rooms one by one to see what's going on.

They're both given a week of house arrest, plus being tasked with cleaning the outer grounds of their dormitory. Ochako's ramen went cold that night, and neither one of them slept.

As both of them sweat from the amount of work they've been tasked, they can't help but feel left out of the loop from the rest of their class.

It sucks, but they didn't regret it.

[sugar-petals]

↳ maknae line scenario: their balls slapping against your clit

a/n. Extra mature. Extra graphic. 🍒♥

⚠️ warnings: smut, dom/sub, femdom, toys, doggy style, cock rings, orgasm denial, begging, cockwarming, biting, mommy kink, cages, ruined orgasms, teasing

➸ Jimin You hate it when your bangs get in your eyes. What other option is there to fuck Jimin until you’re sweaty and the strands will stick to your forehead just disturbing you from the good things. It just needs more sweat to effectively swipe it back. That’s pragmatic enough given the situation. The electric whir coming from Jimin’s ass is a rather convenient companion and overlay for his moans, and now that you finally don’t press the wrong buttons on the remote anymore, the ride is a lot easier, albeit less funny. Jiminie gets his good spread and prostate buzzing overdose with a vibrator, Mommy gets a nice fill of dick, that’s how the evening goes. You can bully him forever gnawing on his wrist to silence your own moans, pressing the pulse button and getting all squeaky sounds and more little yelps but oh wonder, what can’t Jimin do? Cum. The cock ring in place leaves your pussy on her own devices in terms of creaminess. Your orders he will disrespect every so often since apparently, you just turn him on that much, but what load can he blow out on that? He’s hilarious, you have to deal with his balls pressing right between your labia, and generally, just his entire damn naked presence. And you make him feel that squeezing his cock hard, and a pace struck as more punitive than anything. More squeals. “Oh, I love you, mommy!” Pulse mode at full throttle. Maybe you do ponder pressing one of the extra intense buttons by accident. Poor Jimin. If you can’t chew him out with orgasm commands, you can at least chew his fingers off and give him a bouncing on his thighs with no release in sight no matter how hard you clutch and pound on his dick. By the end of the night, the poor fuck will be denied and docile enough to follow every order. And your bangs are slick and sloppy to no end.

➸ Taehyung Big eyes. Sparkly. So in love. Like a kid in a lego store and a big budget to get him around. He has enough length for you to nail yourself down on in reverse cowgirl, but that’s not the top feat. Taehyung knows that. He can always tell by the look on your face when he stops thrusting and you do a little cockwarming instead, real close. Real tight. A pillow under your chest and his huge fingers just right around your waist before him, stroking your lower back in between breaths. You want to feel him, not have him go backwards the next second until he can satify you again with the next thrust. No, this is different. You want him to press against, into you deep. Give that cervix a little hello nudge and make her happy. But not too hard, otherwise, Taetae gets a punishment with the big flogger and gag tomorrow, and Mistress won’t be tender on him, just so he knows, and those are the rules. Who would have thought. The darling’s keen to oblige. To get your clit a soft pillow to rest in, too. Taehyung’s got big balls. They curse him some difficulties during the day but definitely not at night. Too bad he can’t cum unless you say so, but that’s tough subby luck for Taehyung as always, and who is he to not need it bad. You love to test for how long he endures, and eventually, let him move an inch to push you over the edge. “Is it good this way?” — “I’m very close. Keep it up.” Before he begins to leak, you have fun slipping him out and parking that red-ridden dick between your ass cheeks so Taehyung will suffer through a ruined orgasm while he has to get you to come properly with your favorite mint-colored vibrating eggs. If he fails to do so, you let your ass wiggle side to side a bit to torment and humiliate his flacid dick a bit more. No wonder sweetheart Taehyung gets addicted with it more and more with every passing day, he just suffers so much. Cute Tae in a lego store.

➸ Jungkook He’s barely holding on by now. Jungkook lost his straight thinking hours ago when you got out of the shower and teased him walking around naked in the house with a smug face, doing the most trivial of things. Raiding the fridge, just lounging about, reading, texting. At first, he thought, well I’m used to seeing her like that. Nothing out of the ordinary, right. But having you strut by and look so casual doing all these menial activities started to mess with his pants. And when you say you’re in the mood to lock him up in his little living room cage to watch you listen to music and chop some cucumber for your salad in the adjacent kitchen — the levels of self-control not to stroke himself are unbeknownst to man- and womankind. But he knew that if he was patient enough, you’d let him out of the bars and get on his cock fast because it’s quite a view from there on those godly legs. Since said view is not just his abs. Who cares about abs and pecs, they’re not comfortable to sleep on. You wonder whether JK works out in Chris Pratt’s gym daily because his thighs, on the other hand, have reached the point where few jeans can withstand them. They’re so nice to grab. To your additional satisfaction, his knees are a bit red from kneeling in the cage, too. Since Jungkook’s pent up energy can provide you with endless thrusts, all you have to do it squat and cup his balls to play around with them lest you fail to enjoy them flopping around at random and not hitting the right spot, these two tight friends of yours. When are they not blue. Jungkook’s obsessive sense of romance and endless whining is the cause you feel his hands fumble about your back and hair. He begs to see your face. Goodbye thighs view, you switch positions, Jungkook does his favorite thing, he penetrates you standing. Easy business with those arms, you can just sit in the air and munch popcorn or something while JK gets all caught up kissing your neck and his high-pitched breathy voice whispering “so good, so good”.

[anoutrageousamountofwriting]

Nothing Up My Sleeves (But Aces)

Back when Tied Up With Strings was still in the draft stages (and I was playing around with ideas), I wrote a concept for a Villain!Izuku who used magic tricks in place of a Quirk. It’s unlikely to ever see the light of day, so here’s what Chapter 1 would’ve looked like.

I think I vaguely planned for his villainous mentor to be Mr Compress? Dunno. I’m not much of a note maker. The Heist on Kunioka’s did make it’s way to TUWS, and I hope to use Nobusuma of the Night in something because I like the general concept of his Quirk.

*************************** At the tender age of four, a young boy’s dreams were already crashing down around him. Everyone was very clear. Very very clear. He didn’t have a Quirk. He couldn’t be a Hero. It didn’t matter that Izuku wanted to be a Hero more than anything in the world. It didn’t matter that he would do everything he could to be a Hero.

People without Quirks were not allowed to be Heroes. Those were the rules. And so, faced with the destruction of his dreams, a four year old boy has no other way to deal with it but to cry at the unfairness of it all.

So deep in his grief is he that he doesn’t notice the strange and unfamiliar figure approaching him until they speak. “What bothers you so, my good man?”

Startled out of his sobbing, he turns his head to look up at a tall, kindly-looking man. He was dressed in the fanciest clothes his little mind could fathom, like the kind of people who would be on TV shows. He even had one of those tall hats. “I… I don’t have… I don’t have a Quirk… so everyone says I can’t be a Hero...” He mumbles, sniffling a little and going to wipe his nose.

The man holds out a hand and flicks his wrist, revealing a silken handkerchief he offers to him. The simple, elegant little move has Izuku mesmerised. “My condolences,” the kind man says, although the boy isn’t sure what a condolence is or what it has to do with handkerchiefs.

He’s too busy being impressed with that simple sleight of hand to even care though. “... Cool…” He mumbles, eyes wide and amazed. He slowly looks up at the kind man with the brightest expression he’s had in days, his previous sorrow already pushed aside in favour of this new incredible thing.

The kind man smiles beatifically. “Would you like to see more tricks, my good man?”

He nods so hard his head feels like it’s going to fly off and cause an accident.

Kunioka’s Jewelry Boutique was a deceptively small store, built during the early days of the Meiji era and combining the principles of architecture of the both the East and West to create an elegant little store. But for all it’s deceptive size and modesty, Kunioka’s was the place for jewelry for the rich and selective. Every piece was commissioned and handmade by the master artisan that was Kunioka Takamaru, whose ‘Feathertouch’ Quirk could allow him to detect flaws and imperfections invisible to human eyes.

Of course, such incredibly valuable jewelry was well secured against intrepid thieves and thugs. External security was tight beyond belief - electronic locks bound to biometrics secured the entrances, and each door was guarded by a pair of guards at all times. Inside, security cameras tracked every move, and the slightest disturbance detected by the operators would cause them to trigger a call to a local Hero agency and the nearest police department. If, and this was a BIG if, you somehow got past the guards AND bypassed the cameras, then you’d have to deal with the third security measure. No jewelry was on display in Kunioka’s, because one did not browse. One made an appointment, and you had best come in with a design in mind because a master artisan of that level does not care for time wasters. So everything of value - money, jewels, what have you - was located in a safe.

The ‘Iron Mausoleum’ model Safe from OptiSecurity with extreme authentication. First, a ten digit code. Second, a fingerprint scan. Third, a retinal scan. Fourth, all of those things had to be done by two different people simultaneously. If you tried to burn or cut your way in, you’d be in for a tough time as well, as the cutting edge materials had been tested against not only the best tools money could buy, but some of the most powerful Quirks. It was rumoured that even one of All Might’s Smashes couldn’t do more than dent it. Inside was most of the money and jewels. Penetrating it was not impossible, but incredibly time consuming and resource intensive. When such a safe was breached, it was not done so onsite, but first stolen entirely using the aid of powerful Quirks - an unfortunate reality that no Safemaker has yet to overcome.

The last and final defense mechanism against thieves was the exclusive handmade quality of Kunioka’s jewelry itself. Moving such a hot, one of a kind product would be difficult for even the most experienced fences - fences experienced enough to know that even trying to move it could potentially risk their downfall, and thus, be wise enough to avoid it.

These security mechanisms, four pillars of nigh insurmountable difficulty, had forged a reputation for Kunioka’s as an impenetrable fortress from which no villain could pierce and escape.

Until now.

There is an essential weakness in any security mechanism, and that it is ultimately designed to be opened. No door can be locked forever - if you wanted that, you’d build a wall instead. All those locks, all those things, they were meant to keep out people who weren’t supposed to be there. So if you were supposed to be there…

The Guards snapped to attention when Kunioka Takemaru approached his store in the late hours of the night, the distinct pinched face of the elderly miser unmistakeable even now.

Both guards bowed immediately. “Kunioka-sama!” said the woman on the left, her long, lank hair curling in the wind of its own accord, “Forgive me for this impudence, but why have you returned here so late at night?”

The full force of Kunioka Takemaru’s glare was upon her, a look so powerful it was rumoured it was how he cut his diamonds. “Do not presume to question me! Open the door already!”

“Y-yes Kunioka-sama!” She whirled around and punched the keycode in, and allowed it to scan her retina. The door slid open with nary a sound, and the miser brushed through without a second’s pause, leaving the two guards deeply bowing to the air.

The second guard, a doll-like figure with skin just like fine china turned to look at the first. “... You, are in so much shit right now,” they mumbled.

“Don’t remind me,” she said quietly. Neither of them, with their heads lowered in a respectful bow, noticed the figure approaching behind them.

Until it was too late.

***************************

Within the store, Kunioka moved straight towards the backroom workshop and the safe. He glanced at the cameras cursorily, before sliding open the workshop door and stepping out of their view, pausing just at the safe. “Mizutami. Present yourself.”

In the center of the room was a still, stone pond. It’s presence lent an air of tranquility and reflection to the otherwise pragmatic workspace, the stone basin artful and natural compared to the soft tatami mat floors and paper walls (behind which there were a foot of steel). The surface rippled slightly, and a figure rose up out of the water, sleek and shiny, even in their finely tailored suit.

This was the secret fifth pillar of security in Kunioka’s Jewelry Boutique - Mizutami ‘the Kappa’, whose ‘Still Waters’ Quirk allowed him to hide in pools of water, provided they were not disturbed too much. “Kunioka-sama,” He said, silken voice as tranquil as the pond he rose out of, “It is a rare honour to greet you so late in the night.” His was a presence not even the other guards were aware of - but there were no cameras here in the backroom. Kunioka Takemaru was a genius of unparalleled talent, and to have the risk of someone witnessing his technique… or selling those videos to rivals? Unacceptable didn’t even begin to describe it.

“Has anyone been in here?” Kunioka muttered, glancing around.

“... No, Kunioka-sama. I have been watching as always. No intruders. Is something bothering you?”

Kunioka frowned quietly. “I… have had a bad feeling. A terrible feeling. Have you heard of Morgaine?”

“Morgaine?” Mizutami echoed, possibly the only person who could get away with repeating Kunioka’s words to himself. “I must ask… do you mean the thief?”

“Yes. Recently, there’s been a string of robberies, hasn’t there? High profile ones too. Kazuno’s lost that tiara she was making, and then Mikusoki’s was cleaned entirely of their diamonds. Nobody ever saw the thief either. They came in the morning, and found everything gone with only a name behind.”

Mizutami nodded, slipping out of the pond carefully. Despite having emerged from the water, there was not a drop on him. “I see. So Kunioka-sama was worried and came here?”

“Indeed. Let us open the safe, Mizutami, and be sure of it.” Amongst the employees at Kunioka’s Jewelry Boutique, any number of them could provide access codes for the verification side of the safe, but only Kunioka himself could provide the ‘master-level’ authentication needed to open it with their assistance.

Together, they assembled at the safe door. They punched in their codes in perfect synchronicity, pressed their index fingers against the scanners, and then leaned forward to allow their retinas to be scanned.

The door swung open silently, revealing a treasure trove of jewels and already made jewelry waiting for pickup.

“As expected, Kunioka-sama. There is no cause… for…” Mizutami’s eyes widened in alarm, and he glanced over to Kunioka who was already swaying on his feet. Everything was getting foggy, and his grip on his consciousness was growing slippery by the second. A drug? A gas…? But… when…

Mizutami the Kappa slumped on his feet, a fog overtaking his mind.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then a figure stepped through the door, humming thoughtfully to themselves. They were dressed in a dark blue cloak that reached just past their knees, hood drawn up to hide their hair and shadow their face - not that their face was revealed to begin with. A elaborate venetian mask, painted and crafted in an elegant style depicting a gently frowning face hid whatever was behind it. They stepped past the pair of swaying men, and casually began filling a small sack with the contents of the safe.

Gemstones of unparalleled quality, rings and necklaces of gold and silver, intricate earrings and breathtakingly beautiful tiaras - all of it vanished into their cloak. All that emerged from it was a single bone white business card, an artfully inscribed name the only thing on it - ‘Morgaine’. The figure placed it in the centre of the safe, and calmly moved both of the men out of the way of the safe door as they shut it.

“Kunioka-sama. You checked the safe, but found everything in order. You think it was silly of you to worry - your security is unparalleled of course,” They said in a smooth, robotic hush. The telltale sound of a voice changer.

Kunioka smirked slightly, eyes still unfocused and vacant. “Of course. No stupid thief could get past the Five Pillars,” He mumbled.

The figure turned to Mizutami. “You watched all night, and saw nothing. Kunioka-sama came in, and you told him as much. You checked the safe with Kunioka-sama, and you found everything in order as well.”

“... Kunioka-sama should not worry so much. That is what I am paid to do, after all,” the Kappa murmured.

“Yes. That’s true, isn’t it?” The figure added, calmly stepping past both of them. “You’re both going to have a calm talk about security matters - maybe beefing it up a little, because you can never be too careful. The phantom thief, Morgaine, is about, after all. But after say, twenty minutes, go home and have a rest Kunioka-sama. You’re going to have a big day tomorrow.”

And then the figure slipped out of the room, leaving them both to obey the suggestions.

The two front guards were still standing in a mindless haze, and the figure paused to give them some suggestions. And then when they turn around to leave, there’s another cloaked figure in front of them.

Well. It almost went off perfectly.

***************************

“You would be Morgaine, wouldn’t you?” rasped the cloaked figure, leering at them with a pale mouth full of gleaming teeth. “I, am Nobusuma.” He gave the thief a mocking bow, his own black cloak fluttering with the movement..

“The underground Pro Hero, ‘Nobusuma’. I’m honored you came out just for me.” Morgaine spread their cloak out just a bit, eyes narrowed behind the smoky lenses of their mask.

‘Nobusuma’ leered wider. “It was child’s play to predict you’d strike here, Morgaine. I must say, I’m surprised you succeeded as well as you did. A Hypnosis Quirk, is it? You seem to have everyone under your spell.”

“‘Spell’ is right,” said Morgaine, “This isn’t a Quirk. It’s ‘Magic’.” There was a mocking tone to their voice now, bordering on challenging. “So if you’re not careful you’ll fall under the ‘spell’ as well.”

“Ha!” Nobusuma cackled, “Call it whatever you want! But it won’t change a thing!” They rushed forward, goggles gleaming in the night as a hand clad in a fingerless glove reached out for him.

Fingerless gloves - so the power relied on contact? If it was skin contact, they were going to have a fun time trying. Morgaine was covered head to toe. They dodged and weaved artfully between the rapid jabs, nimbly avoiding contact with the fingers.

But then Nobusuma did something unexpected. He took a deep breath, and blew out a thick, black smoke from his mouth, engulfing Morgaine’s head in the cloud. “You fell for my trap!” He crowed, grinning madly, “My ‘Blackout’ doesn’t work through skin contact - but through gas! Once inhaled, you’ll lose all your senses. Sight, smell, touch… hearing. You can’t even hear me, can you? In that pitch blackness where you sense nothing, your concentration is invariably broken! No soul can withstand it!”

Morgaine stumbled around, eyes wide behind the lenses. “I… what?! I can’t hear! My… you… what did you do?!”

Nobusuma cackled, stalking forward. “Another upstart Villain brought down low.” He dodged a wild punch from the stumbling Morgaine and smoothly cuffed the outstretched arm with one part of a gleaming pair of handcuffs. “Pathetic, really. Such a predictable schedule, such a predictable tactic. Magic? Don’t make me laugh.” He pushed the still-fumbling Villain over to the nearby lamp post and cuffed their arm to that. “In the face of the absolute fear of the darkness… even the strongest villain cowers.”

Morgaine paused in their stumbling, tilting their masked face at Nobusuma. It was a gesture too pointed to be done in ignorance but… that was impossible wasn’t it? They breathed in the gas! “It’s kind of funny,” They said, rubbing their wrist with one hand, “Such a gloomy guy is a Hero?”

Nobusuma’s eyes bulged behind his goggles, going to reach out with one arm only to find that it was cuffed to the lamp post instead of Morgaine’s. “What? How?! It’s impossible! Even those with Extra-sensory Quirks are blinded by my ‘Blackout’! Complete deprivation of all the senses! There’s no way you could’ve escaped!” He seethed, “But no matter! Any Pro worth their salt has a backup!” He whipped his second arm out from under the cloak, holding… a bouquet of flowers? “My taser… how?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” the Villain replied, “If you weren’t careful, you’d fall under my ‘spell’ as well. This isn’t a Quirk. It’s ‘Magic’.” They reached into their cloak, and withdrew a handful of… sand? “Goodnight, Nobusuma of the Night. We will not meet again, I think.” And with a puff of their breath, the surprisingly smooth sand-dust rushed past Nobusuma’s face.

A sickly sweet scent filled the Hero’s nostrils, and he felt his eyelids grow heavy. “Damn it… beaten… by a rookie…” He mumbled, slumping down to the ground.

When he was found, hours later, he was stripped half naked with an inky black gothic ‘M’ drawn on his forehead.

***************************

The figure known as Morgaine stumbled into a dingy, badly lit bar and flounced onto a stool. They held up a gloved hand, and the bartender immediately started pouring them a drink - of juice. Apple Mango, to be specific.

“Bad day?” asked the Bartender, sliding the glass over to the thief. “You were supposed to have that big job today. Did it not go as planned?”

The thief caught the drink, swirling it around a little bit before covering the top with their hand. When they lifted it, a long, childish crazy straw was there, and they adjusted the mask slightly to slip the tip underneath and take a long draw. “No, no, Kurogiri-san. Went off pretty much perfectly actually.” With the mask no longer sealed against his skin, his voice came out naturally - soft, and youthful.

“Oh? I’m impressed. Please don’t take this in offense, but I wasn’t sure you could manage.”

Morgaine waved him off. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” He murmured, wiping his mouth under the mask. “Hitting Kunioka’s has to have been the hardest thing I’ve done so far. What a crazy old man.”

“You call him crazy, Morgaine-san, but the one who went to all that effort to bypass the security was you. Studying the guard schedules, the defences. Preparing a hypnotic gas. Going so far as to implanting suggestions in Kunioka’s mind so that he’d go check the safe in the middle of the night…”

The thief huffed again. “It’s not like I made the gas. All I did was exploit an old man’s moment of weakness.” He paused, swirling the straw around a little. “... and handcuff Nobusuma to a lamp post, I guess,” He added after a moment’s consideration.

“Nobusuma of the Night?” the bartender echoed, giving him an amused look. “That’s pretty impressive, Morgaine-san. Nobusuma’s record is quite impressive.”

“It was luck mostly,” Morgaine said, brushing off the praise easily, “Nobusuma’s Quirk is a gas; to protect myself against my own gas, I had Giran fit my mask with a filter. The idiot even explained what the gas was supposed to do to me. Faking it was easy.”

Kurogiri shook his head gently, black wisps moving with the movement. “You’re too modest, Morgaine-san,” He said quietly, wiping down the bartop. “Will you be sticking around much longer? Shigaraki is planning a venture, and he might request your expertise.”

Morgaine frowned at his juice - not that the bartender could see it behind the mask. “Since when does Shigaraki-kun ask for my expertise? I’m a thief.” Despite his attitude to his ‘exploits’, he was fairly fond of Shigaraki Tomura (or as he often referred to him in private, ‘Mr Handsy’). The two occasionally played video games together, but there was a certain… unsettling quality about him. Mostly the hands. If he was honest, it was almost entirely the hands. But Shigaraki mostly dealt with violent crimes, and Morgaine wasn’t really into violence. Sure, sometimes he engaged in it, but only when he thought it was necessary or the target deserved it.

“Mmm. I thought you might say something like that,” He said smoothly, polishing a glass to sparkling perfection. “But I have some information about the venture you might find interesting.”

He looked at Kurogiri for a few moments before sighing. “Alright, I’ll bite. Is he hitting up a Hero Convention? Because I don’t think any of those are happening soon.”

There’s a faint little chuckle out of the mist. “No. We’re targeting the Unforeseen Simulation Joint - a training ground for prospective Heroes to learn the arts of rescuing.” The gold eyes sharpened slightly. “U.A’s Class 1-A will be attending, and with them, the Symbol of Peace.”

Morgaine tapped his mask with a single finger, and then slowly pulled the mask up to the top of their head, coincidentally shifting the hood down. A pale, freckled face slowly revealed itself to the world, forest green eyes sparkling with a sense of mischief and mirth.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” said Midoriya Izuku, grinning a little with anticipation.