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Controversially Young Girlfriend
Max Verstappen x Reader | age gap, written+smau
Inspired by my follower @maxswhore33 's blog title (I got permission)
SULI: Hey so.....🫦 I'm sorry this is my guilty pleasure— I tried to keep everything in check though I promise it's not too much🙏 the girls that get it, get it — short and sweet
SUMMARY: max and his young girlfriend have a hard time navigating what everyone has to say about their age gap
Warnings: age gap (duh) 27-20
“Anyone sitting here?”
He gestures to the empty spot beside her.
She doesn’t even glance at him.
“Is anyone ever sitting anywhere at these things, or do you just like the idea of asking?”
He blinks, then laughs. “Fair enough.”
She finally looks up—dead in the eyes. Calm. Amused, maybe. “You’re Max Verstappen, right?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She shrugs. “Just a thing.”
Max sits. Sips his drink. There’s a pause. “You here alone?” he asks.
“My father’s here. Somewhere between the scotch and the politicians pretending to care about art.”
She tilts her glass toward the display on the far wall. “This is his idea of bonding.”
“Right.” He chuckles. “So you’re not into any of this either.”
“I like the environment,” she says simply. “Not the company.”
Another pause. Then—
“You here alone?”
Max scratches his jaw. “No. My girlfriend’s somewhere upstairs. Talking to someone about those paintings upstairs, I think.”
“Ah,” she says, and something shifts. Her tone is lighter, but her eyes? Sharp.
“Those are mine, I'll get her on the guest list if she meets the age requirements. How old is she?”
He frowns a little, caught off guard. “Uh… thirty-five.”
Her eyebrows lift.
“That’s… a bit weird, isn’t it?”
He blinks. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” she says, as if it’s obvious, “you’re what—twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six,” he says.
“Still. That’s like dating your older cousin.”
A tiny sip. “Emotionally speaking.”
Max stares at her. “That’s a reach.”
She hums, unconvinced. “No judgment. Just interesting.”
She leans forward, a sly smirk curling.
“So… how old were you when you two got together?”
Max blinks, caught off guard. “Uh… nineteen, I think?”
She nearly chokes on her drink.
“Dude. Really?”
Max shrugs, uncomfortable.
“Yeah. It just... happened.”
She laughs softly. “Wow. So she’s basically been your age for a minute. That’s wild.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah.”
“And you’re okay with that?” she asks, voice teasing but sharp.
Max looks away. “I guess.”
“And how old are you?” she asks, shifting back, deadly serious again.
“Twenty,” she says flatly. “Still know how to use a microwave. You?”
He laughs again, out of confusion or disbelief, he’s not sure.
“You really don’t care who I am, do you?”
She tilts her head. “Should I?”
“No. It’s… refreshing, actually.”
She finishes her drink and stands up, pulling her phone from her coat pocket.
“Give me your number,” she says.
He hesitates. “You didn’t even tell me your name.”
“You can earn that later.”
She holds the phone out. He taps in the number. Watches her save it.
She shows the screen before she tucks it away:
“Dutch.”
He chokes on his laugh. “Seriously?”
“It’s either that or ‘older cousin dater.’ Your pick.”
She walks off, coat slipping over her shoulder, not even glancing back.
...
They didn’t become friends so much as they kept… happening to each other.
It started with the texts.
She wasn’t exactly warm. Her replies came in lowercase, sometimes hours later, never with an emoji. But they always had bite.
Artiste: you drive like you’re trying to kill the car
Dutch: you watch?
Artiste: first five minutes, I fell asleep
Dutch: harsh
Artiste: honest
He liked it. She didn’t ask for selfies or gossip. She never brought up his girlfriend, either. She asked about silence, about books, about whether he thought fame was real or just a side effect of boredom.
And then there were the encounters.
Always random, always surprising.
At a Monaco rooftop party in May, she appeared at his side just after midnight, arms crossed, gaze heavy-lidded. He offered her a drink. She stole the lemon slice from his instead.
“Still dating the older cousin?” she asked dryly.
He almost choked.
She smiled, the corner of her mouth lifting like a secret.
In Silverstone, she was in the VIP section with someone Important and Very Tired Looking. She caught his eye from across the paddock and lifted her hand—not to wave, just to show him a book.
When he squinted, she mouthed, “Camus.”
That night, he texted her:
Dutch: Why are you reading The Stranger during qualifying?
Her reply: existential dread pairs well with overpriced hospitality passes
By summer, he looked for her. At afterparties. At brand dinners. In the background of other people’s photos.
She always showed up unexpectedly—leaning against a balcony, sipping red wine, disappearing before anyone else even realized she’d been there. Her laugh was rare, but when he got it? It echoed in his head longer than his podium anthems.
Then came September.
A lowkey watch event in Milan. Nothing serious. He spotted her standing near a sculpture, arms folded like she didn’t trust the marble.
They talked for nearly an hour. Not about racing. Not even about art.
He told her about his childhood in karting. How sometimes, when the adrenaline was gone, the silence after a win scared him more than any crash.
She listened without interrupting, head tilted, eyes like glass.
...
Few Months Of Meeting Later
The walls are covered in stark, minimalist paintings and photos — cold, evocative, unapologetic. The kind of place where silence feels loud.
Max steps inside, slightly out of place but trying not to show it. She’s already there, arms folded, eyes scanning the newest exhibit.
She looks up and smirks.
“Well, if it isn’t Dutch.”
Max grins, running a hand through his hair.
“Hey. Figured I’d finally see where all your mysterious gallery talk was about.”
She nods toward a black-and-white detailed painting of a lone tree in winter.
“Cold, right? I like to think it’s honest.”
He shrugs.
“Kind of like you.”
She raises an eyebrow, amused.
“Maybe. So, how’s life? Still hanging with the older cousin?”
Max’s smile fades for a second.
“Actually... we broke up a few months ago.”
She studies him quietly.
“Really? What happened?”
He sighs, running a hand over his face.
“Guess the age gap wasn’t just a headline. Things got complicated.”
She folds her arms tighter.
“Sounds like you dodged a bullet.”
Max smirks.
“Maybe. Or maybe I just traded one complication for another.”
She tilts her head.
“Oh?”
He shrugs.
“Let’s just say… I’m still figuring out what I want.”
She smiles softly, but there’s steel beneath it.
“Well, if you ever want a crash course in complicated, you know where to find me.”
He looks at her, eyes sharper now.
“Yeah. I do.”
...
May, 2024
They were careful.
No holding hands. No public eye contact that lingered. She always walked two steps ahead, and Max never looked at her for too long when there were phones nearby.
But that night in Madrid — some dim-lit restaurant tucked into a quiet street after a sponsor event — someone caught them slipping.
It wasn’t even dramatic.
Just a blurry photo.
She’s leaving the restaurant first, coat draped over her shoulders, head turned slightly toward the car. Only the lower half of her face is visible — but it’s enough. The shape of her jaw. The curve of her mouth. The unmistakably young silhouette.
Behind her, Max walks out.
Not too close. But closer than friends.
He’s smiling.
Not the “for-press” kind of smile — the kind no one had really seen before.
...
F1GossipNow.com
🗞️ “Mystery Woman Spotted with Verstappen in Madrid — New Flame or Just Dinner?”
> Sources spotted Max Verstappen leaving a private dinner Tuesday night with a mystery woman. Dressed casually, the two exited separately but entered the same vehicle minutes later. Her identity is still unknown — but fans are already buzzing about how young she appears...
F1 Twitter
@/F1Spill: there’s no way max is out here with a girl who looks FRESHLY 19… bro this better be a niece or something 😭😭
@/wagwatcher: not to be that person but that’s not his girlfriend. his girlfriend is literally 36 and this girl has a side part and ballet flats. do the math.
@/verstappen_stan88: people age differently??? y’all always jump to conclusions 🙄
@/pitlanequeen: it’s the way he’s smiling. I’ve never seen him look like that. I’m scared.
REDDIT THREAD: “Max’s New Girl???” [RUMOR]
> u/f1deepsleuth
I reverse image searched and I think she was at that Monaco rooftop party in April — I posted about it then. She’s always in black, always quiet, and someone said she might be the daughter of that EU guy who owns like five galleries.
> u/softlaunchalert
She's always ahead of him. Never with him. This is the first time we’ve seen them in the same frame. Trust — something’s going on.
Max says nothing.
She says even less.
But that weekend, she’s not seen at the race. And Max?
Max crashes in Q2. For the first time all season.
Coincidence?
The fans don’t think so.
...
Her name was supposed to stay out of it.
That was the unspoken rule.
The one she didn’t write, but enforced — with private profiles, no tagged photos, a digital footprint cleaner than most politicians.
She never posted. She never smiled for cameras. She wasn’t Max’s girlfriend; not officially, not loudly.
But it took one cousin.
One private school girl with too much free time.
One blurry paparazzi photo from Madrid where she was stepping into a car and Max was just a few paces behind, smiling in a way that no man does for “just a friend.”
That was all it took.
11:07
Her phone buzzes. Then again. And again. And again.
By the twelfth vibration, she doesn’t bother turning it over.
She knows what this is.
Online, it unfolds like a murder scene
“Her name is y/n”
“She’s 20. Twenty. Let that sink in.”
“She was 10 when Max started f1.”
“Is no one gonna talk about how WEIRD this is?”
There are edits. Screen-recorded TikToks.
A quote from The Stranger overlays a video of her walking silently in heels.
There’s a photo from when she was sixteen.
One from a yearbook.
A repost of her standing next to a man in a tux—her father—but the comments assume otherwise.
“oh so she’s been groomed to orbit rich men”
“this is giving succession x pretty little liars”
“she’s not even hot, she just looks expensive”
She scrolls once. Then stops.
Opens a bag of grapes and eats one slowly.
11:26
Dutch: They found you. Don’t post anything just ignore it all
Dutch: I’m sorry.
Artista: don't be silly, focus on the race, good luck🫶
By the next race weekend, her name is being whispered louder than lap times.
At the press conference, the question is polite on the surface.
“Max, given the increase in media attention surrounding your private life, how are you staying focused this season?”
He blinks. The PR girl to his left stiffens.
He leans forward slightly, jaw tight.
“I drive.”
A pause.
“So you’re not addressing the rumors about—”
He cuts them off with a glance that could kill.
“I said what I said.”
He leaves two questions early.
Her Father’s Villa, Côte d’Azur
She’s on the terrace, curled into a corner of the outdoor sofa. Her black hoodie swallows her whole. The wind off the sea is cold but welcome.
Her phone is still buzzing.
She hasn’t checked it all day.
She eats another grape, slow, thoughtful.
Her father steps outside, hovering like smoke.
“Do you want me to call someone? I can—”
“No.”
“We can release something if it’s hurting your reputation.”
She doesn’t look up.
Just shifts her legs beneath her and murmurs, "It's not, I don't care about it."
It’s past midnight when she finally calls him.
No warning. No text. No “you up?”
Just his name on her screen.
Just the silence stretching between them like a red string pulled too tight.
He picks up after two rings.
His voice is quieter than usual — less cocky, more… careful.
“Hey.”
She doesn’t speak at first.
She just listens. To the way he breathes. To the way he says nothing, waiting for her to go first.
Then—
“They found me.”
Max exhales like he’s been holding it since Madrid.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs, even though he can’t see it.
Her voice is even, calm, cold in that way only she can be — like a girl narrating her own biography from outside her body.
“They found my name, my school, a photo of me at sixteen in a Christmas concert.”
A pause.
“I think I’ve officially become an archetype.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I know.”
“Are you okay?”
That’s what makes her pause.
Not the press. Not the edits. Not the death threats in her DMs from strangers calling her everything from manipulative to brainwashed.
But that. Are you okay?
“I am now.”
Max is quiet again. And then—
“I shouldn’t have smiled in that photo.”
That makes her laugh. Just a breath.
“You were doomed the moment you did. You smiled like I was yours.”
He doesn’t argue.
“You are,” he says.
Silence again.
But this time it’s warm.
“My father wants to issue a statement,” she murmurs. “Some PR girl sent me a suggested apology. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be sorry for.”
“Existing,” Max mutters.
“Exactly.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells her.
“You don’t owe anyone that.”
“I know,” she says softly.
“But I owe me something. I just haven’t figured out what yet.”
There’s a long pause. Neither of them fill it. Neither of them need to.
Then—
“I’m coming to see you,” he says.
“Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever you want.”
“You’ll be seen.”
“Let them look.”
She closes her eyes.
Lets herself smile, just a little.
“Okay,” she says.
“Come tomorrow.”
“Tell me where.”
“You already know where.”
...
He’s been holding it together for three weeks.
Three long weeks of whispered questions disguised as “racing talk.”
Three weeks of edits and threads and sick little opinion pieces calling her everything but a person.
At first, he brushed it off.
Then he ignored it.
Then he started flinching whenever someone mentioned the word age.
But today?
Today, he snaps.
The room is packed. The lights are hot. Someone in the second row is already typing before he’s said a word. He can hear the click of nails on a phone screen.
He doesn’t want to be here.
The first few questions are fine. Tires. Conditions. Something about tire deg. He answers robotically.
Then a hand goes up in the back. A reporter from one of the tabloids. The kind who always smiles with her eyes when she's about to ruin you.
“Max, there’s been a lot of discourse lately about your personal life. People are concerned about the age difference with your alleged girlfriend—”
He exhales slowly through his nose.
“—do you think that criticism is fair?”
And that’s it. The chair shifts. He leans forward.
“Are people also concerned when it’s a 27-year-old woman dating a 19-year-old guy? Because I didn’t see headlines when that was my situation nine years ago.”
A beat of silence.
The room freezes.
“Or is it only weird when I’m the older one now?”
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t smile.
“You’re all suddenly experts on morality when it suits you. When it trends. When there’s a girl you don’t recognize and a headline you can stretch into outrage.”
Another breath. Controlled. Measured. Dangerous.
“She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t post anything. She hasn’t said a word. But people are treating her like she committed a crime by breathing near me."
"So no—I don’t think the criticism is fair. I think it’s pathetic.”
The PR girl next to him reaches out gently, warningly. He doesn’t stop.
“Next question.”
He gets up before anyone can ask one.
Walks out.
Doesn’t wait for his handler. Doesn’t look back.
Behind him, the room erupts into camera flashes and urgent whispers.
He doesn’t care.
Dutch: I snapped at them. Sorry.
I couldn’t just sit there and let them talk about you like that.
...
comments.
feralforf1: the way he said “she didn’t say a word” like he knows she’s been silently watching everything… I’m unwell
f1lawyerwannabe: let’s be real. the press has never known what to do when max goes full ice mode. he’s scary when he’s mad in defense not just competition.
mcloveme:.the “pathetic” was delivered with chest 😭😭 he’s in his protective boyfriend arc and I support him
maxsupremacy: not him standing up for her harder than he ever defended red bull strategy 😭
paddockpookie: max saying “is it only weird when I’m the older one now?” is the media accountability moment of the year.
wagscentral: she didn’t ask for this. she didn’t post anything. she hasn’t said a word ← go ahead and tattoo that on my spine
scuderiashawty:.this man said “next question” and the whole press room collectively peed a little. we love to see it
teammaxxx33: he didn’t flinch. he didn’t yell. he didn’t look at PR. he looked dead in their eyes. king behavior only.
maxwellgirl1999: I love how he didn’t say her name. Didn’t try to “own” her. He just defended her right to exist in peace. That’s real respect.
racerxqueen: notice how the room went silent after he said “you’re all suddenly experts on morality” — he read them for filth
noodlebrainf1: clock em king
...
It was late — past 1 a.m.
Max was asleep beside her, one arm slung across her hip like he was afraid she’d vanish in her sleep.
She stared at the screen in the dark, thumb hovering.
The photo was already in her drafts.
She stared at it for another second. Then hit “Post.”
The likes came in fast. Faster than she’d expected. The comments even faster.
She locked the phone, rolled over, and tugged the blanket higher over Max’s bare shoulder.
His breathing didn’t change, but his arm tightened around her.
“You posted something?” he murmured, half-asleep.
She raised a brow at the man, "what- how do you know?"
"My phones blowing up."
...
painted.by.y/n
Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 4.3M others.
painted.by.y/n stay mad
305k comments.
dutchdefenseunit: WHAAAAAAT
prettylittlerogue: she said “here’s the mouth you’re all talking about” 😭😭😭
suliiwgp: “stay mad” is what i’m going to whisper before i die
maxverstappen1: 💜 ♥️105.4k likes.
↳ painted.by.y/n: stop stealing my likes old man
↳ maxverstappen1: 😔
redbullconfessions: YOU DIDN’T JUST POST THAT. YOU NUKED THE GRID.
pitlaneprincess: soft launch? babe this is a declaration of war
lonelyferrarifan: how does it feel to wake up and choose violence and victory
mclarenfangirl33: ma’am some of us were TRYING to sleep
maxstappenlove: i’m scared. i’m impressed. i’m making this my phone wallpaper.
padDOCKedup: PR teams are on the FLOOR. sponsors are CRYING. she is DRINKING CHAMPAGNE.
exposethegrid: casually kissing the reigning champion
deadeyefem: i want to be her. i want to be kissed like that. i want to make the world mad by existing.
Taglist, comment to be added; @angstynasty @cryinghotmess @mits-vi @dramaticpiratellamas @mimisweetz @mrssaturday @chiara8104 @moonlight-girls-posts @linnygirl09 @rue-t @danielricroll @the-vex-archives @trees-are-books @blodwyn4u @yoruse @ccrickett-t @l-a-u-r-aaa @multifans-things @woderfulkawaii @azrinableuet @mayax2o07 @everyday-is-sunday365 @devilacot @faithxyu @freyathehuntress make sure you can be tagged!
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The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 4
Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader
Summary: You and Harry date for a few weeks and as feelings arise, the lie gets harder to tell. Every time you try to tell him the truth, an obstacle gets in the way.
Author's note: Hello, dear readers and welcome to Part 4 of Camgirl! This story has been a pure joy to write. So much so that I've already banged out Part 5 as well and intend to drop it later on today! I had a marathon writing day and the story just wouldn't stop flowing until it was done. My brain wants to endlessly world build and explain every little minute detail (blaming you for this, Stephen King) when I'm working on a series, so it feels really good to have a clean cut story from beginning to end under my belt. One I'm both very fond of and very proud of. I'll save the sappy bit for Part 5's post, so in the meantime enjoy my very self indulgent chapter. We're leaning into Cam's goth girl status with this one, and the smut gets exploratory.
Warnings: Cursing; Drinking; THC; Fluff; Smut; Angst; A shit ton of feelings from both of them; Budding romance; Inner turmoil over lying; Reader is basically an OC at this point and I love her; Reader is thick; Reader is goth; Reader is a sex worker; Reader has pierced nipples; Reader makes movie references (vague spoilers for the films Carrie and Scream); Reader gets her period; Descriptions of cam sessions; Insinuated period sex; Getting fingered in a parking garage if you squint; Phone/Facetime sex; Mutual masturbation; Dirty talk; Halloween costumes.
Costumes Inspired by these two posts. Tell me you don't see it.
Minors DNI, Strictly 18+
Ao3
*****
You met Harry Castillo on the last Friday of August. By the last Friday of September you knew you were falling head over heels for him at record speed.
Fast as it may seem to some, you’ve always been prone to falling quickly. Unlike Harry, you’ve definitely felt love for the few serious partners you’ve had over the years, even if that love was ultimately fleeting in the end. It always happens fairly early on in the relationship, but you’re also certain you’ve never been in love in that way the movies or books make you think you’re supposed to feel. If you had, you probably wouldn’t have been single the night you met Harry. You’d have been off somewhere married to some past beau.
Being in love like that is what you want out of life more than anything, but you’ve never actually had that with someone, and so you’ve been stubbornly holding out for it. You’ve been the one to end things when that fiery passion just wasn’t there for you anymore. Or when an ex showed you a side of themselves you didn’t care to see, which changed your perspective of them as a person. You’ve also ended things when you realized that you didn’t like the person you’d become in the relationship. No one has ever pulled that movie sort of love out of you, and so no one has ever been the one as far as you’re concerned.
Life isn’t a movie, sure, but that sort of intense passion between lovers has to stem from some truth doesn’t it? We as humans wouldn’t feel the need to tell these stories and share the elation of finding our soulmates since the dawn of storytelling if none of it had any veracity behind it would we? Or is this concept a mythical thing that no one has really ever truly experienced, but we all claw at it endlessly in the hopes that it’s real? Is it similar to mankind clamoring to understand life after death even though it’s an impossible task? These are the questions you’ve been asking yourself for the better part of ten years, agonizing over them in the middle of the night when loneliness grips your heart and fear that it will never be held by the heart of another causes your mind to race.
But then one beautiful man bumps into your shoulder at a charity event and in the blink of an eye your entire life changes as you know it, for better or for worse.
As you predicted to Vanessa, Harry Castillo made the act of not loving him incredibly difficult. One month was all it took. One stupidly wonderful, perfect fucking month. A month of extravagantly romantic dates and gestures from the both of you. A month of beautiful fucking. A month of late night conversations, keeping each other awake well past the time when Harry should be getting to bed for work the next day. Your self made schedule with the cam site allows for you to stay up as late as you wish, but Harry has an entire company to run every morning. Monday through Friday, and some weekend days too when there’s a needy client or a big project which requires his oversight.
A man like him should normally be thinking about work more than anything else, but not when he’s around you it would seem. His almost rebellious attitude towards getting up in the morning reminds you of sneaking around with the first boy you ever loved back in high school.
He was a goth boy who taught you everything you know about black lipstick and heavy metal. You parents hated him for getting you into that style, but little did they know you’d been changing into all black and wearing spiked chokers to school for about a month before you and your goth boy started dating. He asked you out in the middle of the cemetery with a black rose. You said yes as he wrapped you in his leather trenchcoat on a chilly October day, and the rest was history. You’d sneak out of your bedroom window nearly every night to meet him, staying out getting high and having sex in his van until the sun was about to come up. Then you’d crawl back into your room, sleep for one hour or two, and make yourself get up for school the next day. How you managed to make it through an entire school day, go to play rehearsals, and not fail all of your classes was a testament to both teenage resilience and what falling in love does to a person.
Which is why Harry’s warning about his lack of ability to feel it makes very little sense to you when he seems just like you did back then, wanting desperately to find any excuse to spend time together, even if just over the phone. Even at the detriment to his health the next day.
One night the two of you were on the phone until three in the morning, even though he had an early meeting with a client the following day. You eventually had to force him to hang up and go to sleep. He’d been halfway there anyway, and in his half-conscious state he’d mumbled sleepily into the receiver, “Should’a made Peter take that meeting. But if you were in this bed with me right now this wouldn’t be a problem. Hate sleeping without you. Bed’s too empty. Need your body next to mine. Voice is nice but it isn’t enough. Need all of you.”
The way your heart fluttered with emotion for him was overwhelming, wondering if he even was awake enough to really know what he was saying or how laced with emotion of his own it sounded. While, subsequently, that guilt slowly chipping away at your heart was ever present.
You’ve become so smitten with him that you’ll take any time he’s willing and able to give, but the more you and Harry get to know each other the worse that guilt is getting. When you’re with him, it’s so easy to push the feeling away and forget all about that stupid little seedling of a lie. A seedling which has now blossomed into a full fledged, tangled bush of treacherous thorns. Its bloody roses are a farce for the awful mangled roots which lie below the enticing red petals. When his presence is not there, it feels as if the thorny vines of the dark plant you’ve spawned have you wrapped in a chokehold, and the thorns are piercing your entire being.
Waiting to tell him the truth, or your first excuse for it at least, stemmed from Vanessa’s suggestion to date him for a few weeks and see if you even really feel something for him. Vanessa later argued that she had not said it like that at all and she wanted you to come clean from the start.
Your second excuse for not telling Harry the truth was his confession to you about his fears regarding love. Twice now you’ve started to make yourself do it, only to ask yourself the question, “Is telling him worth it if he may never love me?”
The only real explanation for why you still haven’t told him that you are not an erotica author but, in fact, an online escort, is that you simply and selfishly can’t face a rejection from Harry Castillo. You like him so much and you want him so bad. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anyone. One would think this would make you wish to build things on a foundation of trust from the start, but your fear of his rejection is driving you mad with anguish over the whole thing. Thinking logically doesn’t feel possible.
It has you feeling just like the Beatles song, I want you (She’s So Heavy) . Repetitive, heavy, droning, and with a foreboding sense of teetering back and forth on the edge of some sort of precipice from which there’s no climbing out of. You once read, during a brief Beatles phase in eighth grade, that the song was written by John Lennon about his intense feelings for Yoko. A quote from Rolling Stone about the song stated Lennon as saying, "When you're drowning, you don't say, 'I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me.' You just scream."
And so every day that you let the lie progress further, the further you sink into the water and the more you scream. All the while Harry Castillo has a hand reaching for you just above the rippling surface, close enough to see his blurry fingers, but always just a little too far from your own struggling wet grasp.
*****
It really is on that last Friday of September that the realization of how far you have fallen for this man hits you.
You got up early to do a cam session for one of your regular clients in another part of the world, and something just felt off from the start. Bloated and swollen, you unenthusiastically squeezed yourself into one of the tight outfits this client prefers and begrudgingly got on with it. When things got started and you began fucking yourself with the client’s favorite green tenacle dildo (not your preferred shape but most clients love it), you realized that the silicone was coming out covered in a crimson mixture of blood, natural arousal, and lube.
Some clients are not big fans of periods and may have ended things early despite having paid for the hour upfront (add-ons get paid for after), but luckily this one noticed that you were bleeding and ran wild with it. It took more effort as an actress on your part, but you pushed yourself through the difficult hour to get the hefty deposit into your secret bank account on the other side. Once the funds clear, then they get transferred into your normal bank account. Another layer of security to protect yourself.
You hadn’t even felt like cumming afterwards like you normally do, feeling none of the sexual gusto that comes from getting your clients off. Usually your cam sessions make you feel powerful and sexy, but today you just simply feel like crap.
Bleeding in front of a client isn’t the issue. You’ve done it before, and it’s easy to charge extra for your services if your period is going to play a role, but your cramps and mood are far too extreme for you to feel any enthusiasm for what you just did. Or anything, for that matter.
So after cleaning and locking up the studio you shower, unceremoniously shove a tampon in, throw on comfortable clothes, and crawl into bed. Which is where you stay for the remainder of the afternoon.
Around 3pm your phone buzzes on the pillow next to yours, pulling your attention from the horror movie playing on the small television propped up on the black dresser. It’s not a flat screen smart TV riddled with glitches and shitty streaming services, it’s a real honest-to-god television. Equipped with a VCR and DVD Player. No wifi, just you and your beloved movies.
Reaching over for the more modern device, a smile spreads across your flushing face and your chest swells a little at the new notification. It’s Harry.
He must be taking a break from work, and given that it’s Friday you’re sure he’s going to ask if you’ll let him take you out. That’s always how he phrases these things; let him . Harry’s a man who won’t do anything without permission first, and you adore letting him do all sorts of things, but today you just don’t have a night out of the house in you.
Harry Castillo: Hey, sweetheart. Thinking about you. How’s your day going?
Anxiety spikes in you for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He probably thinks you’ve been working on writing all day. Something's got to give with this sooner or later, but then you would have to grow a pair. Since that isn’t happening today of all days, you once again shove the guilt far far down and start up a conversation with him. He must really be on a break from work, because he responds to you immediately each time you respond to him.
You: Hi, handsome. Been thinking about you today too. I accomplished a pretty big goal this morning, but I started my period. I feel pretty awful. :(
Harry Castillo: Poor thing. I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well. Are you taking care of yourself?
You: Trying to take it easy. I’m laying in bed watching a movie.
Harry Castillo: Good, you should rest. I was reaching out to see if you wanted to get dinner, but I’m guessing that’s a no?
You: Yeah, I don’t have that in me tonight. Thank you for offering though. How’s work?
Harry Castillo: Boring, but productive. Peter and I are working on inventory reports for the end of the month. Mind numbing stuff. Might call it for the day and head to the gym, though. Ready to start my weekend. What movie are you watching?
You: Carrie. I figured I should watch something in-theme with my misery. It’s almost over, she’s already dancing with Tommy Ross at the prom. Glad work’s productive, but boooo to it being boring. Are you really gonna leave early?
Harry Castillo: I remember that one. Good movie. Got another lined up for after?
Harry Castillo: I think I will leave early. I am the boss after all, I can come and go as I please. ;) Besides, we’re nearly done with the report. Peter can finish up here.
You: Yessss abuse your powerrrr. Sexy as hell. lol. ;) And yeah, I was thinking Scream next. A comfort movie from my youth to soothe me.
Harry Castillo: You know, I’ve never seen that.
You: WHAT?! Weren’t you the perfect age to see that in theaters when it came out? What a squandered opportunity.
Harry Castillo: Those kinds of movies were always more Peter’s thing. I like an eerie atmosphere in a film, not needless gore.
You: “Those kinds.” Smh. There’s way more to it than gore. It’s a classique. You gotta see it. Changed the genre as we know it.
Harry starts typing, then he stops. This happens a few times, and you chew your lip in anticipation.
Harry Castillo: lol I believe you. You’re very cute when you’re passionate. If I left work now would you wait for me to get over there to start it? I’ll skip the gym, I think. I’d rather come take care of you tonight, if you’ll let me.
Your heart nearly leaps from your chest. Harry Castillo? In your apartment? He’s dropped you off several times in the month you’ve been dating but he hasn’t come in yet. Usually the two of you spend all of your time together out or at his place, mostly to have privacy. Being at your place means there’s always a fifty fifty chance that Vanessa could come home if she’s not staying with Charles, and at this point the idea of fucking Harry quietly doesn’t seem possible. Or fun.
You: If you come over you cannot judge the state of my apartment. It’s clean but it’s nothing like yours.
Harry Castillo: You know I don’t care if your apartment is like mine. I want to see your home, your life. And you cannot judge the shitty sweatpants from my gym bag that I plan to change into. Ready to be out of this suit for the day.
You: Ew, I hope you plan to throw them in the wash first…
Harry Castillo: Ha Ha, very funny. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.
An hour and some change later, the buzzer for the building front door is going off. A few minutes after that, Harry Castillo is at the threshold of your apartment struggling to hold a bouquet of cheap drug store roses, a box of chocolates, a brand new heating pad, a pack of tampons, and a bottle of Tylenol. He’s also got an expensive looking black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He’s still dressed in his hand tailored navy blue suit, one of the ones you know he wears to work on regular rotation, and he looks the very picture of a dashing gentleman coming to court his lady. The fact that you are that lady is still a wild concept to you, and you suddenly feel as if you don’t deserve him at all. Especially not when you’re harboring a secret from him.
“Hi,” you say, smiling through your inner turmoil.
“Hey,” he smiles back. “I wasn’t sure if you needed any of this stuff, but I figured why not. A girl on her period deserves to be pampered,” Harry says, shrugging almost bashfully in the doorway. The movement is awkward with all of the items he’s juggling. “Sorry the roses are from Walgreens, though. Didn’t want to make more than one stop.”
Moving to the side to allow him entry, you take the offered flowers, bringing them to your nose. “Roses are roses, Harry. They’re lovely, thank you. I’d take flowers you found on the side of the road so long as they made you think of me.”
Harry slowly enters the small three bedroom apartment, looking around curiously, seeming to take in the decor and furniture. “It’s very clear what items belong to you and what items belong to Vanessa,” he muses, smiling.
With a small grin, you ask him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Harry chuckles, shrugging, “Most of the things in here are either an item from Mexico or they are various shades of pink and look like they came from a department store. The other half of the decor looks like dark academia, and I couldn’t tell you where you bought any of it.”
“Actually, a lot of it I made myself, back when I was poor. Thrift store upgrades,” you admit, moving over to the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers. “And some of my stuff is also from a department store, just at their Halloween sales.”
Harry follows you, humming, “Mm, a crafty and witchy woman. You know, for someone who regularly refers to herself as an ex-goth, I don’t really think the ex part is necessary. I think you’re just goth, sweetheart.”
You set the flowers up in some water on the tiny dining room table, turning to face Harry again with a shrug. “I just feel like I’m more than that though. If anything I like to think of it as a grown-up goth. Sophisticated and sexy goth. I think the word itself has a very juvenile connotation associated with it. I’m in my 30s, and I don’t go to metal night clubs in all leather anymore. I listen to all kinds of music nowadays and I no longer strictly watch horror movies. Sometimes I even wear color. I just still enjoy dark things. A lot.”
He moves further into the apartment, slowly turning his head from side to side. Then his eyes land on the framed black and white photograph on the wall adjacent from his head. Harry squints at the photo for a moment while a look of confusion washes over his face. “Why do you have a framed photo of a man dancing with a plastic skeleton? Is this a relative?”
You laugh, “That’s Vincent Price. It’s my favorite picture of him, from the set of House on Haunted Hill. I love that weird man.” You sigh dreamily, “Did you know he had a cooking show? He could do it all!”
“Such a unique woman,” he marvels, sounding so in awe for a moment. With the other items Harry brought you set out on the kitchen counter and his duffle bag on the floor, Harry is moving to you with his arms outstretched and a charming smile gracing his handsome features. “But you know I like that about you. How are you feeling?”
You slide into his embrace easily. “Still shitty. Better now that you’re here, though. Thank you for coming over. Vanessa should be gone for the night and truthfully I didn’t want to be alone. What did you tell Peter when you left early?”
Harry kisses the side of your head, pressing his own into you as he whispers in your ear, “I told him that my girlfriend wasn’t feeling well and she needed me.”
Inside your body, your heart and stomach are competing in a triathlon all at once. Running, biking, swimming. It’s overwhelming, and you cling to him even harder. Harry hasn’t referred to you as his girlfriend before now. Up until this moment, the two of you would just refer to things between you as ‘dating’ or ‘seeing each other’. Exclusive and with intention, yes, but still just dating as far as you were aware. You and Harry have spent the last four weeks in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage of things. The title of ‘girlfriend’ has suddenly thrusted this situation one step further into real relationship territory.
“So you’re my boyfriend, Harry?” You whisper into his ear, terrified.
“If you’ll let me be,” he responds hopefully.
Your brain is screaming at you to tell him. To go unlock the studio and sit him down to explain yourself in as much detail as you can to try and save this before you let it get any worse than you already have.
But your tongue twists itself into a tight knot, and instead it prevents you from saying anything at all. You tell yourself maybe it’s for the best, that telling him while feeling vulnerable on your period is a terrible idea.
Harry breaks from the hug to bore into your eyes with his own, and you can’t stop yourself from lifting up on your bare tiptoes to kiss him. His lips spread into a wide grin against yours, and his body seems to release some of the tension it had been storing.
You give him a small tour of the place, explaining that your office is off limits for the time being. Until you’re ready to share that part of yourself with him. Harry luckily takes that explanation well, telling you that he understands. He doesn’t question your ‘creative agency’ as you so ridiculously put it, and instead heads into the bathroom to change and freshen up.
He emerges again about ten minutes later, hair damp and body smelling of expensive men’s body wash. Wearing a simple gray t-shirt and black sweats combo, he smiles at you graciously and thanks you for the use of your shower.
That is the exact moment when the love you feel for this overwhelmingly handsome man hits you like a bus. Here he is, one of New York’s most elite businessmen and a man cut of a much finer cloth than your own, standing barefoot in your crappy little outdated apartment looking like a normal person. Someone down on your level. Someone you could see yourself with for a long time. Someone you’re actively fucking lying to.
All at once you know you love him, and you hate yourself for it. Your heart somehow both swells and sinks, eyes filling with tears. Suddenly it’s all too much.
He notices.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Harry asks, concerned.
“Everything hurts, Harry. Can we go get in bed?” Not a lie. If only you had the courage to keep going.
You’re already heading for the bedroom, weak and confused, and Harry’s behind you with the chocolates and the heating pad. It occurs to you as you enter your bedroom, a tasteful and somewhat witchy vibe of green, black, and purple, that perhaps a movie about a girl’s boyfriend lying to her for a whole year and then trying to kill her and all of her friends is not a good choice for a movie after all. Your eyes dart around the bookcase filled with films. What’s a safer choice? Action? Superheroes? Secret identities... Probably not a good choice either. Fuck. Okay, no movies.
You whip around to face him, an almost new kind of shyness taking over now that your feelings have so drastically shifted in your heart. Looking at him is almost too intense, so you start to move onto the bed. “I know you came over here to watch that movie, but I think I’m over television for the time being. Maybe we could listen to some music instead?”
Harry shakes his head and his eyes hold a genuineness for you as he speaks, “I didn’t come rushing over here to watch a movie. I wanted you to know you can rely on me when you need someone to rely on. Even if that just means quietly spending time with you when you aren’t feeling well.”
Hearing him say that just makes you feel like a big piece of shit, and you bury your face into the blankets to briefly hide your shame before laying spread eagle on your back with a little groan.
*****
Harry takes a long moment to really let the room sink in, that same dark academia sort of aesthetic he pointed out before even more present than out in the communal space. He watches as you lay out on a queen sized bed trimmed with eggplant purple, marveling at how good your body looks in your yoga pants and cropped burnt orange t-shirt. Assuming that as a woman on her cycle you probably feel the opposite of good-looking right now, Harry can’t believe that women’s hormones play such tricks on them.
How wrong you are if you do feel that way. Harry Castillo finds you to be the picture of beauty. No makeup. Hair clean, but not styled. You just look like you, no fancy clothes or accessories. You’re in your own private bedroom, your sacred space filled with the things that comfort you most. You are a beautiful woman in her natural habitat, and Harry’s overwhelmed by it. He’s still not so sure that what he feels when he’s around you is love, but he knows that you make him feel things that are completely new for him and that seems like a step enough in the right direction.
Then Harry notices the stuffed bat from the zoo is nestled between the two purple pillows propped up against the elegant wrought iron headboard, and his chest swells almost painfully. Definitely a step in the right direction.
His mouth stretches open with a toothy grin. “Do you sleep with him?”
You follow his gaze over to the bat, grabbing it and holding it to your chest before moving its velvety wings up in front of your face to hide the bashful look worn there. “Sir Battington? Are you gonna make fun of me if I do?”
“No, I think that’s sweet. Does he remind you of me?” He can’t help but feel this vain sense of pride at the notion.
You bite your lip a little, humming in the affirmative as you nod. “Mhm. I don’t like the nights without you either, Harry. But we both need space sometimes, it’s healthy.”
“I agree, but right now is not one of those times.” And with that, Harry is climbing onto the bed with you, pulling your body into him as the little spoon. With his long legs scooping up your shorter ones, he's burying his nose into your soft hair, reveling in the clean scent of it. “I was originally planning to take you to dinner tonight and tell you, but I took the liberty of signing us up for a salsa lesson next week. Just the one to see if we like it. A private lesson, with one of the finest instructors in the city. I finally feel like I have the right partner to do that with.” He says that last part with such honesty behind his words.
“Wow, thank you. That sounds lovely, Harry,” you say, voice distracted. Harry’s heart begins to sink, but a moment later you shudder in his arms and a little moan escapes your lips. “Ugh, I’m so sorry that I’m not more enthusiastic. These cramps are killing me. Salsa lessons really do sound great, though.”
He frowns, hating that you’re in pain. “It’s okay. Anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you wanna make me cum despite the blood situation. A good orgasm usually dulls the pain for a bit. I wasn’t in the mood earlier but around you I think I’m always in the mood.”
Harry pauses, thinking that prospect over. Intrigued by how turned on the idea suddenly has him feeling. Curious .
He finds himself wondering if this would have ever sounded appealing with one of his past partners, and ultimately decides that it would not. It’s not typically something a girl asks for, but once again he realizes just how unlike other girls he’s dated you are. You seem to bring some sort of virility out of him that he’s not sure he’s experienced before. Being here in your apartment, surrounded by the essence of you, he feels like a younger man all of the sudden.
You sound embarrassed, “I was mostly kidding, I know that’s kinda gross. Can I just have the heating pad you brought me?”
He’s shaking his head into you. “I don’t think it’s gross, sweetheart. I was thinking about the fact that I’ve never done that before and now I kind of think I want to try it. What's the slang term for it? Red wings?”
You laugh, full of disbelief, “Yeah, when you do it for the first time it’s called earning them.”
“I think I’ll try to earn my red wings tonight, then.” Harry says, and he’s pouncing on you in an instant.
Thank goodness the roommate is not home, because Harry’s wild, animalistic growls and your squeals of delight as he rips off your pants would have surely alerted her to the goings on in her best friend’s bedroom.
“Harry! What’s gotten into you?!”
“Caught a whiff of blood, sweetheart. And I’m a carnivore through and through. Need to devour you while you’re medium rare.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re a madman,” you’re laughing, kissing him. “Let me go take this out and get a little cleaned up first.”
Harry smacks your ass as he tells you to hurry, and then when you make it back to the bed, he puts everything he’s got into earning his wings and then some.
*****
October was supposed to be the month of honesty, or so you told Vanessa. You promised both her and yourself that you were going to finally tell Harry the truth about your secret life as a camgirl. After dating Harry for one month and catching real feelings for him, you knew that it had to happen before this good opportunity ends in disaster.
And so you tried. All month long. This wasn’t like last month when you scared yourself out of doing it each time. No, in October you were readily prepared to say your piece and hope that your blossoming relationship with Harry would be strong enough to withstand any of the damage telling the truth is sure to cause. Your favorite month has been fraught this year, and you felt determined to have things under control by Halloween. For some reason, your bad karma for lying if you really believed in that sort of thing, the odds were so wildly not in your favor.
After the salsa lessons he booked, which were wonderful, you’d wanted to take a long walk in the park and talk to him about it. But dancing made the both of you so feral for each other that the plan went right out of the window when he finger fucked you in in the back of his car, right there in the parking garage. He’d said he couldn’t possibly make it all the way home first without hearing you moan his name as you came on his hand. After that the only thing on your mind was your insatiable sexual appetite.
The next attempt was your closest, about a week after that. You’d been sitting on Harry’s couch with him sharing a drink, feeling loose enough to speak more freely but not tipsy enough to forget what you needed to say. Perhaps liquid courage was the key.
But right as you started to tell Harry that you had something important to talk to him about, a frantic phone call from his brother about work immediately pulled his attention from you. After the call Harry seemed on edge for the rest of the night. No sex was had, and he even ended up going into work the following day despite it being Sunday. That project, whatever it was, started to soak up every waking moment of Harry’s life for the rest of that week and well into the next one.
You still haven’t seen him in person, but he’s at least been checking in with calls and texts where he can spare the time or brainpower. The problem is, it’s now only a few days before Halloween. With your self made deadline around the corner, you’re feeling like the walls are closing in.
It’s while you are on the couch eating a bowl of oatmeal later into the morning that one of these check in calls comes in. Facetime, the time around.
When you open the call, Harry’s handsome but extra line riddled face greets you. He’s in his office, and he looks as if he’s been frowning every second since the last time you kissed him goodbye. Vanessa isn’t home, so you speak freely.
“Hey, baby,” you say, leaning into the pet name more even though you know you probably shouldn’t until you tell him. It just feels so natural to address him as such.
His face seems to soften a little at the sound of your voice. “Hey, sweetheart. This client is fucking killing me. Peter and I might be working on this account until Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah?” You’ve taken on a bit of a flirty tone, noting how much you really have missed your man’s absence. “Need me to come rough ‘em up for ya? No one is killing my Harry while I’m around.”
Harry shakes his head despairingly, “I wish you could come here and rough me up. I miss that fucking body. I haven’t even had time to jerk off since any of this bullshit started.”
“Oh my poor baby, so you’re all pent up then, huh? Have you been saving all that cum just for me? You know how much my pussy likes being filled up with you, right baby?” You’re suddenly wildly horny yourself, and you’ve caught yourself slipping into your work voice. You never use that voice with Harry, but something about being on a video call suddenly makes this feel like one of your sessions. This feels wildly wrong and wildly fun at the same time. Surely you’re headed straight to hell.
Harry looks like he’s going to choke, eyes flicking around the room. Is that a bead of sweat on his brow? “Christ, sweetheart, you sound like a fucking phone sex operator when you talk like that. Fuck , that was enough to make me a little hard.”
“Wow, baby, you really are all pent up for me. Knowing that’s already got me wet for you. I wish you were here right now.” As you say that, an idea strikes you, so you run with it.
“Actually, no, I wish I was there in your office with you. Under your desk, giving you the blowjob of a lifetime while your entire company is none the wiser. Can you imagine? Look down between your legs right now and imagine my face between them, mouth open and tongue hanging out like a panting dog in anticipation for your cock. I know you’re getting so hard that it’s starting to hurt being stuffed in those uncomfortable dress pants. Why don’t you take him out for me, baby?”
Harry whines your name, straining with need, and that sends everything past the point of no return. Harry Castillo is certainly your boyfriend, but right now he also feels like one of our clients, and this feels like one of the more fucked up choices you could have made.
But things kind of naturally progressed to this, hadn’t they? You’re at least telling yourself that as you allow the both of you to go further down the rabbit hole.
He’s speaking in hushed tones, “Let me make sure the door is locked and the blinds are down. I’m also turning on the white noise machine I use for confidential meetings. We’re fucking crazy for this. I’ve never jerked off at the office.”
You grin wickedly, “We are just so full of firsts together, aren’t we? And you like that we’re crazy. Now where was I?”
Harry’s back in his seat, grabbing tissues from the dispenser on his desk with three swift flicks of the wrist. Swoosh. Swoosh Swoosh. “You were under the desk, getting ready to go down on me.”
“That’s right, baby. I was about to unzip those uncomfortable pants and let you free.”
A zipper moves, fabric jostles. He’s looking right into your eyes. “Then what?”
“Then I take you into my hands, pull back your foreskin, and I slowly run my tongue along your tip. Your precum always tastes so good, doesn’t it, baby?”
He’s propped you up on the desk and scooted back a bit, his right hand reaching down between his legs where you can finally see some of him. The camera is still pointed at his flushed face and clothed torso, but now the top half of his beautiful cock is in view. He’s clearly trying to sit in a way that still keeps it hidden under the desk should anyone be able to see.
Harry looks you right in the eyes as he spits into his hand. That makes you wet . Then his right shoulder starts to move slowly up and down as he begins to stroke himself.
“What happens next?” He asks, voice breathy.
You smirk. “I take you into my mouth, and your hands come to grip at my hair, pulling it a little bit. Always gotta remind me who’s the boss when you’re at work, right Mr. Castillo?”
“So we’ve done this before?”
“Yeah, maybe I come see you every time you’ve got a client who’s really stressing you out. Maybe I’m the only one who can help Mr. Castillo relax and everyone in the office whispers about it.”
“You are the only one,” he breathes, and he sounds like he truly means it. It’s not part of this game you’ve started. That nearly breaks you, and then he’s asking, “Let me see your tits, please?”
You comply, lifting up your shirt to reveal yourself to him in the shot. Now you’ve propped your own phone up on the coffee table, using both hands to cup your breasts. One hand eventually starts to venture below the waistband of your athletic shorts while the other plays with a nipple piercing.
“There’s a knock at the door while you’ve got your cock shoved completely down my throat. I’m gagging and drooling, making an awful mess. What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna tell whoever’s at the door to fuck off and tell you to keep fucking going.”
“That’s it, baby, keep fucking my throat. Feel me moan and vibrate around your cock. See that? My eyes are watering from how good you’re facefucking me, baby. It’s so wrong to do this in your office but it feels so good, doesn’t it? Doesn't it make it taste that much sweeter? Doesn’t it make you feel powerful? Cum for me, baby. You deserve it after all your hard work. Let it all go for me, baby.”
After a few more pumps of his hand, Harry is surging everything that had been stored away into the tissues with a strangled moan, and then he's panting heavily on the other end of the phone. His facial muscles already seem ten times more relaxed, and a laugh filled with disbelief falls from his parted lips. “Fuck, that was faster than I was expecting. Which is a good thing because I actually have to go soon. Jesus I really was pent up. Sorry you didn’t get to have your fun, though.”
You shake your head, grinning at him. “Harry, that was more fun for me than you can know. I’ll cum later.”
“As long as you're satisfied,” he says, frowning a little with worry.
“I’m very satisfied,” you confirm, and you mean it.
“That was wonderfully unexpected. I was just trying to say hello when I called you, sweetheart. Thank you for helping me with that. I feel so much better. Fuuuuck .” Harry throws his head back as he draws out the word.
You blow him a kiss and send a wink his way when he looks back down at you. “You’re very welcome, babe. Glad I could help you relieve some tension. I hate seeing you so stressed.”
Harry’s smirking at you now, a mischievous air about him. “I have to ask you, though. Was any of that similar to what your writing is like? You were so creative coming up with all of that on a whim. It was so good, sweetheart. You’re very talented.”
Your heart sinks into your feet, throat drying up. You know that your face must be betraying you, showing the terror in your eyes. His face instantly changes to one of concern.
“Uh, about that, Harry. I actually want to talk to you when you have the space for it. I feel ready to share something important with you.”
Just as Harry’s brow raises curiously and he’s about to say something in response, there is a frantic knock at the door to Harry’s office. This one is not part of a fantasy this time, though. That stressed look instantly returns to his face, much to your disappointment.
Fuck, you almost had it.
“What?!” Harry’s barking, eyes narrowing at the door. All of those frown lines are back too, not that it hinders his handsome face at all. “It better be good, Peter!”
“I need you to run over these numbers with me one more time,” the faint voice of his brother is saying. At least, you assume that’s him, given that you’ve never spoken to the younger Castillo. According to Harry, Peter went through a punk phase growing up and because of this Harry is convinced that the two of you will get along. You’ve tried to explain that goths and punks are two totally different vibes, but your boyfriend is an Ivy League prep at heart and doesn’t understand.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Harry yells, rolling backwards while leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers pressing into his temples on either side of his hanging head. Then he looks up and into the phone apologetically, and you get a good view of his now soft cock still unconfined between his legs. “I’m so sorry. I know you’ve been wanting to tell me something, but out of respect for you I want to be able to give you my full attention and I just can’t do that right now. Please, try to be patient with me until this account is handled. After it’s all said and done I promise I’ll happily listen to whatever it is you have to say. Okay? That’s the best I can offer right now.” He looks self conscious as he adds, “And maybe a gold bracelet as a consolation prize for putting up with me.”
Your chest heaves, frustrated that once again you’re unable to say what you need to say to this man, but you nod at him and smile supportively. The last thing you need to do is risk sending him over the edge while this account is a thorn in his side. “Of course, Harry. I completely understand. Just promise me we will talk when we can, okay? It’s really important. Not life or death, but important. And you know I don’t need you to buy me stuff.”
“Maybe I just enjoy the act of pampering. Let me pamper you.” As Harry begins tucking himself away and readjusting his trousers, he smiles down at you through the video call. “But I do promise we will talk, I just can’t promise when. I’m sorry I can’t be more available right now, but I can assure you that when this is over I will be. Are we still on for your favorite night of the year, though? I want us to forget everything else and have a nice Halloween together.”
You nod, “Please. You are not allowed to cancel on me. Is your brother still trying to throw a party even though you’re both stressed and his wife is seven months pregnant?”
Harry rolls his eyes playfully, smiling. “He is. He says that this is his last chance to go wild before the baby comes. Supposedly she’s going to let him do drugs so he can relive his rave days. Are you still willing to meet Peter and Charlotte? I know we’re not quite at ‘meet the parents’ yet, but I feel ready for you to meet my brother.”
“Totally, I am tired of hearing about this guy without really knowing him. I’m a little nervous to step further into your world but I think it’ll be nice. And I’m still welcome to bring Vanessa and Charles so I have people to talk to besides you, correct?”
He nods confidently, “Yes. I still think you’re going to fit in just fine with my brother. His wife I’m not so sure about. Nice girl, just not the type I see you being friends with. Did you get costumes figured out for us?”
Your eyes glance over to that photo of Vincent Price on the wall, and you smirk down at him. “Just you wait. Be here at 6 and I’ll instruct you on what clothes to bring. Make sure your facial hair is short and your mustache is on point. Trust me.”
His eyes are shining for you, even through a six inch screen. “Looking forward to seeing you in your element, sweetheart. I’ve got to go, though. Thank you again for helping me relax.”
“You’re welcome. Bye, Harry.”
Harry Castillo lets out a long sigh, as if hanging up the phone is the last thing he wants to do. “Talk to you later.”
Then he’s gone, and you feel a little empty without his presence.
It’s not lost on you that what you just did with Harry, considering the fact that you have to go get ready for a session, was very inappropriate. Therefore, you should be a little ashamed of yourself.
It's also not lost on you, though, that a huge part of you enjoyed that so much more than you should have. Not playing around the lines of your deception, no. That feels terrible no matter what, and you're so ready for things to be out in the open with him. What you enjoyed was getting to share a little of this secret side of yourself with him. That part felt really good. It makes you feel like there's a chance Harry’s reaction to the truth won’t be as bad as you fear.
*****
The night of Peter’s Halloween party, October 31st and the final Friday of the month, Harry’s nerves are all over the place on his way to your apartment. He’s not sure why, really.
Well, he has an idea as to why but he’s not sure if he’s ready to admit any of that to himself. So maybe it’s the fucked up account that he and Peter are stuck dealing with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s always been mildly superstitious despite being a logical man and Halloween is an inherently spooky night. Or, more accurately, he’s nervous because his feelings for you are growing stronger by the day and you meeting his brother is one of the litmus tests for if the relationship is headed in the right direction. He’s still not ready to call it love. Not yet. He needs to be one hundred percent sure, not that he would have any idea how any of this is supposed to feel in the first place. Lucy said that he would just know when he feels it. That there’s no rhyme or reason; it just suddenly exists within a person.
“We can’t help it. It just walks into our lives sometimes.”
You certainly just walked into his life, and since that moment Harry Castillo hasn’t stopped thinking about you. Even after two months of going steady, he still wants to hear from you all day long. He still wants you to sleep over every weekend even though he wants to be good about giving each other space. He still wants to know everything about your life. He still looks at the photos of you on his phone, a handful in the collection now, every time he gets frustrated that you’re not nearby.
Harry is borderline obsessed with you at this point, but he’s not willing to say it’s love.
Perhaps he just needs to remember that this is still a new relationship, so it feels fun and exciting. But have any of his past relationships felt this fun and exciting? That’s a question he’s asked himself several times over the last few days. Being forced to limit time with you because of work hasn’t helped either, so maybe the absence of you has made whatever he’s experiencing feel more intense.
The worst part of the situation with this needy client is that they’ve soaked up the latter half of his October and he’d been looking forward to spending it with you. You’re clearly a girl who lives for this time of year, and it’s been a shame to miss out on it. Maybe next year, if the two of you are still going strong, he’ll plan a trip to Salem or some other eerie place. He went there once on a field trip for high school, a lifetime ago it feels like, and Harry can picture you clear as day standing in front of the big black witch house that’s on all the tours. He can see you wearing one of your stylish outfits and those bat earrings from the night you met.
Thinking about the future like that, with you still beside him and maybe even a diamond ring on your finger, makes Harry’s soul feel peaceful for a moment. Deciding to propose to Lucy never made him feel like that. Picking out a ring for her was the equivalent of picking out milk at the grocery store. Thinking about doing it for you, though… That feels warm, deep in his belly. He’s not sure what to make of that, new relationship or not.
Then he’s at your building and you’re buzzing him in. Up three flights of stairs and he’s at your door, and then the Bride of Frankenstein herself is letting him into your apartment. His eyes immediately land on the glowing jack-o-lanterns on the kitchen counter, clearly recently carved by the girls. One has a nice face, and one has a scary face. It’s a toss up which one is who’s, but he’s willing to bet that yours is the scary face.
“Happy Halloween!” Vanessa says, smiling at him through elaborate and dramatic eye makeup. She’s wearing a sparkly white dress and the classic beehive wig with the shocks of white stripes on each side. She’s also painted stitches into her neck to give the illusion of being sewn together.
Harry leans in to kiss her cheek in a friendly manner. “Happy Halloween, Vanessa. You look gorgeous. Where’s my spooky lady?”
“Your spooky lady is right here,” you say, emerging from the bathroom looking so sexy that Harry might actually keel over. Leaning with your forearm up against the doorframe, your other hand is on your hip. “And dare I say she’s extra spooky on this special night of All Hallows Eve?”
You’re wearing a skintight black bodysuit adorned with white bones to make you look like a skeleton, and the tight fabric is hugging the curves of your thick body so well that it’s already driving him mad. The bodysuit has a zipper right down the center, and you’ve got it unzipped enough to show an insane amount of cleavage. On your feet you’ve got on a pair of strappy black heels, and the nails of both your toes and hands are painted white to match the bones. Your hair is up in a pair of space buns, with little bone clips sticking out of each. Though you’ve chosen to keep your foundation color natural, your face is painted with that of a skeleton’s ghoulish grin. Dark lines to make up the teeth along your lips and cheeks, and black smudge to make your eyes and nose seem cavernous. Upon closer inspection the eye makeup is sparkly and quite beautiful, almost like an over the top smokey eye.
“Wow, you look incredible,” Harry breathes, moving forward to take you into his arms.
“No kisses!” You hiss, hands up to halt him. “I just finished this makeup and it took me forever. Don’t you dare mess it up with those beautiful lips.”
“No kisses, just a hug,” Harry agrees, his own hands out in surrender for a moment before his arms are encircling you. “So if you’re a skeleton then what am I going to be? You told me this was a couples costume. I brought the clothes you told me to bring and I shaved this morning.”
You examine his face, squinting. It looks quite adorable with the skull makeup, and his chest swells with emotion for you. “Good, good. You look great. I just need to style your hair and maybe give you a little eyeliner. Is that okay?”
Harry’s nodding as you’re pulling him into the bathroom, and just as he’s about to shut the door the Frankenstein Monster is loudly stalking through the apartment’s entrance with his arms outstretched like in the movies. Charles, if he couldn’t guess. The green face paint and the bolts are a nice touch, but the flat topped wig really sends the look home. Vanessa squeals as he makes ridiculous groaning noises, throwing herself into his arms.
“They’re cute,” Harry remarks, shutting the door and facing you. He's worried when you suddenly frown. “What’s wrong?”
You shake your head, shrugging as you turn the overhead fan on, speaking to him in hushed tones. He can tell you’re trying to play off a bigger emotion like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah, they are cute and I’m very happy for them. But Charles came to me yesterday and showed me the ring he just bought for her, so I guess I’m going to be losing my roommate when the lease is up in February. He’s going to do it on Christmas Eve when they go to London so she can meet his family. I can’t believe I predicted that, by the way. I guarantee he’s going to ask her to move into his place right away. I promise I am so happy for her, she deserves to be happy.” Suddenly your eyes well with tears, and you look horrified. “Fuck, I cannot cry. This mascara isn’t water proof.”
Harry’s brow furrows, wanting to do anything to keep you from feeling bad. “I’m sorry that blindsided you, sweetheart. I’m sure that didn’t feel good. Is there anything I can do?”
Shaking your head, you smile at him gratefully. “Not really, thank you. I’m just a little stressed out. We’ve lived in this apartment for eight years. This has been my home for most of my time in New York. Yesterday when I woke up I assumed I had at least another year in this place, and by the time I went to bed I realized this chapter was closing. I’m sad, but maybe it’s going to be good for things to change. I may have money but that doesn’t mean I want to pay the rent for an outdated and overpriced apartment by myself. Maybe I could buy a small townhome or something.”
“I know you said this was only yesterday. So this isn't what you wanted to talk to me about, right? I just want to clarify.” He assumes that the other thing has to do with your tight-lipped writing career, but in an effort to gain your trust about that he’s been trying not to guess or pry. Whatever it is, he can tell it’s been weighing on you. Which is why he knows he needs to be done with the shit going on at work before he can give all of himself to you.
You confirm his suspicion, “You’re right. That’s something else. And I really do need your full attention for that, so I’ve conceded to waiting until things calm down for you at work. The Vanessa thing is just another layer to my stress. I’m going to have to figure out what to do about moving, but I don’t wanna worry about any of this tonight. It’s Halloween and I’ve got a hot date with Vincent Price.” As you change the subject with that last part, you’re sliding up to him wearing a huge grin, showing the real teeth beneath the fake.
Harry grins in return, realization dawning on him. “Ohhhh, and you’re the skeleton from the picture? It all makes sense now.”
In the back of his mind, though, Harry is taking note of your upcoming roommate debacle. His immediate thought is that he should just ask you to move into his place when you’re eventually in need of a new home, but then he realizes that he’s only been seeing you for two months and Harry hasn’t lived with another person since college. The thought had been immediate, though. A no brainer, even. What does that mean?
Nodding, you motion for him to sit down on the closed toilet lid as you grab a spray bottle and a comb. “I thought it might be cute to re-create the photo at some point tonight. I could hang it up next to the original.”
Harry feels warm all over as you come to stand in front of him, and he wraps his arms around your hips for a momentary embrace. “I can’t believe I’m dressing up for Halloween. I haven’t done this since I was a kid. This stuff was always more Peter’s thing.”
“That’s why Vincent Price was a perfect choice for you. It requires little dressing up. I knew you would already have the clothes we needed.” Your fingers are in his hair. “What was your costume the last time you dressed up?”
Harry smiles fondly at the memory. “Batman, the Michael Keaton version. Halloween, 1989.”
Giggling, you’re starting to move his wavy locks around. “I bet your parents got you a good costume too since they could afford it. Not one of those Ben Coopers from the drug store.”
Harry’s mind is momentarily flooded with nostalgia and he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “Those horrible plastic masks with the ugly little smocks? What a blast from the past. I always pitied those kids.”
“Harry Castillo, the fanciest Batman on the block. How old were you?”
Harry smiles, remembering how important everything felt back then. “I was eleven, and I had made up my mind that it was my last year to go trick or treating. Twelve is practically a man at that age, you know, so I felt like I couldn’t do childish things anymore.” He’s saying that last bit sarcastically, shaking his head. How silly he’d been for that way of thinking.
You laugh, shaking your head too as you begin to style his hair. “I got away with trick or treating until I was twenty-two. I was short enough to pass for an older kid if I wore a mask and went with my younger sister. Once she stopped needing me to babysit her and she was old enough to run around with her friends, my time for free candy from strangers was at an end.”
“Why doesn’t any of that surprise me?” He asks, chuckling.
“Because I’m quirky and fun,” you remark, poking your tongue out at him.
You make quick work of doing his hair, combing it, spraying it with water to make it pliable, and then keeping the hairstyle you’ve chosen in place with a little gel. Then you take what you tell him is eyebrow gel to his mustache and shape it a little, leaning your own face close to his. Harry’s trying so hard to let you work in peace, but the scrunched look of concentration on your skeletal features is so adorable.
“So I really can’t kiss you while you’ve got the makeup on?” He asks.
“Quit moving your lips!”
“I just want to know how much I’ll have to suffer tonight.”
You huff, “You can kiss me after we’ve taken our photo and I’m a little drunk. By then I won't care if the makeup is ruined.”
Harry grins, “Deal, sweetheart.”
*****
Final Installment
Previous
Masterlist
*****
Taglist: @cheyxfu | @notahappystan
#harry castillo#harry castillo x female reader#harry castillo fic#harry castillo x you#harry castillo smut#harry castillo x f!reader#harry castillo fanfiction#pedro pascal#harry castillo materialists#materialists#the materialists#harry castillo x reader#harry castillo x oc#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal character x reader#pedro pascal characters
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After poking fun at Marvel years ago with "Vindicators 3: The Return of Worldender," Rick and Morty set its sights on DC with "Ricker than Fiction." However, instead of roasting superhero movies for 20 minutes, the writers came up with a loving parody that allowed real-life DC alums to join in.
I loved Zack Snyder's cameo because he's been a long-time Rick and Morty fan, to the point that he met with Dan Harmon about making a movie, and letting James Gunn voice himself made his appearance a lot funnier. Celebrity parodies are usually lame and don't age well, but I could get on board with this because he basically played himself as a character.
The plot wasn't that original, and it stretched the characters a little (Rick always criticized superheroes in the past, and now he's suddenly invested in a franchise?), but in this era of superhero fatigue, the writers found a narrative beyond "Action movies are dumb!!" This episode combined a DC parody, a Rick and Morty adventure, some surprising character moments, a dash of social commentary and a fictionalized look at the life of a DC director.
I don't know how far in advance the writers' room produces scripts, so maybe they wrote this episode before AI took over, but Rick's Movie-lizer seems like a jab at AI-generated fiction. He explains that the machine uses a "prompt-driven CPU" that auto-generates changes to the script. Sound familiar?
As predicted, the machine goes haywire, leaving Rick and Morty trapped in the movie. When Jerry says that the plot is a mess, we get another appearance of Dan Harmon's famous story circle--the first since the Story Train episode in season four.
From there, the plot is fairly predictable, but the writers managed to throw in some twists that kept me guessing. I knew that Rick, Morty and Jerry would have to fix the plot somehow, but I didn't expect James Gunn to barge in and hilariously sabotage their efforts.
When he took control of the Movie-lizer, I figured he'd start writing his own script and make the situation crazier. The fact that he just tried to steal the machine instead seems like a missed opportunity, but I'll admit that Gunn tying chains around the machine and trying to haul it away with his car like he's relocating a fridge is a lot funnier.
And it led to Jerry having some great moments: beating up James Gunn because he wanted him to betray his family, doing his best to save Rick and Morty, and crying when he thought they were dead. Near the end, Rick proves that he believes in Jerry despite everything.
He might've slipped in another dig at AI, too. Maybe it's just me, but "Any idiot can plug an idea into a machine when they don't care what it spits back out, but it takes a special kind of idiot to get on the keys and write us an ending" sounded like a jab at people who choose prompts over original writing.
Speaking of Rick: after he stumbled in "Summer of All Fears," the rest of the season has emphasized that he really is changing. He's still mean, crabby and inconsiderate, and he struggles with empathy, but he's there when it really counts.
When the villain bites Morty, Rick whacks him on the head with a shovel, killing him instantly. Later, Morty furiously confronts Rick and shoves him to the ground, yells at him and shakes him, and Rick does...nothing. He doesn't even launch into an insult-filled tirade. Instead, he takes the beating with a silent frown. Is he finally realizing that he can't keep using his strength to hurt his grandson?
Just like he surprised himself by getting attached to Karen and Doug in "Cryo Mort a Rickver," he surprises himself again by getting attached to Tannenbaum and sacrificing himself instead of letting Morty kill his new favorite character. And then we get yet another "Vat of Acid Episode" reference...the writers never get tired of going back to that one, huh?
Morty's not afraid to speak his mind, either. When Rick told Morty to assemble the bad guy's henchpeople, I think he had confidence in Morty's ability to take charge and sway them with his natural charisma. The writers have backtracked on Morty's character development before, so I don't want to get too excited, but I hope this is headed somewhere.
While this episode is ostensibly about DC, it might also have some meta commentary about Rick and Morty fans. You get attached to characters you thought you'd hate (or I did, at least), you want to see Rick change ("Everyone sucks until they don't. That's the arc of every good story"), and Adult Swim is never going to be able to please the maniacs who want the show to return to season one again.
And even if it doesn't, you know Zack Snyder had a blast talking about Rick like he knows him personally. He's ONE mega-fan who won't be crying about season eight.
#rick and morty#rick sanchez#morty smith#jerry smith#james gunn#zack snyder#season eight#review#rick and morty season 8#ricker than fiction#dan harmon
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Pet - Chapter 1
A Coriolanus Snow x reader fanfiction.
Summary: In a moment of weakness, Coriolanus finally gives in to temptation and decides to save you from Dr. Gaul's laboratory.
Chapter Summary: Your life takes a strange and unexpected new turn.
Warnings: Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow, Obsession, Obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, misogyny, captivity.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
A/N: This was not proofread so please excuse any mistakes lol and bare with my messing writing. Also, it's a bit of a slow burn, and I hope the story doesn't bore you. Let me know what you think, I appreciate all kinds of feedback!
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
CHAPTER 1
"What an interesting turn of events. You've grown fond of your little pet."
Dr. Gaul appears to be all smiles after her apprentice's meager attempts at bargaining. A chuckle claws its way out, resonating from deep within the gut and all her vileness. At the grating sound of her mockery Coriolanus flushes red and clenches his jaw.
The silence in the laboratory begins to grow eery and suffocating. Now that the others have clocked out, he and Dr. Gaul are all that remain. Coriolanus had waited nervously for office hours to reach its end before approaching her with his frantic idea, hoping such measure would promise discretion.
"I assure you fondness has nothing to do with my request," murmurs Coriolanus, with half a mind to chuck the papers in his hands smack against her hideous, wrinkled face. It is with a great and most tiresome restraint that he manages to refrain at all. "And you know I don't usually do this but my circumstances leave me no choice."
"I may be an old woman, little boy. But don't mistake me for a fool."
How many times must he justify himself, he wonders, before she loses all enjoyment of witnessing him in this stiff display of frizzled nerves. It is despicable how easily she makes his skin crawl, how exposed and patronized he feels beneath her smug scrutiny.
"As I've said, Dr. Gaul, I'm only looking for a caretaker to look after my grandmother. From what i've read in her folder the girl has the right experience for this role."
It was the only excuse he could conjure at discovering the details of your past life, how you were a volunteer at an old folks home in 9 on your days off from the bakery.
"Why, I'll take your word for it then," another loud bark of a laugh from Dr. Gaul. A sly, sharp-edged kind that rouses suspicion on the validity of her statement. At this point Coriolanus desires nothing but to crawl back home, never to encounter her wretched grin again. "After all, I doubt you have the means to afford a Capitol nurse."
A sharp jab. The corners of his lips twitch with something of disdain as he begins to shrink into himself. It is no secret that the Plinths provide a generous allowance every now and then. Beyond those monthly stipends, however, there was little else in the way of sustenance.
His internship at the Citadel pays dust and Tigris continues making a pitiful wage slaving away for that miser Fabricia. With renovations well under way and bills stacked high, what little they have is already stretched thin.
"Right. So you are perfectly aware that I am asking for a reasonable favor." Coriolanus bites with a tightness in his jaw.
"And you are perfectly aware that I don't do favors, Mr. Snow."
"Deduct whatever she's worth from my allowance," says Coriolanus, his words accompanied by a quivering sigh he failed to confine. The gradual unravelling of composure. "Or I can work longer hours, whichever you wish. Surely we can reach an agreement one way or another."
Dr. Gaul responds with an amused look, one brow arched at the pathetic display in front of her, no doubt thoroughly enjoying the destruction of his facade. A fine porcelain now fractured and cracked. Why is it, Coriolanus muses, that she always happens to witness him in such disgraceful circumstances?
"Deduct your allowance," she mocked with an ugly chortle that felt derogatory to both the ears and the soul. "Do you have any idea, Mr. Snow, just how much my good friends are willing to pay out of their pockets for a new district mistress to warm their bed?"
"I..." Something akin to a ball sized lump lodges itself in his throat. He swallows it down with shame and an inaudible stammered reply. "Yes, well, I suppose—"
"Magnanimous amounts. Magnanimous. You could never outbid these men should you dare try."
Of course. What was he thinking anyway, coming up to Dr. Gaul with such naive fantasies? Was he out of his mind?
His throat expands and bile threatens to rise. A mighty weight burdens his head, pressing down on either sides with an agonizing pressure. For a miserable moment the room spins and turns.
"Lucky for you, young man," she continues, the delight in her guttural voice slathered thick over that fateful turn of phrase. "I am in a particularly curious mood. My, how fascinating. It would be our own little experiment."
"Experiment?" He fumbles for the right words, or more accurately a grasp on her dreadful riddle. Qualm and something akin to glee battle for dominance within the empty pit of his gut. "I'm sorry, I don't think I understand your meaning, Dr. Gaul."
"Of course you don't," she chuckles menacingly. With a wicked smile she pushes herself off her chair and turns to the corner of the lab.
In his puzzlement he finds himself hesitating, until the mad woman shoots him a quick glance at last without as much as a pause from her marching. He rushes over to her, realizing his mentor was heading right to the quarantine zone where you quietly lay asleep.
With Coriolanus at her heels, Dr. Gaul trails on lazily, only stopping once she reaches the thick glass of your enclosure. In his perplexity Coriolanus eyes the mad woman, apprehension brewing and curdling inside him at the sound of her baleful snigger. She peers through the glass, to which he follows suit.
How peaceful you look in your quiet slumber, with long lashes resting gently under the curved petal of your eyes. He can't help the electrical spark that jolts him awake when he looks at you.
It's the kind of stupidity only Lucy Gray had ever fueled. He chews nervously on the inside of his mouth, the emotions he had long harboured now entangled with one another.
His conflict drives him quiet. A part of him is certain that whatever he is doing is an obvious and marked deviation from his plans, so decidedly opposed to his good sense that Coriolanus is most certain he will blight himself for it later.
But another part, a small, self indulgent piece of him, continues to insist that this is the one and only way. That he can't and musn't surrender your fate to the hands of another man.
How should he sleep in the future with the memory of your gentle face branded onto the darkness behind his eyelids, all glass eyed and rosy cheeks, knowing fully well that you will then be at the hands of another. Your goodness forever soiled by their filth.
No, he won't have it. What would they know about handling a girl like you? Nothing. They would break you. Your kindness would crumble into obscurity under the weight of their evil. He isn't good himself, but he's known goodness in his life. And he won't let you be ruined the same way his Tigris had been.
"It is most peculiar to me how predictable men can be."
Ugh, that awful noise. Coriolanus snaps out of his daze, quick to find Dr. Gaul's amused stare.
He sighs. "If you aren't willing—"
"I'm not blind, Mr Snow. I could tell she had caught your eye from the very first day our peackeepers dumped her here with those other vermins."
"It's not like that." He retaliates with desperate haste, eyes fluttering to the stone floor, then back up to the glass doors — anything but the awful woman beside him, who's now evidently persistent on being a mindreader. "Really, I wish you wouldn't twist this into something it isn't, Dr. Gaul."
"Look at you," she cackles. "There is nothing to be ashamed of. It's only normal. Everybody knows people tend to grow somewhat...attached to their pets."
"She..." He clears his throat, hoping with all might that the warmth that had crept up his cheeks wouldn't manifest into bright color over the skin. And that term again...Pet. He isn't quite sure what to make of it. Curiously enough it doesn't elicit much of an awful feeling. No, not at all. "She will be working for me. For my grandma'am. That's all there is to it."
"I've seen you, Coriolanus Snow. You think you are above it all, above your own weaknesses. That nothing and no one can come in your way. Well, boy, you could fool your friends, and even your foe, but certainly not me. I for one have always known that you've never forgotten that poor songbird of yours. And your boyish fondness for helpless little damsels...That hasn't seem to have left your system either."
"If you're trying to intimidate me, Dr. Gaul, I have to tell you it's not working," his jaw clenches tight. They are still in the Citadel, for goodness sake. She has no business mentioning Lucy Gray, not after all that trouble they'd gone to together to wipe out every proof of her trivial existence. He swallows down his conflict and glances back to the glass, raging blue eyes now subdued as they land on you. Perhaps it was all a bad idea. At least he tried. "She's all yours. I should get going anyhow."
"Now, just a moment. Wipe that frown off your face," Dr. Gaul ejaculates in terrifying glee, her exclamation followed by a wretched burst of laughter, apparently entertained by his discomfort. "Don't you see, child? You are failing to rise above your desire! This, Coriolanus, is humanity undressed. All that animalistic need...I can see it clawing at you when you leer at your pretty fawn. Men like you pine for what they shouldn't have — Don't mistake my silence all this time for blindness to your turmoil. You and I both know you could devour her if only you were given the chance. Well, Mr. Snow, let me tell you, your head is surely losing that battle against your biology. You're a man and she a powerless thing. That would appeal to most anyone if only they allowed themselves to admit it. Human nature always wins after all."
"I am above it." Coriolanus snaps. "Above anything you think I'm not. She is district. And it's...You must excuse me Dr. Gaul but whatever you are implying, it is incredibly despicable. These accusations are filthy, they have nothing to do with me, and everything to do with your twisted ideas."
"Lets see if you still feel the same way once she's caged up in that house of yours," says Dr. Gaul. "Nowhere to go. Chained to your mercy. You could do anything you wanted to that girl of yours. Watch, then, how quickly your true nature overpowers all logic. All semblance of morality or humanity or social order you pretend to still have."
"This is absolute nonsense. I am not you, Dr. Gaul," Coriolanus sputters in anger. Or was it embarrassment? He could no longer tell. If it was any other situation Coriolanus would have punished himself for speaking against his mentor in such a way but this is turning to be much more different than her usual cheek. All this provocation was bringing his blood to a boil.
"Is it?" she retorts. "We are nothing but animals at the end of the day. Predator and prey. I know which one you are. You could trick yourself, and soothe that pitiful excuse of humanity you pretend you have left inside and drown in your self-indulgent delusions of being a savior. When I know for a fact, young man, that you have always been a starving wolf hunting for a little lamb. Nothing more, nothing less. Why is it, Mr. Snow, do you think those men are so desperately hungry for their district girls? You know as well as I do they like to consume and corrupt their prey. It makes them feel powerful, leaning into their natural instincts. And you are no different. The sooner that you accept that the easier for you it will be."
With every exhale his breaths come out ragged and harsh through his nostrils. How he despises the woman. What was she even rambling about, anyway?
Animal instincts and predator and prey and human nature. Nonsense, all of it. He's heard it before, and he could argue for it when it comes to the Games, but this? This has nothing to do with her awful ideas.
Sure he can admit he's a man with an attraction to a pretty girl but all that talk about corruption and consuming and prey is guff. Most of all it's stretching his patience thin.
And the gall to put him in the same league as those repulsive men...When in reality he is miles above them. Above them all, and their odious inclinations. What else were they besides idiots with a liking for foul district toys. Coriolanus swallows hard, his jaw tight. Dr. Gaul's been off her rocker a good while now, he reminds himself. This is her being true to her character and nothing else.
"What do you think made you pine for that little songbird of yours in the first place?" she continues, much to his vexation. "It made no sense in that mechanical head of yours, didn't it? Lucy Gray was a district chit. What good could she have brought you? Then of course you fooled yourself into believing it was... love. Ha! Delusions. I'll tell you what it was, Mr. Snow. It was precisely because she was district that you drove to such madness for her. Not love, whatever that silly word means. But she was beneath you, lesser than you in every way, powerless and impotent and helpess. Now that was the very source of all your affections. Oh, don't give me that look. It made you feel good, didn't it? She was in your palm, ready for you to crush. In the games, especially, Lucy Gray was at your mercy. Oh and how you loved it. To know in all confidence that she was yours, your songbird, your pet. Your possession...Well, until she flew away in the trees. But no matter. Now that you've found another pet you finally get to see your true colors again. How very predictable. Did I mention how predictable you men can be?"
Coriolanus grits his teeth at her mockery. He refuses to hear anymore of this. The nerve to speak of Lucy Gray! And to drive his name to the ground and cake it with mud and soot and filth like that...His nails dig painfully into the softness of both palms. Right as he turns to walk away, Dr. Gaul grabs him by the arm.
"We are no better than animals, Mr. Snow."
"If there's nothing else, i'm going home. I refuse to defend myself from such baseless accusations, and I won't beg you for a servant." He bites.
"Thankfully you won't need to!" she laughs with a bark. "The girl is all yours. We'll see, then, how long it takes for you to move past all those fine manners and all your faulty logic and at last accept that you are not in any way above your true nature. You'll thank me when you sink your claws in that poor little fawn of yours. And there's no reason to fret, in due time you'll forget the shame of it all. I for one, am most certainly looking forward to it. You can't let this bird go now, can you, Coriolanus?"
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
You awake with something of a start, alarmed by the tugging sensation on your arm. The bright light flashing from above blinds you momentarily. Despite your foggy daze you manage to blink it away and find the person who had shaken you into consciousness, locking eyes with a familiar set of ocean blue. This is it, the thought comes to mind. This is finally it.
Those are the words chanted by the voice in back of your mind everytime you regain consciousness and wake from your restless dreams to him again. Him, the inscrutable boy with his white coat and white gloves and pearly white teeth. If he wasn't staring you down and jotting in his notes, he was stabbing a needle into your arm. And scarcely a word ever comes out of his mouth.
Snow. You've heard the other men and women in white beckon him by that name. That god-awful scientist lady with the crazy eyes and wild hair always did. That was Dr. Gaul, or so they called her.
With every liquid the two forced into your body you wondered if it would be the last. More often than not you were fairly convinced.
In the beginning it was petrifying to imagine that once you closed your eyes and drifted off into darkness you might never see the light again. It was easy to drown in that bone-chilling, violent sea of fear, as you sat all alone in confinement.
You remember trembling at just the sight of him, that boy of sharp edges and cold composure. After all, he was the reaper himself. Your life was in his hands.
But as time went on you couldn't help but pray that death would finally come to take you away. The wait was excruciating. The pain from all their sharp needles and colorful serums even more so.
Perhaps it is time that makes all things easier to navigate and the most painful truths more delicate pills to swallow, for as the days flew past, you began to slowly embrace the imminent end of your short life.
Out of every other choice it was the only merciful one. The idea of remaining in that glass coop and being that mad woman's lab rat for eternity seemed like torture. Just to imagine felt terrifying; it was despicable how these people proked and prodded your body as though you were nothing. Well, you suppose that was what you were to the Capitol anyway.
Death was the one light at the end of the tunnel. There was no escaping your fate.
Snow is looking down at you now, towering from your bedside with that bone chilling ice in his stare. Your dry lips parted mechanically to make way for a quivering breath.
It is difficult to ignore the perfect symmetry of his porcelain face, a clean canvas of sharp lines and high cheekbones, after all that time you spent in his company. Every feature that decorated his skin gave him a beauty so perfect, so void of any flaw, that it bordered on uncanny. You'd never seen a man quite as beautiful as him.
You take notice of his own thin lips, a curve of soft pink flesh unearthed from its usual tight line as they parted to speak, stirring inside you a boiling mess of anxiety and fear and curiosity alike. So seldom does he ever allow his voice out of its box that when he does it feels as heavenly as it does mortifying.
After all it is he who possesses the power. Should he command you to march the front steps of death's door nobody would stop him. Get up, you imagine him saying before taking you to another room. One where nobody thrown inside has ever come out of.
He purses his lips shut then separates them once more. The words seem to have dried on his tongue, clinging desperately to his silence, much too stubborn to leave. You're all too familiar with the feeling yourself. Barely a word has ever been spoken between the two of you. There was never a need for conversation.
"Get up." his words stumble out at last.
This is it.
The time has finally come.
Release. For so long you had spent much of your time imagining this particular moment, and now that it is here at last it feels both strange and unreal.
Would it be painful? Would a peacekeeper face you to the wall and plant a single bullet to the back of your head? You used to hope as much, it seemed the closest thingn to a merciful end, in comparison to the vast range of excruciating penalties they could very well subject you to.
And yet, at this very moment, as you slowly rise from the thin mattress of the bed, every limb on your body begins to tremble and grow weak. Just standing up feels laborious — had it not been for the firm grip on both your arms, clutched in place by the reaper himself, you would have fallen and melted onto the polished floor.
You pray your soul slips away as soon as the shot rings, that nothing more than a pinch will register when the metal burrows deep into your skull.
"Oh don't look so terrified," a familiar laugh bursts through. She's here, you can tell from that awful sound. You dare yourself to look up from the white coat in front of you and peek over his shoulder. His hands on your arms loosen their grip. "You're not in trouble, dear. He's not here to kill you. Not yet, at least."
Not yet.
"He is, however, here to take you with him. Now you'll be his darling little pet, no longer mine," she continues, baring her crooked teeth through a wide grin as she strolls through the room. "Though I doubt you ever were..."
You catch a glimpse of the man in front of you as he clenches his jaw, suddenly so quick to speak up. "What she means is that you will be working for me. Hurry now, I've wasted too much time here. Get dressed."
The demand comes with a brief flicker in those cerulean eyes. He chucks a folded piece of fabric onto the mattress and averts his gaze, wearing that same measured expression he often wore at every attempt of avoiding your naked form. He is a man after all, and you're no fool, no stranger to their stares even in clothes.
At unfolding the fabric on the bed you discover it's a dress. Pale blue linen, with short ruffled sleeves and loose white buttons running down the middle. It's a bit worn-out, evidently, but something to cover up with no less.
"Now, now, stop your shaking. Do try to be good for Mr. Snow," says Dr. Gaul with eerie delight. "Or he'll bite."
Her foreboding words leave you nauseous. Whatever she meant, you didn't like the sound of it. Mr. Snow himself seems no more pleased than you are. It is almost odd to see him in such a state, so bizzarely uncomposed and flustered, with that tension in his jaw and the shadow cast over his face.
"I...I don't understand," you manage to croak out a whisper, throat barren of any moisture from the cold and dry air.
"Patience. You will soon!" she chirps.
That sinister response only nettles your nerves. You slip nervously into the dress, feeling a little awkward doing so with an audience of two. Strangely enough it has grown easier to get undressed than to do the opposite.
"Go on," Dr. Gaul says with a sly leer, gesturing toward the door. "Leave the old coop for your shiny new one. How exciting for all of us...But don't walk too fast now, it'll make him nervous. He'll think you're fleeing!"
The last part conjures out of her core a paroxysm of wretched laughter. Your stomach coils uncomfortably, throat growing more and more parched with every word she speaks. Mr. Snow clears his own and storms out of the room, leaving you to drown alone in your confusion.
"Oh but before you leave, I must advise you this — don't be so foolish as to try and escape. I assure you little girl, Mr. Snow will catch you. That one has learnt from his mistakes."
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#x reader#ao3#tbosas#theballadofsongbirdsandsnakes#coryo#coryo x reader#snowbaird#slowburn
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Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for this. There is no literary take that boils my blood as much as "Victor is sexist" (save for "Dorian is straight1!1!1!" I hate that one, too).
I'll forever be a Victor defender, I think it's important to recognize that the book is a tragedy for EVERYONE in it; but I can also see why people hate him. What I cannot, however, EVER see is how people can genuinely believe him to be a misogynist????
The main reasons as to why he refused to create a wife were as follows:
1) They could reproduce and create more Creatures
2) What if she doesn't like the Creature and becomes even more vengeful and angry than he? What if she is then stronger than him?
I've seen people say he's sexist because "his reasoning for not creating a wife was that he feared she'd disobey the man!!" which is just. No. Not only is that never said in the book, but it doesn't even make sense??? Seriously, why would he give a shit about that? What does "disobey the man" even mean? Wouldn't that just be a concern about marriage in general? Wouldn't he then be concerned about Elizabeth disobeying him?? Why would it specifically only matter if it's with the male and female Creatures' relationship?
And how about we break down his ACTUAL reasonings for not making a wife, yes?
He's considering the fact that a woman could be stronger and scarier than an 8 foot man, which is a pretty feminist fear to have for the time period, I'd say. He's questioning what the woman would want and feel; he's asking if it'd be more painful to be made purely as a man's possession or made to simply exist, as Victor is worried that she may be more pained and anguished than the original Creature, and in turn angrier than the first being was. Once again, a pretty progressive point of stress for the late 1700s - early 1800s.
He then, because of these points, chose to destroy the wife knowing damn well that it would actively endanger and risk not only his own life, but Henry's. He chose to pay with his life because he believed the wife would feel oppressed. He chose to pay with his life because he was worried that more innocent, unknowing lives would be taken.
"He's sexist1!1!1 He's misogynistic!!1! He's a woman hater1!1!" And then they're talking about a guy that was inspired by Mary Shelley's husband, of which she married for love. They're talking about the protagonist of Mary Shelley's writings, as if her mother isn't regarded as one of the first prominent feminist writers in history. She would never purposefully write a man, this man, no less, to be sexist.
I'd also like to add that he's not stupid for not simply neutering the wife, which is another take I see a lot; there literally wasn't research on ovaries at the time in history, he had no clue how or what to remove in order to make her unable to bear children. Hell, he didn't even know that it'd be possible to remove something and prevent a woman from bearing children. That's like if you were suddenly sat in front of a regular ol' telescope and told that you need to direct it at a specific spot on a specific crater on a planet that wouldn't be discovered for decades to come, and then called an idiot for not knowing what the fuck to do with it.
One of the things that piss me off the absolute most about popular academic Frankenstein analysis is the “Victor Frankenstein is sexist” take. Like I know I’ve spoken about this quite a lot before but god damn it’s like people just look at the text and see, “(I) looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own.”, and they just immediately go, “Oh! Oh! Sexism! Misogyny! Victor Frankenstein is a sexist! Why does he want to create the perfect man, huh? *gasp* is it because he thinks women are inferior?”
When if those people pulled their heads out of their asses for five minutes and read the rest of that paragraph, “On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully, “I have a pretty present for my Victor—tomorrow he shall have it.” And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine (…)” along with the fact that Victor explicitly says he was “about five years old”, they’d maybe consider, “huh, maybe it’s very fucked up of a mother to give her to her son as a gift and spent her entire life basically shipping these two adopted siblings together until, on her death bed, she says, “my firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father.” Wow, maybe that’s kind of fucked up. Maybe painting, again, a five year old, who was honesty for all intents and purposes pretty much just manipulated into thinking it was his duty to marry his adopted sister out of respect for his dead mother’s last wishes who died when he was seventeen, as a wife-beating woman hater who reanimated the dead to spite half the human population, is very very fucked up!”
Like I can’t stress this enough – both Elizabeth and Victor are victims here. Of course as the story goes on a bit and Victor is a grown adult man who’s still avoiding his feelings and fucking off across the continent with his buddy pal best friend every five minutes instead of facing his mistakes and emotions, yeah, he is honestly more or less to blame for Elizabeth’s death, but that isn’t misogyny. Avoidance of everything is like one of his integral character flaws.
And I mean if you thought the 1831 republication had some creepy undertones, look at the bloody original 1818 version.
“(My uncle) request(ed) my father (…) take charge of the infant Elizabeth, the only child of his deceased sister. “It is my wish,” he said, “that you should consider her as your own daughter, and educate her thus.”’
So just explicit incest, basically. And again, if you thought Victor’s mother was a bit creepy and pushy in the republication,
“I have often heard my mother say, that she was at that time the most beautiful child she had ever seen, and shewed signs even then of a gentle and affectionate disposition. These indications, and a desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love, determined my mother to consider Elizabeth as my future wife; a design which she never found reason to repent.”
“………A desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love?” My brother in Christ you were groomed. Fun fact, I read the 1818 version first and read that in the middle of form class and sat for a good five minutes staring flabbergasted at what the fuck I was reading.
So no, dear God no, nowhere in the text does it imply Victor Frankenstein hates women. I mean honestly it’s kind of shown in the way he talks about the Creature’s Bride that he doesn’t view women as objects and does, in fact, view them as people.
“He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation.”
My guy basically says “well what are we expecting her to do here, immediately marry you just because she was told to?”
(Just a fun little comparison I noticed there – not to turn the conversation back to my whole “does Victor is gay” theory but I think it is interesting that Victor thinks that, that he does go “well she can’t just be expected to marry someone just because she was told to!” and then suggests to himself that she would probably rather “turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man” – interesting, Victor. Like Clerval’s “form so divinely wrought, and beaming with beauty”? Interesting as well that after Victor comes to that conclusion and destroys the Bride, the Creature immediately then kills Henry and only then does Victor finally go “well. I finally have to marry Elizabeth.” Feeling disheartened by sparing her your predicament only to be thrust even deeper into your own, are we?)
But yeah. “Victor Frankenstein is a full-blown women-hating misogynist” takes really piss me off. Another case of “oooh yes let’s cherry pick the text scouring it for anything we can possibly use to turn things back around to the same few analysis points we’ll reuse over and over instead of possibly considering that just because a text is written by a woman doesn’t mean that it’s a massive rant on the patriarchy disguised as a science fiction novel.”
Maybe that’s kind of sexist itself. Maybe women can just write kick-ass gothic horror sometimes. And maybe just because a work definitely has undertones about sexism and misogyny (like, fair enough, a lot of Elizabeth’s character definitely does) that doesn’t mean that the male protagonist wants to kill all women! And surprise surprise as well, works can comment on misogyny and patriarchy and acknowledge that women are treated badly in society and have been in differing ways for hundreds of years, without going “all men are inherently evil and fuck them all”. Bit of a side rant that I won’t go all into here, but just worth mentioning that after seeing this over and over again in media and analysis of media over and over again, hey, misandry won’t fix misogyny. It just makes everything considerably stupidly worse. –your friendly neighbourhood bisexual
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I'll Come Find You
Pairing: Rockstar!Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2.9k
Warnings: fluff
Summary: Your best friend scores you tickets to see Jensen Ackles’ band, Radio Company. What you thought was going to be a normal concert experience turns into something neither you nor Jensen expects.
Square Filled: road trip (2023) for @spnaubingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated! <3
x
Radio Company blasts through your speakers as you get ready for work. You’ve been obsessed with them ever since you caught your brother listening to them several years ago. The lead singer, Jensen Ackles, has been at the forefront of your fantasies for years. He’s so good-looking, you can’t help but think of him whenever you’re alone. He’s one of the reasons why your ex broke up with you. He couldn’t handle his fragile ego and decided not to be with a woman who had a crush on someone in a band.
Radio Company is on tour right now, and your ex promised he’d take you to their concert when they hit your town, but it looks like that won’t be happening now. He is a piece of shit, so the concert wouldn’t have been enjoyable anyway.
The front door opens, and you know your best friend, Daphne, is back. You two decided to move in together right after high school graduation, and it’s been the best ten years of your life. You can’t imagine living with anyone else. She bounces upstairs and grins when she opens your bedroom door.
“Get ready to love me,” she sings.
“I already do.”
“Guess who is playing in town?” You don’t even have to guess to know who it is. “Radio Company! I got us tickets!”
“Are you serious? When are we supposed to leave?”
“Right now.”
“What? Daphne, I have a shift in an hour at the bar. I can’t blow it off. Jason already hates me. I don’t need to give him any more reason to want to fire me,” you sigh.
“Yeah, I kind of already called the bar and pretended to be you. I said you were sick.”
“Excuse me? Daphne, this is my job we’re talking about here. Plus, I never call in sick.”
“Well, tonight you do. Come on, you never take a day off. I did you a favor. We’re going to go tonight, have fun, hear pretty awesome music, and let loose. It’s gonna be fun. Change because we gotta hit the road now.”
You should be mad at Daphne, but she’s right. You never take days off. You love Radio Company, and you deserve a night out. You have enough money saved to be able to take tonight off, so you decide to let go of all your worries. One night. That’s it. What’s the worst that can happen?
The city is an hour away from you, so you play all of Radio Company’s music to pass the time. They just came out with a new song, and you already know all the words to it. That’s how dedicated you are to their music. Jensen’s voice sounds like honey dripping from the combs. It’s sultry and soothing. Listening to him makes everything better.
The line isn‘t that long when you get there, but it quickly becomes crowded the closer you get to opening. You and Daphne are at the front, so the second the doors open, you two rush in to get the barricade. People run in from all directions, but you and Daphne are quicker. The entire stadium fills quickly with eager fans. The place isn’t that big, but it’s enough for Radio Company to sell out. You and Daphne have the perfect view of the stage, so you’ll be able to have the perfect view of Jensen Ackles.
In just an hour, you’ll be feet away from Jensen Ackles. All your dreams can come true tonight. The opening act comes out and plays a few songs from their new album. You don’t know who they are, but their music is good enough. It’s more of a folksy country band, but it has a nice beat.
“So, you want to know what I’ve been thinking about the entire ride here?” Daphne asks above the music.
“Do I wanna know?”
“My friend, Betsy, was saying how her sister was at the barricade of another concert, and the lead singer couldn’t take his eyes off her. He got the security guard to take her backstage to meet the band. What if Jensen does that to you? Imagine that.”
“That will never happen.”
“Don’t be such a pessimist. He’s gonna take one look at you and fall in love,” she gushes.
She’s a hopeless romantic.
“Daph, he’s gonna take one look at me and realize I’m just another fan in a sea of fans.”
The opening act eventually ends, and the crowd goes wild for Radio Company. One by one, the bandmates come on stage, saving Jensen for last. The second he steps on stage, your mouth waters. How can he look so good? He gets better-looking every year. Jensen takes off his baseball cap and shakes his hair before putting the hat on backwards, and you are mesmerized. The swell of his muscles, the tattoos on his skin, the neatly trimmed beard on his face--everything that makes you unbashfully wet.
“How are ya’ll doing?” The crowd goes wild. “Thank you so much for coming out tonight. We have an exciting setlist for you. Sit back, enjoy the show, and let’s make some noise!”
Jensen’s eyes sweep the crowd. This is his favorite part of touring. He loves seeing the fans and interacting with them. He looks at the people at the barricade, and his eyes lock on yours for a few seconds before moving away. However, he does a double-take when his brain processes the beautiful woman in the middle of the barricade. Everyone around you disappears because all you can focus on is Jensen.
He tries to look away from you, but he always comes back to you. The exchange isn’t lost on Daphne. She is grinning big, her mind already going through every possibility of what this could mean.
“Holy shit, did you see that?” Daphne nudges you. You take your eyes off Jensen to address her, but when you look back, he’s already moved on. “Did you see the way he was looking at you?”
“Come on, he’s just looking at the crowd.”
“No, those eyes specifically said, ‘Fuck me’. He gave you ‘Fuck Me’ eyes.”
Heat creeps up your neck and to your cheeks. It’s a good thing it’s dark in here because then she’d see how flustered you are. People have their phones out to record every second of the concert, but you’re here just to be in the moment. Plus, you know Daphne will record for both of you. It’s hard to concentrate on anything but the way Jensen’s voice sounds. It’s clear he has a true passion for singing. He looks like he loves it.
Several songs later, Jensen pauses to take a quick water break. Damn, what you wouldn't give to be that bottle right now. He takes his hat off to shake his hair, which is no doubt covered with sweat. He places the hat on backward and walks to the microphone.
“Now, we’re going to sing our new song. I know it just came out yesterday, but if you know the words, please sing at the top of your lungs!”
The band starts to play their new song, the same song you were belting in the car over here. You jump up and down and sing along to the song, making sure to let everyone know that you know this song. Jensen’s eyes look to you again, and he can’t help but smile at how you’re singing along to every word. He normally doesn’t do this, but then again, he’s never seen anyone like you at his concerts before.
He walks to the side of the stage and walks down the stairs without missing a beat. The crowd goes wild at the thought of touching his hand, but he bypasses all of them until he gets to you. He smirks and points the microphone at you since you clearly know this song. You can’t believe this is happening. Daphne is making sure to get this on camera because you’ll need proof later that this actually happened.
Being courageous, you start to sing into the microphone, not missing a single word, all while holding eye contact with him. Jensen pulls the microphone back to sing into it, sharing the mic with you. You can feel people pushing against you to get a feel of him, but you don’t pay attention to them. All that matters is you and Jensen sharing this moment together.
It’s no secret that Jensen has green eyes, but they seem so bright now. You can’t really explain it. It’s like you two have this connection. The song eventually lands, and Jensen steps back reluctantly. He doesn’t want to let you go, but he has a concert to finish. He winks at you before heading back on stage, making sure to slap the hands of almost every fan he passes by.
No fucking way. That just didn’t happen.
“What the fuck was that?” Daphne gasps. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know,” you blush. “It was nothing.”
“That was not nothing! He so totally wants to fuck you!”
“Daphne, stop.”
“Did you not see the way he was looking at you? He wants to fuck you!”
“Stop it, Daph,” you hiss.
All the other fans move on from that moment, but you can’t get the look of Jensen’s eyes out of your head. You two shared a moment, and if that’s all you have together, then you’re not going to complain. You know the set is wrapping up when Jensen sings one of his favorite songs. He likes to save the best for last. You’re ready to go home and watch the video Daphne took over and over again. One of the guards starts walking toward you, and Daphne slaps your arm excitedly.
“What are you doing? Stop.”
“Look! A guard is coming over here. Jensen wants you to go backstage with him. I just know it.”
“Well, even if he does, I’m not doing that. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Yes, you are. Don’t make me grab your ear and drag you there.”
You have to admire her boldness. She’s always been that way. You’re envious of her. It’s why you two are the best of friends. You calm her craziness, and she gets you to open up. Right before the guard can reach you, he looks at Jensen. Your smile slips when Jensen shakes his head. The guard nods and backs off, and you look at Daphne with a rueful smile.
“See? He doesn’t want me to go backstage with him. Not everything is a romantic gesture, Daph.”
The concert ends, and you can’t wait to get the hell out of here. Yes, you’re embarrassed that you thought Jensen liked you enough to want to invite you backstage. It takes a while for you two to get through the crowd, but you walk outside in the fresh air.
“Will you slow down? These shoes aren’t meant for running.”
“I just want to go home, Daph.”
“I know. Slow down.”
“Sweetheart!”
Suddenly, you hear cheers come from behind you. You turn and freeze when you see Jensen running after you. He has two security guards behind him to keep the girls from pouncing on him.
“Yeah, he wants to fuck you,” Daphne smirks.
“Shush,” you hiss at her.
Everyone has their phones out to record what is happening. Wait, what is happening? Why is he here?
“You were just gonna leave?” he asks when he reaches you.
“Are you talking to me?” you squeak.
“Yeah,” he laughs. “What, you didn’t want to stay after and say goodbye?”
You’re literally speechless. You don’t know what to say. Your brain is a scrambled mess. Still, you push through the fogginess to get words out.
“I just… Um… I saw you shake your head at the security guard, so I thought you didn’t want me to come backstage. If that’s what you were going to do. I don’t know. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“You’re cute,” Jensen laughs. “Look, the reason I said no because I didn’t want you to think I was inviting you backstage for the wrong reasons. I’m not that kind of man.”
You smile shyly at him. He’s very intimidating but in a good way. “So, what were the right reasons?”
Jensen smiles a thousand-watt smile before taking out a small business card from his pocket. “My next stop isn’t for a couple of days. I’d really like to take you out if you’ll let me.”
“Um…” Daphne coughs behind you, and you snap out of your trance. “Yes. I’d like that.”
“Good. Text me what you like to do.”
“Okay.”
You grab the card from him, and he walks away from you. He takes pictures with some fans and signs some things before disappearing back inside. People chatter around you about what just happened, but you can’t move a muscle. Did that really just happen? Daphne squeals and pulls you along with her back to the car. He’s all you two talk about on the way home.
“Okay, we’re home now. Text him!”
“What should I say?”
“He said to text him what you like to do.”
You take out your phone and draft a new message to Jensen Ackles. You can’t believe that you have his number. This still feels like a dream. You’re scared of going to sleep and waking up to none of this being real.
“Okay, check it. Is this fine?”
You hand your phone to Daphne for approval. Hey, it’s Y/N from the concert. If you’re still interested, I like coffee and beach walks. Maybe we can get some brunch afterwards? Let me know.
“Short and sweet. I like it. Send it.”
Anxiety spikes the second you send it. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he wants to do something else? What if he changed his mind and doesn’t want to see you anymore? How long are you going to wait for him to text you back? You’re not sure if you can fall asleep while waiting, but the universe is on your side. Jensen texts back minutes later.
Sounds like a date to me. How is 9? Do you want me to pick you up, or do you feel more comfortable meeting me?
“Oh, my God. How sweet of him to ask that. What are you going to say?”
You don’t respond to her as you type back a response. You can pick me up. 9 sounds great. See you then! You add your address in as well, and you look at Daphne with wide eyes.
“Did that just really happen?”
“Yes, it did. Okay, shower first. Sleep next. You have an important date tomorrow that you can’t miss.”
Shower comes easily enough, but sleep doesn’t. All you think about is Jensen and the date he’s taking you on. You wake up right before your alarm, and you rush to get ready. Daphne is already up and in the kitchen, drinking coffee.
“Have fun!” she calls out when she sees you. “Don’t get pregnant.”
“Shut up,” you laugh. “It’s not that kind of date.”
According to your Ring doorbell, Jensen shows up right at nine. You’d invite him inside and chat for a bit, but you’re scared of what Daphne will say to him.
“You look nice,” Jensen compliments.
“Thank you. You do, too.”
The first place he stops at is Starbucks to get some coffee, and then he heads to the beach. It’s crowded but only in one section. Everyone wants to stay near the pier where the shops are, so you and Jensen walk further away to get some privacy. He’s wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses to hide his identity, and it’s working so far.
“So, how is life on the road?”
“Oh, you know. Four guys inside a small tour bus. It’s not as glamorous as you might think.”
“Still. It must be pretty exciting to go to different cities. See all your fans. Experience different cultures.”
“Yeah, it can be… when there is someone to share it with.”
A blush fights its way to your cheeks, and you look away before he notices. The walk on the beach takes over an hour because you two take your time, and then he takes you to brunch at one of the restaurants on the pier. You’re lucky that no one has recognized him because you want this date to be for you two.
It doesn’t seem to matter how famous he gets. He sticks to his roots. He knows he’s nothing without his fans. He wouldn’t be where he is without them.
The date has to end sometime, even though neither of you wants it to. Jensen even takes the long way home just so he can continue talking to you. It’s nearly noon when he drives up to your house.
“I wish we could hang out longer, but I have to meet my manager.”
“I get it. I had a lot of fun.”
Jensen reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Me too.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Unfortunately, I’ll be in Texas for my next show.”
“Oh, okay. I get it,” you nod.
“Listen, I only have ten more shows until the tour is done. The second I’m done touring, I’m gonna come find you.”
A wide grin takes over your face. “Do you promise?”
Jensen glances down at your lips. He takes the leap and presses his lips against yours. Softly, at first. Then, the kiss becomes heavier. It feels really good to kiss him.
“Even if I have to walk to you, I’ll find you,” he whispers against your lips.
“You better. Okay, thank you for the meal and coffee. I’ll see you later, then.”
Jensen kisses you once more before allowing you to get out of the car. He waits until you’re inside your house before he drives away, and you bite back a smile.
x
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#jensen ackles#jensen ackles x reader#jensen ackles fanfiction#jensen ackles fanfic#jensen ackles fic#jensen ackles fluff#supernatural#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fluff
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REMIX 30 ANALYSIS
So I put out a new mashup recently. It's a mashup of Remix 10 from Rhythm Heaven Fever, which I think is one of if not my favorite video game song ever made. I use a mashup of it (Remix 200 Super Deluxe Ultra Special Plus) as my stream intro. But I made that almost 5 years ago! So I figured it was time for an update (among Other Reasons). I've been using Remix 30 as my new stream intro by manually syncing an audio player with the video until I make an actual video for it.
Naturally, a lot of thought went into this mashup, and someone asked for an analysis of it. I was absolutely going to do that anyway.
[Obligatory "death of the author reigns supreme, and if you find your own meaning in this then fuck yeah"]
Also this is gonna be looooooooooooooong so here's a cut for convenience
For those that don't know, Remix 10 is a medley of every minigame in Rhythm Heaven Fever. As such, I'll be breaking this down by section. But first some overall notes
So this is the fifth time I have made a mashup of Remix 10. In order, they are "Remix 10, Baby" (released with Rhythm Purgatory, and was at the end of my first real mashup album), "Remix 20" (released with Rhythm Valhalla, meant replace every song from R10B), "Remix 200 SDUSP" (mentioned above, released as my stream intro. Made to be a combination of 10 and 20, taking the best from both), "201" (made for fun since I found a fun instrumental cover of Remix 10. It's 200 with very slight differences), and, of course, Remix 30. All 4 before this have some kind of DNA in Remix 30.
A lot of this analysis will be discussing the changes made from 200 to 30, but also where the DNA for these other versions still remain.
Opening: I've used The Distance as the opener since Remix 20, and I doubt I'll ever stop. I moved over to the live version in 201 and shortened it up in 30. I like the live version because I think it really reflects the general nature of how I work. Very improvised and off-the cuff. Rough around the edges (like how the bass starts a little out of time), but that's okay.
Packing Pests: The lead in with "Can you feel the rush now?" hits so fucking hard. I also replaced "Power" with "Everyone's a Guru Now" in one part because Funny New Jenny Song and another part because fuck you Kanye. Also this is the beginning of me putting songs from "Remix 10, Baby" in the background (with September). My way of showing how I'm standing tall thanks to what came before.
Shrimp Shuffle: I love Fist Bump in this. It's such a dumb joke on the "TOGETHER" sound byte. Till then I've really been trying to find something perfect for the first half. Ruler of Everything seems to do well. It's in swing, the shrimp both walk AND talk. Plus I can put another vocal sample from it as background for the second half.
Board Meeting: Completely unchanged since 20, and really the only minigame in this to hold such an honor. This segment has always been one of my favorite parts of the mashup, but in an understated way. It's not one that I'll sing the praises of, but damn it always hits so wonderfully.
Micro Row: This one really built over the years. All The Small Things from 10, Blitzkrieg Bop from 200, and Stupid Horse from a random tumblr mashup I made one morning. I included it because I Really Like Stupid Horse, Man!!!!
Double Date: Still Alive from 20, and Deadlock from all the way back in Rhythm Purgatory. I wouldn't have been able to truly call this mine without Deadlock. And I even added to it for this one, including the mandolin section that plays at the bridge (which I always loved but never showed that love to)
Donk-Donk: Donk-Donk. Why are you like this? There are only so many 3/4 songs, so I had to go with my default. Half-Caff and Everybody Wants To Rule The World. Although now that I'm typing this out, I thought of something else I might add for the video version.
Fork Lifter: I have no reason to mess with perfection save for the additions made in 200. I specifically remember having the idea for this one while I was leaving my friend's house and heading over to a Starbucks to job hunt on Indeed. But first I had to get Hollaback Girl onto Fork Lifter pronto.
Air Rally: Another one where I added one I put on Tumblr that I think has become my favorite of my Air Rally mashups. Very similar to Micro-Row where it has stuff collected from previous Remix 10 mashups, all the way back to Purgatory!
Cheer Readers: This one's always been an enigma to me. I feel like every time I come back to it for the Remix 10 mashup, I find a completely different song that I want to include, and it never feels QUITE right. This time around it was Makes Me Wonder, which is a song I've loved for a long long time. I felt it was appropriate to replace Smells Like Teen Spirit (a song I like, don't get me wrong, to me it's just a song that you have to respect because it's Smells Like Teen Spirit). It ended up being really fun, since I had to fill out the censored curse word, so I put in "Fuck" from Bonfire (technically a callback!) and just rolled with that. It ended up making what almost sounds like a record spin-type effect that I really dig.
Figure Fighter: So my boyfriend requested I put Tom's Diner in a mashup, which is something I had only really done in one of the Polka medleys. I thought it work great here, since it followed a similar musical arc as the Figure Fighter melody. Fear and Delight is there for a similar reason (although it could be considered a CPUK reference if we wanna get silly with it, which we always do)
Samurai Slice: So, in my mashup albums, one thing I like to do is center one mashup as the "Jojo Containment Zone", and put all the Jojo references in that one concentrated Jojo mashup (even if jojo references slip outside of that one sometimes). Examples of this include "Chasin' Cheddar", the Dark Pit mashup in Smashup, and, importantly for this, any of the Samurai Slice mashups. The original version had Stand Proud and Bloody Stream. I kept Bloody Stream because Bloody Stream is amazing. I replaced Stand Proud with Heaven's Falling Down because Part 6 and lmao girl, and I also included the fanmade opening for Steel Ball Run "Holy Steel". As much as I love reflecting on the past and celebrating it, we move forward. Also, Steel Ball Run means a lot to Sen and I, so that's also for him <3
Flock Step: I always considered Caramelldansen to be sort of a musical cousin to Renai Circulation. Very cutesy, upbeat and in a language I don't understand. I also mashed both of them up with Death Grips because it made for a very fun. Speaking of which, I figured Caramelldansen was here, might as well just make it a Back 3 Back reference! I included the Haunted House of Rock sample first by itself (with the pitch shift) and then a second time mixed the way Naganuma does it in Back 2 Back.
Built To Scale: Speaking of referencing my old mashups. This is literally just Mad Rat Purgatory! I figure that this year I've been really celebrating myself (maybe it's part of coming out), but I felt like my stream intro is as good of a place as any to celebrate that stuff. Incredibly fitting/ironic/whatever word fits this best that the Built to Scale section was always my favorite part of Remix 10.
Screwbot Factory: It didn't need changing since 200. A lot of people really liked the original mashup from Purgatory, which surprised me. It was super low effort, but I guess that's just how it be.
Bossa Nova: This one is a reference to Joy's stream when she played Rhythm Heaven Fever for the first time. She kept on referencing the Nirvana The Band The Show bit every time she saw Bossa Nova. So this one's for you, Joy!
Hole in One: Funny enough I think this one downgraded. I might add more to this one before the video version comes out, so stay tuned.
See-saw: Idk why I included Chu Chu Lovely. I think I always wanted to include it in a mashup somewhere, and something (maybe god idk) told me to put it right here.
Monkey Watch: Man, I love Monkey Watch. It honestly feels like it would be sacrilege to not put Mr Brightside there, since it was The Original Monkey Watch Mashup. The snippet of Revenge was added because it fits with the "Man, I Love Monkey Watch" joke (which I do btw). The only big new change in this one from 200 was the addition of My Rarity, and yes I edited it so that it says "Rarity" instead of "Clarity"
Catch of the Day: I included Transcendental Cha Cha Cha because I genuinely think finding that song helped to get me back into my mashup-making rhythm. I also included One Week, which I originally included because of the "summon fish to the dish" line. I skipped around in the dialogue for the second half, using the line about seeing the Show and how it might cause vertigo (fitting for my YT channel, I think)
Exhibition Match: The most important additions to this were the Mambo No. 5 (included in a previous RH mashup as a counting to 5 joke) and a stealthy addition of "Jai Ho!". I've included a lot of homages to my friends throughout the years. This one in particular is for my friends from high school. While I was in marching band, they were in colorguard, and that was the song they used for warmup. Our friendship has been kinda on again off again in that there are a lot of times where we don't hang out as much as either of us would like, but we still love each other.
Launch Party: Not much of a change for this one from the previous iteration, with the exception of adding more vocals from Brendon Urie. I just really like that line and how it melodically ends the phrase. "The fear, the fear of falling apart"
Love Rap: Another one with pretty much nothing changed from the last iteration. The "oop there goes gravity" bit is an oooooolllllld one from all the way back from early in my friendship with Penny. I know distinctly we joked about "oop there goes gravity" looping when I played through Undertale's genocide route with her, which must have been, like, 8 or 9 years ago?? The addition of Del from Rock the House wasn't until 200, but I think it works perfectly and actually acts as a wonderful example of my general philosophy on making mashups as a whole, but that's another post that you can remind me to make.
Tambourine: This was originally a random song I'd never heard of back in the days of Rhythm Purgatory. Thank God I realized "Hey, The Middle would go amazingly here!" I also added "Here It Goes Again" as a reference to wah.wav. This was also present in 201.
Tap Troupe: I didn't even realize this until later, but this is accidentally a Palette Cleanser reference with Break Free and Shelter playing at the same time. Shelter was included for Sen, since I associate that song (and Porter as a whole) with him. I also kept a bit of Carly Rae in there, since almost every iteration of this segment has had Carly Rae Jepsen.
Flipper Flop: Whoa! A reference to a track from More Than You Can Chew of all things! The track itself "Infinite Flipper Rolls" is meant to be a reference to Remix 20/200 with its inclusion of Toxic on top of the pre-existing I'm Gonna Be while also adding Scatman's World. This simply takes it full circle (similar to 201) by having all three play.
Karate Man: This is an interesting one, since I've swapped out "Sugar, We're Going Down" with "Burnin Up" by the Jonas Brothers. The reason I did that was because I used Burnin' Up in a mashup that I haven't published yet, but I REALLY loved using it in that, so I figured I'd slot it in here.
Tutorial Stage (I don't remember its actual name): This is an interesting evolution that I think is worth tracking. In Remix 10 Baby, it was a snippet of All Star. All Star was to me back then what Monkey Watch kind of is now in way. Like, to the point where I put out an album composed exclusively of All Star mashups. Twice. A song loved to a near memetic extent, but in the album of Remix Purgatory (where R10B is), it hadn't been used once. So this quick segment was used to tease the beginning of All Star. Fast forward to Remix 20, which was at the end of Rhythm Valhalla, and this segment held a similar function. To tease at a running joke. In that example, it was the beginning of Monkey Watch. Once I made 200, I decided to actually make it About Something. That being my Smash main, Iggy, which is a large part of my online identity. I referenced it with Iggy Azalea spelling her name in "Fancy" (which, fun fact, a joke about that song is the reason I chose to play as Iggy when I first picked up the character), followed by Iggy's laugh, which I use as my follow alert sound! With 30, I figured I would lean into Iggy a bit more, having the musical choice instead reference the Friday part of Iggy, since Iggy Friday has become a similarly large part of my identity. I still included the Smash Announcer in case anyone didn't get the hint from the laugh.
Ringside: This one is incomplete. I took out MEGALOVANIA in this version because I couldn't get it to line up just right for whatever reason. I need to put it back in because pose for the sans is important to me almost on the same level as Scratch-o! I DID add Break Stuff, mostly as a kind of shoutout to OotM, although it's a pretty incomplete one. It doesn't even have London Bridge.
Working Toe-ugh: I looked around, and I think the bit of putting Toes in every line of Tik Tok started in Rhythm Nirvana. I know I made a post with a simple toe edit a long time ago, but I cant find it. Now in (almost) every mashup that uses Tik Tok, I hide a "toes" somewhere. This one is a lot more apparent (and even has people repeating it back in chat). The addition to this one is the legendary Breaking Bad Season 3-5 Remix because the melody of Working Dough reminded me of the opening melody of the remix (and the "instrumentation" even sounds kinda similar)
Night Walk: "Dreams Of Our Generation" is a pretty important song within the Rhythm Heaven catalogue. It's one of the four non-remix songs with vocals, and it's the credits song for Fever. I think it deserves respect. So I consider it an anchor of sorts. In 10B, it was All Star, which was sort of my song. It was also the only song unchanged from 10B to 20. In 200, I added the whistle in the background to back it up along with Tank's 3, 2, 1, let's jam! 30 is the first time I really changed that. I replaced the chorus of All Star with Shut Up And Dance, alongside 867-5309. Two songs that I've very heavily associated with this coming out and this transformation. However, I did leave the All Star Whistle, because even with all of these huge changes, the core of me is still there. Maybe that core was Jenny all along.
Anyway, this was long as hell. I obviously had a lot to think about, and for a lot of different reasons. Like I said, Remix 10 means a whole lot to me, and I think following the evolution of this mashup has worked well as a look back on myself. I doubt this will be my last Remix 10 mashup, since I'm always growing and changing, but at the end of the day, I love Remix 10, I love music, and I love myself.
And to change is to love.
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Okay i feel the need to add non idw Shockwave shenanigans:
Transformers animated:
Spent centuries cosplaying a young autobot while being a double agent (him. Who was older than most autobots in all of autobot society)
When almost found out the first time he manipulated everyone into incarcerating and torturing the wrong guy and made him go completely crazy.
When almost found out the second time he made a cube out of his underling and made another underling throw him in the trash
When shit went crazy he attacked one of the most powerful autobots and left him comatose/almost dead/very dead (this guy was Megatron’s rival before op)
Brainwashing is his hobby
Semi-reverse brainwashing was also a thing
Petty beef with a collegue
Looks like a weird eldrich-horror-deer thing and has a british accent
G1 cartoon Shockwave:
Misogynistic
British
Got ghosted for 4 million years
Left on his home planet handling resources while his and the rival faction play in the sandbox on earth
Most of the soacebridges meant to reach cybertron explode in most episodes
In another timeline, he survived Unicron's attack on Cybertron. He formed a friendship with a guy and the two resolved to conquer the world of business and entertainment via shadowy corporate dealings and pop music to help his boss.
Wfc:+aligned as a whole
Jurassic park is his passion, but the dinosaurs turn into guys who hate him
Traumatized his test subjects so badly they formed an underclass of Cybertronians who didn't even remember their names and were... not in good shape.
Made guys who combine into a bigger guy
Experimented drugs on his collegues
Experimetned on a demigod
Meddling with sharkticons and insecticons is his passion
Transformers Prime:
Jurassic park is his passion
Oh shit my dinosaur got killed
Oh shit my dinosaur is alive
"Oh shit my extinct beast turns into a grown ass men who feels lonely"
Oh shit my boss thinks my dinosaurs are too dangerous and wants me to destroy all of my project. Wow. Milliennia of experiments and research gone and I simply say "oke"
Almost half-blinds his colleague after he tried to leave him alone while autobots attacked (again). Doesn't do it because the excuse received was logical
The only time he ever acts kind is when he speaks with another nerd who was also his prisoner
Almost gets killed by the undead dinosaurs
Makes fun of a disabled guy
Skybound:
Mhhhh whale smoothie yummy
Traumatized a guy so badly he stops mid epic entrance and runs away
[Idk i haven't read more I'm sure he did more]
Netflix war for cybertron trilogy:
I think he has a problem with ultra magnus, because guess what... he tortures him here too. Damn. Save this guy from Shockwave please
Made a virus that fucked up his planet and everyone told him it was a bad idea/last resort. Did it anyway.
Harvested his own decepticons
He could technically still be alive. Which is scarier.
Bayverse:
Has got a giant worm
Blargh blurgh blor blorg
active in a battle during the 1560s, where his exploits were recorded in a painting. He later participated in World War I around 1917, where his silhouette had been used on a war poster(gotten from the wiki i didn't remember this lol)
Cyberverse:
Tried to manipulate an amnesiac guy and fails
Microaggression against seekers where he says "ofc you failed your kind is dumb as fuck"
Experiments on other mechs ofc
Made a guy uncomfortable with his staring
Dance dance revolution
He participated on a twitch stream
Scared another guy when he appeared to him as a vision/ghost
Marvel:
Oh god this is one of my faves, he's done too much unhinged shit I'll make another reblog later but ooooh boy he was crazy crazy
2019 idw:
I don't remember much, but you can add your propaganda here
PROPAGANDA
Shocwave:
He didn't have a doctorate but he WAS a senator from cybertron. In the G1 iteration he was the "logical scientist that built super weapons" archetype, in Transformers: Prime he built a spacebridge AND he used old cybertronian fossils to make a dragon (straight up copied from Jurassic Park) and in the comics he gets up to so much shit that the mere mention of a bench sends his fan into a conniption. He's also purple!
There are so many different versions of this freak, it's crazy! In one universe he's just some guy. In another he's a rebel leader. Maybe he's a petty criminal with a love for cackling. Or maybe he's an artificial god who built his own temple. I mean, what if he had a huge building-eating pet worm? It's not that different from the one time he brought back extinct dragon robots for his clone army. Does a double-crossing secret spy sound interesting? Y'know he was once a robot rights activist. Usually he's a terrorist but what do you do when your lab is filled with things that are massively illegal? A Shockwave for everything you could want
I have the most knowledge of TFP, so that what I'll use. Anyway, he invented the cortical psychic patch, which basically allows one to enter another's mind, and it's used in some dubious ways by several people, but Shockwave uses it the most brutally. He also cloned an extinct species of transformer, using just small amounts of bones. He also has a massive monoboob, and replaced one of his hands with a cannon, meaning he did all of the unethical scientific work with a good third of his vision obscured and with one hand.
Carlos Dave Robles:
Perfect hair. Gay. We love to see it
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If you don’t mind, could I please Lux coming over to Celeste and Nyx’s school in human disguise? Maybe, the girls got in trouble for something they did, and called the home landline which Lux answered seeing as the reader is still at work. Maybe Lux tries to get the girls out of trouble and keep reader from finding out. Whether or not he succeeds is up to you😂😂😂
[Dad Lux to the rescue!]
Lux is by himself at home, reading through a book you got him for one of your anniversaries. You're at work, the kids are at school. He loves you all like nothing else in the universe, but even a God enjoys some alone time now and again. To disturb that peace, a phone starts ringing. He recognises the tone, it's yours, you must've forgotten it this morning. A little curious, the God of Light hops up to get it, looking at the caller ID. It's the school, they've called so many times about your daughters that you have the number saved. You won't be happy when you hear about this, it's the 3rd time this week they've called. But… what if you didn't find out? He presses the little green button on the screen, putting the phone up to his ear. “Hello! Is this Mrs Imperator?” A cheery voice comes through.
“Uhh, it's Mr Imperator this time! My wife left her phone here at home, I'm afraid.” He's wearing a nervous grin, hoping this person doesn't ask too many questions about the fact he's answering for the first time ever.
Luckily they don't. “Ah, that's fine! We're just calling about Celeste and Nyx.” Both of them? Again?
“What have they done this time?” He hates thinking the worst of his girls, but they have a track record of mischief by now.
“Well, from the report, they've been caught on one of the cameras shoving some kids into a storage closet and locking them inside. The head would like to speak with their parents about it.”
Crap. So far you've just been having talks with their class teacher. This being moved to the head of the school probably means they're in for a harsher punishment. Maybe there was a way to get them out of this. “Well, I don't know when their mother will be home but I could always come in to speak to them.” It was worth a shot.
“That'd be great! I'll tell the head to expect you!” After that and a curt goodbye, they hang up. Right. Can't go out looking like a 1950s cartoon. Luckily, this isn't the first time he's donned a human look. It was handy for days when the kids wanted to go out to some place, it meant he didn't have to be in hiding constantly and he could spend more time actually interacting with his family.
Light travels up his body as his form grows and changes, the toon being replaced by a human. He admires himself in the mirror, before frowning. “By my name, this outfit is ridiculous.” After quickly changing out of the Ring-A-Ding clothes to a v-neck yellow sweater over the white shirt with a pair of brown pants and a belt, he's out the door, leaving the house under the watchful eye of his harbinger.
It doesn't take him long to walk to the school, you live quite close to it and Lux has taken the kids there on mornings where you start work early. He registers in at the front desk, smirking as he writes his name down amongst all these silly human names, then he's guided to the head teacher's office by the lady who'd called your phone. There, on two chairs outside their office, are his daughters, heads down as they quietly wait. “The head teacher must be talking to another student right now, they'll call you three in when they're done.” Lux gives a nod and a polite smile before she leaves, then he moves to stand in front of his kids.
“Hey, Starlights.” Their heads snap up at his voice, a big smile on Nyx’s face. They must've been expecting you. That smile of his younger daughter is wiped off when she sees his serious expression. “Getting in trouble with your class teacher is one thing, what on earth did you do to get the head’s attention?” Celeste casts her gaze back to the floor, but Nyx huffs as she crosses her arms.
She meets her dad's gaze with an equally stern look. “Those kids were making fun of Cel’s eyes! I was just teaching them not to do that, but noooo, we're not allowed to stand up for our sisters in this school.” Lux’s stern dad look softens. Of course they were just getting back at their bullies. “I tried to tell the teacher that but they wouldn't listen. Said I was arguing! So now we're here.” Both of them mumble a joint ‘sorry’ to their dad.
His hand runs through the hair behind his ear as he sighs. “I'll see what I can do. No promises, but you two don't deserve to get told off for standing up for yourselves.” Nyx's smile returns, while Celeste just swings her legs and keeps her head down. He sits on a free chair next to them, thinking of a plan to get his daughters out of trouble.
Shortly after the door to the office opens, a kid walking out followed by the head. “Ah, you must be Mr Imperator.” Lux nods and stands up, letting Cel and Nyx walk in first. There's only two chairs, so he lets them sit while he leans on the back of one of them. “I imagine you already know why we called, but just to reiterate; your daughters have locked a group of students inside a storage closet today during lunch. Those children claim it was done without reason,” He can practically feel the anger rising in Nyx, so he puts a hand on her shoulder while he nods along to the teacher's words. “This was also caught on the camera in that hallway, if you'd like to see.” Perfect! This was just what he wanted to hear.
In a split second, faster than the human eye could ever pick up, the footage that pops up on the screen shifts at the God of Light’s command. Even with the poor quality of the school cameras, it was clear that the two children pushing those other students into the storage closet were not his daughters. Lux looks between the screen and the head teacher, who is silently flapping their mouth as they think of an explanation for this. “So, you only listen to the victim's side of the story, and you don't even check to see if they're telling the truth?” The kids keep their heads down, partly because of their dad’s tone and also to keep from laughing, knowing he changed the footage.
“W-well, I'm aware that this isn't the first time that these two have been reprimanded for bullying other students-”
“For standing up for themselves.” The head teacher’s mouth snaps shut, leaning back in their chair at the angry gold eyes of the man in front of them. “If you're aware of all the other times they've “bullied” other students, surely their teacher has told you about the bullying that they've endured before deciding to deal with the matter themselves?”
They look between Celeste and Nyx before returning their gaze to Lux. “I.. I've heard nothing about this issue.”
He huffs out a laugh, gripping the back on the chair in front of him to quell his own anger. “I see. So their teacher, clearly, isn't doing enough about these students who are continuously pestering my daughters, and hasn't bothered to tell you about it, even though this issue has persisted so long that my daughters have felt it necessary to fight back themselves?” It's more of a statement than a question, but it goes unanswered nonetheless. Lux sighs heavily. “Perhaps the school could do with listening to more than one side before my daughters are scolded any more for standing up against bullies that no one is doing anything about.” He pats his kids on the shoulder with each hand. “C’mon, let's go home.” The head teacher doesn't stop them from walking out.
Celeste and Nyx hug one side of their dad each as they leave the school building. “Thanks for bailing us out, dad.” They quickly break away as Lux ruffles their hair, giggling and batting at his hands.
“Just don't tell your mother about any of this, ok? Or we'll all be in trouble.” He smiles at their immediate nods. “Want to get some ice cream on the way back?”
“Dad, you don't have any money.”
“Yeah but I know you two get pocket money.”
“Dad!”
They make it home long before you do, and their secret is kept safe from your knowledge. For now.
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The Second Watcher of the Dark Cacao kingdom had only been meant to guard the door while King Dark Cacao Cookie spoke with Pure Vanilla Cookie after the other ancient gave an abrupt visit.
What he hadn't expected was for the king to suddenly shout out midway through the conversation, loud enough that despite the thick chocolate walls, the Second Watcher could make out each word of it.
...What had Pure Vanilla Cookie told the king to make the normally stoic leader say such a thing about the normally calm healer?
...The Second Watcher wasn't sure he wanted to know.
#Got an appearance of the Second Watcher(Which despite it not being said here I personally headcanon his name to be Caramel Drizzle)#Normally I tend to like the idea of Dark Cacao having a soft spot for Pure Vanilla#Normally such a thing would apply here too#But this is also just a little bit of a something in the new AU thing I'm cooking up that still lacks a name#And PV just kinda#Actually#That might be spoilers.#Tbh I have no clue how exactly I want to go about revealing things(as in chronologically or just whenever I think of them)#I've planned out generally what PV said to make Cacao react that way#But I think I'll save that for another time#Maybe it could have a perspective from their side of the door?#Also: If you're wondering where Caramel Arrow is#And why she isn't the one guarding the door instead#It's actually because good ol' Carrow is with the two ancients in that room#Just a little detail as to why I chose the second watcher to be guarding the door and not the first :)
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Realizing I've never posted these Same Ol Dan doodles. Here you go, eat up 🍴
#i think i drew these around the time I really wanted to study his mutated form#its legit soooooo cool and simple- yet complex#the cool tongue and shoulder scruff and the many limbs#also ngl he makes me sad#like he is in complete denial about being different like many of the other witnesses#i also like to hc that this is the version of Dan that never gets help- that doesnt get to socialize and have the chance to grow as a perso#i could go on but I'll save it for another post#dan look outside#look outside#look outside game#same ol dan
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i be like "i miss rex a normal amount" and then i almost pass out watching scene packs
(alternate versions under the cut because i am indecisiveeee)
#star wars#clone wars#star wars the clone wars#captain rex#clone wars rex#my art#“i'm no jedi” “actually my name is rex” and “it's captain sir" hgaha where's the ring. where is it show me#the trifecta of phrases sure to incapacitate a rex girlie at the drop of a hat#anyhow y'all know the drill. come get y'all juice cause i was reverting back to fifth-grader energy while i drew this#full-on giggling like a maniac bro i had the biggest crush on this man at like age twelve#yeah i redrew that one shot from old friends not forgotten cause i'll be thinking about it till the day i die. what was bro on#i could write an essay on that scene specifically but i'll save that for another time
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There are shows that I'm disappointed got cancelled but I'm genuinely mad about Dead Boy Detectives. Like that was a huge fuckup on Netflix's part, and Netflix being Netflix means they won't part with the show and sell it to another studio if they can avoid it, while also not actually doing anything with it.
"Yeah but it had low viewership" I live in Los Angeles, tv show and film capital of the world, and saw a grand total of one billboard and very few posters... When the show had already been released.
I think they did get the mural on Melrose, the one near Fairfax, but I don't remember seeing it complete which is usually not a great sign.
The designs for the posters and billboards were so cool too, like they legitimately just threw 3 years of hundreds of people's work straight in the trash before the show even came out. I will literally never stop being mad about this.
#dead boy detectives#dbda#save dead boy detectives#also fuck netflix#what makes me so mad is that had the show been made even just a couple of years earlier it would have easily been renewed at least once#but studios have started judging shows based entirely on profit and viewership is the only thing taken into account#even though having a cult following is the type of thing studios used to sell souls for#the amount of shows I started watching years after they were done having never heard of them or seen a poster or billboard#but they still have 3 or 4 or even 5 seasons#times have changes and i don't fucking like it#unrelated but I'm probably moving to Stockholm for grad school#and it makes me genuinely sad to think I'll never see another poster or billboard for/about this show
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my theory for soc 3 is that it's gonna open with a zoyalai wedding, and the crows are just there cause nikolai likes them, and then someone fucks up and then the plot actually starts.
#then if another crow dies i'll just try and think of this and feel not at all better but also a bit happy at the same time???#i know fully well that i make no sense#grishaverse#six of crows#six of crows 3#save shadow and bone#nikolai lantsov#zoya nazyalensky#zoyalai#kaz brekker#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#matthias helvar#nina zenik
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what if we go back to where you’re staying and then we – we decide from there ? homme is nodding , pressing yet another kiss to her lips , and he’s grinning against petals , his hand cradling her cheek as he holds her close . “ we can do that , sure .. we’ll leave first thing in the morning .. ” dimitri pulls her closer , palms settling on her waist . “ i’m staying somewhere not too far away from here … we can go there , and then … maybe head down south or something , just for a couple of weeks until … you know … your father digest all of this . ” like how his daughter didn’t go through the wedding , how she chose to run away with an ex-convict she’d broken things off with about a month ago . though he things the hardest pill to swallow would be that they are genuinely in love . that they don’t see themselves spending the rest of their days alongside someone else . maybe we can go somewhere and we can do this for real . get married . nods eagerly , pulling back to look at her after pecking her lips once more , “ i was serious … i am serious . ” leans in , closing the space between them to prove a point , petals capturing hers in a slow kiss . “ you’re gonna be my wife , my everything . ” though she already is his everything . “ i'll get you a nice ring .. ” eventually that is , would need to save up to get her the prettiest ring to adorn her finger , “ i'll plan a proposal – we can have a nice wedding too . ” nose nuzzles hers , already fantasizing about their future . “ a life with you sounds really good .. how many kids do we want to have ? two ? three ? ” leans in again , pressing yet another kiss to her lips . think we should practice the family part tonight , and then she’s calling him a good teacher , knows exactly what she’s insinuation with her words . their lessons , the times they spent together getting to know every inch of one another , memorizing what would elicit the sweetest sounds . kisses her again , deeper this time , tongue licking into her mouth and lapping along hers . “ think we need to go over some other lessons too … ” grins against her lips , and then he’s reaching behind her to open the door of his car , helping her in before he walks around the front , sliding into his seat , too , and quickly putting the key in ignition , driving them out of there . “ i have some clothes at mine .. ” understands why she’d want to change out of the dress . “ but you look beautiful . ” needs her to know , “ you do . you always do . ”
never pictured herself as a runaway bride -- dreamt of her wedding since she was a little girl : the exact dress she'd wear , the song that would play as she walked down the aisle , what flowers she'd want and the perfect arrangement of her bouquet . but never thought her father would promise her to a stranger , that she'd be a business transaction instead of his precious little girl , like he always called her . wonders what he'd call her now , after this .. if she'd be his biggest disappointment , instead . frowns , quickly shoving the thought away and focusing on the one thing she can control : this moment , with dimitri . her hands are sweating , fingers slightly trembling with the rush of adrenaline that's pumping through her system , and once they reach his car , she has to stop and catch her breath . both from the running and the anxiety making a mess of her insides . but , as her gaze lifts and his warm , brown hues are meeting hers , it's as if all those worries melt away . just like that . " anywhere . " a small smile tugs at her lips , fingers flying up to gently wrap around his wrists , " i'd go anywhere with you . i don't care where . i just ... i want to be with you . " and then , she's glancing down at the gown she's still wearing , wrinkling her nose , " and i .. i really want to not be wearing this . " a small laugh emits and she's slowly lifting her gaze , almost sheepish as she takes a step forward , and she's leaning into his space , " what if we .. go back to where you're staying and then we - we decide from there ? " she's pressing a soft , lingering kiss to his lips , eyes fluttering closed and staying that way for a couple beats . " but we'll have to be gone by morning , before my dad has a chance to figure out where we are , " and then she's pressing another kiss to his lips , this one a little firmer , " and then .. if you were serious , " lids flutter open , hues meeting his as their lips brush , " maybe we can go somewhere and we can do this for real . get married , i mean . do everything you said , everything we want together .. " smitten smile curls her lips and she's gently brushing her nose against his , " think we should practice the family part tonight , though .. heard you're a good teacher . "
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"Perhaps I should assume control... Just out of curiosity, if you were in control–" "I'd shut up and kiss you." ... "It's funny, I don't feel in control." BOSTON LEGAL 5.11 "Juiced" (Deleted scene)
#gd damn. happy birthday to me I guess#james spader#alan shore#boston legal#favorite#*#onscreenkisses#he just DEVOURS#so hungry and needy and desperate and generous and... thorough#just watching this I can feel his tongue down my throat. who told him to do all that#that's what I was saying the other day!!! a spader on-screen kiss is..... not like other kisses#remember that thing jim said about how as an actor you really have to feel what your character feels#if your characters are in love you have to fall a little bit in love with your costar. I think he really does every time. he's so giving#and it's simultaneously just his job. hmm thinking things#that I'll save for another time. when I'm not distracted by how hot this is
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