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gra-sonas · 2 years

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With the latest episode of Roswell, New Mexico bringing Dallas, the newest pod squad member, closer than ever to the answers he seeks we were able to sit down with actor Quentin Plair to discuss the introduction of Dallas, that jaw-dropping cliffhanger, and more. Check out the interview below!

Nerds and Beyond: Dallas became quite an important character very quickly in season 3. How did you prepare to play Dallas and what drew you to the role?

Plair: It’s actually super interesting that you ask. Through the audition process, I just remember the actual scene from the audition was something that I’d never seen on TV before. We didn’t actually end up using that scene on the show, but it was a scene where I was seated across from Isobel and having all these conversations about what is God, whether God exists or not, all this kind of stuff I don’t think you’d ever hear a preacher say. You could tell he was a very different thinker and he was a very progressive preacher. The way it was set up I actually thought I was coming in to be a love interest for Isobel since Noah was out of the way. When I actually got to Santa Fe and had a conversation with Chris Hollier he told me where the character was going and I was like, “Oh wow, I get to be an alien? That’s dope!”

I think initially I was really attracted to the way they had him written as being different than I had ever seen preachers portrayed. He had a different way of thinking and a different way of connecting with people, and once I found out more about the story and where they were going to go with it, it really attracted me to being one of the aliens on the show. That’s where you want to be, that’s the cool place to be, you want to have powers and all that kind of stuff. I got thrust into the thick of it so fast it actually made it a little easier on me. Sometimes as an actor it’s almost easier to deal with some of the heavy stuff. Boom, now I’m right in the middle of figuring out how to defeat Jones and this stuff with my father. I didn’t have to tippy toe into it, it submerges you into the life of the show.

N&B: I remember being hesitant about a new alien joining the ranks, but Dallas fit right in immediately and won me over from the start. Were you nervous to join the tight-knit pod squad?

Plair: [There’s] definitely nerves when you come into any established show. When I got it, it was before I came in for any filming so I sat down and watched season 1 and season 2 on Netflix and I became a fan of the show as well and the quirks, I really liked it. I think I was more so nervous because I am really a fan of Lily Cowles and how she acts. I feel like she’s so emotive and so present in everything and I could see that on screen watching her. Again, in the audition process, I really thought I was coming in to be a love interest of hers so I was trying to mentally develop chemistry with her before even meeting her type of thing. When I got there and found out more about what I was actually going to be doing on the show and what my role was I feel like because I didn’t have a lot of time to sit there and think about it I didn’t have as much nerves. I had the nerves that are involved with coming to a show and performing, but all that stuff is more so Quentin insecurity not necessarily about Dallas falling into the script. The way it was written, I feel like episode 9 in season 3 is when they realize Dallas was an alien and he was the Johnny Doe. But episode 10 was so heavy on Dallas getting immersed in everything and episode 11 behind it I felt like it was like, ‘Ok, you don’t have time to be nervous you have to make this thing work.’

All the other actors were incredible to me and so warm and welcoming, and the directors. As comfortable as you can make it for a new actor coming in with a big portion of the story that quickly, they made it that comfortable for me. That took a lot of the nerves away.

N&B: That’s great to hear. Let’s talk about the latest episode and those jaw-dropping final moments for Dallas. He’s the center of this episode and he’s on this journey and has the glasses and bible, then Clyde shows up. What can you tell us about where we see him at the end of that episode?

Plair: I think it was super interesting because Andy [who plays Clyde] is actually such a nice guy in real life, but then he shows up and the whole time I’m like, “I just got these glasses! Now I got to give them away?” Honestly, it’s to save Bonnie and I think it’s very fitting to who Dallas is and is a nice callback. Through this season so far there’s so much you have to deal with in storytelling for this kind of ensemble of a cast. One thing I feel has gone a bit by the wayside, not in a negative sense because you can’t show everything, but Dallas’ connection to being a pastor. His connection to the bible and his faith, I feel like that is happening more offscreen. So, the fact you get this moment of all that he has been searching for and all he has been yearning for in this connection to his father, he gives that up to save Bonnie. I feel like that’s really the heart of who Dallas is, he really cares that much about other people and healing even though all these things he’s gone after all season, the truth of who he really is comes out in that moment when he sacrifices it for someone else.

N&B: I do love that about him and then he gets sucked into the quicksand with her anyway! It was supposed to save her.

Plair: Which is exactly how it’s supposed to go! You sacrifice for someone else and then you both die anyway, well not die, but both go down into the quicksand anyway.

N&B: Right. It does almost allude to, I won’t say he is dead because I refuse to think that, but that or something else going on that we aren’t aware of yet. Is there something there for fans to tide them over for the week to come that we just haven’t seen yet?

Plair: Obviously I don’t want to give away storylines, but I will say this will not be the last you see of Dallas.

N&B: Deep breath for the fans!

Plair: Yeah deep breath, you have more to find out and explore. Whether it’s from the way his father has come back in or in the real world, Dallas has more to give to Roswell. I’ll say that.

N&B: Ok, I’ll take that, thank you. With everyone’s powers in question, it’s been exciting to watch Dallas begin honing his abilities. Do you have a favorite power of his that you really loved for him?

Plair: When I found out I was going to have powers, I loved that these powers were water-based. I don’t know if you are a fan of Avatar: The Last Airbender, but I’ve always known to myself that if I was a bender and couldn’t be the avatar, I would always choose water bending. With this, I got to kind of be a water bender of sorts. For that to be my power, my connection to water, it was just cool that’s the one they chose for Dallas. If given the opportunity that’s the one I would have chosen for Dallas. It was fun to play on screen with figuring that out, harnessing the power, and to do some of those childhood things that you would do, “Oh, can I make this move with my mind,” and play that out on screen. It was just really fun.

N&B: You might be the newest but your acting has fit in flawlessly with the rest of the cast. How has it been acting opposite each of the cast and what have you enjoyed most about the set?

Plair: That goes to the cast being so welcoming. I think sometimes you can come into a show and people can be cold, or not cold but not take time to open up, and that’s not how this show was. When I came in season 3, Jeanine was just so nice, so welcoming, so accepting of me day one and I think for the most part it shows. If that’s how your number one is it trickles down in how you treat new people. From day one I feel like I really bonded with Jeanine, I really bonded with Michael Vlamis, and that really only intensified in season 4. We’re all in a fantasy football group together so we had that to talk about, we’d go to Vlamis’ place and watch games on Sundays, we’d go to movies together with cast, crew, some of the directors. I think because we were shooting on location in Santa Fe, I personally didn’t know anyone in Santa Fe, so if you wanted to hang out you were hanging out with the group and I think it really shows in what goes on TV. You can tell that we spent time together not just when we were filming and I think that seeps through when you’re watching. We were a pretty good group of friends that did hang out outside of just work.

N&B: That’s awesome and sounds so fun! Sadly, we know that the show was canceled recently. Is there anything you’d like to say to the fans as they get ready to say goodbye to Dallas and to the show?

Plair: I’m just really thankful that people have embraced Dallas the way that they have. Again, when you come into a show and it’s already established and people have things that they care about and relationships that they care about it’s sometimes hard to find your footing in that. I just really appreciate people accepting him and connecting with Dallas and I think it sucks that the show has to get canceled, but I personally really did like the way that it ended. I feel like a lot of loose ends get tied and a lot of characters have beautiful endings. Hopefully, people can have some kind of solace with that, with it going away in the way that it does. I don’t want to tease anything, but I feel hopeful that fans feel connected to the way that it ends and can look back on a series that they loved and enjoyed and appreciate it for that.

N&B: Lastly, we are Nerds and Beyond so we celebrate all things nerdy here. What’s something that you nerd out to? You mentioned Avatar: The Last Airbender, but is there anything else?

Plair: There are so many things. I am one of the biggest Harry Potter fans you will ever find. I’m a hardcore Slytherin, one of my dream roles would be if somehow I got cast in if they did a life story of Voldemort and I could play Voldemort.

N&B: You know what I could totally see that!

Plair: Gosh I would love that! But yeah, I watch a good amount of anime. Goku and them in Dragon Ball Z is one of my favorites, as I said Avatar, Yu-Gi-Oh! I love. Pokemon, I tell people all the time if pokemon were real I would drop everything and become a trainer right now no questions asked. Harry Potter is the biggest thing though. There’s so many, fantasy movies are my thing, I’m going back through and re-watching Lord of the Rings. I think when I initially saw it I was a bit too young to appreciate how great filmmaking it was. I just finished all the Hobbits and now I’m going on to Lord of the Rings, extended editions of course.

For the first time, I just rode the Rise of the Resistance ride at Disneyland, it was incredible. It was the greatest ride I’ve ever been on experience-wise. You have to ride it, I went for the first time and it’s incredible. It’s like a 25-minute ride, you go and get on one part then you go to another part and there’s actors playing the Republic. I don’t want to spoil the ride too much but please if you ever go to Disneyland you have to ride Rise of the Resistance. It’s incredible.

N&B: I’m definitely adding it to my must-ride list then! Thank you so much for chatting with me, and I can’t wait to see what the remaining episodes have in store for Dallas.

Plair: Thank you so much, I appreciate it.

#quentin plair #dallas haines #rnm cast interviews #rnm spoilers #rnm 4x07

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 1 year

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NITA STRAUSS Reflects On 'Really Bad Advice' She Got Early In Her Career

During an appearance on the latest episode of Knotfest's "She's With The Band", the show hosted by Tori Kravitz and Alicia Atout aiming to amplify the voices of women on stage, backstage and in the business, former Alice Cooper and current Demi Lovato guitarist Nita Strauss was asked about "a jaw-dropping misstep" early in her career and the lessons she learned from it. She responded (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "Early in my career, I got a lot of really bad advice. I was a young guitar player. I started this career really, really young. I did my first national tour at 15 and dropped out of high school at 17 to try to do this full-time. And at the time, I had so many people telling me what I needed to do in order to be successful in this industry — people saying, 'You need to show more skin'; 'If you have a boyfriend, you can't say that you're dating anybody because you need to appear available'; all this kind of stuff. And looking back, obviously, that's not the kind of attention that I wanted to get; I wanted to be known as a guitar player, and that was it. So once I realized that, I went the complete opposite way and I started really dressing down. I dyed my hair darker — not 'brown brown' but darker, darker blond — to stand out less. And I'd wear a men's large t-shirt onstage and baggy cargo shorts and started touring with heavier bands. And I was, like, 'I don't wanna be a hot chick. I just wanna be a guitar player.' And that's not who I am either. And I kept getting pulled back and forth through this dichotomy of, like, 'No, you have to be the sex symbol,' and, 'No. You don't wanna be known for that. You have to just be a serious musician.' And the reality is where I am doesn't fit into either of those molds. And it wasn't until I started just dressing how I wanna dress and acting how I wanna act… And, yeah, if I have a boyfriend, I'm gonna tell the world about it because I love him. And I don't need to appear single and I don't need to have fans think they have a chance with me in order to be respected and have people coming to my shows. And once I just started embracing who I actually am as a person, that's when great opportunities and great successes started coming to me. And when I was trying to just fit into some mold or another mold, I was just chasing something that wasn't authentic; it wasn't really who I am. So I just wish that I could go back and tell my younger self, 'Stop trying to fit into what other people tell you you should be, and just be who you are.'"

Last October, Nita dropped a new single and accompanying music video, "The Wolf You Feed", featuring the vocal talent of Alissa White-Gluz of ARCH ENEMY. It was the second song Nita had released featuring a star guest vocalist, the first being the enormously successful "Dead Inside" which featured guest vocals from DISTURBED's David Draiman and saw Nita become the first ever solo female to have a No. 1 hit at Active Rock radio. She also returned to her instrumental roots earlier last year with the release of single "Summer Storm".

Nita made her live debut with Demi in July 2022 with a performance of Lovato's single "Substance" on ABC's Emmy Award-winning late-night show "Jimmy Kimmel Live!".

Strauss had been playing with Cooper since 2014 when she replaced Australian musician and former Michael Jackson player Orianthi. She joined Alice in time for a mammoth MÖTLEY CRÜE tour. She was recommended to Cooper by the legendary rocker's former bass player and WINGER frontman Kip Winger.

Nita released her debut solo album, "Controlled Chaos", in 2018 to mass acclaim from fans and media alike, with Metal Injection calling it "a great debut that — as its creator intended — leaves no doubt", and Guitar World stating "'Controlled Chaos' is a panoramic view of Nita Strauss's many strengths".

As well as performing with Cooper, Nita has also played with R&B star Jermaine Jackson, early MTV darlings FEMME FATALE, video game supergroup CRITICAL HIT and popular tribute band THE IRON MAIDENS.

In April 2020, Nita launched "Rock Guitar Fundamentals" — a three-module online guitar teaching program suitable for learners of all levels. The course is available at www.iwanttoplayguitar.com.

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#Nita Strauss #2023 interviews

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lipsyncforyourlife · 2 years

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Willow Pill's Queer Universe + Season 14 "Reunited!" Recap (Issue #16)

The RuPaul's Drag Race Official Newsletter

In this week’s Drag Race newsletter, we get “Reunited!” and it feels so good, enter the Clash Of The Queens gauntlet, and share an exclusive interview with Willow Pill. Don’t forget to subscribe so you can stay tuned for all of the latest Drag Race updates!

For the first time ever, Drag Race was able bring all of its Season 14 queens together in person for The Jasmine Kennedie Talk Show! Joking, joking—while Jasmine’s feuds did make up a significant portion of the episode (no complaints here!), “Reunited!” was a welcome return to the classic reunion format, not seen since Season 11: RuPaul flanked by the dolls of this wonderful cast, with clips and questions at the ready to stir up drama, emotions, laughs, and plenty of shade. My name’s Cameron Scheetz, and I’ll be your guide as we reminisce on one eventful Drag Race reunion!

The reunion gathered everyone on the stage of the Flamingo Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, the current home of RuPaul’s Drag Race Live! and the soon-to-be home of Season 14’s grand finale. The live show’s Werk Room-style set was the perfect venue to give every queen their big entrance, and you know these queens delivered the looks. There wasn’t a boot in the bunch, but I have to shout out a few of my favorites: Angeria’s purple pageant daydream, Jorgeous ready to saddle up for the rodeo, Kerri’s jaw-dropping golden glam, and Kornbread in a hysterical tribute to Willow’s entrance, complete with Croc heels and a shirt that says “ANKLE.” (Also, a quick hello to Lady Camden’s nipples!)

Ru kicked things off with a joke about not wanting to send anyone from this lovable cast home, and introduced the first of many clip montages reflecting on some of the season’s biggest gags. Kerri, Jorgeous, and Alyssa got a chance to gloat about opening for former guest judge J.Lo at the iHeartRadio Music Awards, and the girls kiki’d about how surreal it is to get recognized in public (“Kelly Mantle, is that you??”). Another montage of synced up “it’s chocolate” reveals gave June a deserved spotlight for her “meme queen” status (“I just wish I wasn’t in that pussycat wig,” she laughed). And it was also amazing to hear from our beloved Kornbread, who said her relationship with her family has changed for the better since the show aired. With every hilarious glare Ms. Bread made to the camera, I was reminded how different this season could’ve looked had she not had to leave because of her injury.

Clash Of The Queens

It was a “season of sisterly love,” but this discussion series proved there was plenty of sibling rivalry to go with it. Let’s take a look at how each got hashed out on the reunion stage:

- Jasmine vs. Kornbread: Season 14’s first hint of drama came when Miss Mouth Almighty started rubbing some of the girls the wrong way. Kornbread said the other queens were talking about it, but she was the first to bring it up to Jasmine directly, unafraid of holding back. Kornbread acknowledged she could’ve come at the confrontation differently, while Jasmine admitted it changed her approach to the season for the better. It warmed my heart to see how much these two learned from the “clash,” even if Jasmine couldn’t help but continue to cut others off. That almighty mouth just can’t help herself!

- Jasmine vs. Daya: Now here’s where things got tense. As Ru rolled the clip reel, you could see both of these queens’ faces drop further the longer the montage went. At first, Daya was steadfast with “no regrets,” lamenting that she may have delivered her opinions poorly while calling out Jasmine for saying things at the wrong time. In response, Miss Kennedie said she felt dragged “for nine weeks straight,” and that Daya’s critiques were often directed at her as person and not her drag. I was sweating when Daya doubled down on the “energy vampire” comment, with Jasmine firing back, “I think you were looking in a mirror when you said that—I know vampire’s can’t see their reflections, but…” And then things really got emotional when their sisters chimed in, Alyssa’s remark cutting Daya deeply.

There’s a lot still simmering between these two that was left unresolved, and the talk of unanswered calls made it clear that this has the conversation they’ve needed to have since filming wrapped. Ever the Auntie, Kerri brought things to some semblance of a conclusion, reminding the girls of all the unwarranted hate Daya has received throughout the season, and saying that we all are capable of acting in regretful ways under moments of high stress. In the end, Daya was apologetic for the way she said things, ultimately realizing how alike she and Jasmine are.

- Jasmine vs. Maddy: Revisiting this feud reminded me that “This is your moment, have it!” is destined for the opening audio of next season’s Untucked. But I was also glad to hear that the queens all found it as entertaining as I did, Jasmine and Maddy chalking it up to miscommunication and being in their feelings over having to lip-sync. I loved Willow’s comment that this was the moment she realized she was on Drag Race.

- Bosco vs. Lady Camden: Our final clash—and the only one not involving Jasmine—focused on the casting cat fight for the role of Moulin Ru!’s Saltine. We already knew there were no hard feelings between the girls over this one, but it did give us that great moment where Bosco and Camden furiously shouted compliments at one another.

But there was way more to from the reunion to get into than just fights. Jasmine was in the spotlight again to discuss the unforgettable Untucked in which she came out to as Trans to her sisters and, effectively, the rest of the world. She admitted it was difficult to watch back, especially since she had waited to talk to her father about it until the day the episode aired, but that she’s in a great place now with everything going the direction she wanted it to go. For Jasmine, it was about finally feeling a level of comfort around her sisters, and it helped to have a heaping confidence boost from Kerri Thee Colby. We’re so proud of Jasmine and Bosco and Willow and Kornbread for sharing their truths with us all through this rollercoaster of a season, and so grateful to Kerri for being such a source of inspiration. When Ru asked Kerri what was going through her head during all of this, she brilliantly responded, “Another one, thank you!”

A rapid-fire round of “Toot Or Boot” let us hear how the girls really felt about their fellow queens’ runways, most notably the SHOOT for Bosco’s buzzsaw ballerina, and the TOOT for Jorgeous’ chaps look even though “she can sell everything.” Kerri’s green Versace J.Lo moment also got a BOOT from Orion, who claimed it was “off the rack,” which umm… sorry, Orion you’re on your own with that take! And that was all leading up to the return of the Golden Boot Award—the worst look of the season—handed out by the icon LaLa Ri (who I was so happy to see on my TV again). This year it was a tie, going to both Maddy and Daddy Morphosis for their Glamazon Prime runway. Well deserved, ladies!

And before the reunion could come to a close, Ru gave the queens who went home early a chance to visit the library for some light reading. I liked Maddy’s read of June, “You know, as short as your time was, maybe you should’ve changed your name to February,” to which June replied, “It’s Black History month, so you shouldn’t do that!” But probably the shadiest read of them all belongs to Kornbread, who said to DeJa: “Everyone in this season said you’re helpful, you did everything for them, you remind them of Jesus—you and Jesus have something in common: You both have twelve followers!” Gag!

Funniest Reunion Quotes

All in all, this was a fantastic reunion that really showcased the magic—and drama—that can be made when you get an entire season’s worth of queens together in one place. This cast has been a ball all season long, and now I’m even more excited to see how it all shakes out next week. Let’s wrap up the recap by shouting out a few other quick “Reunited!” quotes that had us in tears:

When Daya set up a metaphor about taking a science test in school, Jorgeous quietly deadpanned back, “I didn’t do none of that.”

During a round of fan questions delivered by the cast of Drag Race Live!, Derrick Barry asked Kornbread if she really did pay Daya for eating that dragonfly. Her response? “Yes, I paid Diabettica $1,000 via Cashapp!”

Ru rightfully dubbed Kerri “The Narrator” and gave her the opportunity to recap the reunion thus far, which she did by comparing everyone to animals on safari. “Just go ahead and push ‘rewind’ on your VH1 remote and you’ll get it!”

Each of the Top 5 had the opportunity to reflect on their highs and lows of the season, and Willow said her low was when Kornbread left because she “hates everyone else so much.”

After getting put on the spot for her behind-the-scenes showmance with Orion, Jorgeous quipped, “I’m sick of this reunion!”

And, finally, when Ru opened it up to closing thoughts, Maddy confessed, “I don’t want to be saying anything too disparaging about the show and about you, but, the fact that you put two design challenges so close together… It just reads as blatant heterophobia, honestly. And then to follow it up with an over-the-top acting challenge with fart jokes and Southern accents, and I was excluded from that…” Oh Maddy, you really are the comedy queen.

Burning Questions

Camgeria Forever

You know I can’t let a Camgeria moment pass by without referencing it in the newsletter! Angeria and Lady Camden ‘shippers—including Ariana Grande—should be thrilled that these two got their own segment of the reunion, with Angeria bluntly asking Ru, “Will you be in the wedding?” I know they were just playing it up for the show, but it was so cute to hear Camden say she was excited to spend more time with Angeria. So, seriously, when is that wedding? We want to save the date!

Armed & Fabulous

In addition to the title of “America’s Next Drag Superstar,” next week’s finale will reveal who is dubbed this season’s Miss Congeniality. So, who do you think has it in the bag? I mentioned in a previous newsletter that Angeria has a strong bond with many of her sisters, making a good case for the title, but it’s notable that an eventual Miss Congeniality hasn’t made it to the finale since Season 1, when Nina Flowers claimed the honor and 2nd place. DeJa’s reputation as the “cast mom” means her chances are strong. And then this reunion served as a reminder of how beloved and respected Kerri Colby is, and her role as the season’s voice of reason—one of its Aunties—makes her a real contender. But don’t count out Kornbread: She may have left the competition early, but she made a lasting impact on that Werk Room, and I could see the girls wanting to reward her in kind.

Next Week: It All Comes Down To This!

At the end of the reunion, Ru gave us a pretty clear idea of what to expect from the grand finale: “Next week, our queens will compete for the top spot as they perform show-stopping solo numbers. And, in the end, two queens will go head-to-head and toe-to-toe in a Lip-Sync Smackdown For The Crown.” With that in mind, I’m anticipating unique individual performances prepared by each of the queens, not unlike what we saw during the Season 12 finale (though likely with all of the spectacle of Vegas, and not homemade). From there, the Top 2 will be determined, and they’ll face off in a good old-fashioned lip-sync on stage. Sounds like an absolute blast—I can’t wait to see what these five bring to the table!

The Serve-ey w/ Willow Pill

Each week, we’ll get to learn more about one of the queens of season 14 when they take our brief questionnaire, a.k.a. The Serve-ey. They’ll all get the same six questions, and then we’ll throw in one final “wildcard” question just for fun. This week: Do her sick bitch looks have you feeling ill? It’s Willow Pill!

1. In keeping with the season promo’s board game theme: What was your favorite game growing up and why?

Ooh, when I was kid, I loved Mousetrap. And I never actually played the game, I would just set up the trap and watch it go. I have no idea—to this day—how the game is actually played. I just thought it was so fun.

And now I’m connecting it to your You’re A Winner, Baby runway. Your rodent obsession drew you to the game.

Oh, I love mice. It was honestly probably that!

2. How would you say the city you’re from helped define your drag?

So I don’t think [Denver, CO] itself really changed my drag all that much. But the people that I found there did, particularly Yvie and The House Of Oddly, which includes Yvie, Heavenly Powers, and Neurotika Killz. Really, it’s just a sad group of people. [Laughs.] A group of depressed Trans people and fags that like to terrorize the audience with terrifying work. So, being around them is really what changed my whole idea of what drag was going to be for me.

Do you remember the first time you encountered them, or saw them perform in drag?

It was a slow introduction. I had done backup dancing for Yvie for a little while. And I had been in a few shows with her, while not really knowing her. And, eventually, they just kind of took me under their wing because I think I was kind of the Barbie, Polly Pocket to all of their spooky goth drag. And it just meshed for some reason.

What do you think it is about Denver that fosters or inspires that kind of drag?

I mean, it’s just one of those mid-sized cities. That’s just like, “We’ve got a brewery… We’ve got a restaurant.” You know? It’s like, besides the nature, it’s not like it has that much going for it. No offense!

3. With this season’s candy bar twist, I’m curious: If you were a piece of candy, what kind would you be?

This is a tough one—hard-hitting questions.

I know, right? [Laughs.]

Hm. [Asks person off camera] Chris, what kind of candy would I be? Ew, I am not a Tootsie Roll. [Laughs.] Gross. Honestly maybe like a Cadbury Egg. Because I’m kind of har don the outside, and I’m disgusting on the inside. Just a goopy, nasty mess.

I honestly couldn’t even tell you what it is in the inside of those—it just gushes out.

You know, I think it’s horse cum. With a little bit of sweetened condensed milk.

4. What can you tell us about your “confessional” interview look? How did you decide what to wear? What do you think it says about your style out of drag?

Well, you would think that you’d think more about it. But, in the rush of getting ready in three weeks, you kind of just [show] them whatever is on your floor. But I mean, I like bold colors—I like to wear a lot of primary colors. I really love overalls, so I wore overalls. So, yeah, it’s colorful and youthful. Not a lot was going on in my head—or, rather, too much was going on in my head at that time.

I figured those were overalls, but it was hard to know for sure because of the framing.

Oh yeah, I love overalls. But now I would never wear that look because it gives me PTSD. [Laughs.] I burned them. I actually did throw them away!

5. What’s a fun fact you can share about one of your season 14 sisters that might surprise the fans?

Hm, what can I share—legally. [Laughs.]

I think it’s a pretty open group of gals, so it’s pretty hard to find dirt, or a secret. But I think people don’t realize how demonic Kornbread is. You know, she comes off as, like, The People’s Drag Queen, but she’s very twisted and dark. Just a nasty, nasty person. [Laughs.] Also, I don’t think that people realize that Lady Camden is a complete and utter whore.

Well, we have heard about the porn…

Yeah, no—she is definitely the nastiest bitch of the season, and she comes off as very prim and proper.

And, speaking of Kornbread, I’m reminded that you are now immortalized on her in tattoo form, which is amazing. How and when did she break that news to you?

Yeah, I am! And, you know, she’d she’d actually been talking to me about it for months. And I loved the idea, so I was really thrilled when she got it. So now I just need need one for her. It is a huge honor.

6. Here’s a chance to shout out another drag performer, designer, hair & makeup artist, etc… who really helped inspire you or prepare you for your journey on Drag Race.

Oh yeah, definitely my roommate, Finn. They helped me get my whole package ready for Drag Race. They made the house [for the Spring has Sprung runway], and they stoned almost every outfit, and they kept me organized, and, you know, they had a shot of tequila ready every night when I came home to get ready for the show. And, without them, I would not have gotten it all done.

That’s amazing—and that house piece is incredible. How does that, logistically, get packed up for Drag Race?

Oh, it’s its own suitcase. I just stuffed it with panties and all that stuff: Panties and stuffable fabrics and put it in its own suitcase. I’ve only—I only did like two weekends of shows with it until I was like, “Okay, I can’t do this.” [Laughs.] It still exists, just as an ornament in my house.

To be put in a museum one day, I’d imagine!

7. Wildcard: I was really struck by what you said on the final runway, about letting the queerness of the universe shine through you. Where does that philosophy come from—when did you first recognize that fundamental queerness in the world?

I think I’ve just always—well, not always, but in my older years, I’ve come to realize that the world is a very, very queer place, naturally, and like scientifically. And we as queer people didn’t really create “queerness”—I think we just kind of reveal what’s kind of behind the curtain. So yeah, I don’t think queer people really created queerness, I think the world is already a very queer place, and we just kind of show that to the rest of the world.

And that connects to your “Catwalk” verse where you talk about living in The Matrix, and how it’s all an illusion. Through your drag, you’re peeling back the curtain on this unnaturally structured world we’ve created.

Yeah, exactly! We’ve made sense of the world to the best of our abilities… just not in a very good way.

Right! So how can we work to better open ourselves up to that universal queerness?

I think you just need to take note of all the judgments that you make about yourself, and figure out where those come from, and then destroy them.

Gagatrondra! It's The Tweets Of The Week

We wrap up every newsletter with a rundown of some of our favorite reaction tweets of the week, so use #DragRace and you may find yourself here!

nik 💐 #teambosco

@janvelour

ok but we really need to talk about how GORGEOUS june is #DragRace https://t.co/dQcvTwqWp2

9:19 PM - 15 Apr 2022

@unflopable

PLEASE😭😭😭 #DragRace https://t.co/zsvOdKVFel

9:28 PM - 15 Apr 2022

lils

@omgheylily

daya: say you’re in school and you’re gonna take a test jorgeous: #dragrace https://t.co/k6uJ9YatCL

8:24 PM - 15 Apr 2022

Happy?

@ByeMartiin

Nothing but love for Lady Camden #DragRace https://t.co/8cnsvP2G2m

9:30 PM - 15 Apr 2022

shookdrag on IG

@vivalasdrag

an icon referencing themselves #DragRace https://t.co/ecX3lWjwVr

9:56 PM - 15 Apr 2022

#RuPaul's Drag Race #Newsletter #Willow Pill #Reunion S14 #Mouse Trap

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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restless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of natasha romanoff, sam wilson, and steve rogers warnings: mentions of nightmares and clingy bucky but it’s mostly fluff about: bucky can’t sleep without y/n a/n: i was going to post this yesterday but i fell asleep :| my computer was literally open and nearly dead when i woke up lmao

today marks one week that you’ve been gone, and with it, the official shortest amount of sleep that bucky has gotten in a week. he supposes it’s sightly pathetic that he can’t sleep well- or, really, at all- without you, but you continuously tell him you chase his nightmares away for him, and without you there to make them disappear, where else will they go but deep into the crevices of his mind, where they’ll hide long enough for him to let his guard down and lull himself to sleep, only to wake up with the ugly memories of things he hoped he’d forgotten. he’s constantly told that his attachment to you is overbearing- not by you, though. never by you- because it must be, with how much he clings to your side, always touching some part of you so that he’s sure that, yes, you’re there. not a dream or an illusion, although you’re good enough to be one.

he misses every part of you; your fingers and the way they run through his hair, trace his features with such tenderness he nearly believes he is what you see, your voice and its ability to transform the most mundane words into the greatest poetry, sing soft songs into his skin until he’s fallen asleep, your eyes and how they examine him in the best way possible, glowing when they meet his.

he longs for you, but he can only imagine your smile, the bitter reminder that you’re probably showing it to some psychopath for the mission you’re on. he hates steve every time the memory is evoked, the panic that comes with your being used as bait for some of the most screwed up villains in the world only returning stronger. he’s tempted to go get you himself, uncaring if he screws up the mission because at least he’ll have you.

stark will call him pathetic, then go to bed with the love of his life, so bucky prefers keeping his thoughts about you to himself, much like he’d like to keep you. you’ve told him you can handle yourself, and bucky never doubts it, having been victim to the using of your skills when he first encountered you as the winter soldier. you kicked his ass then, and you kick any and all ass now.

it doesn’t help his sleeping schedule, though your calls do. he swears you’re an angel because there’s no way a normal human could glow like that through a screen, but you always laugh off his words and simply tell him to turn his brightness down. however, you haven’t taught him that yet, so he greets you with the same sentence every time. his smile is always brighter after your calls, the dark bruises under his eyes reduced as if he got a full night’s rest. it’s your effect on him, and as much as everyone teases you both for it, they appreciate it.

you’re due to come back in a week or two, but bucky is unsure he can wait that long, and judging from your chirpier-than-usual voice in your latest interaction, you’ve finished early, like you always do. he likes to imagine it’s because of him, behind the deprecating voice that screams at him why would it be? (the answer is that you love him and hate every second you’re away from him)

sam scoffs when he overhears him telling that to steve, sitting down next to bucky, “man, there is no way you can tell that from a phone call. even if you could, i know she’s good, but to shave two weeks off mission time? natasha hasn’t even been able to do that.” a proud smile grows on bucky’s face without his permission as he shrugs, “she’s that good,” he brags, choosing to ignore the fake gag sam sends his way.

you frown when he tells you what he thinks on your call a few hours later, lips puckering into a small pout, “how did you know? i wanted it to be a surprise!” you ask through a crackled voice. so much for state of the art technology, bucky thinks, but is glad nonetheless to hear your voice. “i know you too well, doll. you’re really coming back today?”

you nod excitedly, biting your bottom lip. “mhm! i missed you and my bed too much to stay here a moment longer. villains are such pervs,” you complain, nose scrunching. bucky’s jaw sets when he hears your words, immediately thinking the worst. “but, i’m coming back today, so it’s fine. what do you want to do when i get back?”

bucky shrugs, “be with you,” he answers simply, making you laugh. “other than that, dummy. we could watch a movie, have a little date night to make up for the one i missed while i was gone.” bucky grins at this, remembering his plans for that night. “okay,” he agrees, “we’ll watch one of those movies on my list. although sam put some weird ones.”

you concur through chuckles that pass through the phone, reminding him how much you love him. he swears an oath to never let you go again and bites back a yawn that you see right through. “you’re sleeping the moment i get back,” you instruct, and bucky nods with your words, even when the sole idea of your being within arm’s reach is obviously too enticing to pass up for sleep. “whatever you want, doll. as long as you’re here.” he replies, thinking about spending the night pressing kisses to your hair and checking for any injuries you may have withheld from him.

the sentence is dishonest and you both know it, but you leave it at that, missing him too much and sure he’ll rest with how exhausted he must be. you say goodbye without the actual words, only giving a blown kiss and a “see you later.”

bucky spends the rest of the hours without you thinking of you, skimming through the words written in the little blue notebook you got him to replace his old one. that one sits on his dresser, the disuse proven by the layer of dust that covers it. the names he spent hours agonizing over, tracing his fingers over the indents made by the pen, are hidden by its cover. they never fade from his mind, though. only half of the pages of the one you gave him are blank now, and the ones that aren’t are bright and white, inviting him to drop his pen on the lines and jot whatever reference he didn’t understand but wants to. he eyes the names of the movies and shows, some accompanied by quotes that refer to them. “new girl: nick miller,” he reads, remembering how one of your friends said he was the avenger version of the character. “friends: ‘joey doesn’t share food,” sam told him that one when he didn’t let him have any of his chips. he looks at clueless, recalling the way all of his teammates stare at scott whenever the movie comes up. there are a couple pages like this, some of them recommendations and others titles he kept hearing. tonight, he decides on starting a new show, but he leaves the actual show up to you to decide.

you arrive a couple hours later, when stars have littered the darkness that bled through the sky. it’s all very rom-com-filmesque, the way you light up when you see his face- even through how tired you clearly are- and how you jump into his arms, ignoring the ache in your muscles because the way his arms wrap around you seems to make it disappear. he gathers you in his arms and kisses everywhere on your face, treasuring your laugh and the feeling of your lips pressing to his shoulder when you hug him again.

even when you pull away, he doesn’t let go of your hand, flesh fingers tracing small circles into your skin. you don’t complain, even when steve shoves papers in front of you and asks you to sign them with a sheepish look. sam comes by and teases bucky lightheartedly, hounding bucky to let you have both your hands. you chuckle at his request and squeeze bucky’s fingers, kissing the back of his hand, “oh, no, he better not,” you half-joke. he smiles, red tinting his cheeks as he gently draws you closer.

you don’t feel like driving at the moment, and you need to water your plants, completely sure that wanda forgot to do it, so you end up going to your room, even though you spend most of your time at his own room or your apartment outside the compound. you can tell how little the room has been used by the spotless counters and floors, furniture clean of any of the knickknacks you usually leave. you only sleep here when bucky leaves for long missions, his absence is overly blatant when he’s gone, and your plants keep you from feeling too alone.

you usher bucky inside, tugging open your drawers to search for something for him to wear. you grin at the soft fabric under the pads of your fingertips, recalling the memory of stealing them from bucky’s closet to soak in his scent when you couldn’t have the real thing. the considerable use has washed away all traces of him, and you decide that needs to be fixed, picking out clothing for him.

you change into one of his old shirts and make tea while he changes, smiling when you feel his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing your jaw. “what do you want to watch tonight?” he asks, and you contemplate it while you pour your drinks, shoveling spoons of sugar into each one to make it as sweet as possible- his favorite. “new girl, i think you’ll like it,” you reply after a moment.

he unravels his arms from around you, taking the mugs from the counter and following you to your room after you peck his cheek in thanks. “okay, i want to see what this nick miller is all about,” bucky says, making you laugh softly. “c’mon,” he urges, opening his arms for you after setting the cups down. you cuddle up to his side after you grab your computer, setting up netflix and choosing the show.

halfway through the first episode, bucky feels the fatigue hit him like a ton of bricks, hours of missed sleep catching up to him now that he’s finally relaxed and comfortable. keeping his eyes open is a job all on its own, and the sweet smell of your hair combined with the way your fingers move on his chest, softly writing letters and drawing shapes, is too much to resist.

you barely notice when he shuts his eyes, the evening of his breathing alerting you he’s succumbed to his tiredness. you stop the video and quietly shut your laptop, placing it on the bedside table while moving as little as possible. he feels you shift through your efforts, pulling you closer in his sleep. you chase away his nightmares like you always do, letting him sleep his first full night since you left.

he wakes up rejuvenated and embarrassed, sputtering out embarrassed apologies that you shush with kind reassurances and tender kisses. he’s reminded of how wonderful you are when you turn, arms extending to reach into your bag and carrying out a small stuffed animal that you say reminded you of him.

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sidneypoindexter · 2 years

Text

I honestly hated the birdtaurs at first.

It was like. Oh. Weird fandom parody. Wasn't this made before the fandom was even a thing? Nobody hates Wammawink. This is just obnoxious and stressful. What the fuck is with the bird fetuses? I like Crandy's song though, she has a cute voice. But these birdtaurs are so selfish and self-obsessed, they don't see themselves as part of the world, they're like above it. Literally. They don't even care about each other, they just care about watching each other's content and having their own fans for their own content.

But my opinion changed when...

Bayden got minotaur'd.

And then Bayden showed up in the human world, and was loudly livetweeting directly above the minotaurs. And then the bird fetus dropped on the minotaurs (because of course, how would it get to his followers, they're literally in another world) and repeated just enough...

"Bayden. Directly above minotaurs."

When that happened, I was so surprised and amazed that I said "oh shit" out loud. My stepdad heard me from the dining room (I was watching in the living room) and told me to watch my language. He doesn't like when people swear so I try to watch my language when he's at home (and I'm not in my room, I can swear as much as I want in my own room) which is why this making me shocked enough to swear out loud is a Big Thing.

Then Bayden just kept tweeting, while being captured and in the leadup to being minotaur'd. And I realized...

The birdtaurs' obsession with the world as a story has caused them to not realize they're a part of it. And this separation in their minds of "things that can happen to them" and "things that can happen to other people" made Bayden not realize what was going to happen to him until it already had.

When Bayden came out as a minotaur, I was so amazed. I'd seen spoilers of minotaur-Bayden, but didn't know how it was going to happen. I couldn't tell the difference between most birdtaurs at that point anyways- Bayden just wasn't that important in my mind until this happened, I saw him once but didn't expect him to be a major player, so I forgot him instantly. So when he turned into a minotaur I was like "so THAT'S what that screenshot was from."

Minotaur-Bayden is so grotesque and I love the design. The combination of bird and alligator to make whatever that is? The sharpening of all his Centaurworldy features? The fact he still doesn't have a nose, so his noseless beak-face plus the alligator's mouth made the top part of the beak squished in while the bottom part jutted out? The fact he still had his durpleshirt on? It's quite honestly one of the best designs in the show.

Comfortable Doug's line of "Is this a death we must mourn or a birth we must celebrate?" made me appreciate Comfortable Doug much more than I had before. I still don't like the moletaurs being hairless, but that's fine. Also after Bayden roared, Doug went "...Still not sure." which made me laugh.

In the Hootenanny episode, the little line in the song of "oh by the way guys has anyone seen Bayden" made me think like. Oh shit. They don't know what they're in for. Honey, you've got a big storm coming.

Then in the finale episode, when Bayden captured Crandy and she recognized him instantly? And she was like "what did you think of my latest [whatever it is she does]" and he went "Like. Like. Like." and she was like "He's still in there, you guys!"

I was all "are they going to have to kill their friend knowing he's their friend?" but then the final song showed the birdtaurs with Bayden, helping to rehabilitate him. Uncomfortable with what he's become but still seeing him as their friend and liking him- that made me like the birdtaurs way more than I did before. Before that, they'd seemed kind of shallow, but now I can see they actually care about each other beyond just watching each other's content and having their own fans for their own content. The way the tweeting-egg fit perfectly into Bayden's jutting jaw also made me smile.

Anyways TL;DR minotaur-Bayden singlehandedly redeemed the birdtaurs in my eyes.

#txt #centaurworld #centaurworld spoilers #birdtaurs #bayden

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jukeboxstan · 2 years

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Prompt Drabble!

I got inspired by today's prompt list and also watched the Bright episode today and this is where we ended up. Based on the line, "We're not just friends. You know that."

Let me know what you think!

_________________________________

If she were being realistic, Julie should’ve known that performing with the boys would bring on certain attentions she hadn’t really considered for them in the past. Reggie was her brother, for Christ’s sake. The last thing she really wanted to picture was him macking on some girl he’d been making eyes at during their performance.

Well, maybe the second to last thing she wanted to picture.

The last thing she wanted to picture was probably Luke macking on some girl he’d been making eyes at during their performance.

Unfortunately, that was exactly what she was picturing now.

In her defense, it hadn’t even crossed her mind until the boys found her in the halls after they’d all been bombarded after their guerilla-style attack performance in the gym to get Julie back into her music program. She’d been so swept up in the adrenaline and sheer joy at finally performing again–with her boys, no less–that she hadn’t really even noticed just how moony-eyed all the girls in the audience had gone.

Apparently, the boys had definitely taken notice.

“Julie, they were loving you!” was the first thing out of Luke’s mouth when they’d finally reconvened in a less-busy hallway between class changes.

Julie rolled her eyes in a false air of nonchalance. She’d never have gotten through Bright without their help. “No, they were totally loving us!”

All three boys grinned.

Then Reggie’s eyes were widening as he rounded sharply on his best friends instead. “Oh my God, the cheerleaders were looking at me! They were definitely looking at me, right?” Reggie took Luke’s shoulders between his hands, shaking him excitedly.

Even Alex laughed, high on excitement at how well they’d been received with Julie as their frontwoman.

“Bro, they were definitely looking at you!” Luke gushed in return, eyes so crinkled with his smile he looked exactly like an emoji.

And that made Julie pause. Had they been looking at Reggie? If Luke noticed, she supposed they had.

As soon as the thought entered her head, she felt her heart drop sharply to her stomach.

Luke had to have been watching the girls, too.

Luke. Her Luke. The boy she’d known since they were young enough to split juice boxes and animal crackers as an afternoon snack. Luke, whom she suspected she’d always been halfway in love with, but had finally taken the plunge and fallen fully for after he’d been so brazenly and unapologetically sure of her and her talent, assuring her that she was a star and that music would come back when she was ready for it. He’d been right. It had come back to her, right there in the school gym with her brother and his two best friends supporting her and loving her just as they always had.

Her Luke had been watching the girls in the audience and had taken notice that they’d obviously liked what they saw on stage.

She’d thought…well, she’d kind of thought that he might be on his way to returning some of the feelings that had been stirring as he’d shared his song, a little piece of his soul, in her kitchen. It was just the latest in a series of too-close encounters they’d had recently, something they hadn’t discussed but she’d nevertheless figured they were at least close to the same page on. His smile had been a little too soft, his fingers a little too gentle against the small of her back as he’d tucked himself in close and sung the song with her line by line. It had taken everything in her not to grab at his stupidly-sharp jaw and tug him down for a kiss right there in front of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Obviously, she’d been wrong.

Julie’s smile turned strained, but she kept it firmly in place long enough to have reason to walk away before she heard something that completely shattered and annihilated her heart. “Right, well, thanks for helping me get back in my program. Hope you guys can get some good dates out of it. You’re good friends. I gotta get to class.”

She turned on her heel to head back to her locker and grab her chemistry books, but she had time to see the elated grin slip off Luke’s face right as Alex smacked sharply into his shoulder. She didn’t have time to think into it, her feet carrying her swiftly down the hall and away from the trio of boys as she felt the betraying sting of tears pricking in the depths of her sinuses.

She’d just rounded the corner and slipped out of their sight when she heard a frantic “Julie!” cry out behind her, and the signature sharp squeak of Vans against waxed linoleum let her know exactly who was rushing off after her.

So Julie paused and leaned against the lockers behind her, sniffing aggressively to ward off any hint of traitor tears that had tried to force their way out of her ducts.

Luke Patterson would not see her cry over him.

But then he was tumbling haphazardly around the corner, fully prepared to burst into a sprint because he obviously hadn’t anticipated her stopping to wait for him in the now-abandoned hallways of Los Feliz High.

“Julie,” the sound of her name was colored with relief that he’d caught up with her. His fingers reached out to cup softly against her elbow, moving in front of her and slouching to keep his frame from towering too imposingly over her. Julie had never thought much about how small she was until she started having interactions like this with Luke where he seemed to purposely make himself smaller, never threatening or looming but always maintaining a comfortable protective presence.

Instinctively, her own hand clutched at the forearm attached to the fingers which were tracing soothingly against the back of her elbow. Still, Julie’s brows scrunched together in confusion. “I need to get to class, Luke. Didn’t you and Reggie need to–”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, Luke’s head already shaking emphatically in denial at the implication they’d be having any kind of conversation about whichever girls had caught their eye while they’d been on stage.

“We’re not just friends. You know that.” His tone is soft, likely to keep the nosy boys around the corner from overhearing even though they’re definitely eavesdropping as close as they’ve deemed safe should Julie decide to come after them for it. But he’s sincere. Whatever they are, whatever they’ve been skirting around these last few weeks, the title “friends” doesn’t exactly cover it.

Julie’s lips started to curve around a retort–after all, how can she know that? It’s not as if they’ve actually talked about it or that Luke has given any indication that this is anything serious. She barely even got out a syllable of protest before Luke’s other hand cupped at her cheek, cutting off any thought process she’d had moments ago.

“No, Jules, I mean it. You’re our girl. Always.” His grey-green eyes stayed locked on hers, wide and earnest in a way that should have been illegal. How could anyone ever argue with him when he could just pull out eyes like that?

Julie huffed an exasperated sigh. The sentiment, while heartwarming, was so close yet so far from what she wanted to hear him say. “I’m Reggie’s little sister; you’re contractually obligated to say that to me.”

Luke laughed, a rosy blush coming up to tinge his cheeks as he leaned in ever-so-slightly closer, knees bending to keep his eyes more level with hers as he spoke again. “My girl, then. You’re my girl. I’m sorry we haven’t talked about it but I promise this is important to me. You’re important to me.” His thumb grazed back and forth against the apple of her cheek, eyes flicking back and forth between hers to gauge her reaction.

Julie’s heart nearly exploded in her chest. This was the Luke she knew and loved. Passionate and loyal and breathtakingly honest, but young and goofy and maybe a little bit awkward at times, even through his carefully-crafted rockstar persona. His cheeks flamed a brighter pink now, the flush extending down toward his neck as he bit at his overly-plump bottom lip, waiting for her response.

That’s right, she should probably say something, shouldn’t she?

“You’re important to me, too.” The statement was barely a whisper, but Luke’s answering smile blinded her as he bumped his forehead affectionately against hers. “Reggie’s going to kill you, you know.”

Julie could see it now. He’d obviously mentioned something of this to the boys if Alex’s pointed shoulder smack earlier was anything to go by. And Reggie was nothing if not an annoyingly-protective, sweet older brother. He’d surely have lots to say on the matter as soon as they were permitted back around the corner.

Luke, to his credit, only shrugged casually at their impending doom before bouncing up onto his toes. “Doesn’t matter. Does this mean I can finally kiss you now?”

And Julie, with a smile bright and happy and definitely more than a little bit in love, tangled her fingers into the curls at his neck and tugged his mouth down to meet hers.

Finally indeed, Luke.

#i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this #i live for a slightly angsty jealous julie #also loved the prompt line #let me know your thoughts!#juke #jukebox #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #my writing #jukeboxsource

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

these violent delights, pt. i

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

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

part one | part two | part three

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

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

wc: 8.7k

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

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

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

(MASTERLIST)

“This doesn’t feel right.”

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

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

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

“The specifications were pretty precise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bring yourself back online.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am in a dream.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t think…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you gonna do about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think we’re going to have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or are you being given special treatment?

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to ask, don’t you?”

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

He’s right. You do.

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

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

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

You don’t need him to expand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um…” Your brow knits. “Yes.”

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

“Call me Keigo.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

“Let’s get this out of the way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if you know he wouldn’t like it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happens now?

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

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

You swallow hard.

“I’d say so.”

His smile is surprisingly bright and sunny.

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

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

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

You sneeze.

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

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

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

And they’ve insisted on keeping the party going.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until one of them screams.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Freeze all motor functions!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely fucking not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s right again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’Course it will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Denki goes quiet.

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

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

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

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

But you don’t have to wonder much longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dabi smirks, tipping the brim of his hat.

“Seems like invitation enough to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something has to change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You recognize those eyes.

“What the fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shou’s heart leaps into his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #dabi #hawks #hawks smut #hanta sero #denki kaminari #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #momo yaoyorozu #tw guns #tw gun violence #tw death #tw drinking #tw body modification #reader insert #westworld au

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angellesword · 3 years

Text

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (08)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Series: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

warnings: unrealistic court happenings i am not a lawyer ok mention of physical abuse, drinking problems, child trauma, mental illness, and infidelity. I want to build a whole new world in this fic that’s why i also didn’t research about divorce trials I’m sorry. OC is kind of annoying/disappointing in this chapter (?) or not (?) Young Choi Soobin of TXT is the kid in this chapter’s moodboard

Jeongguk was the ex-boyfriend Red was talking about.

You figured this out when you were at Seokjin's party. Frankly, the way your soulmate was looking at Red was already a giveaway, but then you had to confirm it yourself.

The only way to do that was to either confront Jeongguk or your assistant.

You chose neither and it was because you were afraid to hear what they would or wouldn't say. This being said, you resorted to your last option.

"Come on..." It was hard to sit on the floor when you're wearing a damn long dress, but this didn't stop you from rummaging through Red's personal things.

It's the middle of the night. You left Jeongguk at your apartment right after he reached his high.

You just wanted to teach him a lesson for being a brat. He was always so rude to you and you honestly thought that he was just in denial—that soon enough, he would realize that you two were really destined to be together.

Apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

You went to your office at one in the morning just to find something that would verify your speculation. You got what you wanted. The photograph of Jeongguk kissing your assistant confirmed it.

Your tears fell.

You didn't know why you felt betrayed. It wasn't like they wanted this. They hadn't done anything wrong. Fate was just cruel. Why didn't you meet Jeongguk first? You couldn't blame him for falling in love with Red—she was sweet, beautiful, and smart. Anyone would definitely like her, so you had no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat and accept this.

You just had to pretend like everything was alright.

It wasn't.

The divorce trial was near and there were still so many things you had to fix. Work was seriously draining the hell out of you and it wasn't like Jeongguk was helping. He was actually adding up to the stress you were feeling.

Jeongguk was giving you the silent treatment and no—it wasn't the type of silence you were used to. Before Seokjin's party, your soulmate was quiet, but not really. He would occasionally huff to let you know that he was annoyed at you. He would also stamp his feet and slam the door just to spite you.

You didn't mind. You knew he was just being a brat; however, things were different now.

After the night of Seokjin's party, Jeongguk changed. He was eerily silent, always avoiding eye contact with you.

You tried talking to him. Regrettably, you were only greeted by stillness.

"You want pizza, Gukkie?"

Nothing.

"Have you watched the latest episode of Start-up?"

Still nothing.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

"Wanna make out on the couch?"

Jeongguk's head jolted to your direction. His eyes were wide, cheeks turning crimson because of your bold statement.

"Hey!" You giggled, clearly happy with his reaction. "You finally looked at me!"

Jeongguk shook his head and then he went straight to his room.

You were unbelievable.

You pouted your lips, giving up. You had a feeling that he would come around.

He did. Days later, Jeongguk surprised you when he stood right in front of the door of your apartment. He was blocking your way out.

"Gukkie, I'm going to be late." You sighed. He reminded you of Miri, your cat that's always trying to stop you from leaving.

"You can't leave." His jaw clenched.

You let out a breath once again.

"Don't do this please. Mr. Kim needs me,"

The trial was happening today. You needed to run down a few things with your client before you go to the court room.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Jeongguk folded his arms over his chest.

You stared at him.

"I don't get what?" It was hard to keep your composure when the thing you had been trying to avoid for so long was being rubbed in your face. You knew exactly what Jeongguk was implying.

"—that you want me to drop this case because you want Red all to yourself?"

Jeongguk froze. What was the point of staying silent when you always knew what was running inside his head?

You just always knew.

"You don't have to pretend that you care about Soobin's well-being. I have enough people doing just that," you slightly pushed Jeongguk to the side so that you could pass through the door.

Ah, people.

They're all the same, always trying to conceal their self-interest by pretending that they care for others.

You liked Jeongguk—actually; you were convinced you loved him. He was your soulmate after all, but sometimes love wasn't enough to just give into what he wanted.

This wasn't about your relationship. This was about Soobin's welfare. He's just a child. You were a lawyer who swore an oath to protect the oppressed and incapable. You were their voice.

It sounded cheesy, but this was the type of person you aspired to be. The world was already dark, it wouldn't hurt to be someone's light.

Jeongguk didn't understand your reasons. It was evident when he showed up in court to watch you defend Kim Seokjin.

At first, you thought your eyes were failing you. Was he really here? Was he really the man at the back of the room wearing that big hoodie?

It was him. The familiar scowl on his face said so. Jeongguk was the only person who looked at you like you had offended his whole family.

"All rise!"

You turned to your client upon hearing the bailiff's demand.

"It's going to be alright," assured by you.

Seokjin smiled. He was looking at Red instead of you. He needed the comfort of his soulmate.

Red grinned back. She wasn't worried. She trusted you. She was certain you would succeed. Soobin wasn't going to be taken away from his father.

The first few minutes of the trial went smooth. You had your story straight and with the way the judge was nodding; you instantly knew she was in favor of your side.

Unfortunately, things started to go ugly during the cross-examination of witnesses.

Jung Hoseok was the first one to take the stand. He was the expert witness.

"You are the marriage counselor of Mr. and Mrs. Kim for months now, right?"

"Yes." Hoseok answered the opposing counsel. It was weird seeing him this serious. Your friend was always grinning, but you told him to try to keep a neutral face. This way, the judge and the jury wouldn't know if he was caught off guard by the question of the other side's attorney.

"Mr. Jung, is it true that marriage counselors rarely suggest divorce to their clients?"

"Depends—" Hoseok bit his tongue. You told him to simply answer yes or no. Be responsive to the question and never explain. "I mean, yes."

"And yet here we are..." Ms. Choi, the opposing attorney, shrugged her shoulders.

"Objection!" You stood up. "Relevance?"

You didn't understand why Ms. Choi asked that question to Hoseok when she's just shrugging it off now.

"Sustained." The judge felt the same way.

Ms. Choi raised her hand as if surrendering.

"My bad. I'm just curious, you know? If Mr. Jung is indeed an effective counselor, then why did he suggest that the Kim couple push through the divorce?"

Ms. Choi was furrowing her brow at Hoseok.

"Isn't that true, Counselor Jung? You told Mrs. Kim that it's better to end her marriage with Mr. Kim?"

"Yes." The expert witness answered truthfully.

The opposing side's attorney smiled mockingly.

"It's because you feared for Mrs. Kim's safety, right?"

"What?" Jung Hoseok was lost.

"Come on, Mr. Jung you know exactly what I am talking about! You found out that Mr. Kim is an alcoholic and you are scared that he might harm Mrs. Kim and Soobin, right?" Ms. Choi pointed at the five year old kid who was busy coloring books in the far corner of the room. He was with Seokjin's mother.

"Objection, Your Honor! Compound question!" You glared at Ms. Choi.

"Sustained." The judge clenched her jaw. "Ms. Choi, separate your questions. You are misleading the jury..."

Ms. Choi was flustered, yet she still held her head high. She knew she had the upper hand here.

"Is Mr. Kim alcoholic, Mr. Jung?" She tried again.

Hoseok cleared his throat.

"He had a history of abusing alcohol years ago."

"And you know this because you're also a licensed alcohol and drug counselor, correct?"

"Yes..."

"And Mr. Kim Seokjin also told you about his issue with regard to alcohol abuse?"

"Yes." Hoseok swallowed hard.

There were papers that could attest to Hoseok's claim. This was a win for Mrs. Kim. You could see her growing sarcastic smile that was directed at Red.

You inhaled deeply.

"Mr. Jung, can you please tell us the rate of patients going through alcohol relapse?"

"Uh, it's sixty to ninety percent after the first year of treatment," answered by Hoseok.

"I see. How long has it been since Mr. Kim sobered up?"

"As far as I know, it has been three years."

"Huh." Ms. Choi crossed her arms. "So is there a possibility that Mr. Kim would experience an alcohol relapse?"

"Yes."

"What's the statistical probability, Mr. Jung?"

"About fifty percent high." Hoseok looked dejected. He wanted to help Seokjin win the case, but he couldn't lie.

"I see." Ms. Choi was smiling as if she had already won the case.

"Can you tell us now the effects of experiencing an alcohol relapse? Or a slip?"

Hoseok's palms were sweating. Slip was one episode of drinking alcohol after trying to stay sober. Relapse, on the other hand, was the return to unhealthy behavior. Slip wasn't always followed by a relapse.

Hoseok also explained that there were different stages of relapse. Emotional relapse could cause suppression of emotions, becoming more isolated, trying to blame other people, and aggression, especially when they were confronted. There's also mental and physical relapse which included glamorizing alcohol and compulsive desires to drink.

"No further questions, Your Honor." The corner of Ms. Choi's mouth turned up upon realizing that the jury was in favor of their side now.

You had to step up your game.

The next witness was Son Chae-young. She was Soobin's babysitter. Chae-young had been living with the Kims ever since Soobin was born. She's a witness testifying against Seokjin.

Chae-young cleared her throat when your eyes landed on her. She already felt uncomfortable because of the way you were looking at her.

The way you stand up—shoulder down, neck long—was intimidating.

"You have a really nice necklace, Ms. Son."

Chae-young flinched upon hearing your compliment. She was confused. Mrs. Kim and Attorney Choi told her that you were scary, this was evident by the way you present yourself, but then...the way your eyes light up made her feel at ease. Your voice was soft too.

"Ah...thanks," regardless of your sweet persona, Chae-young still couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Why were you looking at her as if she was important? As if you were here to protect and not cross-examine her?

"Is it from Cartier?"

"Yes!" The babysitter beamed at you as she touched her pretty jewelry.

You smiled warmly at her.

"Did you buy it yourself?"

"Objection! Relevance?" The opposing lawyer clenched her fist. She was shaking, causing you to smile bigger. Guess she knew what was coming to her, huh?

"I'm getting there, Your Honor," said by you. Your expression screamed confidence that the judge was compelled to believe you.

"Overruled."

You continued.

"So...Ms. Son, did you buy that necklace? Or is it a gift?"

"Uh..." Chae-young's lips trembled. She was looking at Mrs. Kim, as if she was asking for her boss' help. "I-I bought it for myself..."

"I see." You nodded. Humoring her. "Do you have any other job aside from babysitting Kim Soobin?"

The nanny shook her head.

"N-No. I'm a full-time nanny of Mrs. Kim's son." Chae-young's lips were still shaking; her eyes were quivering as well.

"Hm, interesting..." You went closer to the witness. "That means you're earning what? Two hundred fifty dollars a month?"

"Objection, Your Honor! I still can't see the relevance of this!" Ms. Choi was losing her mind.

You turned to glare at her.

"Can’t you really see the relevance of this or are you just scared?"

You heard the judge's hit the gavel; she was calling your attention.

"Get to the point right now." The judge demanded at you. It was this or your statement was going to be sustained.

"I am merely establishing my point, Your Honor." Your voice was rough. "The necklace Ms. Son is wearing is worth four thousand three hundred dollars. I know because I have the same necklace and it took me, a lawyer, months!" You paused for a while just to emphasize the word months, "to buy it."

You turned to Chae-young when the judge remained silent.

"So tell me, Ms. Son, how can a full-time nanny like you who's earning minimum wage buy that kind of luxurious jewelry? Huh?" You were standing too close to the witness so Attorney Choi used this as an opportunity to object.

"Your Honor, she is badgering the witness!"

"Overruled." But the judge wasn't having any of it. "Answer the question, Ms. Son."

"I'm sorry!" The nanny's face twisted in fear. "Mrs. Kim bought it for me—"

"It's a gift!" Mrs. Kim blurted out, unable to contain her anger anymore. God. She hated you. "I bought it for her last month! It's my birthday gift for her!"

You smirked. Attorney Choi was panicking. She was caressing Mrs. Kim's hand, telling her to calm down.

Sadly, Mrs. Kim could not be stopped.

"Why am I explaining to you when you have no right to question my intention! It's my money so I get to decide what to do with it!"

She was yelling at you and it almost made you laugh. Why was she so defensive?

"May I remind you that you are a married woman, Mrs. Kim? You have to consider your husband's decision when it comes to spending that amount of money." You said this while glancing at the jury.

Base on their expressions, you knew that they agreed with you. This was a win on your side. One of the valid reasons of Seokjin for wanting a divorce was this. Mrs. Kim didn't know how to manage their assets.

You weren't done, though. You had to discredit the witness. You had to win the jury's side in all aspects.

"And you said you bought it last month for Ms. Son's birthday?" You shook your head, focusing your eyes at the nanny.

"Tell us, Ms. Son, when is your birthday?"

Mrs. Kim's face became pale upon hearing your question.

"January seventeen...”

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Kim again.

"Your birthday present is many months late, Mrs. Kim. Either that or you're just lying to hide the fact that you gave Ms. Son the necklace in exchange of testifying against your husband—"

"Objection—"Attorney Choi tried to stop you, but you cut her off too.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Son? You are bribed by your boss to say that you always see Mr. Kim Seokjin drinking alcohol—"

"Your Honor—" The opposing attorney was losing control, her objections were drowning because of how loud your voice was.

"Mrs. Kim wants you to lie! To say that her husband isn't a good father! That he isn't a good influence to Soobin!"

"Yes!"

You stopped trying to pressure Chae-young because it already worked. She admitted the truth.

"Mrs. Kim bribed me!" The babysitter sobbed, looking at you like you were the Lord and she was a sinner.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I can't say no, please...please...I need this job!"

"You bitch!" Mrs. Kim abruptly stood up. She wanted to attack you; fortunately the security officers were able to stop her.

The jury was surprised to see Mrs. Kim's violent reaction. You, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

You were used to this kind of scene. Besides, you couldn't get sidetracked. You still needed to prove your point.

And so you faced the jury.

"Is this the kind of person that you want to raise a sweet, innocent five year-old kid?"

One of the members of the jury clutched her chest. She was affected by what you had said. Truthfully, they were almost decided to grant the sole custody to Mrs. Kim; however, upon seeing the latter's behavior, the jury was having second thoughts now.

"Just look at her!" You pointed at Mrs. Kim who was still seething with rage.

"She constrained an adult! Imagine the bad things she could force Soobin to do! Mrs. Kim is a manipulator!" You raised your voice dramatically.

"My actions are nothing compared to what that asshole is doing!" Mrs. Kim screamed as she angrily pointed at her husband.

She was crying.

Kim Seokjin was quiet. He was shocked by your responses. He didn't expect you to be this bold. You were different from the lawyer he thought he knew.

You didn't have any limit. You didn't know when to stop just to prove a point.

"He's teaching my son that it's okay to be unfaithful to your wife! Jury, please!" Mrs. Kim was desperate. "Don't let him come near my son! He's a drunken bastard!"

The judge was hitting the gavel again. There were too much drama and unnecessary comments from Mrs. Kim.

You shook your head. You couldn't stop now. The jury was undecided. They changed their minds from time to time. You could see sympathy in their eyes as they looked at the wife.

"Mr. Kim Seokjin is sober! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Kim! You keep blaming your husband when you're the reason why he turned alcoholic in the first place—"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Attorney Choi glared at you. "The attorney is assuming facts!"

You disagreed before the judge could say sustained.

"Am I?" You smirked at the judge before turning to your table to get your evidence.

Seokjin looked at you nervously.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," groaned by your client.

You were blinded by your role as a lawyer, so you ignored Seokjin's plea.

"Don't do this..."

Seokjin was already too late.

"I have here the evidence that will prove that Mrs. Kim is the reason why her husband turned alcoholic."

You brought out the printed photos of Seokjin's beaten up face. Bruises, cuts, and other physical injuries were seen.

The jury gasped. Attorney Choi was groaning as she told the judge that these photos were not entered into evidence.

You were playing dirty, but so were they. Ms. Choi told you that they wouldn't bring Mr. Kim's sobriety issue in this court. She lied.

"These pictures are given to me by Mrs. Kim Sunghee, Seokjin's mother." You glanced at your client's mother.

"She knows that her son's wife was assaulting him. Seokjin didn't want to feel his wife's punches so he resorted to drinking the pain away. Mr. Kim just wants to be numb."

"N-No..." Your client's tears streamed down his cheeks. He was calling your name, begging you to stop.

It felt like everyone was begging you to stop; even Sunghee was shaking her head.

It was wrong. This was a mistake. Seokjin's mother realized this when Soobin began to cry. He was silently crying at first, but when the little boy saw the photos in your hand, he started hyperventilating.

"Appa!" Soobin's eyes dilated. He could barely breathe.

Mrs. Kim stood up to attend to her son.

"Soobin!" Mrs. Kim was wailing.

Things were becoming messy.

You didn't understand what was happening, so you just stood there.

"Appa! A-Appa is hurting!" Soobin was losing it; his eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

"Call 911!" Red shouted.

The noise was deafening.

You still didn't get what was happening.

Seokjin went near you.

"I told you not to do it!" He shouted, snatching the photos away from your shaky hands.

"This isn't about me or my wife!" Seokjin continued to scream at you.

You were stunned.

Your client was blaming you.

This is your fault! Seokjin said.

You were wrong. You didn't have to bring out these photos because apparently, Soobin knew.

He witnessed how his mom used to beat up his father.

The poor kid was traumatized.

He had to get some help.

His parents thought he had recovered.

It had been years.

The thing about trauma was, it never went away. It was there—silently sleeping and waiting for that one thing that would trigger it.

You triggered Soobin.

"I-I didn't know..." Your voice was low as you stated your excuse.

No one wanted to hear your lame excuse, not even Jeongguk.

You looked at your soulmate once.

You looked at him desperately.

You looked at him hoping that he would understand—like he would comfort you.

He would never.

Jeongguk had this look in his eyes, the kind of feeling that expressed disappointment.

Jeongguk was disappointed in you.

It was clear because right now, he was shaking his head as if you had done the most horrifying thing in the world.

He shook his head before leaving you all alone.

No one wanted to be with you.

You were a disgrace.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook roommate au #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkoon x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook sugar baby au #bts jungkook #bts jeon jeongguk #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook e2l

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kiirokero · 3 years

Text

Outro: Love Is Not Over (1)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,

Warnings: Don’t know if this counts but mentions of accidental pregnancies and shitty men.

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

Chapter Guide:

Previous / Next

“Congratulations! It’s a boy.”

“I-Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s very healthy. Do you have a name in mind?”

“Yunho.”

“A very nice name.”

“Oh, he’s beautiful.”

“That he is. I apologize for asking, but you haven’t listed the father on his birth certificate yet.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“You’re aware what that means, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, Ms. L/n, I’ll leave you be now. Press the button if you need assistance. A midwife will be coming to see you shortly.”

“Eomma, wake up!” A giggly voice called. The bed was bouncing up and down, pulling me out of my slumber. I couldn’t help but laugh along. “All right, Yunnie, I’m up.” Yunho chuckled and lent down to give me my morning hug. “Good morning, Eomma.” He sighed, his fluffy blonde tail wagging in content. “Good morning, lovely. Did you sleep well?” I wrapped my arms around him, bringing him in for a snuggle. “Yes! I had a dream about giant squirrels!” He exclaimed. I let out an exaggerated gasp, “You did?! That’s awesome.”

Yunho wiggled out of my grasp and bounded towards my bedroom door. “Come on, Eomma! I’m hungry.” I chuckled and got out of bed. “Alright, waffles or toast?” I asked while I grabbed my sweatshirt, pulling it on. “Waffles!” Yunho answered, racing downstairs to the living room. I smiled to myself, I couldn’t help the warmth in my heart every time I saw my son.

Yunho had short hair that matched mine in color. He also had my eyes. I could see little pieces of myself in his face and it always made me smile. I didn’t pay attention to the features he and his father shared, even if they weren’t many. The most prominent feature they shared being his ears and tail, but somehow, Yunho made them uniquely his.

He never like getting his fur cut, would always sulk about it afterwards, he likes to keep the fur on his tail long so either him or I could braid it. He thought braids were so pretty, so he would ask me to braid all of his hair, and eventually, he learned himself. His fur on his ears was less long because of my insistence that having heavy ears would impair his ability to lift them. He could lift his left ear, but not the right one. He’s been working on that.

So, even if he was his father's child, he was still just Yunho to me. That man didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Yunho has his button nose or freckles. It didn’t matter because Yunho was Yunho, and Yunho was the light of my life. He would run around the house non stop, bring me little rocks he found in the yard, draw pictures that had a special place on the fridge. Yunho was sunshine incarnate, and I couldn’t ask for a better son.

Downstairs, Yunho was sitting in front of the T.V, watching his favorite cartoon. It was about this hybrid boy and his best friend, who was human. Yunho said it was like him and I, that we were like the characters on screen, going on adventures every day. The sight made me smile yet again, and I went to the kitchen to get started on breakfast.

I could see Yunho from the kitchen since it was an open plan. Which wasn’t surprising because we lived in a small house. 2 bedrooms, 1 and 1/2 baths. It had a very large backyard that merged into woods. The area is pleasant, a little secluded, but that just gave Yunho more room to explore. The house got a lot of natural light with the large windows, and the air was always refreshing.

When I first saw the house, it was like a blessing. It was a little run down, but nothing I couldn’t handle, and it was cheap. A house being cheap should be a red flag, and it was, but it was worth it. The worst problem the house had was the hot water that ran out pretty quickly. In no way was it a luxurious mansion, but it was home, and that was all that mattered.

“Yunho! Come get your breakfast!” I called, placing his bright blue plate on the small dining room table we had. I heard his feet patter on the hardwood as he ran to the dining room. “Woah! Slow down, bub.” I chuckled. Yunho gave me a shy smile and sat down, immediately digging into his breakfast. “Is it good?” I teased, wiping away some stray syrup that threatened to end up in his hair. Yunho nodded enthusiastically, giving me a thumbs up.

We ate together with comfortable banter. Yunho was telling me about the latest episode of his cartoon, and I was more than happy to listen. The way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about something he loved was enough to make the toughest of men smile. “Eomma, can Hajun come over today?” Yunho asked in a hopeful tone. I thought about it for a bit, “I’ll call Aunt Hyejin and see if he can, okay?” Yunho brightened up and gave a little “okay!” In response.

After we were done eating, Yunho put his plate in the sink and went back to watching T.V. I washed up the dishes and dialed Hyejin’s number. “Hey babe!” She answered in her usual cheery voice. I chuckled, “Hey sis.”

In reality, Hyejin wasn’t my sis or babe, but we were close like that. Hyejin was a Siamese cat hybrid that I met back in college. We were roommates, and we just clicked immediately. We were there with each other through everything. Shitty professors, family issues, breakups, shit men that make your life a living hell. She had her son, Hajun, a bit before I had Yunho, and helped me whenever I needed.

She and her husband, Yoongi, a Persian cat hybrid, were there with me through it all. They were the family I never had. Yoongi was like an overprotective older brother, and Hyejin was no different. They even helped me find Yunho and I’s home. We normally went on family trips to amusement parks or aquariums which the boys never seemed to get bored with. We were all one big happy family.

Yoongi and Hyejin were like polar opposites. Yoongi was chill while Hyejin was a bundle of never ending energy. Yoongi was quiet Hyejin loved to talk. Yoongi was an introvert, and Hyejin constantly dragged him out to parties that Namjoon, one of our mutual friends, had mentioned to her. It was funny to witness. Especially when Yoongi begged me to go in his stead, which worked 50% of the time.

“So, what d’ya need? I’m all ears.” She snickered, and I could practically see her gray ears twitch. “Haha, hilarious. Yunnie wants to know if you guys can come over.” I answered. “Yeah, sure! We’re not doing anything today and I’ve been dying to talk to you about something.” She gushed. “Ooo, exciting.” I chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, babes. Love you!” I said I loved her back and hung up the phone.

Soon, Hyejin and Hajun arrived and the boys immediately began playing together. “Hey! So nice to see you!” Hyejin smiled, giving me a hug. “You too!” I was equally just as happy to see Hyejin since she and Yoongi had been a bit busy lately. We walked over to the living room where the boys were playing on the floor with their toys. Hyejin and I sat on the sofa and she immediately began talking.

“Okay! So, I’ve been dying to talk to you about this,” She started, already bouncing in her seat. “I can see that.” I teased, poking at her shoulder. “You know the job I was looking into? The daycare one?” She asked, and I nodded. “Well~ I got the job!” She exclaimed. My jaw dropped, a smile made its way onto my face. “No way! Congratulations!” I got up and squeezed her in a bone breaking hug, which she reciprocated.

“I know! I’m so excited!” Her tail was flicking behind her. “So, when do you start?” I asked, moving back into my seat. “Next week! I’m going to be the second teacher, helping someone named Mr. Jung.” She explained, and she went on to tell me how she got the job and how Hajun had asked if he could go, only to pout when Hyejin told him that he was too old. “I’m happy for you, Hyejin.” I smiled, excited that she was pursuing her dream of working with kids.

Hyejin, like me, got pregnant young and unexpectedly. But she was super thrilled. She didn’t care if she was only 20, she always wanted a child. She wasn’t married at that time, but Yoongi stepped up pretty quickly to raise Hajun with Hyejin. Yoongi was a cool dad, pretty laid back. Usually snuck the kids out to go get ice cream or pizza. Not that Hyejin or I minded, he treated both boys with the utmost care. He treated Yunho like his own son.

“So, have you met this Mr. Jung?” I wondered. “Not yet, but I had a phone call with him. Guess what? He’s our age.” She whispered, like what she was saying was some big secret. “Hyejin, we’re both 26, it’s not like a young teacher is unheard of.” I pointed out. “I know! But... What if he’s cute~?” She raised her eyebrows in a teasing manner, leaning closer to me. “I could be cupid.” She winked and I rolled my eyes.

“No thanks, Hyejin. I appreciate it, but love for me ended a long time ago.” I sighed and Hyejin huffed, dramatically slouching in her seat. “Y/n, just because... he... broke your heart doesn’t mean you should give up entirely.” She pointed out, looking at me with eyes full of undecipherable emotions. “Any man I date would have to be okay with being a father-like figure to Yunho. I’m 26 Hyejin, no guy my age wants kids yet.” I monotoned.

I had come to terms with the fact that most men didn’t want to date someone who already had a child. Not saying that it didn’t dishearten me a bit, but it was a revelation I made early on. If someone wanted me, they were going to want Yunho too. It either both of us, or neither of us.

Yunho was my light, and he deserved a father that could be the things I couldn’t.

#bts fic #bts one shot #jung hoseok #bts hoseok #hobi #hoseok x reader #jhope #jhope x reader #bts hybrid au #hybrid

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