#Sometimes listening to him cover various songs can actually surprise me

[dahliavxvii]

Does anyone want to listen to Graham's cover of Last Christmas

(it was released just before the Christmas last year so it's appropriate to listen now)

[paterson-blue]

Summary: Sackler's working on his impulse control. No, really--he is, he swears. It's just a lot harder when it comes to you.

Word Count: 8,432

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, angst with a happy ending, fluff, sexual tension, friends to lovers (but moves into established relationship), domestic shit, the regularly scheduled Sackler chaos, Sackler is soft, an anxious boy; a nervous boy, excessive gatorade drinking (it's his brand), classic Sackler banter, hair braiding, teasing, handjobs, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), slight nose action, unprotected PIV sex (no chance of pregnancy), cock warming, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint) — let me know if I need to add anything else!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

You’d entered his life slowly, inch by inch, sneaking into his consciousness until suddenly you were all he thought about. When he’d decided to wave at you across the aisle of the bodega all those months ago he’d had no idea of what the future would hold. All he knew was that he’d been seeing you there every day like clockwork; same time, same aisle.

He always grabbed a red Gatorade and you always grabbed some sort of sugary drink of your own. Occasionally the two of you seemed to move in sync, opening the fridge, reaching up, grabbing your item, and slamming the door all in one motion together. Adam thought it was kinda funny, two strangers' lives lining up in such a way, being part of each other’s daily routine. So one day he waves, a goofy grin on his face as he points to his signature bottle of red goodness.

You blink at him in surprise before almost shyly smiling back, your eyes bright, and oh—Adam’s stomach does a dangerous little flip-flop.

He waves at you for two weeks straight until it’s not enough anymore. He comes into the bodega one day determined to talk to you but with no concrete plan of how to do it. He’s a little early in his excitement, and he finds himself having to aimlessly browse the little store like a fuckin’ idiot before the familiar bell dings and he sees you come through the door. He half-trips over to the drink aisle, trying not to come across like he’s following you around, even though he definitely is.

You’re studying the various beverages in the fridge, mouth scrunched up as you consider them. He only allows himself a moment to admire you, not wanting you to catch him staring. He steps closer, boots thudding on the floor, making you look up at him. Now’s your chance, Sackler, a voice echoes in his head.

“What’s today’s flavor?” he hears himself say, and he feels relief wash over him when you give him that pretty smile.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You sigh, settling your hands on your hips. “Maybe just water.”

“What?! Bullshit! You never get water!” Oh, so he’s just gonna double down on being a creep, huh? Saying he knows exactly what you get every day? Adam wants to smack the palm of his hand against his forehead.

But then you’re letting out a laugh, shaking your head at him. “Well maybe sometimes I like to change things up. We can’t all stick to red gatorade every damn day.”

Your comeback makes Adam feel half-giddy, both from the easy banter and from the acknowledgement that you’ve been paying just as much attention to him as he has to you.

“Well, I’ll have you know that red flavored Gatorade has special health benefits that others just don’t.” He states, leaning against the cool glass of the fridge. You’ve gone back to browsing, but you keep shooting him amused little looks; his ego crows at your attention.

“Is that so?” you ask, humoring him as you indeed select a bottle of water from the bottom shelf.

He’s nodding when you straighten back up, and points accusingly at the bottle of water. “Can’t believe you’re going for the boring shit.”

“Well,” you shrug, holding the bottle to your chest, “I’m feeling pretty boring today. But I dunno, tomorrow might be different. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She doesn’t mean anything, Adam tries to tell himself. The two of you had been there together every day for the past two months. It’s not abnormal for you to assume he’ll show up again the next day. But still, your words, the between-the-lines invitation for him to see you again, makes his heart leap.

“I guess I will,” he responds firmly before grabbing his regular gatorade from the shelf. This time the two of you walk up to the register together, and before Adam can stop himself he’s digging into his jeans pocket, tugging out a couple crumpled bills. “Hey kid, lemme pay for that.”

You hesitate, but nod, chirping out a “thank you” in that sweet voice of yours. Adam slaps down the money, throwing in a pack of sunflower seeds along with the drinks. If it’s just to make the transaction last two seconds longer—to make him standing there with you two seconds longer—then he’ll keep it to himself. Soon, you’ve got your water and you're waving a goodbye as you step out of the store and onto the busy sidewalk.

Adam follows at a distance; watches you walk away, your purse slung over your shoulder, water already open and pressed to your lips. He watches until you disappear into the crowd, and then he’s sighing, looking down at his feet. It’s not until he’s trudging back home that he realizes he never even got your fuckin’ name.

_______________________________________

It’s another day before he gets your name. A week before the two of you leave together, leaning against the wall outside and sipping your respective drinks; two before he’s asking for your number. For some reason, you actually give it to him.

He’s nervous to text you first, which is unlike him. Sure, in the past he would get a little anxious, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself, but he still went through with it. But it takes him an entire day to shoot you a message, asking if you wanted to go sit in the nearby park after the bodega stop. Your answer is an immediate yes, and suddenly Adam is eying the hole in the collar of his green t-shirt, wondering if he should change.

It’s not a date. The bodega isn’t a date, the park isn’t a date—the walks and lunches, coffee shops and movie nights in the weeks following aren’t dates either. So what if he cleaned the absolute shit out of his apartment before you came over for dinner? So what if he wore his nice jeans and black dress shirt, sleeves all rolled up to show off his forearms? So fuckin’ what?

It’s not a date.

It’s not a date until, a month into all your not-date’s, you’re standing at the sink with him as the two of you tag-team-clean the dishes. He’s washing, you’re drying, and there’s an easy rhythm flowing until a soapy plate slips from your grasp as he hands it to you. The dish smacks into the water-filled sink, creating a splash that soaks the both of you. You inhale a loud gasp, laughter already in your voice.

He seems to get the brunt of it, the front of his green plaid shirt darkening as warm, sudsy water bathes the fabric. His shoulders hunch up in surprise, and you’re giggling, covering your mouth with your hand. “Shit, I’m so sorry, that was an accident I swear.”

“Oh I call bullshit,” he growls, a grin spreading over his face. He yanks his arms up high, wriggling his fingers over your head so that water and suds drip onto you. “Pay back!” He crows, stalking towards you. You can easily duck under his arm to sideswipe him, to escape his grasp, but you don’t.

Instead, you swat at him with the dish towel in your hands, laughing as you shuffle backwards. “You better fuckin’ not, Sackler! I’ll scream!” You make idle threats at him but he doesn’t listen. He steps forward, forward, forward, hands dripping water all over your hair and shoulders as you shriek.

“I’mmmmm gonna getcha!” he sing-songs, jumping towards you, the wood floor creaking under his big feet. He’s got you cornered now, your back against the wall—ha! His arms swoop down in an attempt to engulf you, aiming to press his wet hands and shirtfront against you, but your hands fly out to grasp his wrists to halt him.

“I just bought this shirt!”

“It’s soapy water, it’s just gonna get more clean!”

“Adam!” You laugh, your voice betraying a tone of fond exasperation. And oh, you’re all smiley and breathless, eyes shining up at him—you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, lighting up his kitchen and his heart and his whole fuckin’ life with the brightest, warmest sunshine he’s ever felt. He stares at you, admiring you freely, not able to help it. You don’t seem to mind; you’re looking straight back at him, thumbs rubbing little circles on his wrists where water was trickling down to his forearms.

Adam’s never really been one for impulse control. That shit’s just never appealed to him. What was the point? If you’re gonna do something, just fuckin’ do it—get it out there in the open and see what happens. Yeah, sometimes things don’t go well, or—okay, they go really fuckin’ bad—but sometimes things turn out for the better! And the sweet feeling of elation whenever his bet, whenever trusting his gut, pays off? It was worth the risk.

So he lunges down, capturing your face in his wet palms as he presses his lips to yours. And shit, by some strange miraculous twist of fate you’re actually kissing him back. It makes him press forward, shoulders scrunched up and back curved towards you, angling himself for you to take. He thinks he could die happy, finally having your mouth against his, finally holding you the way he’s needed since the first fuckin’ day he saw you.

You sigh into his mouth and he gobbles it up greedily, sucking at your bottom lip, full on moaning when your tongue swipes against his cupid’s bow. When you insist on pulling away to get some air he stays close to share your breath, brushing his nose against yours. You hum out a pleased little noise and he wants to melt into the floor. He thinks about doing it—about sinking to his knees and pressing his face into your stomach, holding you tight, tight, tight.

He thinks he might have, if you hadn’t reached up to card your fingers through his hair, fingertips massaging deliciously at his scalp. He presses a needy little kiss to the corner of your mouth; your lips quirk upwards at his touch. When you break the silence it’s in a hushed tone, your hands sliding over his biceps. “That was nice.”

Adam grins, rubbing the tip of his nose over your cheekbone just because he can. “I can do better,” he promises cheekily, “Just gotta let me show you.”

You laugh, saying oh really? in a way that has him preening.

“Hell yeah. I’m a very well rounded individual.” He finally straightens back up, watching you with hopeful eyes, painfully shoving back the urge to ask you if you wanted to kiss him again.

“… I’ve got work tomorrow,” you finally say, and Adam nods, because he knows you do. You took your shit seriously. But oh, you’re reaching for his hand, and the relief he feels when you touch him is immediate. “But I'm free tomorrow night,” you tell him, your own eyes bright, waiting for him to take your offering—and there’s no way in hell he’s going to pass it up.

“Well good, because we’re having dinner. That back alley Thai place. And then I’ll take you out to that gross ice cream shop down the street you like so fuckin’ much.”

You nod, bouncing on your toes a little, and it’s so goddamn cute that Adam almost dips down to kiss you again. The most he lets himself do is rub the back of your hand with his thumb, watching you intently. “And I’m fuckin’ paying, don’t even think about bringing any money.”

You offer him a grin. “Alright. It’s a date.”

Adam nods, so fast he thinks he probably looks unhinged, but hey—that’s nothing new. “You bet your ass it’s a date, kid.”

An actual date. With you. It only took three months.

_______________________________________

So yeah. Impulse control.

Never been Adam’s thing.

It’s not that he doesn’t think about his actions. Okay, well, sure, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just goes with his gut and throws caution to the wind, like when he’d kissed you. He’d just known it was what he should do, and so he did it. He likes to think most of his impulsive decisions are perfectly logical and sound, even the ones that don’t work out. It’s not his fault if other people don’t always agree with what he does. This is how he’s lived his life all these years, and it’s worked out more often than not. Why change something that isn’t broken, or whatever the saying is.

Except. He meets you. And fuck, suddenly he’s overthinking every little urge, every little snap judgement—tight-rope walking the thread of fate. He’s on edge for the best of reasons; you’re the most wonderful thing he thinks has ever fuckin’ happened to him and there’s no goddamn way he’s going to jeopardize what the two of you have. He has to do this right, has to do things properly. He’s going to date the absolute shit outta you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He likes it, really—hopping each little stepping stone that leads to more of you. Taking things slower than he has in ages, maybe ever. He knows, in the back of his mind, that if he flew into you at his usual gale force chaos, you’d accept him all the same. Because you’re good. You’re soft and sweet, and have turned his life into something golden and warm.

But you deserve more than his chaos. You were so gentle and vulnerable with him, and Adam—he wants to be the same way with you. For you. So he grapples with his impulses, shoving them down when they rear their ugly heads. He’s not gonna fuck this up, no matter how much his brain tries. And oh, does it try.

_______________________________________

For example, he almost tells you he loves you not two weeks into the course of dating you.

It’s not his fault, honest—or that’s what he tells himself. His feelings just like to…. overwhelm him. Endlessly.

See, he’d had a show—a play; one he’d been working on since before he’d waved at you in the bodega those months ago. You knew about it, sure. He’d talked about it (ranted about it) plenty of times. You always listened even if you had no clue what he was going on about, always gave him whatever he needed—whether that was being alone, or extra rehearsal time, or allowing him to flop into your couch and scream into the pillows.

Still, he hadn’t invited you to the opening night. Or any nights, actually. He was too nervous, as much as he hated to admit it—mostly about fucking things up if you were there. Honestly, the thought of you sitting, watching him, made his insides all… wriggly. And even if it was the good kind of wriggly, he’d be too hyper-aware of it, too distracted by it.

He feels guilty even if you don’t seem upset. You have brunch with him—yeah, he was doing fuckin’ brunch now. That shit was good—and then give him a goodbye kiss, telling him to “break a leg.” It makes him smile, and he insists on a couple more kisses, just for luck. And then he’s off to the final rehearsal before opening.

It goes off without a hitch, and Adam’s beyond elated—and relieved, and proud. As he scrubs off his sweat and makeup backstage, he can’t help but wish he had someone there to share his pride with. But he doesn’t have time to get into his head; there’s stupid fuckin’ rich people to schmooze outside, and the director had told him under no uncertain terms would he be in attendance.

Adam yanks on his tie as he makes his way through the theater’s halls towards the ballroom, not looking forward to the boring conversation and unnecessarily tiny food he had ahead of him. He tries to sneak his way through the crowded lobby area but it’s kind of difficult to be discreet with his sheer size—something that shouldn’t surprise him by now and yet does every single time. He forces out gentle smiles and humble “thank you’s” at the praise his performance receives, attempting to make his long legs work double time.

But then he spots something in his periphery. He’s not even sure what it is at first, really--just that it means something to him. It’s important. A flash of fabric as someone exits the large revolving doors, and there it is, that nagging in his head, that impulse. He veers off course without even thinking about it; fuck the schmoozing. Following that flutter of fabric, he shoves his way through the door and people, stumbling out onto the sidewalk. His dark eyes scan the busy street before landing on what his subconscious had been so attracted to.

You.

It stuns him at first, shocks him to silence--and not much can do that, if he’s being honest. You were here. Had you been here the whole time? Did you watch the whole thing? Were you just gonna leave? Adam thinks all these things at once, his mind a cacophony of noise, and suddenly he’s bellowing your name over the bustle of the crowd. He watches you jump, acknowledges the head turns he’s getting--he doesn’t give a fuck. You’re turning to look at him and he’s all but bounding over, zeroed in on you. You looked so goddamn gorgeous, the lights of the city casting multicolored glows over your skin.

“You’re here.” He says when he gets close enough, gaze bouncing all over you, not able to keep to one spot.

You give him a sheepish look, extending him just half a smile. “I… Yeah, I’m sorry. I wanted to come. I know you didn’t ask me to, but this show is so important to you and I--” You let out a small laugh, “--I wanted to support you, even if it was a secret?”

Adam’s chest fills with warmth, and his voice is noticeably quieter when he speaks again. “And you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye? What the fuck, kid?”

You shrug, but in a bashful way, not in a way where you’re blowing off his question. “Well, it wasn’t about me, you know? I wanted to be here for you, but until you were ready for me to be here, be here… I wasn’t wanting to, I don’t know--force your hand, or anything.”

And shit, if that doesn’t give Adam pause. He doesn’t think he’s ever had someone do something like this for him--support him without wanting something in return, without wanting recognition for their ‘good deed.’ You were giving him yourself even when he wasn’t around to acknowledge it or thank you for it. The words almost slip out of his mouth right then and there. I love you. It would be so simple.

They’re on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out in the open area between the two of you at a moment’s notice; he does the only thing he can think of to stop it from happening. He lunges forward, half yanking you to him as he slams his mouth down onto yours. It's… not as gentle as he intends, but he’s desperate, because the words are already leaving his lips in a muffled jumble. He’s kissing you on the crowded sidewalk like he’s fuckin’ starving for it, like he can’t breathe without it. Maybe he can’t. He sure isn’t stopping to find out.

“Adam--” you murmur into his mouth, and he grunts at you in response, which earns him a laugh. Your hands slip over his dress shirt, underneath his suit jacket, and he leans into your touch. You pull away from his lips, but press lingering kisses to his jaw, and Adam thinks maybe it’s an okay compromise. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close; says the only (other) thing he can think of--that he knows he has to get off his chest.

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ date anyone else. Don’t wanna kiss anyone else. Just you.” He makes sure to look at you when he says it, not caring how intense he comes across. If he can’t say that he loves you outright, he’ll do it in every other little way he can. “I wanna do boyfriend shit for you. Like—like make you canned soup when you’re sick and—and text you whenever I see a fuckin’ tree that reminds me of you.”

You smile up at him in that way that makes him feel ridiculously small and a million feet tall all at once. “Boyfriend shit, huh? Does that mean I need to start thinking of girlfriend shit to do?”

Adam nods briskly, but then pauses, his hands sliding up and down your back. “Only if you want to.” He tries to school his tone into something soft and neutral, trying to protect himself in case you say no.

But then you’re relaxing into his chest, resting your head over his thrumming heart. “I want to.”

He’s glad you can’t see his grin, and he holds you tighter to him, hoping you wont notice the way he’s literally fuckin’ vibrating with happiness. He wants to shout, wants to yell out at everyone passing by on the street. Hear that, everyone?! She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend now! Mine!! Ha!

“Do you wanna come back inside with me?” He asks instead, trailing his fingertips up and down your arm. “I have to go suck up to a bunch’a idiots so they’ll give the director some money. They might be willing to give more if I bring along some hot eye candy.”

You snort, pulling away from him; his gaze flits over your face, taking in your pleased smile and sparkling eyes. You were happy. He made you happy. It’s all he ever wants, really. You agree to coming with him, and he gives you his arm to hold onto as he escorts you back into the building, head held high with pride.

_______________________________________

Of course, it just makes things harder.

He’s swallowing down “I love you’s” left and fuckin’ right: when you pick him up from an audition and hand him a red gatorade. When you remember his lunch order from the café down the street. When you laugh at something dumb he’s said—a joke he knows isn’t that funny.

When, alternatively, you say Sackler in that exasperated-yet-fond tone whenever he’s said something annoying. When the two of you sit quietly in the living room together, each doing work, comfortable in the silence. When you pass behind him while he’s cooking and brush a gentle hand against his back, casual as can be.

He swallows the words down the first time he stays over at your place. It’d been an accident; he’d fallen asleep on the couch after getting back from an out-of-state visit to see his niece. He’d woken up in the morning to the smell of coffee, finding himself tucked under blankets. You’d come over when you saw that he was awake; brushed his hair out of his bleary eyes, said- “Good morning, sleepy head.”

He starts staying over a lot more after that, in your bed instead of the couch. Each time he wakes up next to you, wrapped around you, one of you half on top of the other—his chest fuckin’ aches. And still, his brain tells him to keep his thoughts to himself, to hold his feelings in his chest until the right moment. What’s the right moment? He asks himself. He never receives an answer.

It’s a torture he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know what to fuckin’ do with himself. The first time you climb into his lap, tugging his jeans open, wrapping your perfect hands around his cock--all he can do is stare up at you, plush mouth hanging open, barely daring to breathe much less let the usual filth fall from his lips.

Because holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, so perfect for him, and he’s pretty sure if he tries to say a single thing he’s going to let it slip. So he just yanks you close, biting at your lips, letting you swallow down his grunts and groans. He touches you everywhere--tries to let his hands do the talking for him.

He thinks he should probably tone down just how fervently he’s staring at you as he presses his thick fingers deep inside your pussy, but he has to see, has to know he’s making you feel good. “Tell me.” He manages to say, voice hoarse as he glances down to see your sticky wetness on his fingers before he pushes them back in, thumbing at your clit as he does so. “Tell me how it feels.”

You’re quiet but from your whimpers and whines, and Adam almost adds on a desperate please before you’re suddenly speaking, your words more of a babble as he works you. “F-Feels good, Adam, baby, feels so full. Can--can you--a little faster?”

A little faster? He can do that. He speeds up the motion on your clit, curling his fingers against that special spongy area inside as he pounds them in and out of you, brown eyes nearing black as he stares you down. “Like this?” he growls out, and instead of answering with words you let out a squeal, your hips jerking against him as your eyes roll back in your head.

Adam grins, breathless and feral. “Yeah. Like that, huh? Pretty girl.” The feeling of you cumming on three of his big fingers is enough to drag a long moan out of his chest; you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. “That’s it, doll, ride my fingers—good girl, so fuckin’ needy for me.”

You’re all clingy afterwards, clutching at him; he clutches right back, pressing his face into your shoulder, listening to you breathe. I love you, he thinks. I fuckin’ love you.

When you finally let him press his face between your legs one night, the words echo endlessly in his head. He’s lost in you, in the pressure of your thighs against his ears, your hands clutching at his shaggy hair, the way you clench so sweetly against his tongue. He rubs his face back and forth, smearing your slick all over himself greedily, sliding his nose up and down your clit. You let out an uninhibited, shuddering noise and he smirks, eagerly sucking at your folds.

He lets his eyes flick up to look at you, taking in the softness of your stomach, your heaving tits, the arch of your neck as you toss your head back against the pillows. He can’t see your face like this but he doesn’t fuckin’ care, not when he has the vision of you before him, your soft skin under his palms, the tangy sweetness of you in his mouth.

You cry out his name when you orgasm, your hips bucking against his face and Adam just goes along for the ride, using his hands to ease your frenetic movements. He spells it out with his tongue against your clit as you slowly come back down, blood rushing in his ears.

I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U.

It’s a warm, early fall night when he fucks you for the first time, slow and deep, the bedroom windows cracked and letting in the nightly noise of the city. He doesn’t hear any of it--hears nothing but you and the sounds your bodies make together. There’s no rushing, no dirty words falling from his lips--there’ll be more than enough time for that later. Right now was about the slick slide of his cock in you, his eyes trained on yours, all wide like he’s surprised by this--shocked that any of its happening. In a way, he is.

Adam reaches out to settle a giant palm on your cheek, holding you, rubbing his nose against yours as he rolls his hips, muscles flexing under his skin as his back arches. He wants closer to you--closer, closer, and closer still--so he shuffles up the bed. It's a little awkward, but he doesn’t care, just as long as he can get deeper. You’ve got your knees hugging his hips, hands grabbing at his shoulder blades, making the prettiest noises in his ear. Adam, you say, and somehow his name has a thousand meanings in this moment. Adam, Adam, Adam.

Hearing it makes his toes curl up, makes him choke out a moan into your neck. “Fuck, I’m--I--” He fumbles for your face, breathing hot and heavy as he mouths over your skin to find your lips, kissing you sloppy to shut himself up. You’re clenching tight around his cock, a hand snuck down to rub quick little circles on your clit as you get close.

He doesn’t watch you as you cum this time, not when you’re pulling his own orgasm out of him, milking him for all he’s worth. He’s drenched in sweat, trembling as he sucks in shaky breaths. No thoughts fill his mind, head completely fuckin’ empty but for the pleasure humming through his veins.

You laugh afterwards, the two of you curled up together, Adam having collapsed to the side in an attempt not to crush you. He gives you a crooked grin of his own, sliding one big palm over your tummy, rubbing it as he slings a massive thigh over your legs. “Good?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he starts to finger your belly button. You bat his hands away, calling him a fucking weirdo even as you lean in to capture his lips with yours. He nips at your bottom lip happily, smoothing his hand over your side, grabbing whatever part of you he can.

“Yeah,” he concedes, “-but I’m the fuckin’ weirdo you have custody of.” You smirk, and then you’re tugging on his shoulders, trying to haul him closer to you. You both need to shower--to clean up, probably drink some water, more than likely change the sheets. But maybe, he thinks to himself as he curls up half on top of you, nuzzling into your cheek--maybe it can wait for just a little longer.

____________________________________

“Fuckin’—ow!”

“Adam, stop moving around—“

“Well stop pulling my fuckin’ hair!”

You sigh at him, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a hard look in the mirror. Adam pouts, slumping on the stool he was sitting on; he knew he was being whiny but his scalp was fuckin’ sensitive!

“You’re the one who asked me to braid your hair, remember?” You point out, grabbing another elastic from the countertop. “You practically begged me.”

“I didn’t beg.” He huffs, making a face at you. You don’t move, and he chances a look at his watch—fuck, he was gonna be late if this took too much longer. “… Fine, I’m sorry, I’ll sit still. Promise.” He chews on his bottom lip, giving you his best puppy dog eyes; he’s heard they were pretty effective. He’s pleased when you finally step forward, reaching up to comb through his hair again, pulling it out of his face and plaiting it across the top of his head.

He’s landed an actual honest-to-fuck movie role. A little indie film, sure, but it was still another stepping stone in his career. He was beyond excited, was putting his all into it—and, apparently, since his character was a boxer, that meant doing early morning training followed by choreography.

It was fine, really. He was enjoying it, and he liked learning a new sport, liked feeling the burn in different muscles of his body. It wasn’t that he was out of shape, it was just fuckin’ intense. Some days absolutely kicked his ass but he was always eager to come back for more. His trainer, Beth, said she liked that about him. It gave Adam a sense of pride about what he was doing.

It’s just that his damn hair kept getting in the way. It would get all sweaty, sticking all over his skin, flying into his eyes at the most inopportune moments. He’d tried to put it up into a ponytail but that hadn’t lasted long at all. Finally last night, after days of his complaining, you’d told him he just needed to braid it. I don’t know how to do that shit, he’d said, and you’d snorted, and here the two of you were.

“M’gonna be late.” He warns, leg bouncing up and down, jittery. He’d been on time—early, even—to every single session so far, and he didn’t want to break that streak.

“You won’t be late,” you murmur, twisting the tiny elastic around the end of the braid, making him wince just a little—he shuts his eyes against the sting. They have to be tight or they won’t hold, you’d said. Your hands sweep his remaining loose hair behind his ears, combing your fingers through it as you give your work a once over.

“I think they’re okay. They shouldn’t fall apart, at least. No more hair getting in your eyes.” You scratch your nails lightly at the back of his neck, a silent apology for the strain on his scalp, before moving to rub the shells of his ears between your thumbs and forefingers. Adam makes a small, pleased noise at the sensations, leaning back into your chest. He wants to stay here like this, with you, but he knows he can’t.

“How do I look?” He questions, eyes still closed. Your hands slide down the sides of his neck to rest on his shoulders, squeezing gently. He feels when you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“Cute.” You tell him, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “Very pretty.”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, wrinkling up his nose. “Cute?” You nod, and he shakes his head. “I can’t look fuckin’ cute while I’m boxing!” You just shrug, as if to say ‘well, what am I supposed to do about it?’, and then start putting up your supplies. Adam wants to keep on teasing you, but instead he hauls himself to standing, heading into the living room to grab his boots.

You trail in after him as he’s shoving them on his feet and perch on the edge of the couch to watch him. He speaks as he ties the laces, hyper-aware of the time even though the subway was only a couple minute walk from your apartment. “I shouldn’t be home late. Probably be back before you, even.”

Home. It only half registers that he says it, that he refers to your place as his. He doesn’t have time to worry about it now; besides, you only nod at him, like he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. He hops up, heavy feet stomping across the floor as goes to grab his trusty backpack. When he passes you on the way to the front door he drops a gentle kiss to your mouth.

“Thanks for my hair.” He says as he slips his arms through the straps of the bag and proceeds to pat his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed.

“Wait!” You’re crying out suddenly, making him freeze in place, looking at you with wide eyes. He watches you rush over to the fridge, digging in it for a moment or two; he gives his watch another nervous glance.

“Kid, what the hell…?” Adam scratches at the back of his neck, bouncing on his toes, ready to get out the door. When you shut the fridge, you’ve got two tupperware containers and a red gatorade in your hands; you hurry over to him, a small smile on your face.

“Here.” You tug him around with surprising strength, maneuvering him until you can unzip his backpack and put the plastic boxes and drink into the large pocket. “I made you lunch and some snacks. Don’t worry, it’s all protein. I know you always pack water but I wanted you to have more than that.”

Adam whips back around the second he’s allowed, his chest feeling warm and fluttery. He steals another kiss, one large hand on your jaw, nudging his nose against your cheek. Knowing he has to keep it short he pulls away, brushing his thumb over your chin as he does so. He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn’t really know how to express what your actions mean to him. When had you even packed that? Last night, while he was asleep?

You give him a gentle smile, nuzzling your face into his palm. “You better get going. You’ll be late.”

Adam exhales. You always gave him an escape route, and he always fuckin’ took it. “Right, yeah. Okay.” He steps back, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. “Have a good day.” He yanks open the front door; when you speak again, your words are rushed, clearly not wanting to keep him.

“You too! Oh, can you pick up some bread on your way home?

“What? Oh, bread—yeah, sure—“ He’s stepping through the door, mind already focused on the day ahead. His hand finds the doorknob by muscle memory— “Sounds good, I can do that, love you!”—and the door slams shut behind him. He takes the stairs two at a time, his long strides getting him to the subway station sooner than he thought.

It’s not until he’s two stops down, staring blankly out the window as he stands in the crowded subway car, that he realizes what he’s done. Dread settles in his gut, heavy like lead, and his stomach twists. Fuck. Fuck! How could he have done something so stupid?

He wipes his palms on his gym shorts, feeling like they’re all clammy. He’d said ‘I love you’, tossed it to you like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing! Fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he’d ruined everything—pressured you somehow? Jesus Christ, well, guess it was time for him to leave the country. Or at least, move across town. New York was big enough to hide in, right?

He makes his way to the gym in a daze, his chest feeling all tight with anxiety. Getting into his routine is a struggle, and it frustrates him even more. Beth finally tells him to just have at one of the punching bags for a little bit, which does help loosen him up. Adam thinks it’s a tad ironic that imagining punching himself makes him feel better.

It’s not until he’s lumbering to the bodega to grab the bread you asked for, body aching and sticky with sweat, that he remembers you aren’t supposed to be home yet. He could sneak in undetected, plan an escape, or at least formulate some sort of explanation for his morning mistake. Though, he’s pretty sure saying “it was an accident, like when you were a kid and called your teacher ‘mom’” to his girlfriend wouldn’t bode well.

He knows he’s probably overreacting, but he’s never fuckin’ felt like this about someone before! He thought he’d known what love was; he thought he’d been in love in his past relationships. But he’s always said the words too fast, threw himself head first into the deep end. And yeah, he had loved them, in a way—cared about them, wanted them to care for him, too. But this? The all-encompassing affection and support you gave him? Your acceptance of him? He’s never had this before.

He’s never had someone want him fully as he is. And he wanted you the same way, loved every fuckin’ inch of you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of you; wants you by his side, forever. He feels so much that it scares him. And the thought of you not feeling the same, of you not wanting what he did—of his confession of love being something one-sided.

Adam was fucking terrified.

But he can’t run away. He knows he can’t. He always did, and always came back when it was far too late—when people were done with him. He won’t do that with you.

So he takes the steps up to your apartment one by one, trudging slowly, the loaf of bread held to his chest as if it would protect him somehow. He fumbles with the key in the lock, finally pushing through the door and kicking it closed behind him. Looking up, he freezes, heart leaping into his throat. There you were, sat on the couch.

“… I thought you’d be at work,” he says after a moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He forces his body into movement, numbly going to put the bread on the countertop before setting down his backpack and removing the empty containers from his lunch. He can feel your eyes on him even if he isn’t looking at you; it makes him hunch his shoulders up to his ears.

“I had a meeting get canceled,” you inform him, voice holding on to a certain edge even while your tone is light. There’s silence, Adam trying to pretend like he’s busy in the kitchen even though it’s pretty obvious he isn’t. “Sackler.” There’s that stern-yet-fond tone he loves hearing so much, and it’s impossible for him to ignore you. He chances turning around, giving you what he hopes is a blank look.

“Will you please come here?” You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him at this point, and his brain is telling him that you’re definitely up to something. But then, you’re standing up, and he registers you’re wearing his favorite tiny tank top—and nothing else—and he finds his feet tripping over to you before he can help it.

“Fuck, kid, look at you.” He breathes, hands reaching out greedily to grab at your tits, the softness of your hips, your bare ass. You laugh, pushing him down onto the couch, pressing your hand between his legs as you lean in to kiss him. He groans, bucking his hips up, already impatient. Shit, it would be so easy to just slip down the waistband of his shorts, yank you down onto his cock—

“Thank you for getting the bread,” you murmur against his lips, leaning over him, one knee on the couch. Adam lets out a strangled sort of laugh.

“This is because I got bread?” he asks, incredulous. You nod, and he still doesn’t believe you, but fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re pulling his hand between your thighs and his fingers are delving on instinct. You’re wet. Wetter than you normally are starting out like this. He swallows hard as he finds your entrance, as three of his thick fingers slip in easily.

“Fuuuuuhhck,” he groans, dark eyes flicking up to meet your gaze, “-you dirty fuckin’ girl. Did you get yourself all ready for me? Too eager for my big cock to wait?” He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as you whine, your hands tugging insistently at his shorts. He’s quick to help you pull them down along with his briefs, the both of you scrambling to be connected.

The second you slide down onto his cock he’s throwing his head back, thighs straining as he tries not to thrust into you with abandon. “Always so fuckin’ good,” he bites out, jaw clenched and voice all gravelly. His hands find your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he prepares to guide you at a punishing pace.

But then one of your hands is finding his face, angling him to look at you while your other hand balls itself in his shirt—and fuck, he hadn’t even had time to get his shirt off yet.

“Adam,” you say, all breathless, clenching around his cock in a way that has him grunting in response, almost fuckin’ shaking with need. You say his name again as you tug on his shirt, pulling the fabric up his chest. He reluctantly lets go of your hips in order to help get the offending garment off his torso, but then he’s right back to you, hands squeezing your ass.

“C’mon, baby, need you to move. Need to feel this tight fuckin’ pussy riding me.” His voice is little more than a growl, and he pulls you in to crash his lips to yours before you can respond. He’s overwhelmed, needy, previous anxiety forgotten—he forgot most things when you were so tight and warm and wet around him.

He plants his boot covered feet on the ground and thrusts upwards, a broken moan leaving his chest as you gasp into his mouth. You plant your hands on his shoulders and he thinks finally, you’re going to give him what he so badly needs. But then you’re pulling away from him, settling into his lap like you had all the time in the world, a little smirk on your face.

“We need to talk, Adam.”

He stares at you, gobsmacked; his cock does a little twitch inside of you, like it’s as confused as he is. “Talk? Now?” You nod, resolute, and Adam let’s out a long, hot breath through his nose. “What,” he bites out, palms kneading your ass; he thinks maybe his eye twitches, “—do we need to talk about?”

“Did you mean it this morning?” Your voice is all quiet as you run your fingertips over his french braids, then down to curl his loose hair behind his ears. “When you said you loved me?”

Adam’s mind—so singularly focused on fucking you—grinds to a complete halt. He gapes at you, unable to come up with any sort of excuse, any sort of witty counter to your question. It’s then that he realizes what you’ve done, you little fuckin’ minx—you’ve weaponized sex against him!

You fuckin’ knew he wouldn’t be able to think like this. Maybe he should be mad, but he knows--he knows this is exactly what he needs. So he closes his mouth, swallowing hard and sliding his hands from your ass to the small of your back, holding you close.

“Yes.” It’s shaky, falling from his lips. He tries to make his voice more firm. “I love you.” And then, just to double down on it: “I’m so in love with you it scares the shit outta me. I love fuckin’—everything about you. I never wanna love anyone else ever again, not if it's not you.”

His heart is beating wild in his chest, and the pervy little part of his brain wonders if you can feel it through his dick. You lean in and kiss him all slow, squeezing your perfect fuckin’ pussy around him, and his hands move further up your back to pull you into him. He feels unsteady, like he’s jumped off a precipice into the unknown. He’s dizzy with the relief of his confession, with the worry of your reaction even as you kiss him, with the feeling of such a tight, slick, heat around his cock.

“I love you, too.”

He almost misses it with the way you murmur it into the corner of his mouth and with his head spinning from overstimulation. He blinks at you, giving you those big brown eyes and his jaw works as his mind catches up to speed. You smile, dropping more kisses over his strong features, then laugh when he finally yanks his head back to stare at you, his breath catching in his chest.

“You love me.” It’s not a question, but more of a confirmation; him reassuring himself that what he’d heard was real. You nod, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders, down his biceps. His eyes search yours as his hips shift underneath you, making you sigh happily. Something in him snaps.

He re-positions his feet on the floor, one of his hands gripping your hip and the other wrapped around the back of your neck. Your eyes widen, and you have a split second to balance yourself against his chest before he’s snapping his hips up, fucking into you at a frantic pace. The gasp you make is music to his fuckin’ ears.

“Say it again.” He growls at you, gaze drifting over your body, watching the way your tits bounce with his thrusts. “Say it.”

“I love you.”

Your words make him moan, and he doesn’t care how ridiculous he sounds. “Again,” he demands, voice ragged, and you obey—you say it over and over again until his mind is filled with it, the words a soothing balm for all his insecurities. You cry out, trembling in his lap, his cock deep inside you, and Adam is overcome.

He holds you there, the hand on your neck moving between your legs to rub quick circles on your clit. “I fuckin’ love you too, goddamn, this tight little pussy. You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my big fuckin’ cock?” He’s panting, staring you down, not letting you look away. “Fuckin’—say it when you cum. Please—please.”

You nod quickly, mouth hanging open, squirming so deliciously on his cock as your cunt gets tighter and tighter around him. He isn’t sure he’s even breathing, fingers moving desperately as you sob out his name, hips jerking in his lap. Your hands clutch at him, fingers raking at his chest as you chant I love you, I love you, the words all broken by your cries and whines. It’s fuckin’ beautiful.

“Fuuuuhhhhck.” Adam groans between gritted teeth, eyes rolling back in his head as your pussy squeezes his cock like it’s trying to milk him, like it’s begging for all his fuckin’ cum. He lets out loud, feral, shuddering breaths, trying to hold back—he isn’t done with you yet. “Oh, you feel so fuckin’ good, jeeeezus.” His words sound all strangled, and he has just the smallest bit of sense to wrap his arms around you when you slump into his chest.

Your breaths are short little pants against his neck, and he closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of them—of you in general, the weight of you on top of him, your sticky skin against his, your body heat. “I love you.” He croaks out, saying it again just because he can. You hum in response, nuzzling your face closer; it makes him smile.

He trails the pads of his fingers down your spine and then back up, feeling the texture of your skin. You were his. His to touch, to kiss, to hold, to love.

He was yours.

It’s a heady, hopeful thought that tastes like the future.

______________________________________________________________

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[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

[fbfh]

dave strider relationship and intimacy hcs

Usual disclaimer that I’m still in act 4 so no spoilers n take this all with a grain of salt

Warnings: mentions of various relatively tame sex stuff, eating ass/pussy, boys wearing maid dresses, dave calls his partner mommy as a joke and then it becomes less of a joke, netflix and chill but the shows are really terrible bc 90% of the shit you watch is hatewatched/watched as a joke, grinding, cat ears, I think that’s it???

As with all smexy steamy nsfw stuff all characters are aged to 18+ 

So uh

Yeah ‘,;)

=>

A little later on in your relationship he loves laying on your lap

Loves laying in between your legs holding yr thigh even more

Will actually fall asleep like that 

Not always though

Sometimes he just leaves a couple hickeys on your hips and thighs while a terrible show plays in the background

My teenage wedding and any sketchy dating show pre 2012 are gonna go over well

It’s kind of a weird dichotomy with him

Half the time when you’re making out it started as netflix n chill with literally the worst most hate-watchable shows 

Half the time it started as him showing you the mixtape he made for you or some other music he made

Both are equally on brand and equally nice

If you’re listening to music at all 

There is a 99% chance he will grind against you to whatever beat he mixed

Truly a euphoric experience

Big fan of giving and receiving hickies

It’s weird though bc he barely realizes he’s marking you up 

He only really notices his neck and chest are covered in love bites when someone -john points it out

“Huh. Yeah, I guess…” 

He makes a lot of jokes about eating ass/pussy

I’m just saying

He can….. Follow up on that

Scratch his back up a little

Like 

Just enough yk

He will wear a maid dress and cat ears with zero hesitation

You barely even have to ask

Okay I’m not gonna lie this is kind of cursed

But what did you expect

It’s Dave

He starts calling you mommy ironically

And then it gets less ironic

I’m just going to leave that there

He absolutely freestyles about how sexy you are on a regular basis

He has like 

At least four or five mixtapes of significantly less sfw raps and shit

Asked to sample you moaning for a song as a joke 

“Yeah sure, but you’re gonna need to make it sound real ;)”

Was so surprised when you actually agreed

Sex with Dave 

Is very giggly

It’s so warm and happy

You just feel so close to each other

You really vibe so well

The only nudes he’s ever sent you have been literally as a joke

He sent you a recreation of the “hi welcome to chilli’s” vine fully nude

It still works though

Sometimes you don’t know why you’re even attracted to him

Then he sends you something that has you almost pissing yourself from laughing right as you get one of the songs he wrote for you stuck in your head again

Oh yeah

That’s why

Sit ✍️ on ✍️ his ✍️ lap ✍️ and ✍️ do ✍️ his ✍️ eyeliner ✍️

11/10 on the hot scale 

The sexual tension that builds is 

Chef’s kiss

Def leads to making out if you wanna 

Look me in the eyes and tell me he would not grab your ass hips and thighs while you make out on his lap

You can't 

His dirty talk will have you half laughing half red as his shirt

I'm fucking telling you 

This boy is the ceo of mood lighting 

After you make out 

He bites/licks his lips and it tastes like your lip balm

Starts to get him horny all over again

Heat and warm weather will never deter him from any touchy business

I mean he’s from texas for christ’s sake

Being hot will never deter him

And when the weather gets colder

He will absolutely use it as an excuse for even more kisses and cuddles

Def the type to just subconsciously trace his hands over your back and sides

And pretty much wherever he can touch

It’s innocent enough

And a lot of the time it makes you smile 

You like that he likes to be so close to you

A lot of the time there’s a certain subtext to his touch

And that kind

That makes you bite your lip 

Your face heats up and your pupils dilate

The rest is history

And the rest after that 

And that

And that

[the-bau-quinjet]

With you, he wants it all.

Part 2!! You can find all the info about why this is such a mess in Part 1! Also, I totally meant to post this earlier but Taylor Swift’s new album wrecked my plans. 

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her. 

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader, stalker

Word Count: 9972

The next time you wake up, the room is significantly brighter. You feel around in the cold bed, realizing Spencer isn’t there anymore. You have to force yourself to open your eyes to combat the overwhelming urge to roll over and sleep for another twelve hours. The clock reads 12:07. You can’t help but think you deserve more sleep as you force yourself into a sitting position. Once you finally sit up, you hear someone shuffling around, whispering in the other room. It’s too quiet to try to make out the voice, but you definitely heard something. Without too much thought, you quickly jump out of bed, grabbing the only thing you can find that even remotely resembles a weapon- the bible from the hotel drawer.

Slowly, you push the door open, getting ready to make a break for the door to the hallway at the first sign of danger. Remembering everything from yesterday has you on edge as you move toward the kitchen area, looking for anything out of place. You duck around the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room only to find it empty. As you finally let your guard down, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn around getting ready to slam the book into whoever is touching you.

 Spencer catches your arms before you hit him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, dropping the book and hugging Spencer.

 “I’m sorry! I just heard a noise and you weren’t in bed anymore and I wasn’t sure where you went and I wanted to make sure nobody else was in the room, but I-“

 “It’s okay. Just breathe.” Spencer is rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cling to him as if your life depends on it. A few minutes pass, before you calm down enough to pull out of the hug. You run a shaky hand through your hair, moving to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

 “I put the coffee on so you can grab some when it’s done. I’m going to get dressed so we can figure out where we want to go for inspiration today!” You wink at Spencer before heading back into the bedroom to shower and change. You throw on a pair of jeans and a light sweater after squeezing the extra water out of your hair. You like to let it dry naturally on days like this.

 You make your way back into the kitchen only to find Spencer has already changed into a navy and white plaid button down, khakis, and a navy cardigan. He is sitting at the table drinking his coffee when you enter the room. You immediately put the kettle on, reaching into the cabinet to pull out your tea collection.

 “No coffee for you?” Spencer asks, gesturing to the half full pot on the counter.

 “Oh, nope. Not for me. It’s only palatable if I add way to much sugar and then I get all antsy. I only have coffee if I have a really good reason to stay up.” You chuckle as you add the teabag to the mug you set on the counter. You sit on the counter, swinging your legs as you sip your tea.

 “So, where do you want to go?”

 “For what?” Spencer pretends to not know what you’re talking about.

 “It’s time to start writing silly!” You grin at his deer in a headlights expression. “Spencer, I told you not to worry. We are just looking for general ideas right now. Anything that could potentially lead to a song. It’s more fun to observe others during this part of the process because the ideas are less specific.”

 “I don’t even know where to start!” He actually seems nervous about this.

 “Spence, let’s just go to your favorite coffee shop. And don’t tell me that you don’t have one. You’ve already drunk half that pot of coffee.”

 “Why my favorite?” He actually looks taken aback at the suggestion.

 “Well, for one because I’m not from here, so I don’t know where to go.” You try to backpedal, but you’ve started a list. Something he is all too eager to point out. “And two?” He’s got his brows furrowed, a look of pure confusion adorning his face.

 “If it’s your favorite, then you’ve been there before.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Well yes, but your point?” The confusion is still present, but his words are laced with exasperation.

“You might just be comfortable enough in your surroundings to suggest a song idea.” You shrug as you say it, trying to make it feel more casual.

 “You considered whether or not I would be comfortable?” He seems genuinely surprised now.

 “Of course. I want you to help me, so I gotta butter you up.” You try to cover up your blush with a joke.

 “Thank you.” HIs words seem surprised, but the two of you move on. Spencer grabs his satchel, and you your jacket, as the two of you exit the hotel to head to the café. You opt for walking since the weather is not too hot. You don’t say much during the walk. After the moment in the kitchen, you feel a bit nervous. A few fans stop you along the way for a picture or an autograph, but mostly you just enjoy each other’s company. Nobody pays much attention to Spencer, rather opting to ignore him to get your attention. Every time someone comes up to you; you make a point to say excuse me or smile at him before addressing the fans though. You just don’t want him to feel left out or like he’s not important.

 You finally make it to the café. Spencer opens the door before guiding you in, again placing his hand on your back. You thank him as you make your way up to the counter to order. You order a chai latte for yourself, gesturing for Spencer to order his when the barista asks you if you need anything else. You make sure to add two scones to the order before sliding your card into the machine before Spencer has a chance.

 “It’s my fault you’re here with me, so please. My treat.” He shakes his head slightly, a small smile forming on his face.

 “How many times do I have to tell you, none of this is your fault?” He gives you a look as you two move to find a table after accepting the scones.

 “I know.” You don’t sound sure as you take your seat. He doubles down the staring as you continue. “I promise. I know. It was just a joke.” You sound more sure of yourself that time, earning another smile from Spencer.

 The barista brings you your drinks as you settle into the corner booth. You set your phone up on the table, pulling up the recording from yesterday. You pass Spencer your headphones from your purse so he can listen to what you’ve already come up with.

 You take this time to really study him. The sun’s rays are streaming in through the blinds on the window, causing slight shadows to drift across his features. You take in the sharp lines of his jaw as he turns to look around the café, listening to the various melodies and lyrics you sang for the team. His brown locks appear golden as the sunlight reflect off the highlights. He’s sporting a slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. His hazel eyes drift across the faces of everyone in the room, not settling for long on any one person.

 You shift your attention to his hands. He has one draped across the table, lightly tapping along as he listens. His long fingers are mesmerizing. You begin to recognize he is tapping out the melodies as if he were playing the piano. The other hand is wrapped around his coffee cup. You bite your lip as you think about all the things those hands are capable of. Your mind wonders as you stare. You are staring so intently at the way his hand grips the cup, you don’t notice when he removes the headphones.

 Spencer clears his throat to catch your attention. “That was incredible. How do you come up with ideas so fast?” He looks like he knows exactly what you were thinking, but is too kind to bring it up. He’s just doing his job, and this isn’t a date. 

 “Oh, um thanks. I guess the BAU is just full of inspiration. The song writing process is a little different every time, but sometimes I can think of random lyrics and melodies.” You try to smile as you force yourself to focus. “Think back to a time where you felt an emotion really strongly. It can be whatever emotion you want. Then, try to put it into words. I like to use common phrases or metaphors because it can be fun to twist it into something new.” You close your eyes as you think back to how you felt the moment you understood there was a man out there killing people because he is obsessed with you. Maybe it’s a little too soon to write that one out. The idea does give you another way to explain it to Spencer. “It’s kind of like therapy. You can talk out your feelings and share them with people. It’s just a bit more public.” Spencer looks like he’s contemplating his entire life as you sit in this coffee shop.

 “Spence,” you say it lightly to draw him out of his own thoughts, “don’t worry about it. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. I just wanted to get the ball rolling. Why don’t we try something else?” He looks grateful as he nods. “Great. Pick out someone in the coffee shop, preferably part of a group.” He looks around before his eyes settle on someone.

 “Okay, now tell me what they’re thinking about.” He looks confused, like a lost puppy. “It’s called people watching. Just make up a story about what they might be doing here.”

 You and Spencer discuss ideas for the next few hours. He picked out a young man, maybe about 19 years old. He was clearly here with friends trying to catch a break from studying if the backpacks on the floor were any hint. Spencer noticed all of that immediately of course, being that he is a profiler.

 His story sounded just like the profile Hotch told you yesterday, although much less horrifying.

 “White male, late teens to early twenties. He is likely a STEM major. This is the first time he has let loose in a while, normally choosing to forego the party life for studying. He likely has immense pressure on him from his family to succeed and do well in school.” You nod along, not having any idea where this information is really coming from. He sounds so confident, you can’t help but ask how he knows all that.

 “You’re incredible. How did you figure all that out?” You stare in wonder at the man across from you. He doesn’t meet your eye, but responds nonetheless.

 “His age is fairly obvious to observe. His bag is fuller than the others, indicating a major that requires more coursework. He keeps checking his watch, almost as if he knows he is wasting time that could be spent working toward a goal. The family pressure can be inferred by the other behavior. It is more likely a young adult is studious due to a strict upbringing with a focus on work ethic and goal-driven activities.”

 “Amazing.” You sigh as you look around the room. “My turn.” You point to a couple sitting a few tables away from you. “Those two are exploring the possibility of taking their relationship past that of friendship. They obviously like each other and are too nervous to say anything.” Almost as if to prove you aren’t a profiler, the two lean across the table for a kiss. You laugh it off, knowing it’s just a game for you.

 “Or maybe not. Either way, their song would be about new love. Something slow and pretty.” You smile as you turn back to Spencer. “Your turn again!”

 The two of you go back and forth a few times. His stories were really just profiles, but after a few tries he leaned into the fun, game-like nature of people watching. Of course, his last story didn’t stray too far from profiling, but it was much more dreamlike in the way he presented it.

 “The woman sitting by the window,” he said, subtly pointing to an older woman at a table alone, “she’s waiting to see her grandkids for the first time in years. Of course, she’s excited to see them again, but she’s nervous. What if they don’t like her? What if she can’t patch things up with her… I’m guessing daughter?” You smile brightly at the story. Family moments were usually the most inspiring for generic song ideas.

 “Good job, Spence! What would the song be about?” The question clearly caught him off guard. For the past few stories, you asked how he came to those conclusions. It was so fascinating to hear how his mind works. This time though, you thought he could really be on to something. You give him an encouraging nod, as you set your phone up to record again.

 “It could be about- about family.” He states it so firmly; you know he wants to say more. “She is sitting there thinking about the memories she has with her own parents and grandparents, so the song could be a reflection on days spent enjoying their company. Maybe future memories they can make together.” He smiles, albeit shyly.

 “That is a really good idea! It fits with the vibe of the lyrics I came up with for Rossi.” You see the moment it clicks in his head. I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.

 He actually seems pleased with himself now. “We could work on that one tomorrow. We should get up and walk around though, we’ve been sitting here for hours.” You reach for his hand as you scoot out of the booth, pulling him along with you.

 You stuff your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker as you head outside. You feel an overwhelming desire to be close to him, but you don’t want to overstep. The early evening crowd is out and about, bumping into the two of you as you walk back to the hotel at a leisurely pace.

 “Why don’t we go order some room service and just hang out for the rest of the night? All that people watching was exhausting.” You turn to grin up at him as you continue walking. He hums in response, looking down at you in return. You swear you can feel the mood shifting, but the moment is broken by a tap on your arm. You turn to examine the source of the interruption only to find a little girl who couldn’t be more than 10 years old.

 “Hi there!” You squeeze Spencer’s arm before ducking down to talk to the little girl. “Are you parents here?” She nods turning to look at a couple a few feet behind her, slightly out of breath, as if they just chased her down the street.

 “Carly! Honey, you can’t run off like that! You could have gotten hurt!” The man scolds her, but is clearly relieved she didn’t get away from them.

 “Sorry daddy! I just wanted to say hi to Miss Y/N! She sings my favorite song ever!” You wave at the parents before turning your attention back to the little girl.

 “Hi Carly, it’s nice to meet you! You really do need to be careful though. You should always stick with the adults so you don’t get lost.” Your voice is playful, but your expression is serious. The only way to truly convey that message to a child you have no parental claim to. She nods in response.

 “Mommy! Take a picture!” You pose with the girl as her mom takes a picture.

 “We’re so sorry for interrupting your date! She just saw you and took off down the sidewalk.” You blush at what the woman is implying about you and Spencer, not daring to look at him.

 “No worries at all. I’m always happy to meet a fan. Have a good night!” You wave goodbye, linking your arm with Spencer’s as you start to walk. He gives you a curious look, but you just laugh before joking “What? It’s so I don’t get lost.” He chuckles at your childlike behavior, but shifts so you can hold him closer.

 The rest of the walk is peaceful. You don’t see any more fans, which is good because you aren’t paying enough attention to anything at the moment. You keep picturing the look on Spencer’s face right before the little girl interrupted you. What was about to happen?

 Before you know it, you and Spencer are back in the room. He steps into the kitchen to call Hotch while you call to order dinner. You change into the FBI sweatshirt from yesterday and a pair of sleep shorts before settling on the couch to wait for Spencer. A few minutes later, he joins you on the couch after he hangs up. “The team has ruled out all the performers. It’s not surprising as the unsub wouldn’t be brave enough to perform for a crowd. They are still working through the lists of vendors and crew members.”

 “Good. That’s progress. Progress is good.” You nod to yourself, trying to convince yourself everything is normal.

 “Talk to me, what’s going on inside your head?” Spencer reaches out to take your hand while you stare at the ground.

 “I don’t know. I guess it’s just hard. It’s hard to have such an amazing day and then think about how it only happened because people are being killed. I guess I feel guilty.” You keep going before he can interrupt you. “I know it’s not my fault that this guy is out there doing horrible things, but I still feel bad for enjoying myself while it’s happening.” You don’t have any tears left to cry. You look over to Spencer to find him staring back at you.

 “Y/N, you are such a selfless person. There isn’t anything else you can do right now. We haven’t had any more victims, likely because nobody has posted about how excited they are for your shows since we still have 13 days before the next one. We are going to catch this guy.” You form your mouth into a soft smile before nodding at him. “What movie do you want to watch?”

 You smile at his attempt to distract you. “You pick. Anything that will take my mind off things, but not require too much thinking.”

 Spencer is racking his brain for a movie that fits your description when you hear a knock on the door. “Must be the food, I’ll get it.” When you return with the food, you find Spencer still thinking over movie choices.

 “Okay, how about this. What do you like to watch when you really need a pick me up?”

 Again he looks surprised that you would take his opinion into account. “Um, usually Doctor Who, but that’s not a movie it’s a-”

 “TV show. Right. Is that the one where they fly around in a telephone booth?”

 “First of all, it's a police box, not a phone booth. Second of all, Doctor Who started a quarter of century before Bill and Ted even went on their bodacious adventures. So really, they should just call it Bill and Ted's excellent rip-off, I mean at least then...”

You listen as he rambles about why people always think it’s a telephone booth. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about. You don’t realize he asked you a question until he clears his throat with a confused expression.

 “Sorry, I was rambling again.” He looks dejected, and you would do anything in the world to make him smile again.

 “No, I’m sorry!” You scoot closer to him to convey your point. “I was listening at first I promise. It’s just, you looked so happy I got distracted. Let’s watch Doctor Who.” You turn to face the TV before you say anything else that makes you feel like a complete moron. He sorts through the food as you find the show online, setting it up to play on the TV. There’s random free episodes on demand, so you end up staring with the 11th doctor.

 You are completely captivated by the show. Every so often, Spencer would comment on a theory about what one specific prop could mean only to have you cover your ears and warn him about spoilers. During an episode about creepy angel statues, he goes on a tangent about how Amy could have avoided the whole situation. Once he starts mentioning characters you haven’t met, you actually have to reach your hand up to cover his mouth to get him to stop talking. His words putter to a stop, eyes widening in shock as he stares at you.

 “Spence, I absolutely love how passionate you are about Doctor Who. But it doesn’t matter how adorable it is when you ramble on about something. If you spoil one more thing before I can actually watch the whole show through, I will not hesitate to smack you.” You stare right in his eyes the entire time, watching as they widen with each word. You had to get a lot closer to him to actually reach his mouth. He had moved forward, animatedly waving his arms around as he talked about various plot points, so you were basically sitting on his lap to avoid being smacked in the face.

 You drop your arm from his face slowly, as if any sudden movement would break the spell you were under. You lean forward, connecting your forehead to his. You take a steadying breath as you close your eyes. Your about to close the gap when his phone rings. Again, the moment is lost. You only move enough so that he can reach into his pocket for his phone. As he answers the call, you shift in his lap to cuddle into his chest.

 “Morgan, what do you need?” Maybe you’re imaging it, but he almost sounds the slightest bit annoyed. You can just make out what Morgan is saying on the other end of the phone.

 “Calm down, Pretty Boy. We might have a lead, Hotch and Emily are tracking it down now. I’ll meet you at the hotel in the morning to go over it all with you and Y/N.”

 “Okay, thanks for the update.” He sounds so normal now, you think you must have imagined the annoyance earlier. He hangs up the phone, tossing it next to him on the couch. He wraps his arms around you before shifting so you’re both laying down.

 “Let’s just relax and watch more Doctor Who. Morgan is stopping by in the morning to talk about the case.” You nod in agreement, turning to face the TV. A few episodes later, you and Spencer are drifting in and out of sleep. Neither one of you really wants to interrupt what you’ve got going, instead opting to just fall asleep on the couch.

 --

 You hear the faintest knocking noise that pulls you out of your slumber. It takes a few minutes for you to recognize you are on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms. He must have pulled a blanket over the two of you last night after you fell asleep. Before you can get up to evaluate the knocking, the door opens and Morgan comes rushing in. The concern on his face is quickly replaced with a knowing smirk. You blush, jealous that Spencer is somehow still asleep.

 “Hi Morgan. Sorry to alarm you. We must have fallen asleep watching TV last night.” At the sound of your voice, Spencer slowly begins to wake up. He smiles sleepily at you before realizing your attention is elsewhere. He practically throws you off the couch in his effort to sit up when he realizes Morgan is in the room.

 “Sorry!” Spencer looks at Morgan, then back to you. “I’m so sorry!” You laugh as you stand up.

 “Don’t worry about it.” You settle yourself in the chair, gesturing for Morgan to sit next to Spencer now that he isn’t sprawled across the entire sofa anymore. Turning to Morgan, you ask about the case “What did you want to talk about?”

 “We have been focused on going through the people who work for the tour. It makes the most sense for them to travel with you, otherwise it would require a lot more planning.” You can feel the nerves growing in your stomach. “Garcia found a name we wanted to run by you.” He hands you a picture before saying the name. “Ryan Moore. He works-“

 “On the instrumentals. I know. He usually runs the sound booth during the shows. I don’t know him that well, but we’ve talked a few times.” You think back over your past conversations. “It couldn’t be him.” You are 100% sure he is not the unsub, and the agents don’t fail to notice the conviction in your voice.

 “What makes you so sure?” Spencer is flipping through the case file Morgan brought with him. He doesn’t even look up when he asks the question, too focused on memorizing every detail about this man’s life.

 “Well, Hotch told me the unsub wouldn’t be able to talk to me right?” You look to Morgan for confirmation.

 “Yes. He wouldn’t approach you or seem confident when talking with you if you approached him.” Morgan confirms what you’re thinking.

 “Great. So it can’t be him.” You smile to yourself for actually contributing to the case. “Last week, right after the Columbus show, he asked me out. The unsub wouldn’t be brave enough, right?” The utter joy in your voice startles Spencer enough that he finally looks up from the file.

“Alright then. He’s likely not the unsub, but we’ll finish the investigation into him just in case.” Morgan settles back into the chair he’s sitting in, making no move to leave even though the conversation is clearly over. There is an obvious smirk on his face as he looks at Spencer.

 “Well, I’m going to make some breakfast, feel free to watch TV or something.” You smile awkwardly at the two men, unsure of why there is suddenly a strange tension in the air. As you move into the kitchen, you connect your phone to your Bluetooth speaker. Listening to music while you cook has always been calming for you. You honestly prefer baking, but eggs and sausage with toast sounds perfect right now. You pull out the ingredients, humming softly as you dance around the kitchen. You can just barely hear that Morgan and Spencer are talking in the other room, but not enough to make out what they are saying. It just sounds a bit more intense the conversation you just had.

 You choose to ignore it and give them their privacy instead focusing on cooking. You end up making scrambled eggs the way your mom taught you, by mixing in some chive and onion cream cheese. You pop some English muffins in the oven under the broiler while you place the eggs and sausages in dishes. After turning the music down, you move all the food to the table. You’re about to invite Spencer and Morgan to have some food when you hear their conversation.

 “I’m telling you man. She likes you. You should go for it.” Morgan is clearly trying to encourage Spencer, but he won’t hear it.

 “Morgan, it’s not like that. It’s probably just transference because I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Plus, you saw the smile on her face when she talked about Ryan asking her out. She was beaming.” He sighs, almost wistfully as you consider what he’s saying. Surely you are capable of separating your feelings for him from the situation. Would you like him if you had just run into him on the street? Plus, what does Ryan have to do with this?

 You move back to the stove to remove the English muffins before they burn, putting them on a plate as well. Ultimately, you decide to try to straighten out your feelings for Spencer before making a move. You want to be sure. If there is even a shred of doubt in your mind, Spencer will surely be able to see it on your face. Stupid profilers.

 Their conversation died down while you were dealing with the muffins, so you walk back to the other side of the room. You mumble out “I made food, you’re both welcome to have some” before returning to the table. You have a lot to think about and the last thing you want to do is lead Spencer on if you aren’t sure. He deserves better than that.

 The conversation over breakfast is nice. Nothing too heavy or serious. The three of you are just talking about your lives. Morgan asks you what it’s like to be famous. You ask him and Spencer what it’s like to be in the FBI. You realize just how different your career paths are. The only thing you can relate to is travelling. Neither Spencer nor Morgan have family in the area, but they mention how hard it is for Hotch and JJ.

 “That I can understand. The travelling, I mean. Of course, I travel to perform, not to track down killers.” The room is quiet for a few minutes as you think about what to say. Morgan and Reid being profilers know you haven’t finished your thought, so they give you the time to think it over.

 “Thank you.” You say it softly, but firmly at the same time. This is the first time you’ve seen either of them look surprised.

 “Wh- for what?” It’s Morgan who speaks up. Spencer has a familiar expression on his face. It’s the same look he got when you asked his opinion for coffee shops and movies.

 “For everything. For protecting me. For catching bad guys. For giving up so much to do this job. You two, and the rest of your team, you all sacrifice so much to keep people safe. I mean, I’m sure the people you save and the families you give closure to are grateful, and you deserve that. But, you also deserve to have everyone be thankful for what you do. You get into the minds of these people. It must be exhausting to have to think like that all the time. I’m barely dealing with it now and it’s only be on my mind for 2 days! I just can’t even fathom the number of people you have saved, people that you’ve never even met, by doing this. So, thank you. For being strong enough to do it. For being you.”

 You spoke every word with every ounce of sincerity you could muster up. You were looking between them as you said it. The shock on Morgan’s face slowly morphed into a small smile. Spencer’s expression didn’t change, but somehow looked more sincere when you were done.

 Neither one of them knew what to say. Morgan rose from his chair to pull you into a hug. Patting you on the back, he uttered a soft thank you before saying he should get back to the office to help the rest of the team. You locked the door behind him, turning to see Spencer staring at you from the table.

 “Spence? Are you okay?” You were nervous that your impromptu speech made him uncomfortable. He rose from the table, slowly making his way across the room to you.

 “I’m, I, I just… that was… thank you. You amaze me.” He barely says the words, practically breathing them into existence. You reach for his hand, squeezing it.

 “I meant every single word. Promise.” There is nothing more you want to do than kiss him right now, but all you can hear in your head is Spencer talking about transference. You hug him quickly before pulling back again. Without some distance between the two of you, you won’t be able to control yourself. “Do you want to go to another café today? Or somewhere with a piano so I can finally see you play?”

 “We can do what you want today. You let me pick the café and the show yesterday, so it’s only fair.”  You grin, knowing exactly where you want to take him.

 The two of you get ready in near silence after that. Both of you want to calm down a bit before spending another day together. After you’ve both showered and changed, you drag Spencer down to the SUV. The weather outside is perfect for where you want to go, but the park is just far enough away that you want to drive. You pull up directions on your phone, hiding the address from him. Spencer protests the entire time. He keeps mumbling about how he would know how to get there if you just told him where you were going. Then something about how mobile phones are a distraction, so it would be safer for him to drive anyway.

 You just let him ramble on about the many DC streets. Your grip on the wheel tightens when he starts listing off statistics about car accidents.

 “More than 38,000 people die every year in crashes on U.S. roadways. The U.S. traffic fatality rate is actually 12.4 deaths per 100,000 inhabitants. An additional 4.4 million are injured seriously enough to require medical attention. Road crashes are the leading cause of death in the U.S. for people aged 1-54.” With every passing word, your knuckles get whiter, your heartbeat gets faster, and your breaths get shorter. Spencer is too caught up in reciting the statistics to realize anything is wrong until he turns to look at you, his next sentence dying on his tongue. “Seatbelts reduce the risk of dying by…” His brow furrows as he takes in your appearance.

 “By what Spence? Don’t leave me hanging?” You try to joke with him to calm yourself down, but he obviously sees right through it.

 “45%.” He continues before you can even comprehend the number. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

 “Nothing. I’m totally fine. 100% A-Okay.” You try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Having arrived at your destination, you pull into a parking spot.

 “Y/N, talk to me. What is it?” You take a steadying breath as you turn to face him. Honestly, you are embarrassed more than anything else. You were the one who decided you had to drive.

 “Spence, really it’s not a big deal. I just get nervous driving sometimes. I don’t have to do it a lot, and I’ve never felt like I was particularly good at it. It doesn’t matter though, we’re here.” You move to get out of the car, but Spencer reaches across the car to stop you. His face is only inches from yours as the realization dawns on him.

 “And I was rambling on about how dangerous driving is.” He says it more to himself than to you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you stop me? I really need to learn how to shut up. I just get so caught up in the statistics-“ “Spencer. I love when you ramble. I’ve already told you how calming it is… normally. I’m fine, I promise. You just have to drive us back to the hotel later. Deal?”

 “Deal.” You’re both smiling as you get out of the car to walk around the park you brought him to. He doesn’t ask why you picked this place and you don’t offer up a reason. He’ll figure it out soon enough. You talk about random things from childhood as you lazily stroll through the trees. There’s something so calming about wandering through so many trees when you know you’re in the middle of a bustling city.

 Before long, the two of you have crossed the park. A few feet away stands an upright piano in front of a park bench. You glance at Spencer as he looks at the piano, realization gracing his features as he discovers why you chose this particular park. You beckon for him to sit down next to you, asking him to play you a song.

 He blushes as you whisper pretty please in his ear. The cherry on top does him in. Soon enough, you are hearing the beginning notes of Bach’s Prelude in C. You just sit and listen, watching his fingers gracefully move above the keys. He’s not the most passionate of piano players. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he moves his hands efficiently across the instrument, as if he really is thinking about the math behind it all. Still, you lose yourself in the music, swaying lightly. You find yourself leaning on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you think about everything you’ve been feeling.

 You studied music for a few years when you were young. That’s how you started writing, with lessons to learn to play both the guitar and the piano. You took to the guitar more than the piano, but you remember learning about the emotion behind every classical piece you were taught to play. You can’t help but think back to those lessons as you listen to Spencer. This song is always reaching forward, yearning for the next note. It plays into the idea that life is simple and pure. Even good at times. But there is something lurking just below the surface. It’s weirdly fitting of your current situation, but you choose to just be glad he chose the major over the minor.

 You feel the breeze in your hair as Spencer finishes the song. For a few moments, the two of you sit listening to the leaves rustling in the wind. Eventually, you look around the park once it is quiet again. It’s mostly empty given that it’s 2 pm on a Tuesday, so there aren’t many people around to witness this moment. You slip your phone on the piano to record before you take over, playing that all too familiar melody that reminds you of Spencer. Neither of you say anything as you let the music and your emotions guide you through the song. You can tell it’s not perfect, but it just feels right.

 After that, you and Spencer brainstorm lyrics for Rossi’s song for another few hours. The park begins to fill up as school lets out and the workday ends. A few fans recognize you, asking for pictures. After a particularly strong gust of wind, Spencer drapes his cardigan over you as you walk back toward the car, both of you blissfully unaware of the figure watching you from behind the trees.

 --

  The next few days pass in much the same fashion. Spencer takes calls about the case, trying to narrow down the massive list of crew members on your tour. You and he work on lyrics for Rossi’s song, as well as JJ’s. She’s just so pretty, the words flow right out of you. You can tell Spencer agrees. You believe him as he swears up and down that the two of them are just friends, but you can’t help teasing him just a bit.

 “Honestly, it would be weirder if you didn’t think she was pretty. The woman looks as if she were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. A living embodiment of Aphrodite.” He nods in agreement, a faint blush on his cheeks.

 --

 No matter how much you try, you just cannot come up with anymore good lyrics for Spencer’s song. It could be that he is sitting right next to you all the time and knows the song is for him that’s causing the writer’s block, but it’s still frustrating.

 One night, he’s working through the case file for the third time in a row when you interrupt his thoughts with a seemingly random question.

 “Spence, can you tell me a story?” He looks up at you, brow furrowed and eyes confused. “I just need inspiration for the lyrics. Everything I come up with sucks.” You pout until he finally gives in. “Yay! It can be anything, even a memory. Just make it overwhelmingly happy.”

 Spencer stops looking through the file as he thinks back on his life experiences for an overwhelmingly happy memory. The faces of his team members instantly flood his mind as he sorts through the many good times they’ve had. He keeps circling back to one event, ultimately deciding it is happy enough to fit your standards.

 “This is actually the story of JJ’s wedding.” You lean forward, a wedding story could be just what the doctor ordered. “Will wanted to marry her for a while, but she was hesitant. She said everything was perfect as it was, she didn’t feel the need to change anything.” You were honestly a little confused as to where the happiness was at this point, but you let him continue anyway. You could listen to this man talk for days on end without complaint.

 “We ended up working a case with Will. It was a bank robbery turned hostage situation. It was a rough case for all of us; bombs, secret partners, kids at risk. I won’t bore you with the details,” he chuckles at your thankful expression, “but it all worked out in the end. Will, he could’ve died. When JJ went to see him in the hospital, she told him to ask her again. She wanted to get married then and there in the hospital chapel. Will wanted to wait until he was actually out of the hospital though, and not wearing a hospital gown.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of loving someone so much, you were instantly ready to marry them.

 “Rossi, he overheard everything. So, he started planning. He called JJ’s mom, told her to fly in and to bring her wedding dress. We threw her a surprise wedding the next day. It was such a beautiful moment, to have such a joyous event after everything that we had been through. JJ looked wonderstruck as her mom walked her down the aisle. The lights were sparkling. It was enchanting.” He spoke with such awe about the whole event. He told you stories about doing magic for Henry and Jack, who you came to know as Hotch’s son. It was so easy for you to picture the fairy lights and purple flowers. The team seemed like such a close-knit family, it only made sense that they would share this memory.

 The chorus of the song hit you like a ton of bricks. You didn’t even warn Spencer as you jumped from the couch and ran to the piano. He followed behind you, curious to see what would happen. He watched with wonder as you placed your phone to record on top of the piano and started playing the family melody you first hummed while thinking about him.

 “This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go. I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you.” The verses didn’t pour out of you in quite the same way, but the general storyline of the song came to you in the next few minutes. You rushed to get it all out, speaking directly into the phone.

 “The first verse can be about feeling out of place in a room, faking laughter, forcing smiles. Then it all changes when she sees him. It’s as if they have a conversation with only their eyes as they float across the room to each other. Then the chorus. The second verse can be about her wondering if he felt it to. 2 am who do you love? Chorus again. Then the bridge can be about hoping that the one night wasn’t it for them. That she’ll see him again and hoping he isn’t already in love or with someone.” You’re so pleased with the song idea, you don’t notice the shifting expressions on Spencer’s face. After your explanation, you turn to him, the biggest smile he’s seen yet on your face.

 “What do you think?” He’s so shocked he doesn’t know how to respond. After a moment of silence, your face begins to fall. You can’t stop your brain from thinking the worst.

 He must hate it. Oh god, he’s just trying to find a way to let me down easy. Why do I have to be so stupid? Sure, go ahead. Write a love song about the man who’s sitting next to you. That won’t be weird at all. Oh god, oh god…

 Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s beautiful. It will make a wonderful song.” He’s whispering in your ear. The feeling of his lips brushing against you is too much. Everything you’ve been pushing back for the past few days comes roaring to the surface. You can’t stop yourself.

 You pull back slowly, only to pull his face to yours so rapidly you’re surprised you didn’t get whiplash. In less than an instant, his lips are moving gracefully against yours. His hands slide down your body to your waist as he pulls you even closer to him. Your arms move up around his neck, your fingers running through his hair. The hunger and passion is slowly taken over by the need for oxygen, the two of you separating just enough to pull air into your lungs.

 He kisses your forehead, and you kiss his nose. A few minutes later, and you’re still standing there with your heads pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. Every so often, one of you places a light kiss on the others mouth, just to make sure this is real.

 “I know what you’re thinking.” You are still out of breath from kissing him, but you can just tell his mind is moving a mile a minute.

 “I’m not sure you do.” He sounds nervous.

 “I think I might surprise you.” You can’t help but tease him a little before continuing. “You think its all transference. That I only think I like you because you’re here to protect me. Some sort of white knight bullshit.” You can’t stop yourself from sounding mildly annoyed about it. Although, the look of shock on his face helps. “I heard what you said to Morgan.” He sighs before moving to pull back.

 “No, Spence. Listen to me. I heard what you said to Morgan.” You wait for him to follow your train of thought back a few days.

 “But that was four days ago?” He looks more confused than ever.

 “I know. I wanted to make sure that what I feel is real. I didn’t want to lead you on if I might not actually want this. But I do. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before. Spencer, you are a light in my life and not just because you’re here to make sure I don’t get murdered. Although that certainly doesn’t hurt. I feel like I can tell you anything and you won’t judge me for it. That I can truly be myself without worry of letting you down.”

 “Y/N you could never let me down. I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything. I don’t want you to regret me.” He looks crestfallen.

 “Spencer Reid.”  You move your hands to his cheeks to gently push his head up to make eye contact. “I could never regret a single moment spent with you. I have loved every single one. I loved watching you listen to the songs about your friends. I loved listening to you talk about things you love, like Doctor Who and statistics. I loved sitting next to while you played piano. I loved talking to you about anything and everything. Spencer, I love how I feel when I’m with you and I know for a fact I would feel the same way if I met you walking down the street.”

 “Y/N” the way he says your name is music to your ears. “I love how I feel when I’m with you too. I loved listening to you sing about my friends, capturing the essence of who they are. I loved watching you experience the things I have grown so accustomed to doing. I loved the feeling of you leaning on my shoulder while I played Bach. I loved hearing you come up with an entire storyline for one song in a matter of minutes just based on one story. I have loved every single second I have been with you since I first saw you 7 days, 2 hours, and 32 minutes ago. Even if I didn’t say a word to you until after you woke up in the hospital.”

 The two of you laugh as you pull him to the couch to cuddle. You put on more Doctor Who, sitting with your legs across his lap and playing with his hands. It’s nice to just be close to him without having to worry. You find yourself getting wrapped up in the show. Spencer is quieter this time. You think he might have something on his mind, but you decide to wait for him to share. Between the third and fourth episode, he speaks up.

 “Y/N, are you and Ryan… are you together?” You look up to see a nervous expression once again on his face.

 “Ryan who?” You are genuinely confused as to who he could even be talking about.

 “Ryan Moore, the sound booth guy.” You look even more confused than before.

 “Not even a little bit. I politely declined his offer to take me out. Is that what’s been bugging you for the last three episodes?” You smile at his pout.

 “Maybe. You just seemed so happy when you mentioned that he asked you out. You were practically glowing with how big your smile was.”

“Spence, I was happy because I could actually help you with the case. I only have eyes for one guy.” You shift to straddle his lap.

 “Yeah, who’s that?” He pulls you even closer.

 “Matt Smith” You say it with the best deadpan expression you can manage in the circumstances.

 “Wow, your standards must be pretty low to settle for the 11th doctor. He’s not even in the top three best doctors!” He plays along with your joke, although he doesn’t have to act incredulous sat you preference for the 11th doctor.

 “Well, my number one doctor isn’t really on TV.” You bite your lip, leaning in until you connect your mouth to his.

 Right as you’re both about to take it one step further, your phone rings. “Fuck.” The word is barely a whisper leaving your mouth as you pull back from Spencer trying to catch your breath.

 “Hello?” you don’t hear anything on the other end of the phone. “Hello? Anyone there? Hello?” Suddenly the line goes dead. You turn to Spencer. “Well, that was weird.” Spencer frantically moves you off his lap as he stands up, taking out his phone. Without telling you anything, he is frantically dialing a number, mumbling under his breath.

 “Garcia! I need to you to figure out who just called Y/N’s phone.” He waits a minute, presumably listening to her reply. “Yes, it just rang and when she answered nobody said anything. Thank you.” He hangs up, swiftly moving back to the couch to pull you into a hug.

 “What just happened?” You can feel your heartrate speeding up.

 “It might be nothing, but that might have been the unsub. Garcia is tracking down the number that made the call right now. If it’s possible to figure out, she’ll have it done by morning.” He rubs calming circles on your hip with his thumb. “Why don’t you go to sleep? Try to get some rest?” You nod, rising from the couch.

 “Spence, will you lay with me?” Your voice is small and scared as you ask the question. He simply nods, both of you changing into pajamas before meeting in the bedroom to lay down. You snuggle up close to him, trying to breathe in the same pattern as him until you fall asleep.

 --

 When you wake up, you can hear Spencer in the living room, talking on his phone. You want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but not if you can’t cuddle with Spencer while you do it. Throwing the covers off of you, you get up so you can actually see Spencer. He’s got his back to you when you open the door, so you sneak up behind him. He jumps a little with a surprised gasp when you wrap your arms around his middle.

 “What? Oh, uh… I’m fi-fine. Everything’s fine. I was just surprised.” He spins around to hug you, giving you a slight glare. “By, um, a beetle. Yeah, there was a beetle.” The lie is so obvious you can’t help but laugh as you bury your head into his chest.

 A few minutes later, he finally hangs up. “What did they find out about the phone call?” You mumble the question into the fabric of his cardigan.

 “Less than we were hoping for. It was a prepaid cell, so Garcia can’t trace it back to the owner.” You squeeze him tighter, glad to have him with you through all of this. After a few minutes of standing with him, you reluctantly pull back.

 “Well, we should get to work. These songs are not going to write themselves!”

 You and Spencer retreat to different parts of the suite to get ready for the day. As much as you would love to jump his bones, it doesn’t feel right to take up his time with that when he could be working. At least if you were working on songs together it was part of the cover.

 You ultimately decide to just sit in the park across from the hotel today. Normally, you wouldn’t even leave your room at this point in the writing process. You just don’t completely trust yourself to be alone with him at the moment. At least in public you can control yourself a little bit. Yet, the many people walking around the park do nothing to stop you from grabbing Spencer’s hand and playing with his fingers while thinking particularly hard about a certain lyric.

 A bright flash of light draws you out of your reverie. You already know how the picture is going to look. You are laying across a blanket, knees in the air. Spencer is sitting beside you, reading messages from the team on his phone. His other hand is still between yours as you run your fingers over his knuckles. You are absolutely sure there is look of complete adoration on your face. You can’t bring yourself to care that the paparazzi took the picture. You have nothing to hide.

 After the shock of the bright light fades, you notice a familiar face behind the few photographers in front of you. The shock of seeing someone for a second time floods your brain while you try to remember the profile Hotch told you that very first night. Without thinking too hard, you fling yourself into a sitting position. You gather everything you brought with you to the park, dragging Spencer along with you. He clearly doesn’t understand the shift in your behavior, but he’d gladly follow you anywhere.

 It’s not until you reach your room that you look at him. He can see the fear in your eyes before you even open your mouth. “Baby, what is it? What happened?” He begins recalling everything from the moment the first flash went off, trying to figure out what made you so scared.

 “I saw him.” You can barely hear yourself over the sound of your heart beating in your chest. “I saw the unsub. I mean, I think I did. He held the door open for us this morning when we left the hotel, and then he was in the park when the paparazzi were taking pictures. Hotch… he said to tell you if I saw anyone more than once in a day.” The words escape your lips in a hurry, trying to keep up with your flying thoughts.

 “Okay, breathe. I’m right here. I’m going to call the team. Did you recognize him from anywhere else?” You try to picture the face in your mind, and suddenly you are seeing him everywhere. In the coffee shop that very first day. Behind the trees in the park with the piano. If you and Spencer were there, so was he. Just, normally you only caught a glimpse of him for a second. Definitely not twice in one day.

 You rush to tell Spencer what you’re remembering. At this point, you don’t even know if it’s true. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. Just filling in this man’s face on other people’s bodies to fit the story that he is the one behind it all. Nonetheless, you give him the description of who you saw. White, probably 35ish, brown hair. You didn’t see his eyes, but they looked evil. The expression on his face just screamed serial killer. Maybe that’s in your head too. Who knows?

 “I know I’ve seen that face before, I just can’t remember where. God, I’m useless. This man is hurting people and I can’t even remember where I’ve seen him before. Think. Think. THINK.” You’ve started pacing the room, trying to figure out who it could be. Spencer doesn’t say anything else to you until he’s finished the phone call. Even then, he’s more so humming and shushing you than really talking. He pulls you into a hug, trying to calm you down yet again.

 “Y/N. You are anything but useless. You noticed he was there. That’s a step in the right direction. We are going to find him, and he is going to go to jail for a very long time.” Somewhere, deep inside, you knew Spencer couldn’t guarantee that, but you also knew it was better for you to listen to him than to force yourself down a rabbit hole you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

 A few calming breaths later, and your asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms.

 --

 It’s still dark when you open your eyes. You can hear someone moving around, but it’s too dark to see. Spencer isn’t with you on the couch, so it could be him, but something feels wrong. Why would Spencer be up in the middle of the night wandering around in the dark?

 “Spencer?” Everything goes still at the sound of your voice. Yeah, that was not the best move you could’ve made… Before you can say anything else, you are knocked out cold. The sound of a lamp smashing over your head is that last thing you hear.

tag list:

@mac99martin , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @spencerhotchner , @girloncorneliastreet , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @moonshinerbynight , @meowiemari , @justanotherfangirl  , @im-so-wonderstruck , @eevee0722 , @raining13lemonade​ @dilaudidwinchester​ , @silverdagger69 , @thatsonezesty13

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 1,839

Warnings: None

Summary: You and Rose apply makeup before The Doctors self proclaimed “theatre event” that he’s taking you to. When the Doctor comes in to complain about the amount of time you’ve taken, you and Rose pull a small prank on him. That’s it, that’s the plot.

A/N: This was completely self indulgent, I've wanted to be Rose’s best friend since I was 9, so that’s basically all this is.

You hummed along to the music playing softly in the background. It had been a fair while since you had listened to early 2000’s music; travelling on the TARDIS didn’t leave much time for nostalgia, what with the different planets, the aliens, and completely different time periods from when your existence wasn’t even a sparing thought.

Still though, it was nice to take a break every now and again.

“It’s not really nostalgia though, is it,” Rose said from beside you after you brought it up. “I mean, this song’s only a year or so old. We used to play it in the shop.”

“Before it blew up.”

“Ha yeah,” Rose grinned. “Before it blew up.”

“Although,” you raised an eyebrow at her and reiterated the year you were from. “It’s definitely nostalgia.”

Rose rolled her eyes good naturedly, then pointed to the vanity next to you. “Can you pass the eyeliner over?”

You hummed and reached over to the one she was pointing at; it was an eyeliner pencil, a black one with a little sharpener on the lid.

It sat on a vanity made of warm mahogany wood, among a myriad of makeup from foundations, eye shadow palettes, lipsticks, and rouge.

Beside it and in front of you and Rose was a large mirror that ran from the floor to the ceiling, on the only solid wall in the TARDIS’ wardrobe. You and Rose liked to think The TARDIS had made the area specially for you both, so you could do your makeup together.

You plopped back down onto the floor and passed the eyeliner to Rose, who was sitting cross legged and doing the finishing touched to her foundation.

You were poised to go to a theatre event - what it was exactly, the Doctor wouldn’t tell you. It didn’t matter if you often wore makeup often or not, right now, you were feeling it, and you figured a theatre event was a nice opportunity to change things up a bit.

You frowned at the eye shadow palette in front of you, trying to work out which colours would blend the best and how you could actually use it.

You jumped as one of your favourite songs from the early 2000’s began playing, turning to Rose with a grin. She was looking at you with an equally bright smile, her right eye only half painted with the eyeliner pencil left dangling in her hand. Almost instinctually you both broke out into song, singing along terribly.

Your voice cracked at one of the high notes, and Rose laughed, shaking you lightly as she continued. The make-up was forgotten as the pair of you danced, moving in a way that was particularly reminiscent of some sort of Tik Tok routine.

Not that you would tell Rose that particular tidbit, it was a bit early to explain Tik Tok to her.

At the end of the chorus Rose stumbled with her words over the lyrics. It was so surprising that it shocked you out of your exuberance, and the pair of you were left giggling on the floor. The song played in the background, a harmony to your laughter.

The Doctor cleared his throat, and you reached over in between your laughter to turn the music down. From this angle you could see him clearly, he was leaning against a poll behind you, sans coat, with only two of the buttons on his pinstripe suit done up.

You gazed at Rose, who raised her eyebrow at you and smirked playfully. “Did’ja need us Doctor?” She turned back to the mirror, applying her eyeliner and trying to stifle her laughter.

“Dunno,” he said. You looked up at his reflection in the mirror in front of you, locking eyes with you, and he winked, before heaving himself off the poll. “You two’ve been taking an awful long time.”

“What,” you said, and passed Rose her mascara wand, placing the eye shadow back onto the shelf. You’d keep things more natural and match Rose. “You’ve been bored?”

“What – me? Nah, I’m never bored.”

You let out a brief laugh. “Ah yep, that’s completely accurate.”

“Well, again,” The Doctor said. “You both have been gone for a while.”

Rose snorted and picked up your phone, glancing at the display. “We’ve only been about 20 minutes. You’re getting more impatient by the day.”

“Impatient, oh now that’s nonsense,” he drawled and crouched down behind you both. “Now, what are we doing here?”

You waved your eyeliner pen in front of him, and then began drawing on a wing. “You said theatre event so here we are,” you gestured at you and Rose with your free hand. “Getting ready for a theatre event.”

Rose said her thanks for the mascara and began applying her first coat, chewing on her lip as she did so.

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye then back at your reflection as you filled your eyeliner in, before starting on your other eye. “How many coats of that do you do anyway?”

Rose hummed. “Dunno, however many I need until I think it looks good.”

You chuckled. It was just so early 2000’s of her. Sometimes, your eyelids looked heavy just looking at her eyelashes.  

Rose looked at you aghast. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” you poked your tongue to your teeth as you smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “I was just thinking of makeup trends, how things change.”

“Y’know sometimes, you can be as cryptic as him,” she gestured to The Doctor with her head for good measure, and set out a couple different shades of rouge as the next coat of mascara dried.

The Doctor gawped. “When am I ever cryptic?”

Both you and Rose paused what you were doing so you could stare down his reflection in the mirror.

“Alright fine,” he relented. “I guess sometimes I change the topic of a conversation.” The Doctor cocked his head to the side, watching you both thoughtfully as the pair of you continued on with your makeup. “Why do you both always need to do this, anyway?"

Rose was applying another coat of mascara when she replied. "Come off, you're not having a go at us for wearing makeup now, are you?"

"No, no, not at all, just curious really. I should start factoring this extra time in when I take you two places, because blimey you take a while.” He looked towards the vanity. "And that's a fair amount of it all too, do you really use all of that?"

You stuck your eyeliner pen out as if it were a rod. “Says the man with a collection of hair gel for his gravity defying hair – oh, and could you pass me those eyelashes over there?"

You gestured to the vanity and The Doctor’s gaze followed.

“Eyelashes,” he drawled, standing up and meandering over. You watched his reflection as his hands danced over the various products, until he landed on the pair of false lashes you’d been hoping to apply. He lifted it up, meeting your gaze through the mirror. “These ones?”

You hummed and made a grabbing motion with your hands. “Yeah, thanks.”

The Doctor resumed his crouched position behind you and Rose, and passed you the small box. Your fingers brushed over his lightly as you grabbed the small parcel. You felt a jolt run up through your fingers and up your arm and heard his breath hitch slightly. You took the box out of his grasp and swallowed, ignoring whatever that was.

“False eyelashes,” The doctor grinned, and ran his fingers over his cheek. You tried not think about why he was doing that, it was awfully distracting. “You humans I swear sometimes you do the strangest things. It’s bloody brilliant.”

Rose grinned, and locked eyes with you, holding up the her blush compact and a brush. She nodded her head to the Doctor and you returned her grin, giving her subtle thumbs up.

“It’s not that strange,” you said, distracting the Doctor so he wasn’t watching what Rose was doing. “It’s basically just experimentation, or just making yourself feel prettier.”

Rose swooped in, poking some of her chosen blush onto The Doctors nose.  “You could probably do with some pretty-ing up every now and again yourself.”

He scrunched his face up in protest.

You snorted, laughing at The Doctors reaction, and letting the magnetic eyelashes clip onto your eyes. You blinked a couple of times, letting your eyes adjust to the added weight.

Rose looked to you with a frown. “Wait, don’t you need glue with that?”

You winked at her. “They’re magnetic.”

“Could say the same about you,” The Doctor grinned that ever so charming smile at you, the one that would make you all flustered if you didn’t know any better.

You let a solitary bark of laughter. “That was a terrible pun. It’s a wonder anyone ever takes you seriously,” you grinned to match him. “You look sunburnt, by the way.”

Rose laughed and The Doctor’s hand flew to cover his nose. “Oi, that wasn’t necessary!”

He rubbed at his nose furiously and Rose fell into a pit of laughter. “I ‘spose I could have chosen a different colour.”

“Well Rose,” you eyed the palette, then turned back to her. “It looks great on you.”

The Doctor hummed, pulling his hand away. The rouge was gone. “Maybe I’m just not meant to be ‘pretty-ed up’ like the pair of you.”

“Oh,” you drawled. “So we’re meant to be ‘pretty-ed up’ then? Is that it?”

The Doctor spluttered, his eyes growing like saucers. “What? No, that’s – that’s not what I meant at all, you’ve always been pretty, still are of course, with or without the,” he gestured at your face. “Well, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Doctor?”

Rose met your eyes and smirked playfully. “Looks like someone is a little bit flustered.”

The Doctor jumped up, suddenly, as if eager to get a move on. “Well come on you two, this is a time machine, we haven’t got all day!”

You frowned for a moment. “I think that’s the exact opposite of what the phrase ‘time machine’ suggests.”

Rose laughed, sticking out her hand for you to take. “Let’s humour him, shall we.”

“Oh I’m standing right here,” The Doctor said and turned around to take off. He spun back round just as fast, and met your gaze. “And flustered – me? Never,” he tapped against his temple. “I’ve always got a plan up in here.”

He gave you both a cheeky wave and shot off again, giving you no time at all to process what the hell he just said.

You clutched against Rose with one hand, fumbling as you placed the false lashes box back on the vanity. “What do you mean you’ve got a plan?” You called after him. “A plan for what?”

Rose just laughed beside you, and tugged you along. “Well come on, let’s find out then!”

A/N: This isn’t really what I wanted to post this week, but I haven’t had time to write anything new so here’s something from the drafts. I hope you enjoyed it!

[sunkissedspider]

You Do? | Tom Holland

MASTERLIST

***taglist is open!!! just send an ask or message me and i’ll add you :)***

***requests are open!!! just send an ask or message me your request if you have one :)***

pairing: university!Tom Holland x university!reader

summary: even though you and Tom were roommates, you didn't have a relationship outside of that, but what happens when you tell him that you have feelings for him, and what happens when he gets jealous?

warnings: angst, Tom kinda being a douche for a lot of this lol, smut, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it), making out, language, fluff, etc.

listen to: Let’s Fall in Love for the Night - FINNEAS (it doesn't work perfectly for this, but i love that song lol)

word count: 4.4k+

a/n: thank you so much @spideysquackson13​ for requesting this, this was so much fun to write. plus, i'm a sucker for frat Tom/Peter lol. i hope i did your idea some justice :) sorry for any spelling and/or grammar errors!!

    "Come on, just tell him!" Melissa, your study partner and close friend, said, chuckling quietly as you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

    "Why the hell would I do that, Mel? It's not like he's gonna feel the same way." You laughed, trying your best brush off the subject.

    "But he might, you never know." She shrugged, taking a sip of water as she looked around the courtyard from your spot underneath one of the large trees.

    "It's Tom. He's not gonna feel the same way about me, I barely even talk to him, to be totally honest with you."

    "He's your roommate... how do you barely talk to him?" She asked, confusion prominent on her face and in her voice.

    "He's usually in his room, or at a party, or..." You droned, not wanting to finish your sentence.

    "Or fucking some girl that isn't you?" She said, finishing your sentence with a smirk on her face when she saw how your jaw clenched slightly.

    "Yes, Melissa, fucking some girl that isn't me." You said through gritted teeth, trying your best to not get too upset.

    "How long ago did you last have sex, anyway?"

    "Uhm," You said, closing your eyes in thought as you exhaled, trying your best to sift through your mind as quickly as possible. "Six months?" You said, the answer coming out as more of a question.

    "Six months?!" Melissa yelled, most of the people outside near you two whipping their heads around to look at the both of you.

    "Yes, Mel, six months, and will you please quiet down?" You said, trying your best to cover your face with your notebook.

    "Who was it with? I don't even remember if you were dating someone six months ago." Melissa asked, the both if you waving to some of your fellow classmates that walked past you.

    "Well, I wasn't dating him... Uh, do you remember Carl? We both had him in our fourth lecture... Brown hair, brown eyes-" You started.

    "Oh! Yeah! The guy that... looks like Tom." She stated, looking at you with piercing eyes, silently telling you to get over yourself and to just confess your feelings to him already.

    "Ha ha." You say in a monotone voice. "I was just horny and he was nice and hot, so he and I fucked. It... wasn't the best. I mean, I only kinda got off. But, whenever I hear the girls that Tom brings home through the walls... holy shit. Goddammit, why can I just fucking tell him? He and I are barley even friends, it's not like I'd be risking anything." You say, cursing yourself for being so stubborn with your feelings.

    "Honestly, love, I don't know what to tell you. You seem pretty fucking infatuated with the guy. I would just tell him. Just to get it over with and so that I could stop worrying about it." She smiles, before standing up. "I'll see you later, okay? I've got a date." And with that, you're waving her goodbye, your eyes wandering the courtyard from your spot underneath the tree, eyes eventually landing on Tom's.

    "Shit!" You mutter under your breath, quickly putting your belongings into your messenger bag, standing up and quickly walking to your car, trying your best not to connect eyes with him again.

    You're practically speechless whenever you're around him, and you really didn't want to act like an idiot right now, especially with the fact that Tom was surrounded with his friends and... girls.

    "Fucking perfect," You think, your cheeks not only temporarily stained red with embarrassment, but with anger over the fact that you had fallen for such a player that very obviously had no interest in you.

***

    "Hey, uh, Y/N?" Tom asks, tapping your shoulder as he walks into your shared kitchen.

    "Y-yeah?" You stutter, taking your earbuds out, pausing your music to give him your full attention.

    "You're fine if we throw a party here sometime this weekend, right? It'll be... small. Just a few friends and some beer, at the most." He lies, knowing that at least 80 people would be flowing through your shared house and backyard.

    "Oh, yeah. That's fine." You smiled, trying your best to hide your blush from Tom.

    "Alright." He smiles, turning to walk away.

    "Actually," You start, getting Tom's attention, causing him to turn towards you. "Can I tell you something?"

    "Yeah, sure," He smiles, taking a seat next to you on one of the other bar stools. "What's up?" He asks, his eyes locking with yours.

    "Well, I..." You start, rubbing one of your hands onto the neck of your neck as you let out a few nervous chuckles. "I kinda... have a crush on you? God, I sound like a little kid. And I'm not expecting you to feel the same way or anything, but I felt like I should tell you." You rush out, not meeting his eyes until you hear a burst of laughter.

    You turn your head to look at Tom, and he's doubled over, laughing his ass off at your confession. "Oh, Jesus Christ. Oh my God. Fuck, that's funny." He says, wiping a tear caused by laughter from his cheek, meeting your eyes. "Wow, Y/N L/N has a crush on me? I feel so honored." He says with a sarcastic, mocked out version of shock and surprise in his voice, before standing up, grabbing his beer before walking upstairs to his bedroom.

***

    "You told him?!" Melissa asks, shock evident in her voice as you sit across from her, sipping on your whiskey, trying to forget how embarrassed you were.

    "Yes, and I fucking regret it so much." You say, slamming your head onto the surface of the table at your and Melissa's favorite pub to go to together... which just so happens to be Tom's favorite pub to pick up chicks at.

    "Okay, don't freak out and don't look behind you, but Tom just walked in here." She says, her voice low, trying to go undetected by Tom.

    "What?!" You ask, your head immediately whipping around, eyes meeting with Tom's almost instantly, the smug grin on his face growing even wider when you blush heavily.

    "I said not to look!" Melissa scolded, bringing your attention back to her.

    "What did you expect me to do? If you tell me not to look, I'm obviously going to look!" You say, downing your drink before grabbing your bag and standing up.

    "Where are we going?" Melissa asks, standing up and grabbing her bag as well.

    "Fucking anywhere, Mel. I don't wanna be around him."

***

    "You're still having the party, right?" Melissa asks, sitting down at your desk, playing around with your makeup as you sit on your bed, doodling mindlessly on the blank parts of your notes, not studying like how you originally wanted to.

    "Yeah, I guess." You say, looking around your room, the sunset bearing slightly through your curtains, washing the room in a slightly orange tint.

    "Wouldn't it be tonight, then?" She asks, Turing slowly to look at you, a devious grin on her face.

    "Yeah... it's Friday, isn't it?" You ask, looking up at her.

    "Why the fuck are we not getting ready, then?!" She asks loudly, standing up and walking over to your bed, sitting down next to you as she looks at you with excitement and wonder.

    "I don't really feel like partying tonight, Mel. Plus, I don't wanna be around Tom. I haven't talked to him since Wednesday." You shrug, groaning loudly when Melissa pulls you to your feet.

    "We're fucking partying tonight, love." She says, looking at you, a small smirk coming to up to your lips, knowing that you'll end up having a blast tonight since Melissa alway brings out the more confident side of you. "You're gonna go get a shower, shave everything... you never know what might... happen." She winks, smiling widely at you before continuing. "I'm gonna go grab some more outfits and makeup from my place in case we can't find anything you wanna wear in your closet, were gonna put on some bomb makeup, and then, hopefully, get laid tonight... God knows that you at least need it." She laughs, teasing you lightly.

    "All right... Okay, all right, I can do this. This is gonna be fun." You smile at her before she grabs her bag, blowing a kiss at you before leaving through your door.

***

    "What about this?" You ask, turning around to show Melissa one of your outfit choices.

    "In the nicest way possible, love... You look like my gran." Melissa smiles, trying her best to stifle a few giggles.

    "Ugh, rude!" You say, a fake shocked look on your face, both of you laughing loudly.

    "What about... this?" She says after thinking for a few moments, moving to pick up a black tube top, black bralette, and high waisted shorts.

    "Only if I can wear sneakers with it. If I'm gonna be drunk, lord knows I won't be able to walk in heels." You laugh, Melissa playfully rolling her eyes.

    "Fine, but only because I love you... and I think it'll look super cute." She laughs, handing you the outfit and some high top Converse.

    After both of you and Melissa get dressed and get your makeup on, you both walk downstairs, and see that the supposedly "small" party is in full swing.

    People are in the corners making out, half full red solo cups are sprinkled all around the kitchen and living room, beer kegs placed strategically everywhere... and that's not even the end of it. The party ends up being even crazier outside; a trail of people leading out of the back door, the pingpong table being used by different people for various games, splashes of water coming out of the pool as people jumped in, and there was Tom. Right in the thick of it.

    "Melissa, I don't know if this is a good idea." You said, turning to see her smiling and waving over to a group of guys, one of them being Jeremy, a guy that she had been seeing for a while.

    "Uh, you've met Harrison, right?" She asks, looking around for him.

    "Kind of? I mean, I've seen him around the house and stuff, and I know that I have biology with him, but I don't-" You say, soon getting interrupted by Melissa as she starts to shove you over to him.

    "Just go say 'Hi'! Whats the worst that could happen?" She asks, a big smile on her face when she sees how horrified you look.

    "He could hear me!" You answer, causing a loud laugh to leave her lips, before she blows you a kiss, turning around to walk to Jeremy.

    "Okay," You say quietly under your breath. "Nothing bad is gonna happen... He's only beautiful and best friends with the guy that you can't stop thinking about, but you'll be fine."

"Hi." You say, walking over to stand by Harrison, his eyes meeting yours as he smiles, a red solo cup in his hand.

    "Hi," He smiles, eyes widening a bit when he sees your outfit. "You're Y/N, right?"

    "Yeah," You breathe out, trying your best to relax next to him. Your breath hitches slightly when you see Tom walk by you, his jaw clenched tightly in anger, but you honestly didn't even want to know what he was upset about

***

    "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, do you want a drink? I forgot to ask earlier, you're just really fun to talk to." Harrison says, smiling at you as he sits up from his spot beside the pool.

    "Oh, it's fine. I can go get one." You say, standing up before making your way over to one of the beer kegs that Tom happened to be at.

"Hey, Tom," You say, leaning over towards him to get his attention. "Can you grab me a beer?"

    "Grab your own fucking beer." He says, smiling so sickly sweetly that it makes your teeth hurt.

    "What's wrong-"

    "It's nothing." He dismisses, getting ready to walk away before you place a hand on his arm, stopping him from walking away.

    "What's wrong, Tom?" You ask, concern in your voice as you look at him straight in his big, brown eyes.

    "I don't want to talk about it. And even if I did, I wouldn't talk about it with you. You're not my fucking friend, Y/N L/N. You'll never be my friend. You're just my roommate. So just leave me the fuck alone." He says, his voice stern, ripping his arm from your grip, putting on a smile as he walked over to his friends, laughing loudly at a joke that someone had made.

    "What was that all about?" Melissa asks, standing net to you, handing you a beer as you both look at Tom.

    "I don't... I don't fucking know. You know what? I don't fucking care. I'm just gonna go talk to Harrison and get drunk." You say, causing Melissa to laugh as you walk over to Haz.

***

    "So, how long have you and Tom lived together?" Harrison asks you as you both walked around, far enough away from the party so that you probably wouldn't be interrupted.

    "Uhm, since the beginning of this term." You say, looking into his blue eyes as you continue walking.

    "Why do you live with him if you guys don't get along?" He asks, turning to stand and look at you, the moonlight shadowing over his face.

    "What do you mean?" You ask, turning to look around the sky that outlines his figure.

    "I saw you guys fighting at the party... Tom can be a proper arsehole at times." He chuckles, causing you to laugh.

    "He really can be." You breathe out, your eyes meeting with his blue ones.

    "Can I kiss you?" Harrison asks, one of his hands softly going over your neck, the other resting on one of your hips.

    "Okay..." You manage to squeak out, eyes closing as Harrison dips his head down to your lips.

    You lips are that close to each others, until you hear a laugh... Tom's laugh, and you get interrupted.

    "What... the... fuck is going on here?" Tom says, laughing loudly at how you and Harrison look. Your eyes are wide in shock, and Harrison is just angry, his jaw clenched tightly as his hand still rests softly on one side of your neck.

    "What do you want, Tom?" Harrison asks, crossing his arms in front of him.

    "Oh, nothing... Just making sure you two weren't banging it out in our garden." Tom says, chuckling lightly.

    "I'm sorry, Y/N." Harrison says, leaning in close to you.

    "Don't worry about it, it's fine." You smile, walking away from the two boys, meeting Melissa by the pool.

    "What happened?" She asks, laughing at how your eyes are still blown wide.

    "Well, uh, Harrison and I almost kissed, and then Tom walked over and started being dickhead again, so, uhm, now I'm here." You say before downing a beer from a red solo cup that she had handed you, knowing beforehand that you'd definitely have a horrible hangover tomorrow if you kept drinking like you were.

***

     "So, he still won't talk to you?" Melissa asks, her eyes meeting with Harrison's as they listened to you talk about how Tom had been avoiding you ever since the party.

    "Not at all. Not even a 'Hi' when I pass him in the kitchen. It's been a fucking week. I just don't understand why he's so mad." You say, your head banging onto the table of the coffee shop you were in as you let out a quiet groan.

    "He may be my best friend, but I'll never understand him. I mean, nothing even happened between you and me, we were drunk, shit happens. We didn't even kiss, but now he's all pissed off at you and me." Harrison says, his crystal blue eyes looking even bluer when paired with his tight black t-shirt.

    "At least he still talks to you." You say, lifting your head up to meet his eyes.

    "Yeah, true. I just... I don't know what to tell you, to be honest. He's acting like a little kid." Harrison says, causing Melissa to laugh quietly.

    "Maybe just try talking to him? It might work, but we all know that guys are stubborn and never really listen." She says, giving you a sympathetic smile.

***

    Another week passes, and you and Tom still have talked. It's around three in the morning when he walks through the door, and you're sat on the couch in the living room, some random reality show is play in the background when you finally speak up to him.

    "Tom," You start, causing him to stop in his tracks to the kitchen and turn around to face you. "What's going on here? Please just talk to me." You say, standing up to walk over to him.

    "It's nothing, just go back to the t.v." He says, trying his best to dismiss you and walk to his room.

    "Tom, please." You plead, grabbing onto one of his arms to stop him from leaving.

    "I said it's nothing, Y/N." He says again, his eyes immediately softening when they meet yours.

    "I can handle the 'no talking' thing, Tom, but I can't handle thinking that you're mad at me. So if you wanna go back to only talking to each other when we're planning a party, then that's fine, Tom. But I can't pretend like I don't want you, because I do, and I know you don't want me back. And I'm sorry, but I can't be around you if you're going to use my own feelings against me like you did at that party." You say, tilting your head back as you try to not let your tears fall.

    "You think I don't want you?" He asks, tears pricking up in his eyes.

    "Of course I do, Tom. You laughed at me when I told you that I have feelings for you." You said, scoffing as small tears fell down your cheeks.

    "I only laughed because I thought you were lying. I didn't want to tell you that I have feelings for you too because I thought that you would've counteracted it and say that you weren't being serious." He says, his eyes straining a blood shot kinda of red.

    "Then why were you such an asshole, Tommy?" You ask, his hands holding yours.

    "You seemed like you wanted to be with Harrison at the party, and I got mad. I'm usually not an angry drunk, but I guess I was that night, and I'm sorry." He laughs quietly under his breath, before returning to a more serious tone. "I really am sorry, though. I treated you badly, and you, of all people, deserve that the least."

    "I really like you, Tom." You say, laughing quietly at yourself and how you sound like a little kid confessing to their crush.

    "I really like you too, Y/N." Tom says, leaning his forehead against yours.

    "You do?" You ask breathlessly.

    "Of course I do."

    You sucked in your breath quietly, your nose touching with Tom's as he leans in slightly, your lips just inches away from each others. Your heads seemed to move in sync, your lips moving to  touch each others at the exact same moment.

    The kiss started off as soft and sweet, and it felt perfectly familiar. Even though you had never kissed Tom before, it felt as if your lips were made for each other's. Until the kiss grew heated, and passionate, your hands moving to grab his brown curls loosely as he rested his hands on your hips, he grip tightening as you pulled him closer to you, deepening the kiss.

    You let out a quiet moan when Tom moved his lips down to your neck, sucking lightly onto the soft, sensitive skin.

    "Tom... please." You moaned out, head falling to the side as you let Tom's mouth explore the soft skin of your neck.

    "Are you sure?" He asked in between the wet, openmouthed kisses he was leaving all over your neck and the barely exposed skin of your chest.

    "Fuck, yes. Please." You plead, Tom's eyes meeting with your until he grips at your thighs, causing you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist, and then his lips are on yours again.

    Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, making him dizzy, causing him to accidentally crash your back against the wall as he carries you to his room.

    "Fuck, sorry." He says, causing you to laugh and shake your head, your hands cupping his cheeks, bringing his face closer to your, your lips connecting yet again.

    Before you know it, you're practically tossed onto Tom's bed, his sheets puffing up around your head before Tom moves in between your legs, settling his body there as he continues to kiss you deeply.

    Both you and Tom let out moans and groans when he starts to grind his hips against your heat, your hips bucking up instinctively. Tom places his hands on the backs of your thighs, gripping tightly to flip the both of you over, you now being on top, the already passionate kiss deepening as you put your boy weight into it.

    Tom reached to the hem of your loose t-shirt, tugging it slightly to signal that he wanted it off of you. You lifted your hands above your head, causing Tom to sit up and rip the shirt off of you, your bare breasts now exposed to him. He sat there like a deer in the headlights for a few minutes, staring up at you in awe. You reached your hands to your waist, grabbing his wrists and placing his hands just underneath your breasts.

    "You can touch me if you want to, Tom." You breathe out, a quiet giggle leaving your mouth.

    Tom's hands move up to cup your breasts, squeezing lightly as he sat there, mouth open slightly as you both let out heavy breaths.

    "Fuck, you're so beautiful." He says, sitting up more to connect your lips again, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip, causing you to groan and grind your hips against his, gripping at his hoodie for him to pull it off.

    When he does, he lays back down on his back, causing you to move forward and connect your lips to the skin of his chiseled chest, causing him to moan quietly when your teeth scrape against the already red skin, your nails scraping down his chest as well.

    Tom's hands toy with the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down slightly, causing you to stand up and take them off, Tom staring at your naked body in awe once again. He lifted his hips up, trying quickly to remove his sweatpants and underwear, his cock springing free up against his stomach. Your mouth watered as you took a look at his cock, moving your body over to the bed again, straddling Tom as he sat up more to kiss you with heated passion once again.

    He looks deeply into your eyes when you both pull away, his cock lined up with your entrance.

    "Ready?" He says, gulping as he stares up at you.

    "Yeah." You breathe out, finally sinking down onto him.

"Oh my god." You moan, your head rolling back.

    "You okay?" He asks, kissing your chest and the parts of your neck that he can reach with ease.

    "Yes." You say, moaning more as he sucks dark purple marks onto the tops of your breasts.

    The both of you moan in sync as you start to bob up and down on his length.

    "Fuck, you're tight." Tom groans out, his face inches from yours as you rode him.

    Tom leaned up, connecting his lips with yours as your speed increased, the sound of your skin slapping together quietly filled the room. His hands went to grip at your waist, laying down fully as his fingers held onto your soft skin tightly.

    "God, fuck, Thomas." You moaned, loud whimpers leaving your lips as Tom's grip on your waist tightened even more, sure to leave small bruises, not that you were complaining.

    "Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good." He groans, his hands leaving your waist to hold onto your breasts, alternating between massaging them and rolling your nipples between his thumb and index fingers, both of which had you moaning and whimpering loudly as you rode him.

    He moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing quick circles as he started to thrust up into you, practically unable to restrain himself from the pleasure you were giving him.

    You practically screamed as your bobs on his cock met with the pace of his upward thrusts, his cock hitting a place so deep inside of you that it made your head spin.

    You leaned down his kiss him again, the pace of his fingers on your clit never faltering, as you neared your high.

    "Holy shit!" You screamed, your walls clenching tightly around Tom's length, causing him to groan loudly as his thrusts up into you sped up, choked out, breathless moans from you following his actions.

    "God, fuck! Shit, are you gonna cum?" He groans, trying his best to get you to reach your high before he reached his.

    All you could do was moan and clench around him, signaling to him that you were close, and with just another deep, upwards thrust from him, practically screaming as you came undone above him, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

    His high followed soon after yours, him groaning loudly as he came, his cock twitching deep inside of you, his mouth hung wide open.

    He finally stopped thrusting upwards into you when you breathlessly moaned out, "Too much, Tommy.", a quiet giggle following.

    Tom pulled you down onto him, your chest flush against his as his cock stayed resting inside of you.

    "How long had it been for you?" He asked, his beautiful brown eyes meeting yours, the moonlight streaming through the curtains framing his face perfectly.

    "Too fucking long." You say, the both of you laughing.

    You giggled quietly when he connected his lips to yours, the both of you lazily for what seemed like hours.

    "Be mine?" Tom said after pulling away, your foreheads resting against each other's.

    "Is that a request or a demand?" You say, laughing underneath your breath.

    "It depends on how you answer." Tom says, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips.

    "I'll be yours, Tom. Of course I'll be yours." You say, your lips connecting with his again in another sweet kiss.

__________

@ertherealrose​ @peter-tiingle​ @petertiingz​ @fallinfortom​ @spideyyeet​ @am3l1a-24

[theonlygamergost]

A tattoo for a lost best - Fd!au - 3/3

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

This fic was corrected by the lovely @im-default

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno and Skeppy bet on stupid things, and sometimes their bets can have very severe consequence if lost.

If you want to, look at what Minetra’s desing of Techno tattoo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tw! Betting, swearing. Btw, this is very long

<—Previous part 

Enjoy~

To avoid any more drama, he went straight home. The house was empty though, so he connected his phone to Wilbur’s small Bluetooth speaker to his phone and played a random playlist he had made to motivate him to do chores, took out the mop and started cleaning the floors, humming the songs and sometimes bopping his head to the beat.

While the pavement was drying, he logged on Minecraft and started playing on Hypixel.

Tommy arrived home just as the pavement dried out, grabbing a glass of chocolate milk and another glass full of cookies. Bringing them to his room and closing the door. A few minutes later he logged into Hypixel and sent Techno a party invite, they started playing various minigames, winning most of them.

Until, while playing BedWars, Tommy whispered to Techno.

TommyInnit whispers to you: I’m sorry

Techno finished destroying a bed and sat at the generator while quickly responding.

You whisper: About what?

TommyInnit whispers to you: About telling Will about your tattoo, I sneaked into your room this morning and I saw it

TommyInnit whispers to you: I’m really sorry, but if Phil found out later it would have been worse

Tommy’s and Techno’s bed was gone, they were just flying around as ghosts at this point. But if they wanted to keep talking, they couldn’t have gone into another game so Techno typed /hub and teleported both of them into the main hub of the server.

You whisper: It’s fine Tommy, I’m not angry

TommyInnit whispers to you: Then can I come and hug you?

Techno wasn’t expecting that. But he smiled and closed Minecraft after sending the last message:

You whisper: The door is unlocked

Techno lied down on his bed closing his eyes as he listened to Tommy’s steps growing louder.

The door gently creaked as the young Pandel stood by the door, looking at his older brother laying down with his eyes closed.

Climbing onto the bed, he plopped down next to Techno, scooting closer to him and hugging him, Techno exchanged the hug, embracing the blonde boy tightly.

They stayed like that in silence, the world around them looked like it froze. When Wilbur got home and went to check Techno’s room to see if he was there, he found the two brothers peacefully sleeping. Wilbur smiled at the cute sight, he made sure to cover them with a blanket and close the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Phil arrived home, the brothers were silent, they couldn’t get themselves to talk or make jokes, the older brother acted as usual, solar and positive, but he had noticed how Wilbur and Tommy were silent. Something was wrong, and after dinner, he was going to figure out what.

To his surprise, when he got out of the bathroom, the brothers were back at the kitchen counter, all of them had serious and sad faces, “Phil, we need to talk to you”

He sat on one of the stools, “Sure… what is it?” The two brothers both looked at Techno who’s shoulder tensed, he looked like he wanted to disappear.

“I… have made a serious decision without asking and… It’s something you have explicitly said to not take before... “ What was going on? Techno never made dumb decisions, and if he did, he alone came to talk to him, then why were all of the brothers there? Phil was now very worried.

Without saying another word, Techno took off his hoodie, revealing a sleeveless shirt, and the tattoo.

Wilbur looked away, Tommy looked sadly at Techno, Phil looked unimpressed.

So you really did it too huh…

“Wait, you guys didn’t know he had gotten it?” Everyone froze.

“It was pretty obvious, the bandage, the moisturizing cream, the antimicrobial soap, they all gave it away. Plus, we all know Techno hates carrying his backpack on one shoulder, there had to be a good reason for him to carry it like that” The brothers were impressed, Phil could notice the most subtle changes in behaviours, it wasn’t surprising he had picked it up quickly, but still…

“Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m okay with your decision”

Phil brought a hand on his forehead, thinking about what to say, choosing his words to get his point across, he hated scolding his brothers, but they were teenagers, sometimes he had to be strict and direct with them.

“The only thing I can say, Techno, is that I’m disappointed in you, very disappointed” The pink-haired boy fidgeted with the hoodie in his lap.

“I thought I had made it clear that tattoos were prohibited until you're old enough, just because I have one doesn’t mean you could get it too” Phil sighed, “You’re grounded Technoblade” All of them looked at the older brother in disbelief, Phil almost never grounded anyone, both Tommy and Wilbur now felt guilty for getting Techno in this situation. Techno just accepted his fate, all of this for a goddam bet.

“No going out after school and no video games for fifteen days, let this be a lesson for you two too, ok?” Wilbur and Tommy looked at each other, only fifteen days? That was nothing! Techno had gotten a permanent tattoo without permission and he got away with fifteen days?!

“Now, Techno, prepare for bedtime and go to your room, I need to talk to you more in private. Wilbur, Tommy, you’re free to go” They nodded and got up the stools, both of them flopping on the couch. Techno instead whispered a soft “I’m sorry” and headed for the bathroom, leaving Phil the only one at the counter. He took his head in his hands and leaned over the counter, using his elbows to support himself.

I hope your reason was better than mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A knock on the door interrupted Techno’s train of thought, he quickly sat at the edge of his messy bed and waited for the crack of light coming to illuminate his dark room. Phil peeked from the door,  surrounded by a halo of yellow light, smiling brightly as he always did, “May I come in?” Techno gently nodded.

Phil sat next down and hugged Techno for a bit, “Let me guess” He started, bringing a hand to scratch his short beard,” You didn’t tell the others why you got it” Techno nodded again. The older brother looked at the younger one, waiting for him to start talking.

“I’m warning you, you won’t like it” the blonde man shrugged, so he took a deep breath.

“You remember when Skeppy had to get his ear pierced last year?” It was Phil’s turn to nod, “That was because we had made a bet. He didn’t believe I was going to get max votes for every subject, so we made it that if I did have max votes, he would get his ear pierced, if I didn’t, I was going to get my ear pierced. You know who won the bet” Techno chuckled when the memory of Skeppy getting super mad at him for getting max votes arose, he had gotten one of his ears pierced, and even if he will never admit it, he loves wearing e-boy earrings.

Techno had actually bought him his first pair of earrings, he kept a mental note to look at Skeppy when passing near jewelry in case he started staring at a pair of them, he was bad with gifts so this was a good way to get ideas.

“This was… the same… We made a bet and… “ He had lost, Phil knew that Techno and Skeppy made these “bets” and he knew that they sometimes could have a strong penalty if lost… but they were childhood friends, if something was “too much” they could always call it off. So Techno did make the decision to get the tattoo, he just didn’t want to admit it.

“Okay then, I understand… You’re still grounded though” Techno smiled, “Goodnight Techno” Phil patted his brother on the shoulder and left his room, leaving him back in the dark of his room.

He just climbed further into the bed and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There is something going on here, there HAS to be!” Wilbur was pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table, he sounded pretty stressed about his thoughts, not that Tommy would care. He was just sitting upside down on the couch, legs slumped over the back and head dangling off the seat, of course, switch in hands playing the Octo expansion for Splatoon two. Techno bought it for him as his quote on quote “reward” for cleaning his room for him.

“You’re getting too agitated big dubs” The blonde boy shot a look at the legs walking around on the other side of the table, they stopped, facing his direction, “Shut the fuck up Tommyinnit I’m trying to think!” the legs continued pacing left and right. “Well, now that you said I need to shut up I’m interested!” He sat back up properly on the couch, pausing the game and placing the switch down. “What we thinking, big dubs?” He said before rubbing his hands together.

With a roll of his eyes, the older brother started explaining: “You remember when I took Phil’s scooter and drove Techno around town a year before I got my license?” Tommy giggled, Wilbur dead stared at him. “OKAY Okay jeez! Go on!” Will shook his head, “Well, Phil that time grounded us both, understandably, Techno got away with no video games for a week, I was the one driving after all…” He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, “But I had to go through A MONTH without video games and phone! And look at Technoblade! Fifteen days! Only fifteen days for getting a big ass tattoo without permission!”

Now that Tommy thought about it, Will did have a point, plus, not going out after school didn’t really affect Techno, he never went out anyway. “I know this going to sound bad but…” Will looked at Tommy, noticing the serious look he had on his face, “Do you think… Phil has… favourites?” Will’s eyes widened, a shiver shot down his spine. “Wha-what are you talking about Tommy? Phil loves us equally, he quit college to take care of us, there is no way he has… “ He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the words got stuck in his throat, he refused to believe that his older brother had a favourite among them. He just couldn’t.

“But what if he-”

“No Tommy, there has to be a reason why he gave him less time than he did with me, and he will tell us, I know he will. I’m going to sleep now” He passed by the kitchen and closed himself in his room, Tommy whispered “Goodnight Wil”  and headed for his own room, grabbing his switch along with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From there on, it was a monotone style of life for Techno.

Wake up, go to school, go back home, read, clean, and go to sleep.

He and Skeppy had to hang out at lunches since they couldn’t meet up after school, and if for some reason they couldn’t, they would either discord call or facetime each other and just talk about the most random things for hours, as good friends do of course.

The house felt a little bit empty for some reason: Tommy would stay outside later than usual and Wilbur didn’t try to create any type of chaos or loud noise, the melancholic sound of a soft guitar would fill the house more than it used to and Phil was constantly spaced out, it was like the cheerful Pandel apartment had lost it colours.

All of them had noticed this phenomenon. They all knew that they couldn’t last long like this, they needed the chaos, they needed the cheerfulness and the happiness of each brother equally. Their house was like an echo-system: If something was off, it made an impact on everything else.

So on the fifteen-day, the last day, while everyone was sat around the kitchen counter sharing dinner, Wilbur spoke up.

“Taking turns, let’s say what’s on our mind, anyone wants to start?” Techno nodded in approval of Will’s proposal, after setting his spoon down, Tommy started talking.

“I feel like we are hiding something from each other” Phil froze, Techno’s mouth curved slightly downwards “I don’t know why Techno didn’t tell us about the tattoo, I-I  honestly felt betrayed when I saw it, but someone else is keeping a secret now, and I don’t want this to become a normal thing!” Tommy looked away, clinging his fists. “You’re right, Tommy” The attention moved to Wilbur, “ We have always been honest with each other, please let’s keep it this way” Techno nodded again “ I am so sorry for not telling anyone about… you know… “ silence fell briefly while he recollected his thought, “ It felt wrong doing so, but I had no choice-”

“You did Technoblade!” Wilbur interrupted him,” You know we would have supported you in any decision you would have made! You were always the one to encourage us every time we were insecure about anything, no matter how stupid it was!” Techno took his glasses off, letting what Wilbur had just said sink in.

“I know… But-” He rubbed his eyes, “But what?! Don’t you trust us-”

“Alright, calm down boys” Phil interrupted them, making them realize what tone of voice they were using against each other.

“I am the one who should fix this since I was the one who started it” He sighed, allowing his head to rest in his hands.

“I gave Techno a pretty light consequence for what he did, I am aware of that and I’m sorry if that looked like I was playing favourites” Tommy looked at the plate in front of him, how could he have doubted Phil?

“There is a better…  or worse, reason for that, let me explain” he looked up at the other brothers waiting for a response. They looked at each other in confusion and nodded, at that sign Phil started.

“You all are aware that I also have a tattoo, a pretty big pair of wings on my back, I’ve never hidden it from you guys because there was no need too… what I didn’t say was why and when I got the tattoo… and there is a good reason for that, I promise” the brothers felt a bit dumb, why did no one ever think of asking him why he had gotten his tattoo? No matter how long back they recalled Phil always had that tattoo, that pair of angel-like wings who occupied most of the upper part of their older brothers back felt to them like something that always had belonged to Phil. They couldn’t imagine him without it, but it was still shocking how no one had asked him why he had gotten it.

“The reason why I never told you about why I got it was because I was afraid you would try to imitate me… which was the last thing I wanted to happen” Techno tried to lighten the mood a little bit, “Jeez Phil, you’re making it sound like you got it to enter a gang” Tommy and Will smiled, “That’s at least is a reason to get a tattoo” the smile faded away, “Mine wasn’t even a reason, I got my tattoo because the thought of getting a tattoo made me feel free, made me feel independent… me and a good friend of mine were “good boys”, we always did what our parents wanted and had the highest grades, getting a tattoo was the most rebellious thing two sixteen years old kids could do, so that’s why we did it” They all looked down, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts, “So that’s why the wings… “ Wilbur whispered, “To symbolize freedom… “ Techno finished the thought.

When the silence was about to become awkward, Phil got off the stool and grabbed his jacket that he’d left on the couch,” Get your shoes on, were going out” They looked at each other in confusion, “Wh-why? Where are we going?” Tommy stuttered while asking. “You’ll see”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The night’s breeze blew lightly through the Pandel’s hair, Phil was walking ahead of everyone with his hands in his pocket, Wilbur was behind him, trying to figure out where he was taking them meanwhile Techno and Tommy were playing rock paper scissor, mouthing each other insults and quietly cheering.

The walk went on for five minutes until Phil entered an ice cream shop, “C’mon, order what you want” the brothers looked at each other after ordering their flavours.

They sat down on a bench, each of them focused on their ice cream, Wilbur was leaned against a light pole since they all couldn’t fit comfortably on the bench.

“So…what was this for?” Tommy asked before licking his chocolate and strawberry ice cream, Phil looked up at the moon in the starry sky, “An apology, for hiding this part of me from all of you until now… “ Techno finished his ice cream and wiped his mouth with a napkin, “ I hope you guys can forgive me and we can all go back to when we never lied to each other-” All of the brothers threw themselves on him, “Whoa-! Guys careful I’m still holding my ice cream!” But the brothers didn’t care.

“We forgive you Phil, in fact, we were never angry at you, we understand that you didn’t tell us to protect us” Wilbur broke from the hug, “Thank you Phil for being the best brother in the world!” Tommy said with a huge smile, the other two nodded and he couldn’t help himself from crying with joy. If he had to decide again between taking care of his brothers and continuing collage, his answer would have never changed.

[juliandev0rak]

Into The Wild  

Chapter 5: Honeysuckle

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

Words: 3023

At the beginning of the summer Asra and Willa did a tarot reading, just for fun and mostly as an excuse for Willa to show off the cards she’d designed and painted herself. It had been a simple one card pull to symbolize the theme of the summer, and she’d pulled the star— symbolizing hope, faith, and rebirth. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, looking back at the last few weeks of summer, Willa has realized just how correct that prediction was.

She can’t remember the last time she was this happy and excited for the future. The last few years have been hard on her own, and joining the staff of Camp Vesuvia had been a last-ditch effort to fix things, to make something of herself, to find a place to belong. And as her tarot deck had predicted, she’d done all of those things. Though there was no way the cards could have predicted Muriel, or how much Willa has grown to like him in just a few short weeks.

After the movie night, specifically after the cuddling in the dark and goodbye cheek kisses, she’d been afraid he would disappear. But Muriel had kept his promise to be around more, and they’ve spent the last few days almost entirely together. He’s joined her at meals, sat with her every night at the campfire, and even helped her with work. volunteering in the arts and crafts cabin when his own work was slow.

And Willa had been just as eager to see him, she’d even followed him around on a patrol one evening. It should have been scary to be in the forest after dark like that, but she’d never had so much fun in her life holding the flashlight and listening to Muriel tell stories about his work to pass the time. That’s another change, he actually talks to her now. And whether it’s due to her persistent encouragement finally wearing him down or the tentative trust they’ve built up over a few weeks of friendship, Willa is very glad for the change.

In all of the busy days of work and evenings spent sitting close together by the fire, time has moved fast. Only one week remains before the end of the summer. Only one week remains until Willa has to drive back down the mountain and back to whatever remains of her solitary life in the city. She supposes she’ll have to look for a new job, and that she’ll simply have to forget about how wonderful things have been here at Camp Vesuvia.

Willa doesn’t want to think about forgetting Muriel yet, the thought hurts too much to consider though the deadline for accepting it grows ever nearer.

With only seven days left till the end of camp, it’s time for the culminating event of the summer— the annual talent show. It’s all the campers have been able to talk about for days, and most camp activities have been halted to allow them to practice their talents. Willa had been asked to judge, but she decided to leave that job to Asra and Julian. They’ve been bickering all day about the criteria used to find a winner and what “defines talent”. The winners will get prize money, a trophy, and most importantly— the glory of winning Camp Vesuvia’s talent show.

The air is full of excitement, and as Willa enters the amphitheater she can’t help but be swept up in the festive mood. Lucio has been busy with the decorations, he’s got an eye for dramatic decor and somehow managed to turn the outdoor stage into a real theater experience. There are lights strung through the trees, a red curtain creating a backstage area, and he even managed to convince the kitchen staff to bring out the popcorn machine.

As the campers file in, Willa takes her seat in the back, making sure to save the seat next to her for Muriel. When she saw him earlier in the day he’d promised to be there even though “talent shows aren’t his thing”, as he’d told her in no uncertain terms. Nadia takes to the stage to start the show and Willa searches the crowd, not spotting Muriel anywhere. Portia waves Willa over to sit with her and Asra, but she shakes her head. She’ll wait a little longer for him.

The first act goes up, one of the older campers sings a Taylor Swift song. She’s actually really good and Willa gives her a standing ovation when she finishes. The camper gets a ten from Julian and an eight from Asra which causes a squabble between the judges which Nadia has to break up. The judges are almost better entertainment than the show itself, and by the time the second competitor takes the stage Willa’s nearly forgotten the empty seat next to her. But sometime in the middle of the next act Muriel arrives, silently taking the open seat.

“Sorry I’m late,” Muriel says.

Willa scooches over to make more room for him on the bench, giving him a smile in greeting. “I���m glad you made it.”

“What did I miss?”

“The first camper sang a cover of ‘You Belong With Me’, and then Julian and Asra fought over the scores. Someone needs to take those score cards away from them before a physical fight breaks out,” Willa laughs, eyeing the judges warily.

The corner of Muriel’s mouth quirks up in amusement. “Sounds like them.”

The next act features a bunch of card tricks involving audience participation. “Is this your card?” the boy asks, holding up the King of Hearts for another camper to inspect. It turns out that it wasn’t the right card, and the judges give out a measly 5 and 3 as scores.

Willa sneaks a glance at Muriel as the judges deliberate and finds him already looking at her. Instead of looking away they both stare for a minute, only breaking eye contact when applause signals the next act taking the stage. Willa clears her throat, hoping the moment of staring wasn’t as awkward as she fears it was.

“Did you ever compete in a talent show?” Muriel asks, his voice pulling her out of her thoughts. He keeps his volume at a polite whisper so as not to disturb the performance.

“I was homeschooled so I didn't have much of a chance, but my brothers and I would put on our own talent shows,” Willa whispers back. “We used to charge our parents a dollar to watch the show.”

“What was your talent?”

“Singing, I wanted to be on Broadway when I was a kid. As I got older I realized I’m not that great of an actor,” Willa says, smiling at the memory of her younger self tap dancing her way across the barn.

“I think you’d be good at it.” Muriel sounds earnest, as if he really means the compliment.

“Thanks, but I think you’ll have to hear me sing first before you make that judgement,” Willa laughs.

“I’d like to hear you sing.”

Willa blushes at the comment, ducking her chin into her scarf to hide her face. “Maybe someday.”

“But I’m not going to karaoke.”

“That’s ok, it’s a bit much even for me,” she says, trying to keep her tone even as he continues to look directly at her.

A strong breeze moves through the trees around them and Muriel suppresses a shiver, his shoulder bumping hers. Willa wonders again why he doesn't bundle up in more clothing, maybe the cold doesn’t bother him like it bothers her. The thought reminds her of the present she made him and Willa turns to him excitedly.“I brought you something.”

“Huh?”

Willa reaches into her tote bag, digging past her water bottle and various scrunchies and nearly-empty packs of gum. Finally she locates the gift and pulls it out for Muriel to see. “I made you a scarf!’’

“You… made this?” Muriel takes the green knit scarf out of her hands, inspecting the repeating pattern with interest. “Why?”

“I wanted to! It gets cold here at night. I know you have to patrol outside a lot and I thought you might like something to keep you warm.” Willa reaches for the scarf again and he lets her take it. “May I?”

Muriel inclines his head slightly and allows her to wrap the scarf around his neck. When he lifts his head he’s smiling and Willa exhales in relief. He likes it.

The talent show goes on, though Willa and Muriel admittedly don’t pay much attention to it. There are musical acts, dancing, and every sort of talent in between and though Asra and Julian continue to bicker a little, as the night continues they seem to get it together. They manage to at least avoid breaking out the score cards as weapons.

With only a few acts remaining the tensions are high, and the crowd has only gotten louder. Willa looks over at Muriel and notices how uncomfortable he looks at the increased volume and chaos. He seems like he wants to leave, and Willa can’t blame him, it is a bit much. Since she’s not technically on duty tonight, and she wants to spend more time with him, Willa concocts a new plan for the evening.

“Would you like to go get some cocoa? The kitchen should still be open,” she suggests.

Muriel looks up, eyes wide in relief. “That’d be nice.”

“Let’s go then! I need a snack.” Willa grabs his hand on the pretense of pulling him up from his seat, but he doesn’t pull his hand away once he’s up. As they leave the amphitheater his fingers weave through hers and he holds her hand more tightly.

“Are we allowed to be in here this late?” Muriel asks as they enter the kitchen building. It’s warm and brightly lit, a nice reprieve from the dark path they’d had to navigate to walk here.

Willa crosses over to the cabinet where mugs are stored, reaching up on her tiptoes to grab two mugs. “Wellll… not technically, but I’m friends with the kitchen staff so it’s fine!”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Muriel stands by the door, uncertainty clouding his expression.

“Muriel it’s fine, I promise. Come here and help me measure the cocoa,” she beckons him over, holding a spoon out for him to take. They make their cocoa, stirring warm milk and chocolate powder together until it's smooth.

Willa holds her mug up to her nose, inhaling the chocolate scent. “Do you want marshmallows?”

“Only if they aren’t burnt to a crisp. Maybe I should handle them,” Muriel laughs, and Willa turns to him with a surprised grin.

“Wait, was that a joke?”

“I can be funny.” He plops two marshmallows into his mug and puts three in Willa’s.

“Thanks.” Willa holds her mug up, clinking it against Muriel’s in cheers.

They sip their cocoa in silence, enjoying the quiet after a night of too much noise. Out of the corner of her eyes Willa notices Muriel watching her and she wonders if he’ll say something or if she should first. He beats her to it, setting his mug down on the counter before he turns to face her more fully.

“What will you do after this summer?” he asks.

Of course he would bring up the one topic she most wants to avoid. “I’m not quite sure, I guess I’ll move back to the city and start looking for another job,” Willa sighs. 

“So you’re leaving.”

Willa takes a sip of her cocoa, trying to decipher his tone as she thinks of a response. He sounds almost sad, and she can’t imagine it’s on her behalf. “I think I have to, I can’t stay here with no campers around, I wouldn’t have a job.”

Muriel’s hair falls into his face, leaving half of it in shadow, but Willa can still see him frown. “Why are you spending time with me, why aren’t you out there with your friends?”

“You are my friend and I like spending time with you, I like you,” she says. “We’ve been over this.”

“Why do you give me things? I don’t ever give you anything in return,” Muriel looks frustrated now and Willa fights the urge to reach out and take his hand. She gives him his space, keeping her hands firmly planted on her mug.

“You give me plenty, Muriel. I know this will sound cheesy but your friendship is a gift, being around you is the best part of my day,” Willa explains. “You don’t have to give me anything.”

Muriel still looks frustrated and confused, and Willa sighs in defeat. She’s leaving in a week, it’s now or never. If Muriel isn’t getting the picture she’ll just have to draw him a new one. Though part of her wants to just bury these emotions and not risk ruining things, she's never been one to shy away from her feelings. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way as her it’s only fair that he knows how she feels.

Before she can overthink it any more Willa blurts out, “The truth is Muriel, I like you.”

He tilts his head to the side in confusion. “You already said that?”

“No, I like you, as in romantically,” Willa pauses. Muriel stares at her blankly as if he doesn’t understand her words, but now that she’s started talking it’s hard to stop.

“I’ve liked you for weeks now, actually, ever since that night when you taught me how to roast marshmallows. And I know summer’s ending soon so I feel like I have to tell you now or I’ll never get a chance and I know I’ll regret it forever if I don’t. I don’t want to be an old lady still thinking about that crush I had in my twenties that went nowhere because I was too afraid to tell him so uh, here I am telling you…” Willa trails off, wondering if Muriel might need medical attention, he looks very pale.

“You like me?” he repeats.

“I do,” Willa nods.

Muriel continues to stare at her in silence and Willa doesn’t know what to say. Finally, the tension breaks and Muriel grabs his jacket off of the coat rack by the door. “I should go.” Before she can process what he’s said Muriel opens the door, practically running outside.

“Muriel, wait!” Willa stands in the doorway calling after him, but he doesn't turn. She briefly considers going after him but that might only make things worse.

Instead, she takes a seat on the doorstep, feeling like she wants to disappear into the dirt. For a second, tears well up behind her eyes but she blinks them away, feeling silly for caring so much. He’d run away. She’d told him she liked him and he’d left, there could be no clearer sign of rejection.

“Well, that went well didn’t it,” Willa mutters sarcastically, using her sleeve to wipe at her damp eyes. “I need to go clean something.”

She heads back into the kitchen, trying to ignore the well of emotions she feels as she washes the mug Muriel had been holding only minutes ago. She watches the cocoa wash down the drain, feeling like her own life might be headed in that direction. 

Her tarot reading from the beginning of the summer feels like a sick joke now, she should’ve pulled the tower instead, that would be a more accurate depiction of the summer. At least she’s leaving soon, Muriel won’t have to worry about bumping into her anymore. And she won’t have to see him, she won’t have to walk around camp being reminded of him and how she’d ruined things.

After a few minutes of listlessly scrubbing already clean kitchen counters, Willa takes a seat on the doorstep again. The sudden sound of footsteps approaching startles her and she turns towards the path, wondering if perhaps Muriel has come back after all. She’s surprised, and a little disappointed, to find Nadia instead.

The camp director gives her a soft smile in greeting and gestures to the step, “Is there room for one more?”

“Of course.” Willa scoots over to make room for her.

Nadia looks at Willa with a raised eyebrow, taking in her tear-stained face and red eyes. “I saw Muriel on the way here, he looked quite disturbed.”

“That’s my fault, I scared him off.”  Willa fiddles with the edges of her scarf as she speaks, picking at a loose thread.

“I’ve known Muriel for many years now, and while he is a very capable, kind person he does not always know how to react to people. Especially not pretty girls,” Nadia smiles, nudging Willa with her shoulder. 

Willa tries to laugh, though the sound comes out as more of a weak sniffle. “How did you know I liked him?”

Nadia laughs, “Oh Willa, the whole camp knows.”

“Of course they do,” Willa shakes her head in dismay. “Well clearly Muriel doesn’t feel the same way, he ran away from me after I told him.”

“As I said, he doesn’t always know how to react. Give him some space, give him some time,” Nadia counsels. Willa would normally agree but she has no more time, she can’t be patient.

“I’m out of time, Nadia. Camp is over in a week,” Willa frowns. “And I think it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t like me.”

“He likes you,” Nadia states, her tone the no-nonsense matter of fact one she uses when directing campers. “I’m certain of that.”

Willa stares down at the dirt, wondering how Nadia could possibly be certain of that. “Even if he does like me there’s no point, it doesn’t matter if I'm leaving.”

“Where’s that eternal optimist who stepped into my office at the beginning of the summer?” Nadia asks, putting a comforting hand on Willa’s shoulder to draw her attention. “Would it change anything if I told you that you don’t have to leave Camp Vesuvia?”

“What?”

“Would you like to stay?”

✧

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Let’s talk: the Vmin “no on screen interaction = no bond” Paradox

by Admin 1 & 2

One of the reasons that are usually stated for why people are so insistent on their claims that Jimin and Tae supposedly aren’t close anymore, that their friendship is nothing but PR for Friends, and that the whole “soulmate agenda” is fake as well, boils down to the statement of “we rarely or never see them interact on screen, no touching, no talking, nothing”. We find this both misleading, since it isn’t true, but also disrespectful, since it means that the only way in which some are able to accept closeness between the members as real and valid is if they see it, nothing else. So, just because you don’t see it through grand physical touches, hugs and whatnot, does that mean if they speak about each other, for example, that doesn’t count? 

You could argue that the power of pictures is greater than that of words, but to that I would like to ask: do they owe us visual proof of their closeness when we already have so much that shows how truly close Jimin and Tae are, how much they care about each other and how much work across years they’ve willingly and eagerly put into their bond for it to grow as deep and beautiful as it is?

As a way to showcase how misleading the screen time = friendship/closeness argument is, especially in connection to Jimin and Tae, I’d like for us to look at two different instances: Black Swan MV (the MV Sketch as well as the “opera” b*omb and the basket ball b*omb) and the Jingle Ball 2019 EPISODE.

Let’s start with the videos surrounding Black Swan below the cut:

Around that time I saw a lot, and I mean a lot, of chatter (mostly negative) about vmin since a very loud portion of the fandom were very up in arms after we got Friends. Not only did it solidify their preconceived notion that they are just friends, because the song is titled like that and none of them really cared enough to check the lyrics, but also because it opened up a whole new discussion about “but like, are they really friends?” To which, of course, their answer was mostly “no”. It’s just PR, they actually don’t really like each other, they barely interact, we see nothing of them, both interact way more with the other members, you know the drill. So when the MV Sketch for Black Swan came out it was, once again, like more “am/munition” for their arguments.

The thing we find laughable though is this expectation of “ship moments” in a video that’s literally about the filming of their music video, most of the scenes showing said filming happening though there’s also a few scenes of the members interacting. But, at the core, this isn’t like a bangtan b*mb of them hanging out backstage waiting for something or another where it makes sense that we’d see them interact a lot and be silly, instead it’s a video in which their focus (as well as ours should be) is on filming and giving the best performance they can so the MV turns out amazing, which it did. They are doing their work, not enjoying their free time. When you’re at work, do you really spend the majority of your time playing around with your friends? No, you do your job, the thing you get paid for doing.

The first few times I watched the video, I was so captivated by the theatre and their dancing, their mindset and performance, I didn’t even really notice any of their interactions or pay attention to who interacted with who or who did not. Guess my priorities and expectations are simply a bit different when watching a music video being filmed...

So what was the conclusion people drew? While Jimin and Tae are both close to JK and the other member, they are not close to each other, they don’t even particularly like each other. It was a narrative I saw repeated across various sns and, really, while it made me sad, I also wasn’t surprised. It’s nothing new that people treat vmin in such a manner.

Then, months later we got two Bangtan B*mbs from the same time and surprise, surprise Jimin and Tae did interact, a lot even, in ways that show how attuned with each other they are, how easy it is for them to fall into one of their role-plays or just be silly together, how gentle and thoughtful of the other they are, and how much they enjoy doing something together, regardless of what it is.

The first, posted October 1st 2020, showed Tae playing basket ball while Jimin and JK sat off to the side and watched him. Like you can see in the above pictures, eventually Jimin joined Tae and they played together for most of the video. Since the sun was shining at them, Tae stood before Jimin and raised his hands so the shadow fell onto Jimin’s eyes and he could see better, later on doing the same for Tae. It’s a small thing and yet it shows they care about each other. At some point Jimin pretended that he’ll be leaving, twice, and yet he stayed and they played some more. Toward the end of the video Namjoon joins them and eventually vmin leave and Namjoon stays behind and plays with Seokjin before the video ends.

Based on all that you’d assume the people who, seven months earlier, claimed vmin are essentially estranged and barely even like each other would reconsider, but of course not. Despite the focus being largely on them across the entire video, many comments by non-vminies (and non-namjinists) I saw on sns were about Tae playing on his own, Jimin and JK sitting off to the side together, and Namjoon playing with Seokjin. 

The second video was posted October 24th 2020 and began with Jimin pretending he’s an opera singer, which Tae noticed and immediately joined in, since we know this is the sort of thing Tae enjoys doing, even occasionally turning their own songs and lyrics into opera style to make the other members laugh. This sets off this entire sequence of Tae and Jimin singing different things, JK also joining in for a moment, and then vmin ending on that sweet moment of Jimin standing behind Tae with his hands covering Tae’s eyes before concluding that “it’s hard to play with him”. And yet, even if it’s hard, can we talk about these two screenshots of Jimin fondly watching Tae and looking like he can’t wait until his stylist is done so he can go join him? Adorable.

But again, even here while the focus is on vmin for a large portion of the video, this fact was largely omitted and instead people zeroed in on moments in which Tae was alone, Tae or Jimin interacted with JK, and Tae singing with Namjoon and Seokjin. It seems to me like the council of “how valid is a friendship” decided on their opinion months prior and stuck with it even if it meant, as always, to just ignore vmin interactions in favor of other things while at the same time spreading the “vmin are not friends because they don’t interact” agenda to anyone who’ll listen.

Generally I don’t really care all that much for all the chatter happening among parts of ARMY, but seeing these comments belittling and erasing the bond Jimin and Tae have, regardless if you see it as platonic or potentially romantic, is just really hard to read sometimes. Not even because I’m a vminnie, but simply because they are erasing something that is so important to both Tae and Jimin, this bond they have with each other they themselves spoke so much about, showed so much of, and yet people refuse to accept it, like they have any right to make such judgements about their bond.

The second example I’d like to show is Jingle Ball 2019 in LA and how deceptive, paradoxical and misleading the no screen time = no bond agenda really is.

For context, the Jingle Ball happened some time in December 2019, the same month as when we got the vmin “let’s take a half bath together” while holding hands during Seokjin’s birthday vlive happened, meaning a time when Jimin and Tae were just as close as ever, even occasionally giving us glimpses into their bond, giggling together and being all smiles. Also the same month as the famous holding hands because we think no one sees us anymore moment at the airport.

On July 22nd 2020 we got the EPISODE showing the behind the scenes of the Jingle Ball performance. It’s 11 minutes long and includes the BWL performance with Halsey, but largely shows the members getting ready, practicing their English and being excited to perform. If we focus solely on vmin then sure, I’ll agree that there were no interactions between those two whatsoever, not a usual or out of the ordinary thing, and not something I see any kind of problem in. They don’t owe us interactions in every piece of content. And yet, as always, it just added fuel to everyones favorite agenda that vmin are not close, ignoring all the prior time frame context we established previously. But who cares, they didn’t interact in this 11 minute video therefore they definitely didn’t interact at all and now hate each other.

Jokes on those people because of course that isn’t true.

Excuse the rather mediocre quality of those pictures, I tried my best with the screenshots taken from a video taken by a fan (one of many) who got to see BTS behind the scenes before going on stage from the stands further up. There’s this video on twt that shows just vmin and then I found a longer version in this person’s vlog (around the 7:25 min mark and onward). You can check both and confirm that it really is vmin in those screenshots. Also, as memory refresher, Jimin was the only one with a black collar and shirt along with blond hair. Namjoon stands further away and can be seen in the three lower pictures.

So, what does this tell us? Easy--just because it wasn’t shown in a condensed and edited video it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just because Jimin and Tae don’t show us things on screen, or the editors don’t use scenes where it can be seen, it doesn’t mean that it’s an accurate representation of their actual, real life bond. They weren’t in the EPISODE but hugged and walked together off camera.

Notice how this agenda merely applies to vmin, how their bond, their soulmate status and closeness is the only one that gets questioned at every possible moment. When Seokjin said that Yoongi feels like his soulmate nowadays in an episode of In The SOOP no one questioned his words and accepted them as true, because he said so himself and we should believe their sincerity when they say these things. And yet when it comes to vmin, the rules are entirely different.

This was a post brought to you by Admin 2 coming across yet another thread on twt filled with ARMY claiming outlandish things about vmin and their bond and getting annoyed.

[obeymeshallwedate-latinplayer]

Traditional costumes part 2

Remmember, GN!MC. And stay for a big hollyday surprise!!!

Beel (Chiapas La chiapaneca)

·         Wearing the typical costume of your state, always made your heart expand in your chest, that night wasn´t the exception, using all the elements of nature made you really happy. That night Lord Diavolo prepare a big dinner to celebrate the exchange students, most likely he just wanted to take a break from the exams that you took a week ago. So you prepare yourself with the very best clothes you had.

·         Beel knocked in your door, saying that it was about time to go out, and he only heard one single scream from you that he panicked and with frenetically movements he opened your door. You were almost done, but usually your grandma would do the last touches for you to be ready, that made you sad. And Beel noticed it.

·         With a silent movement and a soft whisper in your ear he asked what was wrong, and how he might help you.

·         “You know Beel, this is my evening dress, not only because it´s beautiful but… It´s all about the story behind it: This costume was created towards the end of the 1920s, (1926-1927), when a highly successful theatrical company from Central America arrived in Chiapas de Corzo. In her first performance within the state, the lead singer performed a song that was called "Las Chiapanecas", in honor of her audience. The most popular story in terms of the traditional clothing of this state is carried by the Chiapas, who year after year parade showing their wonderful dresses. Characterized by its multiple colors and flowers; generally, on a black background, the traditional dress of Chiapas women represents the different ethnic groups that coexist in their region, such as the Tzeltales, the Lacandones, the Jacaltecos, the Choles and the Tojolobales, among others. Likewise, reference is made to the immense variety of botanical species that exist in Chiapas, since it is a state in which all kinds of ecosystems converge, from the mountainous places of the sierra to the coastal towns. In the case of men, allusion is made to elements such as the sun and rain, so necessary for the fertility of the Earth, and protection against the forces of darkness. The men also remember the Spanish conquerors, imitating certain characteristics of Europeans such as their blond hair; through the headdress that they put on their heads.”

·         Beelzebu wasn´t a man of tons of words like his older brothers, he was a man of actions. He hugged you as tight as he could (without harming you of course) after the hug he just smiled at you. “You are the connection in the three realms, but those are some complicated words that Lord Diavolo usually use, you are all of them for me, the flowers and plants, the mountains, the sierras and the ocean, for me. You are all of them and more.”

·         That made your heart “Doki, doki” yes, maybe that was the last thing you needed, like a magical spell just for you.

Belphie ( Traje Mestizo Quintana Roo) 

He was sleeping in your room, nothing out the ordinary, most of his weekly routine was staying in your room sleeping, until he sniffed something different. He might be sleeping under your bed when he found out the costume inside the box under your bed. Was it like a good luck item? Or did you just didn´t wanted to see it again? He approached his left hand until he touched the box, he took it out and opened it.

In that moment he understood why you were hiding it, the costume was so beautiful. If someone else saw it, they would sell it, eat it, or use it, even asked you to use it. When you opened the door, and found him with the costume you screamed with full joy. “OH BELPHIE DARLING, YOU FOUND IT! I thought I lost it!” So you weren´t trying to hide it? You lost it? In your own room? Heh what a weird human.

“You know, my great grand mother made this for the generations after her. She would always be telling us Mestizo clothing is particularly representative clothing of Yucatan, and has been associated with Quintana Roo clothing. This is due to the proximity that exists between both states and of course, because both complement each other as tourist poles in Mexico. Particularly, the mestizo woman's costume is made up of a huipil embroidered in cross stitch, whose motifs go on the collar of the garment, the hem and the skirt. While the man's is much simpler and he only wears a shirt and pants made of a raw blanket, matching with a plaid apron, leather espadrilles and a palm hat.” You said with a big smile in your face. “Maybe we could ask her to make you one of it What do you think?”

He nodded, you looked so excited about it, that he almost forgot one little thing, How old was your great grandmother? He panicked just a little, but he recover the posture and with the nicest smile he could use, he said. “Well… But first how about you showing me the costume and then we could ask your great grandmother about it”

You smiled once again and ran into your bathroom, it was going to be an amazing evening.

Diavolo (Sn. Luis Potosí, “Las huastecas.”)

It was a nice party for you, some of the greatest demons were at the castle, the brothers tried to protect you as much as they could, but they did had their own responsibility’s, being the seven rulers of the Devildom wasn´t a simple task, and you knew it.

Diavolo tried to approach you on multiple times, failing everyone of them. Until a duke actually came and talked to you. It was notorious you were uncomfortable, he was touching your most precious clothing, and making some rude comments about it.

When Diavolo was about to make his intervention, you took the demons hand and with a scary smile, you started. “It might not be as beautiful as you may think, but at least my dressing has a bigger meaning that that tuxedo of yours, my culture is not for you to make fun of, it deserves to have respect.” After that the prince of the Devildom approach to the both of you, as an excuse for you to join him for some drinks.

Both of you went out of the party, the garden was nice and the moon in the Devildom was brighter that night, Diavolo took your hands with his. “You are a brave human.” He started. “And you look delightful tonight, like someone full of dignity that can rule along with me.” He kissed your hands with the respect that he might show to his fiancé.

“You know Diavolo, my culture is a descendant from the Mayas, we use a tangle that reaches a few inches below the knee. It is made of a white blanket or a plain black cloth on the back; the front has four planks. Is held up by a factory-made sash with red and blue speckled stripes and has a braided fringe at both ends. The blouse or loose jacket is made of flowered calico or pink or blue artisela; It has puffed sleeves, high neck and pleated bib, ending at the waist with an olán or loose skirt that covers the girdle. On top of the blouse, we wear a white cotton quechquémel entirely covered with worsted embroidery with cross stitch. I am proud of my culture.”

As soon as you conclude he smiled, and asked you nicely to go for a dance. After that night he will make that duke pay for what he has done.

Barbatos (Oaxaca, Traje de las tehuanas)

After visiting the human realm your grandfather gave him a nice CD full of music, Barbatos wasn´t the musical type of demon, but he accepted it anyways. After a few months the whole devil castle would have music that was just nostalgic for you.

One day you decided to go on your Huasteca outfit, not the casual one, but the gala. If Barbatos wanted to you could dance for him. When you arrived to the castle there he was, his usually stoic face turned into a surprise one when he saw you enter. His eyes started to shine like a small child when they saw a candy store.

He walked as fast as he could to see you, that was the first time he was close enough to listen to his breathing. He even started to say: “This typical costume was born in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca, using it both the Tehuanas and the Juchitecas, it is said that it is a living costume, since they use it in any type of celebration, making it current over the years, even with the countless modifications it has undergone. t was in 1853, when the composer Máximo Ramón Ortiz composed the musical theme known as the Sandunga, that is when the Tehuana costume managed to cement its fame and prestige as a characteristic of the Oaxacan culture.”

You looked at him astonished, he even knew the history behind your costume, with a laugh caught in your throat you smiled at him. “It was a present from my family, sometimes I miss going to the river in Oaxaca, or even talking with my family in Zapotec.”

He was clearly impressed about the details in the costume, he even took your hand and ask you if you could dance with him. With a big smile you nodded and enter the castle.

It was a nice dance between the two of you, he even made your favorite  tea.  

Simeon (Yucatán Terno) 

He was researching old cultures for his new book, until he found out something he missed while thinking, you were like an expert of the topic, right? Maybe you could tell him more about it, so he ran into the house of lamentation, hoping you could help him.

And there you were, using a beautiful costume, while talking with Satan, his heart started to beat faster, as he heard your story.

“Its origin dates from the time of colonization; When the Spaniards arrived in Mexican territory, they were surprised by the beauty and high quality of the blankets woven by the indigenous people, so they began to create adaptations taking various elements from both cultures to create what we know today as the suit or gala dress. for women and the mestizo costume for men.”

That would help him develop one of his new characters, but when you saw him in the door threshold, immediately your face became red. He notice it and laugh. He actually took your hand, and asked Satan nicely that he needed a piece of advice from you.

“You look stunning Mc.” He said to you while looking right into your clothes. “I must say, this is the nicest surprise of them all. Is it an important day for you to wear it?”

“Not at all, sometimes I only use it so I feel more at home.” With that say the both of you stayed talkig for a while.

Luke (Baja California Sur. Flor de pitahaya) 

He was with you, watching the nicest video of the whole realms, something about the dance in front him made his heart a happy heart.

“Mc! This is beautiful!!” You looked at him with a warm smile, and told him, it was your mother dancing for a festival.

“You see Luke, my mother is a folkloric dancer, this dance in specific is from our state, and the full outfit has a big meaning and even a history behind it.” When you concluded, he looked at you with those big blue puppy eye of his, you pat his head and started.  “Some people say that this suit was created in 1951 as a result of a summons issued by the government of General Agustín Olachea Avilés, others, that it was in 1955, since there was no suit that represented our state. At that time, "period costumes" were used, since other states had a representative costume since ancient times, that is why this call came out in order to have a "symbol" that represented the roots of the inhabitants of Baja California Sur, being the winner "La Flor de Pitahaya” The Pitahayo is a cactus that grows in Baja California Sur, both on the coast and in the mountains, and when it blooms, it shows an abundance of nutritional wealth with its fruit the Pitahaya that peninsular indigenous people and now inhabitants have enjoyed for years.”

He was amazed, “You know Mc! I´m just a young angel, but listening to the story makes my heart melt, Is it normal?” with a warm smile, you told him: “Well, of course it´s normal, my stories have that magical power!”

After that day Luke would practice his dancing for you to be proud of him, sometimes he even saw you using the dressing for important parties in the castle of Diavolo. It was so nice!

He even saw your performance once, when he went to visit you at the house of lamentation, and he knew, he needed to work harder if he wanted to have an opportunity to dance with you.

Solomon (Nayarit  traje de los wixárikas)

The both of you went to the Human realm, he needed to know more of you if he wanted to teach you even better, your family actually welcome him with a big surprise and a big meal, your family was known for using the traditional costume almost the whole year, so everybody knew how proud you were with it.

Solomon received  one of the largest lectures you had heard from your father. “The typical costume of Nayarit corresponds to the clothing of the Huichol culture, or as they prefer to be called: wixárikas. Most of these descendants of the Aztecs live in the Sierra Madre Oriental. The female version of the typical Nayarit costume is quite simple, compared to its male counterpart. This includes an embroidered blouse and a skirt, it also includes a cloak embroidered with flowers that serves to cover their heads and a quechquemitl as a complement. The quechquemitl is a triangular garment with a central opening that in pre-Hispanic times was reserved for the goddesses of fertility, or for certain women of the nobility who identified with these deities. Men wear more elaborate garb. All his garments are decorated with beaded embroidery and brightly colored threads: the shirt open on the inside of the sleeves (cuarri), the pants (breeches), the cape (turra), the sashes that hold the cape and the backpack that crosses his chest. They use symmetrical designs loaded with symbolic, mythological and magical elements. For example, a zigzag can represent lightning (associated with rain). These embroideries are, at times, so profuse that they do not reveal the white fabric in the background.” Solomon just stayed astonished when your father finished the lecture, he made it in one breath, that was amazing, and yet he wanted to use the clothing.

After a few days his dream became true, when your grandfather gave him his very own clothing, the old man said that if he was going to teach you, he must use it for now on.

Solomon was a happy little baby, and he would brag about it in front of the demon brothers, and even in front of Diavolo. Maybe the two of you could go into a party with matching clothes, just like your grandma and grandpa do.

After a while he got used to wear the costume your family gave him, and he even have a time record, and if you want to help him, that would make him as happier as a human could be.

He was grateful for the gift and having you in his life.

It is I, the writer behind the headcanons, So! For the hollydays I´m planing to make place for 9 comissions! (Originaly they were 10 but someone won one of the space) So you can ask about culture, romance, comedy etc. Remmember, I usually write for Latin American Mc, but if you have another idea for another MC, we can make that happen! Anyways, thanks for the support! And I will be reading you!!! Happy Hollydays. 

[reversecreek]

pops hip n winks at the dash. haaaaiiii. me again. i’ve honestly missed playing lana fr a while she’s one of. my most treasured muses bc she’s jst a silly n vivacious ball of sunshine or alternatively? a train wreck depending on which way u turn her in the light..... i actually hv two playlists made fr her n one is rly old bt it’s more like. songs that Remind me of her which u can find here n then here is more like. stuff u’ll most often catch her blasting on her record player as she dances around in her underwear w the curtains open. OH and here is her pinterest 🍓⚡

* kristine froseth, cis female + she/her  | you know lana jameson, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a few hours? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to play that funky music by wild cherry like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole cherry red gym socks worn with nothing else, doodling penises in the condensation of a stranger’s car window, a bumper sticker on the back of a convertible cadillac that says ‘scrappy doo is a filthy slut’ thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is june 2nd, so they’re a gemini, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her  )

HISTORY:

lana grew up in a big house in albany, NY. i picture it w dark oak floors n lots of light furniture. albums framed on walls. mayb some rolling stone covers too frm way bk when of the bands her dad’s label signed. kind of like… a rock star palace w no evidence of children at all. i think i described it best in one of lana’s self paras once when i said the garden ws “as big as it was unloved”

lana’s mum victoria (vic) ws a music journalist w a pretty fruitful career ahead of her when she met lana’s dad richard (rich). his record label ws jst starting out, founded on the coattails of his wealthy best friend’s (jensen peters) investment w his other best friend (who he jst calls knoxville). it rocketed to success when they signed poppy injects, a rock band w an electric stage presence, n vic ws drawn to the glitz n glamour of a man tht ws at the helm of his aspiring industry. their love ws very impulsive, all or nothing right frm the start, n it ws almost like she ws mre in love w his accomplishments n what he represented than him.

(DRUGS TW) anyway so jameson records repped a few rock bands bk in the eighties, altho poppy injects r who they’re mostly known fr, namely bc of hw brightly they crashed n burned. they were a big chart success bt the lead singer hd quite an intense struggle w heroin (wsnt rly subtle abt it either while he ws in the public eye as u cn probably imagine frm such an on-the-nose band name) n he ws always in n out of the papers. it eventually brought down his career n it ws a big publicity nightmare

lana pretty much… grew up around figures like this throughout childhood. real characters who wld kind of… b extremely volatile n destructive abt their troubles. the jameson house was an open one as welcoming clients went n a lot of parties took place there. a lot of the time musicians wld b snorting lines in the kitchen when she wnted to grab a bowl of cereal fr breakfast n it was just. a very strange environment fr a child to grow up in. more zoo than home. more shaken snow globe than resting place. (END OF TW)

(ABORTION REFERENCE) her parents always kind of jst… didn’t like her much. her older brother caleb ws unplanned bt they sort of welcomed the surprise more bt… quickly realised they weren’t cut out fr parenthood n then when lana came as another surprise 3 yrs later they didn’t even try to hide their resentment abt the situation. her mum ws actually booked in to have an abortion bt cldnt go through with it at the last minute. once when lana ws a kid she asked her why she’s so cold towards her she jst turned her head frm her dresser, looked at her, told her abt this n said “idk why i didn’t go”. lana didn’t kno wht to say to tht so she jst left her room n closed the door (END OF REFERENCE)

(DISSOCIATION TW) bc of the intensity of her parents ignoring her growing up lana adopted this sense of like…. she didn’t rly kno what it ws bt it ws a delusion of sorts where she thought she ws a ghost bc she gt this strange outside feeling. she’d jst sort of… drift around the halls w no-one acknowledging her n sometimes she ws jst convinced she wsnt actually there or they cldnt see her n she ws jst haunting the house frm a previous family. (END OF TW) her imagination festered an explanation out of smthn she didn’t understand essentially. lana used her imagination to do this a lot growing up. it ws kind of like the band aid she slapped over everything. after all she wasn’t alone if she was sword fighting imaginary pirates dwn the hallway with a poker from the fireplace. 

the one saving grace tho tht sort of?? gt her thru this n made her feel Seen ws caleb. lana quite genuinely hs always thought the sun shines out of her older brothers ass like she jst thinks. he’s the best person in the entire world. wld b rly bewildered if anyone questioned tht. he wld always look out for her n cut the crusts off her sandwiches (he’d cook fr them most of the time bc their parents were too busy/didn’t care to) n sometimes wld even sleep at the bottom of her bed curled up like a guard dog. it ws always lana n caleb n his best friend tommy against the world in tht house (tommy lived next door bt was always over bc he had very strict parents tht he found suffocating)

(ARMY MENTION) SO when tommy announced tht he’d signed up to the army (bc of pressures from tommy’s military dad to fulfil some kind of stupid “legacy” tommy didn’t even care abt) n caleb said he was going with him lana ws understandably…….. completely blindsided. she ws rly upset tht they were leaving n was kind of like “wtf why are u doing this like what do u even think this is gna solve” etc n begged caleb not to leave her there on her own n jst to not sign up in general bc tommy had to bt he didn’t listen. 

ERM i won’t go into it but it didn’t turn out well as u can probably imagine bc the army is a terrible industry n caleb had to return home without tommy. he wasn’t the same after that. (END OF MENTION)

what’d been a rly close relationship before where he ws basically like a surrogate father figure to lana was Not there any more. he ws rly withdrawn n always pushing her away n snapping at her for the sake of getting her to leave him alone. on top of this lana had a lot of shit go down while he was away n rly just shouldn’t have been a kid alone in tht house. regardless lana thought if she kept grinning as wide as she cld she’d convince caleb to join in too. maybe if she seemed fine n happy he’d take the lead. maybe she’d believe it too n start to feel it n everything could go bk to how it was before her world became so different. lana liked the way the sky flipped when she tipped her head back on the swings bt this was different. everything was upside down bt this didn’t make her belly feel like she’d swallowed a butterfly and it wasn’t funny bt still, she kept laughing. always desperate to find something to laugh at n if she couldn’t find it she invented it. as long as ur laughing the world can’t b that bad.

she ws always well liked in school bc she jst tended to treat everyone like they were bffs no matter who like u cld have literally bumped shoulders w her once in the corridor n she’d be like OMG HAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII let’s kiss<3 n like she ws a huge notorious flirt w any n all as well as incredibly impulsive n jst. wild honestly to put it simply too bt things like. changed a bit frm 16 onwards. (HYPERSEXUALITY & IMPLIED TRAUMA TW) she jst became far more reckless honestly n like....... jst didn’t rly seem to care after a certain point abt herself too much.... got herself in a bunch of bad situations.......... kind of jst flung herself to the wolves numerous times without any caution abt the way they’d bite. formed a lot of self destructive habits one of which ws cruising craigslist personals fr random hook-ups n like. she literally cld have wound up in a ditch somewhere honestly it’s a shock she hasn’t. despite various dips n inclines in her journey navigating this side of her it’s very much still present in her life to this day n she struggles to kno hw to control herself at points. sometimes she feels like a melting candle tht needs moulding by thumbs until it can form a person again. sometimes she’s only sure she’s real when she’s being touched. (END OF TW)

ANYWAY. laughs nervously. went to college to study dance bc she’s always loved dance in general bt specifically ballet (despite definitely not hving the discipline for it) n honestly this was both good n bad fr her. had a whole string of terrible heartbreaking relationships bc she tends to fall into those hard n fast n they were w a lot of bad people fr like 98% of the time. she kind of learned more abt what love is during her time there tho which is a gd thing bt she still isn’t very good at knowing hw to believe she deserves it so it’s a process. she hd fun tho. threw 498572598475 outrageous n elaborately themed parties. ws friends w pretty much everyone on campus. 

despite a strained relationship w her brother n having to go home to visit n check on him whenever he got rly bad it ws the first time it actually felt like she’d found a home in a lot of rly loving n genuine friendships n lana will never forget hw much that experience meant to her even if she definitely struggled there too. college felt like a place she belonged n then suddenly she couldn’t belong there any more n there was a big sense of floundering in that. like where do u go now when u’ve never known home elsewhere? how do u happily go out into the world if it means leaving ur world behind?

she applied to a dance company in LA n fell in w a pretentious art scene there full of wannabe andy warhols n the like. became a makeshift edie sedgwick to some guy w dyed white hair n the idea his every concept was revolutionary when rly he jst shot her dancing barely clothed splashing around in a random fountain in his friend’s mansion on an ancient film camera. she’d spend her days floating around on lilo’s and prancing in feather boas and racing with glitter leftover frm last night in her leotard w smudges of faint red lipstick to barely make her job on time. always a sexy train wreck bt this time? make it hollywood. 

(IMPLIED ALCOHOLISM TW) i won’t lie to u lana hs always partied way too hard bt then partying way too hard turned into slurping merlot thru a crazy straw shaped like a flamingo at 4 in the afternoon wearing penis novelty sunglasses n it wasn’t quite so much of a party when u were doing it on ur own. this rly snowballed into place in college bt carried on n wound up getting her fired from the dance company bc she turned up to rehearsals drunk one too many times n they didn’t allow fr sloppiness like tht. it was a “professional operation” that didn’t “accept that kind of behaviour” bt lana was jst like ummmmmmmmm that’s totally dramatic btw way to spank me in the town square like i’m gale w a raw ass n back in the hunger games bt ok sure i’m out ig. BOOP! (literally booped the director on the nose before leaving) (END OF TW)

honestly hd no idea what to do w herself after her job fell thru in LA n was pretty embarrassed actually upon sobering up the nxt day. cldn’t bring herself to tell her friends for a hot minute bc she felt like a failure or smthn n she was meant to be living this glamorous life out there being the classic wild n silly n fun Lana Jameson. cldn’t figure out how to repackage it into a funny story tht wouldn’t worry ppl. eventually wound up jst caving n telling her closest besties (shoutout freya n rosa) bc she ws hving a weird time dating losers n randomly living in LA even tho she didn’t kno why she was there any more after losing the job n they were jst like. fk it then. jst come here. we’re in irving. and so? mizz jameson packed her bags....

PERSONALITY:

always smells vaguely of wild cherries or strawberry starburst or jst the candy aisle in general. if she ws a vinyl record she’d b this one n she’d only play good vibrations by the beach boys, dancing on my own by robyn, play that funky music by wild cherry, femme fatale by the velvet underground n (i can’t get no) satisfaction by the rolling stones

the jameson family r pretty well off n bc of her relation to such a big music industry figure she’s hung out w a fair few relatively high rep ppl thru her teens. mostly kids of celebrities n stuff like tht. she amassed a bit of an instagram following #nepotism bt also fr her style (v penny lane-esque in some aspects. lots of fur cuff trimmed jackets bt then also jst…. a wild combination of everything honestly. pastel faux fur coats, seventies style platforms, bright red cowboy boots, pink fishnet tights, holographic stickers of planets on her cheek n glitter used like highlight, 90% of the time a red lip) n bc she’s not gna make ur eyes bleed to look at or anything let’s b real

growing up lana was always a huge social butterfly. knew everyone n everyone knew her. she ws one of those girls tht ws kind of impossible to ignore or forget. very animated, always made u feel like u were the centre of the universe whenever she spoke to u, always made it feel like u were best friends even if ud only spoken to her once.

deliberately puts on tht kind of Magnetic Alluring Act tht femme fatales wear in movies w most ppl. kind of…. is always playing A Role of the person tht she wants to b seen as. hates being sad n always wnts to be happy / making ppl happy. chameleons to situations. feels like she’s performed as the vivacious n fun loving Lana Jameson fr so long tht she doesn’t rly kno who she is beneath tht bt she isn’t too keen to find out. sometimes gets glimpses n feels the urge to close her eyes.

she’s always been rly spontaneous n adventurous. always doing something weird n wild every weekend. she has ten thousand ridiculously absurd n chaotic stories. she’s like oh ya this one time this guy made me ride him with a daddy saddle like i was woody and he was bullseye. he literally made me call him bullseye. or she’s like. oh ya once i had to run barefoot thru a cabbage patch bc this one farmer wanted to have a threeway w me n my friend tht we met off craigslist n every framed photo in his house was a pig dressed up in cosplay bt honestly they were kind of cute n he was sexy aside frm the murderous vibes n the fact he kept calling me babe which i’m pretty sure means he wanted to dress me up next bt like whatever honestly.... she tells jst the most batshit stuff n the person she’s telling it to is left blinking like. wtf.

uncontrollably flirty. insanely confident. cld make a joke out a paper bag n will try. she tends to laugh when she feels like crying n has a smile brighter than a ray of texas sunshine.

likes to roller skate n hs a red pair she’ll glide around in at night lit up by amber street lamps breath sticky w the taste of wine n lollipops probably heading to a random hookups. who needs ubers?

always dapples her fingers thru the breeze when she’s driving in a car w the window down. honestly likes dangling her whole body halfway out too. she almost always has some sort of sweet on her, whether it’s sour haribo cherries or strawberry lollipops.

luvs bowie (ONLY aesthetically) n prince (wholeheartedly) n madonna (completely) n anyone tht’s a vintage style icon w little care fr what ppl think.

daisies n poppies r her fav flowers bc daisies r wild n overlooked n poppies r the first thing u look at in a green field. she’s had like 8472493874 ‘relationships’ n none of them hav lasted beyond a month / hav been terrible / hav seen her being treated badly / she’s cheated on them. honestly it’s like a burning train wreck but u can’t quite tear ur eyes away. often the heart of many sordid gossip scandals.

PLOTS:

TBA bc she’s only jst arrived in town i won’t lie to u all but i’m gna whip things up on here anyway n link in chat w updates at some point........ that said? lana is insatiable n it isn’t rly unlikely tht she cld’ve bumped into ur muse in a grocery store aisle n somehow a wild spontaneous adventure spawned frm that alone.......... if u have any immediate ideas we can discuss 😋

[calliecat93]

Callie’s Disney Princess Retrospective: Beauty and the Beast

(Snow White) (Cinderella) (Sleeping Beauty) (The Little Mermaid)

The Little Mermaid was a huge success for Disney. It was such a big success that it began the Renaissance Era of Disney Animation and returned Disney to the top animation studio. While many people such as John Musker, Ron Clements, and Glen Keane can be credited for the film's success, the biggest player by far was lyricist Howard Ashman. He put his heart and soul into the film, and not just with song lyrics. He wanted the characters to connect to the audience. He wanted to play a part in the story. He wanted this film to be something special, and he succeeded. But he was also frustrated, could be argumentative when others didn't like his vision, and unknown to everyone, he was dying. After winning two Oscars for The Little Mermaid's music, Howard revealed to composer Alan Menken that he had AIDS, and he didn't have much longer to live.

However, Ashman wasn't going down before completing one more film. Though he had been writing music for Aladdin, he ultimately ended up as the lyricist of another film. A film that had been through many different iterations and was handed off to newbie directors. Little did anyone know just how impactful this film would be for Disney, and for the industry as a whole. Well, except for Ashman himself. The film that we are discussing today is the first animated film to ever, ever be nominated for Best Feature. That film is 1991''s Beauty and the Beast.

Overview

Belle is a beautiful young woman, but is seen as an oddity in her village due to her love of books and her utter disinterest in local heartthrob Gaston. When her father, an inventor named Maurice, leaves for a science fair, he ends up taking refuge in an old, abandoned castle. But the castle is actually enchanted and acts as the home to dozens of talking inanimate objects... and a fearsome beast. When Belle goes looking for her father, she offers to take his place as the Beast’s prisoner. But during her time in the castle, Belle discovers that this Beast may not be as much of a monster as he appears, and this may lead to both discovering true love...

Review

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that this is by far one of Disney’s most beloved films. It got praise form both critics and movie-goers when it came out, and it’s only become more beloved in the nearly 20 years since. Belle is praised as a feminist's icon and the film for it’s themes of toxic masculinity, judging a book by it’s cover, and some of the darker aspects of society like those we blindly praise. I... like the film, but I never loved it to the extent as others. Not because it’s bad, that is a ridiculous notion. I just liked other films more and Belle just didn’t interest me as others like Cinderella or Mulan or Ariel. But seeing it again as an adult who has seen the darker aspects of society since I was a kid, it REALLY rings more deeply than it did back then.

One aspect that no one can argue about is the animation. The film is beautiful. It has some of Disney’s best animators at the time such as Glen Keene, Mark Henn, Andreas Deja, and so much more. There was so much life put into the film and it is a true visual spectacle.I meant hey managed to take inaminate objects, and bring them to life. Sure they have faces to help humanize them, but to make us believe that these are talking, moving objects that were once human is still a VERY difficult task. But they have so much personality like the suave, passionate candlesick Lumiere or the stuffy, orderly Cogsworth. The backgrounds andf settings are also great fromt he Sleepy Hollow-esque village to the gothic castle of The Beast, to the creedy woods that look even more terrifying when it snows. There’s so much color and lighting that is used so well, especially with the castle eminating so much mystery and intrigue compared tot he plain village that Belle is from.

But the setting we all remember most of all is the ballroom. While Disney has been using CGI some before, such as Big Ben in The Great Mouse Detective (yes,t hat WHOLE setting was computer graphics), this is probably the biggest use to date. The ballroom is a gorgeous golden color and looks so big and vast. It takes you’re breath away. There’s a reason why this is the most well-remembered part of the film. The animaiton for this film was very straining, especially due to conditios to accomodate Ashman that we’ll get to later. It was stressful, but they absoluteley put their all into it. When you watcht he ballroom sequence, added to the dance and Angela Lansbury’s lovely vocals, you forget that you’re even watching a movie. It feels like... well, love. It’s by far one of Disney’s best looking features.

As I said in the intro, the film ultimately fell into the laps of two relatively rookie animators; Kirk Wise and Gary Trousdale. This was after several various attempts to adapt the film, with none successful. Wise and Trousdale’s biggest claim to fame at the time was doing animaiton for EPCOT’s now defunct Cranium Command attraction (look up Who Stole Buzzy, boy is THAT a story) and while they had worked on other features, they had never been in the director seats. To make it more difficult, due to Ashman’s health continuing to gradually decline, Katzenburg decided to move produciton over to New York to spare him from having to travel. Which is a VERY noble effort and it’s sweet that they were willing to do so to keep working with Ashman, but as you can imagine this was quite a strain on the production team and as before, they would sometimes clash with Ashman and his vision. Still, they along with Menken returning as composer and writer Linda Woolverton, they reworked the then-script into something that they were happy with.

The setting is very reminiscent of another Disney work, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. One of two segments from the Package Film Era feature The Adventure of Ichabod and Mr. Toad. We all know the story of Ichabod and his infamous ride where he encountered the Headless Horseman. Here we have a similar quaint village where people seem rather simple-minded. Like in Sleepy Hollow where everyone took notice tot he rather strange looking Ichabod Crane, we see a similar notice of Belle who is an anomaly to them. Though unlike Ichabod, who had pretty much everyone under his thumb and is kind of a gold diging jerk, Belle is ostracized and is a FAR better person. Gaston bears a striking resemblance to Brom Bones in both looks and social status (tough Brom isn’t as bad in comparison or even compared to Ichabod, though still a Jerk Jock) and the Bimbettes bear a bit of similarity to Katrina. I wouldn’t be surprised if the crew used Sleepy Hollow as inspiration for setting and character design. Only thing missing is the Headless Horseman, which that would have been interesting XD

The film deals with several topics. There’s the standard ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ and ‘true love conquers all’ messages. Both of which are handled very well. But there are also some that IDT Disney had ever really tackled to this point. There’s encouraging women to make their own choices, which Disney HAS tackled but this one does it differently with Belle rejecting the standard good-looking man and falling for the monstrous looking one. In fact there is really a strong theme tearing down toxic masculinity and male entitlement. It says that no, men are not obligated to a woman and that women have the freedom to reject them no matter the societal pressure. Especially if they act as despicable as Gaston. With how much more aware we’ve become of how horrible some men in power can be and how they use that power on vulnerable women, this remains a relevant message to todays audience. It let’s women be empowered, confident, and enjoy things like reading as well as have the hope of finding those who will be accepting. These are all important things, and the film does an excellent job in showing it and what actual love should be like. The Beast especially starts as a jerk, but once he decides to become better and wants to be better for no ulterior reasons, he proves worthy of Belle’s love. That’s how love should be and how a person should change themselves. Again, very well done.

Despite his health and being downcast about not completing Aladdin, Ashman still put his all into the film. As I said, they outright shifted production to another state at a time when social media and things like Skype and Zoom were a distant dream. Still, Ashman along with Menken put their all into the soundtrack, and it paid off big time. This film, along with The Little Mermaid, really set up the precedent for Broadway-style animaed films and considering that they continue to be successful, I’d say that that says a lot. There are a lot of memorable songs int his fimlm, and there’s even some that didn’t make it in. One in particular, Human Again, actualy got animated and added back for the film’s IMAX release and various home media releases (sadly it’s not in the Disney+ version). The score is also very well done, especially at the end. Just listen to the music when the Beast finally turns human again. It added to the outright magical animation will leave you in awe as much as Belle was.

But what about the vocal tracks? Good question. Let’s go over them:

Belle/Belle Reprise: Our first song which as the name suggests, is about our leading lady. It does a lovely job establishing her character as a book-loving, intelligent young woman feeling that there was be more than this life ans village that she remains stuck in. It also establishes the village’s rather simple-mindedness and socital expectatons, finding Belle a beautiful but very strange girl because of her loving reading more than getting married. It also establishes Gaston’s smugness, entitlement, and holding the entire village’s admiration, The music is optimistic, but there’s a lot here that’s gonna take a dark turn a the film goes on. The reprise is short and more somber, but let’s Belle express her unwillignness to marry a man like Gaston, wanting to find love on her own terms. Little does she know what’s awating her right after.

Gaston: No one can have a song named after Gaston like Gaston! Yeah, this inspired plenty of meme’s, didn’t it? Even Disney itself has gotten in on the fun haha! But seriously, this is a fun villain song. I gotta give Gaston this, he’s a smug, horrible person but he shows that he can back up many of his boasts. I don’t doubt that he can eat dozens of eggs a day or is as strong as an ox. The song also further shows the town’s utter blind devotion to this brute, not being concerned about his entitlement to a girl who clearly isnt interest and more because of how handsome and grand he is. Isn’t society fun kids?! But then at the end, after Maurice is kicked out, it takes a darker turn as Gaston makes his plans to essentially blackmail Belle with her father’s safety... and right back to blind praise! I feel zero sympathy for any of the villagers in this film. But yeah, a song with a lot of dark implications, but still a very enjoyable villain song.

Be Our Guest: This is a true show-stopper, and I’m not just saying that. Lumiere wanted to create a show, and BOY did he succeed. The song is the most like a Broadway number in it’s composition and grand feeling. The fact that we have a huge number full fo singing, dancing, stuntwork, etc is being done by a bunch of dishes and pretty freakin’ impressive. Yet the animators gave it all so much life and Jerry Orback sings with so much passion and energy and it is just SO much fun to watch! Especially with poor Cogsworth at first trying to get everyone to calm down, but by the end he gets real into it... well until Lumiere knocks him to the side. The only negative is that for being a song about serving Belle dinner, aside form a bit of The Grey Stuff she didn’t even eat dinner. For shame! So 1 out fo 10 of food servive, but the show was worthy of two thumbs up!

Something More: This was the song that replaced Human Again. It’s a sweet song about Belle and Beast beginning to realize their feelings the more that they spend aroudn each other. Belle sees that Beast may not be very well-mannered or much of a looker, but he does have a good heart and the more they interact, the more it begins to show. Belle’s kindness, intellience, and willingness to look beyond the surface has Beast falling in love with her, yet his fear of being a monster is still holding him back. Still as we see the two do things like have dinner, play in the snow, or even Beast letting Belle read to him, the more we see that spark of love slowly grow, even if they haven’t fully grasped it. It helps advance the romance, and it’s just really sweet.

Beauty and the Beast: The song that won Menken and Ashman another Oscar. It’s not hard to see why either. The song is beautiful. It’s performed by Angela Lansbury, and her gentle vocals accompanies by the gentle orchestra is just lovely. The woman outright did the song in one take. One take. That is insane, yet it happened. And I can see why because the song is just beautiful. It adds to much to the already majestic ballroom scene, being about two unlikely individuals finding love and ultimately making the other a better person. It’s just a work of beauty. There’s also the pop version by Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson, which I also really love. It’s more commerical, but still very pretty especially with Celine’s gorgeous singing voice. Both versions are beautiful, and the first thing I think of when I think of this film... and no, not just beause of the name.

The Mob Song: This is exactly as you would expect with a song with that title. It’s dark, angry, and scary. Gaston rallies the troops to kill The Beast, convincing them that he is a danger to them all. They grab their torches, weapons, and there’s just this tense atmosphere throughout. This is the culminaiton of al the socital expectations and blind devotion to a person who doesn’t at all deserve it. It’s also a very accurate protrayal of the mob mentality, where you become a part of this hivemind following the rest of the crowd no matter how wrong it may be and despite your own senebilities. The only ones who don’t fall into it, Belle and Maurice, get tossed into a basement for their trouble. What makes this song sad though? In Disney+’s documentary Howard, produced by Don Hahn who also produced this film, it was explained how in the eyes of several of his colleagues, it seemed like Ashman was venting about the AIDS epidemic. That was a VERY dark time where the gay community was especially under fire, persecuted, hated, and so many other horrible things because the world chose to blame them for it. Ashman was a gay man. He had an ex partner die of AIDS, and had another partner at the time who talked about him in the documentary. Imagine being scapegoated just because of your sexuality, even though you never caused any harm, and society hated on you and others fell into he mob mentality, and they went as far as to either demand you to die or do the job themselves. All because you were different. Really adds a new perspecive to the song, doesn’t it? This can be applied to so many groups too, which makes the song even scarier, but also emphasize even more how dangerous the mob mentality is. Very effective song.

Sadly, Howard wouldn’t live to see all of his numbers to completion. With his health declining rapidly, Menken and various others went back and forth between Burbank and New York in order to work with him. Ashman worked until he psycially couldn’t anymore. He was even giving notes to performers like Paige O’Hara despite barely being able to talk. He managed to complete his work, at least to my knowledge, before his passing on March 14th, 1991, just a few months before the film’s release. After a screentest, which proved very successful, Don Hahn and some other colleagues went to see Ashman in the hospital to say their goodbyes. Hahn told him of the reception, and jokingly asked who would ahve expected that the film would have turned out so great? Ashman’s response? “I did.” The work he managed to do for Aladdin would be included in the film, which we’ll discuss when we get to that one. The soundtrack won the Oscar which was awarded to Ashman (as well as Menken) posthumously and a dedication to him was including at the end of the film. It’s always sad to see such a talented individual leave us far too soon, but his work truly brought new life to Disney and is beloved even all these years later. That is a legacy that will never fade.

Now we get to characters, and we have quite a good number of them. We have of course the village that Belle is from. On the surface, they seem like pretty plain people, satisfied with their way of life. But this also causes them to at least not think highly of those who break from that way of life. The men work, the women care for the children. If men don’t work, they’re jerk slobs. They all especially fall into blind admiration for the strong, handsome Gaston who is hailed as a local hero. So much so that no one gives ANY of his terrible actions an ounce of consideraiton. Selling Maurcie tot he looney bin? Well he’s alreafy viewed as crazy, so ah well. Belle trying to tell them that The Beast isn’t a monster? While their first imprression of him is defeniteley a bad one, the fact that they listen to Gaston and not the woman who actually interacted with The Beast says a lot about how simple minded they all are. I hope they learned their lesson after all was said and done, but even if not Belle doesn’t have to pay them any mind anyways.

The only person who is accepting of Belle is her father, Maurice. He’s viewed as a crackpot, but Maurice is a good-hearted, smart, and perfectly sensible man. He’s a bit of a goof with how his inventions can go haywire, but otherwise is no diferent from any other person. But like his daughter, his interests have him judged instead of what he’s like as a person. It’s especially sad when he tries to get help to save Belle, and he is merely laughed at and thrown out because of his status. Maurice is a loving father, accepting of Belle and of her interests and choices. She isn’t interested in Gaston? Fine with him. People view her as odd? That’s utterly ridiculous. It’s really nice to have a parent who is supportive and involved int heir kids life, especally compared to Triton last time who may be caring, but is utterly against everything that matters to Ariel. In fact it’s the firs ttime we’ve had this since Snow White and Cinderlla’s parents are dead and their stepmothers are horrible, Aurora grew up away from her otherwise caring parents, and Ariel... it’s complicated. Maurice is a good guy and it is good that Belle has someone who accepts her unconditionaly. She loves him so much that she sacrificed her happiness for him twice to protect him, which really shows how strong their bond is.

That brings us to our villain, Gaston. He is a hunter who is muscular, handsome, and has physical skills that he can back up. However he is also entitled, egotistical, sefish, and just a horrible person. He wants to marry Belle only because of her beauty and instead of trying to get to know her or shifitng atteniton to any of the girls who would gladly grovel before him, he pursues her despite her not liking him. It’s especially bad when he goes to her house, sets up a huge engagement party, and gets into her personal space in his attempts to charm her. She not only rejects him, but promptly humiliates him. Yet instead of thinking that he had tried far too hard and jumped the gun, he blames Belle for daring to reject him. He reflects exactly how society can view someone like him. No one thinks about the woman, they only see a good-looking man get rejected despite us not knowing anything about ther perosn or their relaitonship. Especially if that man is essentially a celebrity, which makes people look past anyhing.

But none of these things are indicitive of an evil perosn. An arrogant jerk yes, but not evil. That all changes when, after Maurice tries to get help, Gaston comes up with a new plan. He decides to have Maurice admitted to an asylum for being crazy, and to use this to force Belle to marry him. This is what shifts Gaston from a jerk to a true villain. This is how far his entitlement and selfishness goes. He is willing to take Belle’s own elderly father and use him and his freedom as blackmail to force her to marry him. Even compared to the four villainesses before him who committed horrible acts such as attempted murder, mental/emotional abuse, and even attempting world domination, this is utterly despicable. Then there's him deciding to kill The Beast. Despite what he says, it's not because of the potential risk to the town, it's solely because he sees that Belle loves him and can't stand it. He outright calls her crazy AND locks her and Maurice up out of pure entitlement and selfishness. He doesn't give a damn about Belle or her though and well-being. Only about his own.

Gaston is entertaining, but very much evil. As I said above he bears a lot of similarity to Brom Bones from Disney's The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. A muscular jock-like figure often the most beautifiul girl in town. Only while Brom was a jerk, he was arguably less bad than Ichabod Crane depending how you looked at it. Gaston essentially has Brom's muscles an Ichabod's selfishness. He cares only for himself and his own pride. Admittedly he put up a decent fight against The Beast, but that's only because Beast wasn’t fighting back until he saw Belle. When he did, Gaston whimpered and begged like the pathetic man that he is. Then he stabbed him despite being spared out of pure spite. An act that cost him his life. Fun fact, originally he survived the fall and was truly killed via the wolves. They ended up saving that for Scar's death in The Lion King. But yeah, Gaston died in the undignifiedmanner that he deserved. A despicable but memorable villain who was perfect for this film.

Then we have the castle characters. You’d think that it would be difficult to give life to a bunch of furniture and appliances... and it probably was. But this movie makes it look easy. They do give most of them humanoid features, like eyes and a mouth, but not all of them and even then it would be so easy to make it look creepy. But the castle staff is just os much fun and beaming with personality. We’re gonna discuss the main four: Lumiere, Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, and Chip.

Lumiere is a candlestick, which matches his passionate characterization. He’s a showman. A romantic. A more daring, out-going character compared to his frequent frenemy Cogsworth. Cogsworth is a clock and I think he’s implied to be the Beast’s butler or some other kind of advisor. He’s stuffy, nervous, and the most lawful of the characters. Though he CAN get into the fun of things with a little provoking as demonstrated in Be Our Guest and the big battle during the climax. Hoenstly, Be Our Guest is a great number to demonstrate the two’s contrasitng perosnalities. Belle has been banned from eating and Cogsworth doens’t want to both break the Beast’s orders nor cause a bunch of noise that would anger him. Lumiere however? He’s dead set on getting Belle to fall for the Beast, so she should be treated as their guest, not a prisoner. Plus he and the other staff are tired after ten years of being stuck as they are and all alone, so cue the extravagant show number. Lumiere is having the time of his life while Cogsworth tries to convince everyone to stop... but by the end gets caught up in it and joins in ont he fun. Too bad that Lumiere knocks him off the center stage at the end haha. But yeah, their constant banter is amusing but they are clealry friends, especially in the fight where Cogsworth saves Lumiere. They’re both also performed wonderfully by their VA’s, Jerry Orbach and David Odgen Stiers, the latter of whom would appear in several more Disney films, including one for this series that we’ll get to fairly soon.

Mrs. Potts is a teapot and her son Chip is a tea cup. I guess that Chip ended up that way to match his mother, which her being a teapot matches her mothelry persona. She’s very kind and consoling towards Belle and seems the most understanding about The Beast and why he acts ike he does. Which since I think that she was essentially the house caretaker, makes sense since she’d have likely been the one looking out for him. Plus she herself is a mother, and since Beast has the emotion coping skills of a child, she’d know how to deal with it. Chip is the token child character, though not a bad one. He’s a nice kid with a huge curiosity. It’s really cute how hen allt he adults are seeing the bloomign romance between Belle and Beast, he’s uttelry confused like any kid would be haha! He takes a liking to Belle quickly, though more like he sees her as if she were an older sister than any kind fo crush or the like. He’s also smart, figuring out how to use Maurice’s inveniton to free Belle and Maurice quickly...and him wanitng to do it again got a good laugh out of me haha! Mrs. Potts is a nurturing mother and her with Chip is so sweet,e specially when they’re truly human again. Plus her advice of how things will turn out alright in the end is advice that I look back on sometimes. it’s really comforitng.

So... as I’ve mentioned in these reviews, a big issue is how underdeveloped that the prince has been. The first two were plot devices only. Phillip and Eric were better int hat they were active int he plot and Eric had some more perosnality and motivation than the other three did. But it just didn’t feel like the male elads were... quite at their full potential yet. They generally didn’t recieve any character development and were mainly there for the sake of being a lov einterest to the heroine. That all changed in this film with our hero, The Beast.

Beast is one of the most well-developed male leads in a Disney Princess film. A few like Aladdin, Naveen, and Eugene rival him for overall best (though tbf the former IS the lead of his movie so that may not count) but Beast helped make the princes more equal to their princess without overshadowing her. Beast is the co-protagonist to Belle and the character that recieves the bulk of the character development. The opening tells us all that we need to know: Beast was once Prince Adam, a spoiled brat. When he turned away an elderly begger, it turned out that she was an Enchantress and she cursed him into his monsturous form. Since he looks like a monster, he subsequently acts like a monster... or more accurately, like the child that he never truly grew out of emotionally. He’s angry, lashes out constantly, and roars at the top of his lungs when at his limit. Like how a child screams and throws a tantrum when things don’t go their way because they lack the social and emotional coping skills to handle their feelings properly. Becoming a beast left Beast isolated and ashamed to face reality, and thus he didn’t learnt he proper coping skills. He accepted that he would forever be a monster, and succumb to acting like one.

That is, until the day that Belle arrived. When she offers herself to free her father, it’s the opportunity that Beast never beleived that he would get. If he can win her love before the rose petals all fall, he’ll be human again. He’ll be free. While he begins still acitng agressive and even bordeirng on emotionally abusive, e isn’t heartless. When Belle is crying about not getting to say goodbye to her father, Beast seems to legit feel bad for hurting her. It doens’t change his behavior, but it’s still a small moment that shows some humanization. It’s important to add moments like this and his despair when using the mirror to hear Belle talk about him. She’s justified in disliking him at that point, but it’s his reactions that matter. It shows his insecurity, his fear, his utter despair that he’ll be cursed for the rest of eternity. He’s already succumbed to acting the part of a monster and is already struggling to act more polite. As amusing as the scene of him yelling at Belle through the door is, it demonstrates just how hard this is for him but if he can’t improve his behavior, then he has no chance. He knows it, and views it as hopeless. It helps humanize The Beast, showing that despite his appearance there IS a human soul in there somewhere. Someone who on some level does want to be better, but he doesn’t know how. If not for these moments, Beast would have been utterly unsympathetic, but they pulled it off.

The turning point comes after Beast rescues Belle from the wolves. Remember, he’d already pretty much given up on winning Belle over and being human again and the confrontation on the third floor certainly didn’t help matters. He could have just let Belle to her own devices... but instead he went to save her. I sincerely do not believe it was because she was a prisoner or because he needed her. He had given up. He had succumbed. But he did it anyways, showing that he isn’t a bad person. It’s something that Belle sees and she gets him back to the castle to treat him. She called him out on his temper, but is sincerely grateful and Beast is stunned by this genuine act of kindness. She didn’t fear him. She wasn’t disgusted by him. She didn’t even leave him to die despite having pretty good reason to leave him and go. Belle still chose to save his life as he did her’s, showing Beast probably the first true act of love that he ever experienced in his life. We know nothing of his family and while I’m sure that staff members like Ms. Potts certainly cared for him, clearly they didn’t do much to quell his spoiled behavior. Belle was kind because she’s a kind person, and Beast finds that he wants to be kind to her in return.

From that point, we see Beast in a new light. He calms down significantly. He’s happier. He carries himself less like a wild animal and more like a person. He’s outright excited when he prepares the library to surprise Belle with. He’s still awkward as shown with his table manners and interacting with birds durign Something There, but he is trying. He’s trying for Belle. He activly enjoys her company. He sees how beautiful she is physically, but that’s not why he likes her. She’s kind, intelligent, independant, and she makes him feel in a way that he never has. He still feels that she can’t love him because of what he is, but the change that she has caused is so evident. He’s fallen in love and the ballroom scene only strengthens that with himt he happiest that he’s been all film. But the crowner that truly demonstrates htis? When Belle expresses missing her father, he lets her use the mirror. Not only does he seem legit concerned when they see Maurice freezing to death but when he sees Belle’s clear distress, he decides to let her go. He’s sad when he does so, knowing that she may very well never return. But Belle’s father needs her. he can’t force her to say and be miserable. He loves her so much that he decided to let her go. But it does mean that he gav up his final chance at being human after feeling more human than he had in ten years, and he is left in despair.

His despair is so strong that when Gaston and the mob arrives, he doesn’t even try to fight back. He just waits and is prepared to let whatever happens to him happen. Fortunately Belle coming back restores his will to live and he fights back. When Gaston grovels for his life, what does Beast do? He grants it, simply growling at him to leave. It is that moment hat shows how much of a better person that Beast is compared to Gaston. He was an angry man bordering on abusive, but he changed. He met someone who wasn’t willing to take his behavior, but was also willing to see the good that was in him. He changed for her, and it made him a kinder, more selfless person. The only thing that remains is his self-loathing, even saying that maybe him dying is for the best after Gaston has stabbed him. Fortunately Belle confesses her love, and it not only saves his life, but breaks the curse just in time. Beast is restored to Adam, having earned the right to having his humanity back. It was a lovely way to cap off his development, and allowed him to earn his happily ever after.

Beast was very much Belle’s equal. Even nowadays they’re both promoted and marketed pretty equally. One’s story would have been incomplete without the other. They gave each other what they each wanted and needed. I’ll go into specifics for Belle when I get to her below, but in the Beast’s case he needed someone kind, but also independent. Someone who wouldn’t tolerate his behavior and push him to change himself, but still kind-hearted enough to see that there is something there and be willing to help. Belle treated him in a way that no one else had. She was defiant, but also caring. She pushed him to rediscover his humanity. She got him to want to be kind. She got him to want to be a better person, and he not only treated her better but he was kinder to his staff as well. He finally grew up from the spoiled brat that he was before. He had found a reason to, and his love was so genuine that he let Belle go to be with her father again. It’s a beautiful story of growth and did enough to make Beast’s issues clear and not excusable, but sympathetic enough that we wanted him to be better and feel happy when he does so. He’s the best developed male lead in a Disney Princess film up to this point and helped pave the way for equally well done male leads. Ones not there just to fill out a plot beat and be the princesses’ reward, but to stand at her side as her equal.

Boy did THAT one get long. there’s other minor characters. Le Fou, The Bimbettes, the psyche ward keeper voiced by the late, great Tony Jay, various other castle characters, etc. all of them are entertaining, I just don’t have much to say about them. So then... we have one more to go.

Belle Analysis

https://youtu.be/M4ne1A1aNrI

Belle is one of the most praised and beloved Disney Princesses of all time. She is smart, playful, independent, and kind-hearted. I feel like she gets overly praised at times, mainly because some like to use her to bash her four predecessors since she didn’t have the goal of falling in love. I won’t repeat what I said about the four, you can read the reviews, but it’s a VERY unfair argument not just to them, but to Belle as well. She’s used as a tool to bash other female characters instead of being loved for herself. Then agains he also gets bashed for the Stolkholm Syndrome argument, which we’ll get to that aspect here soon. But for now, let’s just discuss Belle piece by piece and see where the path leads us.

Belle’s intro establishes everything right off the bat. So much so that the intro sing is literally titled Belle. She’s bookish and cheerful, but it’s clear from her interactions witht he villagers and their own gossip that she’s seen as weird. The only people who seem to like her as she is is the bookshop owner and her own father. The women are jealous of her beauty, the men only see her for her beauty, and both sides are confused at her lack of conformity. Belle lives in a town that clearly has very old-fashioned views regarding gender roles. The men work, the women get married and have babies. They all seem content with this... except for Belle. She enjoys books and adventure, musing about wanting more than the provincial life that she has. She strolls through the village with her nose stuck in a book, but has no trouble navigating at all depsite the distraction. Books provide her a source of adventure and thrill that her limited life does not. She breaks those old-fashioned norms and he village is uttelry baffled at to how she can be this way. But what truly makes her a bafflement to everyone? Her utter rejection of Gaston. While just about every other women swoons at his feet, Belle couldn’t be less impressed if she tried. She’s familiar with how he is and if she had’t recieved his advances before their first scene, she’s probably seen it enough times to know that she doesn’t like him. Him dismisisng her passion for books and insulting her father did him no favors.

On the surface, Belle does’t seem bothered by these things. But when home, she does express some hurt about ti to her father, the one perosn who loves her for her unconditionally. She knows that she doesn’t fit in. She knows that she’s not happy with her life. She wants someone to understand her besides her father. She wants more to life where she can be herself. She wants to find love on her own terms and not have to deal with the advances of men like Gaston. None of this stops her form being able to handle herself, as demonstrated when Gaston goes to her house to force a proposal. She handles kicking him out with utter grace and her “I don’t deserve you” line is icing on the cake. But none of that changes how she feels. If anything, it enforces it. The village is all on Gaston’s side and at that point, her father has left for the science fair. He won’t be there forever, hence why she wants to find someone who will love her for her. To control her own destiny. To those who feel forced into their gender roles or being forced into a relationship that they don’t want whether by an agressive person or by peer pressure, Belle’s struggle is very relatable. Her independant spirit is also admirable as while she is dismayed with where she’s at, she still is able to smile and live her life as she wants. She’ defiant. She makes do with what she has and is able to handle what’s thrown at her with pure wit and ingenuity. Gaston nor anyone else can bring her down... at least, not until her wish for adventure ends up unexpectedly granted.

Before we progress forward, let’s pause to discuss Belle’s VA, Paige O’Hara. When Beauty and the Beast was beginning casting, O’Hara was already a rising Broadway actress and Disney happened to be seeking Broadway talent specifically. After several call-backs, she finally earned the part. She’s credited Howard Ashman as a huge help in guiding her to finding her voice as Belle, and she performs the role beautifully. She captures Belle’s independence yet playfulness very well, as well as her defiance and heartbreak in certain scenes. And her singing? Beautiful. Maybe not on par with Jodi Benson, but you can tell why she was a rising Broadway star. Today, O’Hara works mainly as a painter with Belle very much being one of her main muses. Sadly due to how much her voice has aged, she rarely plays Belle herself anymore, the role nowadays being primarialy done by VA Julie Nathanson. While she also does a lovely job at the part, O’Hara will always be the first to bring the character to life. Fortunteley she still shows a lot of love for the role and has attended multiple events and even got to reprise Belle at least one more time during Ralph Breaks the Internet. She had reprised Belle multiple times between various DTV films, TV appearances, and other events. So even if she is limited nowadays, her large body of work will live on forever.

Back to the film, Belle discovers that her father is in danger and ends up at the castle. We all know what happens at this point. Belle offers to take her dad’s place, Beast agrees, and Maurice is kicked out before Belle can so much as say goodbye. She’s distraught at this, and who can blame her? In a matter of hours, her life as she knew it was ripped away from her. Now instead of her old provincial life, she’s a prisoner in an enchanted castle ruled by an angry beast. Even when given the nicer room, she doesn’t feel that much better. She’s never going to get to see her father again or even know if he’s safely back home. She has no reason to believe that a rescue is coming. Some may say that she should try and get out, but isn’t she allowed this? To be upset and at a loss of what to do? It’s not like she just cries the whole time, she calms down enough to refuse to go to dinner despite the others insisting that she does. Even when Beast yells at her to do so, she refuses. She may be a prisoner, but she’s not going to play the victim. She’s going to be as she normally is; however she wants to be.

Soon, Belle’s able to calm down enough that she decides to go explore the castle. She is ultimateley a curious, adventurous spirit. Regardless of the circumstances, she can’t help but want to learn more about this new, strange place and these new figures that she’s encountered. You can tellt hat she’s warming up reatly during Be Our Guest where despite not actually getitng to eat anything, she is just havng far too much fun to care. It gets her spirits back up and now she can’t resist exploring more. Even if it risks The Beast’s wrath, one her curiosity has peaked, she can’t resist it. It’s a great strength, but also probably her biggest flaw. Despite having been told not to and knowing by now how Beast will react, she slips away from Cogsworth and Lumiere to go explore the West Wing. This ends with her seeing the trashed area, finding the Enchanted Rose, and getting yelled at by an enraged Beast. That is the last push needed to make Belle decide to escape.

So now that we’re at this point, we have to talk about one of the big topics that comes up when discussing this film: Stockholm Syndrome. To put it simply, Stockholm Syndrome is when the victim becomes emotionally attached to their aggressor and doesn’t want to leave them and tries to justify their actions. So when the vicitm is rescued, they may react negativly or even aggressively towards the rescuers in favor of the agressor. it’s a psychological response. This is actually a case where I was able to go to a professional to ask about it,: my own mother. My mom is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and currently works as a therapist. I’m fairly sure that she’s never treated anyone with Stockholm, but it is something that she knows of. I did ask her about if the film did glorify Stockholm Syndrome as some accuse it of. The gist of what she told me is... well, there’s enough in-film that either side can use it to prove their case. After all she DOES develop positive feelings towards Beast while a prisoner, so one can take the context and use it as an example, and same for the side who don’t agree. Ultimately Belle is a ficitonal character. We can’t sit her down and give her a psychoanalysis because she’s not real, and most of us doing these analysis’ aren’t therapists, psyologists, or mental health experts anyways. I’ll leave some sources below if you’d like further reading on the topic, but doing research isn’t the same as being a professional trained to go over these kinds of things. My mom said at most, Beast can be viewed as emotionally abusive, though it is because of his own trauma and he did ultimately improve to be a better person.

I fully agree that yes, if someone wants to make the arguent that the film promotes Stockholm Syndrome, they can. It’s their opinion, this came out in a diferent time than now where we take things like emotional abuse in cinema far more seriously, and in the end it’s a piece of fiction and people are free to view it however they wish. But the same also applies to me and in my opinion, no. Belle does NOT suffer from Stockholm Syndrome nor does the film glorify it. Now I am not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. This is strictly my opinion going off my understanding of it. I may be wrong and if that’s the case, I apologize. But from what I know and understand, the case in the film is not a straight forward situation like the various case studies in the real world. Plus I think we see enough of Belle being defiant and not feeling positivly towards Beast to see that she certainly hasn’t developed any psychological attachment towards him to cope with her situation. We’ll be seeing her feelings towards him change, but I’ll explain why I don’t feel that it counts down below. But again, I’m not an expert. This is just my understanding of it.

So... why the long tangent there? Well we’re now at the wolf attack scene. The turning point in the relationship. Belle’s effort to escape ends with her cornered by a pack of vicious wolves. Fortunateley, The Beast rescues her and drives the wolves away... but he is inured in the process and passes out. As I said in Beast’s character breakdown, he didn’t have to do it at that point since he’d given up, but he did so anyways. It showed that he isn’t a bad person. Something that Belle also saw. The Beast had been aggressive and rude to her throughout, and she had every good reason to continue on her way now that the path was clear. But Belle didn’t. She got Beast onto her horse and took him back to the castle, the closest shelter, to treat his wounds. Is this because she feels compelled to do so after forming a psychological dependency or attachment to him? No. We see as she treats his wounds that she still isn’t going to tolerate his temper and rudeness towards her. She stands up for herself and talks back at him until he calms down. She very much retains her independence. So then... why did she save him? Because Belle is a good-hearted person who just saw this seemingly hateful beast save her life when he didn’t have to. She isn’t the kind of person to leave an injured person to die. She did it out of kindness and gratitude as we see when she genuinely thanks Beast for saving her life. She’s seen a new side to him now, and it’s made her reconsider her earlier stance. Thus Belle remains at the castle.

The characteristics of Stockholm Syndrome include positive feelings towards the captor and belief of goodness in the captor, no real effort in escaping, learned helplessness, and feelings of pity to the captor. You can read the list and learn more here, and the link will also be with the sources. So you’re probably looking at that and going ‘...uuuggghhhh’ at the movie right now. Which fair enough. However let’s also look at where we are now. This is the part of the film where Beast makes an honest effort to improve himself. He’s nicer, trying to be more polite, and treats Belle as a person. She’s really not a prisoner anymore at this point and while mybe theposisbility of being human again is motivating Beast, for the most part I think it’s because he genuinely grows to like Belle. As for Belle, I think that she likes the castle. It’s enchanted and full of intrigue and mystery, just like in her books. It’s the escape form that provincial life in the village that she’s been longing for. It’s a temptation that she just can’t resist. The staff all like her and treat her kindly and no one tries to force her to be something that she isn’t. Beast especially loves Belle’s love of books, even giving her the huge library to repay her earlier kindness. Belle is able to be who she is and be around those who are accepting of her. Even fi for the staff it’s for ulterior motives, IDT that they’re faking liking having her around and Beast certainly isn’t. This isn’t really a straight-forward captive or abuse situaiton that Stockholm Syndrome would apply to in my opinion, especially since Belle never once succumbs to the Beast’s terms. She only respects and acts friendly with him when he does so towards her, and they are both clearly benefiting positivly from it. We know that Beast has no malicious intenitons regarding Belle and it’s Lumiere and co. insisting on the relaitonship happening moreso, and that’s because they want their humanity back so it adds a bit of complexity. It’s just not a straight forward case where we can easily apply Stockholm Syndrome to and get an accurate reading, at least in my opinion. She certainly is FAR from helpless.

So then let’s discuss Belle’s feelings for The Beast. We know how much Belle’s influence changed The Beast. But what about Belle? She really doens’t change during the movie, nor did she realy need to. She’s already confident about herself, likes herself, and she knows what she wants with her life. Sure her curiosity can get her into trouble, but otherwise she didn’t realy need a character arc like Beast did. What Belle needed was acceptance. To find someone who would like her for who she is and not see her as weird for it. Beast doesn’t at all view her that way. He enjoys being around her because she’s smart and independant and even gets her to read to him. It’s that kind of acceptance that Belle hasn’t recieved from anyone outside her father. The more that she sees Beast try to be better, the more that she sees how sweet and endeairng that he really is and she’s more than happy to help him. I think that seeing this kinder side bloom and that acceptance and even enjoyment of her is what makes Belle fall in love with him. It’s what helps make the ballroom scene so magical. Two people considered outsiders coming together and dancing the night way happily together. It’s beautiful, magical, and the perfect culminaiton in everything prior. They brought out the best in each other. Made each other happier in a way that no one else had ever done. They’re better now because of the other, and it’s just lovely to see.

But of course, we know what comes next. While happy with Beast and being at the castle, Belle still misses her father. When she sees him in the snow and horirbly sick, she’s distressed. Seing this, Beast allows he to go. Honestly I think that Belle could have left whenever she wanted at that point and Beast wouldn’thave fought it, but she was staying willingly at that point because she was happy. But her father needed her now. If she truly had Stockholm Syndorme, I don’t think that she would have done so. But she doesn’t really give it any kind of thought here. While sad to leave The Beast, she has alreayd mad eup her mind when told that she could go. She leaves to save her father, The Beast giving her the mirror and unbeknownst to her Chip tagging along. Belle fortunateley gets Maurice home safely... and just in time for Gaston to initiate his plan to have Maurice locked away. Belle is of course shocked and outraged and in a panic, uses the mirror to confirm The Beast’s existence. Despite her insistence that he isn’t a bad person, it’s too late. Gaston realizes that she’s in love with the ‘monster’ and we get the iconic line: “He’s no monster Gaston, you are.” Beast treated her like a person and improved himself from his more toxic behavior. Gaston treated her like the prey that he seeks during his hunts, refusing to let up until he’s won. Beast had even kept his word about letting Maurcie go and returned him to the village safely, and of course let Belle go to help him and even seemed to feel guilty for what he had done previously. Gaston though? He shows no guilt over trying to use Maurice to blackmail Belle. He continues his horrible behavior not only by forming the mob, but locking Belle and Maurice in their own cellar for simply speaking against it. Belle didn’t call Gaston a monster because she’s been conditioned or due to a coping reflex. It’s because Gaston is a genuinely despicable person while Beast grew to become a good person. She saw this and stood her ground as she always has, but this time at the point where she won’t tolerate it anymore. Which if it was your parent being shipped off to the insane asylum by some jerk just because they want to marry you, woudln’t you call them a monster in comparison?

So we reach the climax. Belle and Maurice arrive after Chip frees them with Belle rushing to get to Beast. She makes it and seeing her reignites Beast’s will to live... but he’s stabbed by Gaston. Belle saves Beast from falling over the roof, but there’s nothing that she can do to stop him from dying. She’s devestated, blaming herself for it. Beast’s final words to her are that at least he got to see Belle one last time, and if she hadn’t figured it out before, I think that this was when Belle realized that Beast loved her... and that she loved him. We knew that Beast certianly loved her but we needed it confirmed from Belle as the curse was still intact. As Beast lay motionless, Belle cries and at last confesses that yes, she does love him... just as the last rose petal falls. With that confession, the curse breaks and Beast is ressurected/becomes human again. Belle is shocked as she sees not The Beast standing before her, but Prince Adam. You can tell how confused she is. is this reallyt he same person that she loved? Adam confirms it and Belle looks into his eyes... and that’s all it takes for her to finally smile. yes, it is the same man that she had fallen in love with. They kiss,a nd the curse is truly broken. Everyone becomes human again,t he castle is restored to it’s original state, and Belle and Adam dance happily, free to live happily ever after.

Belle is a role model character. She’s there for girls to look up to, and I think that the amount of fans that she has proves that she succeeded. She encourages girls to be themselves. To be independant and not bend to social norms or pressure. To find love for themselves and not succumb tot he pressure of unwanted admirers or the pressure to marry them. Something that happens far too much in reality. She doesn’t change, but there was no reason for her to. As I said, Belle’s not one of my favorites. Not because I dislike her by any means. if anythign I like her much more now as an adult now that I have a stronger understanding of the film. I just have princesses that I like more, and that’s really it. I also don’t like how some insist that she’s the best Dsney Princess compared to her predecessors because as I hope I made clear in those reviews, the previous four pricnesses are NOT badly done. If anything, I think it’s more anti-femenist to use a woman to bash other women without just cause. Saying that belle is better because she didn’t fall in love witht he guy at first sight or didn’t sell her soul for a guy without caring to analyze those characters isn’t empowering, it’s saying that if you don’t act a certain way as a woman, you’re anti-feminist. Which is a terrible stance. No woman is the same and women shouldn’t be used against women in this kind of way. Regardless, that’s an issue with certain ‘critics’, not Belle herself. She’s a great character and someone that I can admire. Maybe not as much as others, but I can certainly see why she’s left such an impact on so many and not even just little girls. To many people of all kinds. Who could be upset about that?

Final Thoughts

Beauty and the Beast is a lovely film. Is it my favorite? No. I didn’t watch it all that much as a kid. As an adult I have a greater appreciation for it. It’s beautfully animated, it’s themes are well-protrayed and still relevant, the characters are memorable and fun, and it’s music is phenomenal. I can absoluteley see why this as the first animated film to ever be niminated for Best Picture. It’s a tragedy that it lost, but it still proved that animation very much had staying power as Walt proved all those years ago. And of course the film is the final testament of Howard Ashman. He may not have been part of the Disney Renaissance for long, but his contributions single-handedly changed the company and their films for the better. Even today this style of musical films is very much going strong even over 30 years since it began with The Little Mermaid. We lost Ashman far too soon, and who knows what amaizng things he could have one if he were still alive. We can never know the what ifs, but we can always appreciate what came during his lifetime. He, Kirk Wise, Gary Trousdale, Alan Menken, Don Hahn, various animators, and so many more did so much to bring this film to life, and it will forever stand as a true Disney Masterpiece.

The film was a giant success, and Disney wasn’t slowing down one bit. The very next year, another animated feature would come out. A film about a dashing street rat who found a magic lamp and unleashed a magical genie who would make all his dreams come true. But wait you may ask, isn’t this a Disney Princess retrospective? Yep. So why am I talking about a dashing hero? Well there is a princess in it, but she occupies a bit of a unique place in the line-up. She is the first and so far only Princess to not be the main charater in her film. But she still left a huge impact and i included in the main lineup so we are NOT leaving her out. So next time, come along as we enter a whole new world to discuss 1992’s Aladdin, and in particular Princess Jasmine.

Image Source: Animation Screencaps

Further Reading on Stockholm Syndrome: Healthline, Medical News Today, GoodTherapy, WebMD,

[maemi324]

Black Coffee

Hey there friends! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Today i come at you with a new piece for a new My Hero character! Well new to me writing him.  Here we have....Villain Deku! Inspired by this tiktok! https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJUywn9t/ it just screamed Villain Deku to me. This is my first time writing him, so if he seems a little OOC, that’s probably it.  Here are some songs I listened to while writing this 1. headless waltz- Voltaire 2. Don’t go by the river- Voltaire 3.House of Myth, Such horrible things, Gorey Demise, Grave Robber, Greatest Show Unearthed, Aim for the head, Buried Alive- Creature Feature 4. Spooky Halloween Mashup, Syndicate: Underground- Cover by Peter Hollens. Warnings: Robbery, Guns, violence, let me know if theres more I need to tag please! Only edited by me, so I’ve probably missed some stuff! With that! Let’s get into it!

Dawning light streamed in through the windows, the scent of coffee heavy in the air, steam from the hot drink you made rising softly. Soft music flowed through the room, other employees taking the chairs off the tables and whipping them down. 

You sipped your drink, your eyes barely staying open as you leaned against the counter.  It was far too early to be awake. Pain flashed through your mouth as you reluctantly swallow, your tongue protesting not only being burned but the now cool air that touched it. 

It was too early for your own nonsense. 

As the sun rose in the sky customers began their daily migration to the bean and leaf juice they all craved. Thankfully it was still rather early, only a handful showing up, and even fewer deciding to take a seat and enjoy their purchases. 

“I can help whoever’s next?” you call out, closing the cash register and looking up to the new customer with a bright smile. 

Bright viridian eyes stared back into your (e/c) colored ones, ones that you hadn’t seen in a very long time, since middle school in fact, his green hair cementing just who he was. Recognition dawned in his eyes. 

“Y/N?” “Midoriya?” 

A surprised laugh bubbled up, catching you by surprise, “I haven’t seen you in months- years even!” a short glare from your manager got you ready to enter in his order. Taking a peek behind him you saw that the line had lengthened considerably. “Y-yeah, it has been quite a while hasn’t it?” He stated his order, as you typed it in and gave him the total amount. He must have been pretty tired still as he stared into your eyes. You waved a hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daze as his face flushed a deep red, frantically digging his hand into his pockets to fish out his wallet- where had the damn thing gone- oh it was in his hand already. 

Even after all these years, Midoriya was still just as much of a spaz as he’d always been. He moves to the drink pick up location, leaning against the counter as you made his drink. “I wish I had more time to talk, but with the line growing…” 

“Well What if I came back later today? Or tomorrow?”  You prepped the cup, adding a drizzle of caramel to the sides, offering him a kind smile

“Yeah, I’d like that,” 

You handed him his drink and sent him off with a wave. A disgruntled Karen decided to ring the service bell as you hadn’t jumped back to take her order. 

Why did it have to be a Karen?

Unfortunately you were unable to see him later on that day.

However, just as you turned the sign from closed to open that next morning, you were surprised to see those same bright eyes aimed at you. 

“Well, you’re here quite early” you teased, opening the door for him as you walked in. It would be a while yet before people came into the little shop. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes looking tired with circles under his eyes, “It’s been a long night,” He laughed off your look of concern, “Just work, nothing too terrible! I just thought I’d swing by earlier before I had to get back to it” 

Your coworkers paid no mind as the two of you walked to the counter as you made him and yourself a drink, taking a seat at one of the tables. No one was here and wouldn’t be here for a good half an hour. 

“So tell me, how have things been? Is your mom alright?” 

“Huh? Oh! Yeah she’s doing fine, still at the same place! She’s retired now actually” “Oh, good for her! I hope she’s enjoying it” you sipped at your coffee, thanking just about everything that you didn’t burn your tongue in front of him. 

“But what about you Midoriya? Last I checked you were wanting to become a hero?” While it would have been hard to be a quirkless hero, It wasn’t impossible. It probably wouldn’t get you ranked in the top five or even the top twenty, but so long as you were a good hero, what did rank matter? 

His eyes shifted from contentment to something a bit more sad, a deep sadness that surprised you. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, a hesitant laugh served as a cover. “Well, I did try, but eventually I just gave up. It just hit me that no matter how much I worked, I’d just be in the way of the pros. I could do some things sure, but...it’s not...it wasn’t enough. So I took a step back and found myself getting into computers, fixing them up, making sure they’re running properly. It’s...It’s nice” 

You place a hand over his, an overwhelming urge to comfort him raced down your bloodstream. His hand jolts at the sudden touch, but he doesn’t bat your hand away. “I always believed you’d make an incredible hero” it made you feel guilty that you hadn’t been there for him when he clearly needed someone, anyone even just to listen to as his one and only dream crashed around him. 

“I know you did, I appreciate it (Y/N),” he offers you a more content smile, “But I’m happy where I am now, really! Plus if I was a hero, I might not have met up with you again” 

You let go of his hand, though not before he gives it a gentle squeeze, picking up your drink and taking another sip. 

“I’m glad to see you're happy though, you said you were fixing computers?”

“Yeah! It’s not a big thing really, just a little repair shop. Clients bring me their various electronics, I clean them and fix them up! It can be really challenging sometimes, especially when it’s an older model! I swear I’ve seen some that I could have sworn were from the early nineties!” 

You listened as he rattled on about his clients, his eyes lit up, a subtle blush on his cheeks as he talked with his hands. More than once you had to back away from getting a straw to the eye, but you hardly minded. 

It became a regular thing, He’d come to the shop at various hours of the day, typically right at opening, on your break, or right as the last customer shifted out the door. You always had his favorite drink ready for him, though you had to fight him to keep him from paying. You didn’t mind after all, paying for his drink. He somehow always managed to sneak in the exact amount into your pockets or purse before he left, leaving you to discover it when he was far and unable to take it back.

The ass.

The more you met up the more open he became, you both talked about work and your grievances there. Now you were talking about anything and everything, TV shows you’d recently watched, movies you were excited to see, stupid stories about Karen's getting owned was a personal favorite. 

However His favorite happened to be the news. He was still hero obsessed as he’d always been. However, there was a more...critical insight into it. 

“Ugh” he huffed out, turning his attention from the TV, though muted, the subtitles were still on. It was currently showcasing Endeavor, how he rescued some civilians from a collapsing apartment building, from a disgruntled worker who had turned to villainy when kicked out of their apartment. They decided to take revenge on the landlord, though it quickly turned to chaos as the entire complex crumbled.

“What is it?” You paused from chewing on the straw to take a sip, “ is it Endeavor?” You knew damn well it was, but it was better to let him process through his words. “Yes! Look at him, smug as can be. He doesn’t even care about those people he rescued, He’s shown no comfort towards them, not even a glance to the children he’d saved. He acts as if he’s too good for them. A real hero would be reassuring, give a sense of calm to everyone involved in a rather tragic turn of events”  he sipped at his drink angrily, nearly choking on it as you patted his back.

“ You mean a hero like All Might?” you offered, knowing that the hero had a special place in his heart. 

Instead of the perky response you would have expected, his lips turned to a thin line, staring into a far off place beyond the TV.

“Yes....just like All Might” 

Figuring he was still going through the appalled emotions from Endeavor, you didn’t press the matter, turning to focus on something else, his latest client, or even a Karen you had encountered earlier that morning. He took your bait readily, eager to listen.

It took you awhile to notice, but during your lunch breaks, on the days he didn’t come in early, he would always be watching the news. He’d rip them to pieces with a barely concealed snarl. He’d rant and rave, while keeping in mind the other customers. He talked about the villains even, and how they were people as well, forced into unfortunate situations, where were the heroes then?

As much as you would have liked to stay in the hero worshiping normalcy, the more he went on the more you began to realize, heroes were actually rather corrupt. You could feel yourself becoming angry alongside him. Why did they do that? What about the people they were rescuing? What about these so-called villains?

You shook your head from your thoughts, looking down to see your next customer that afternoon, a young girl no more than ten years old just out of school and looking to buy a snack and a small drink. 

You sent her off on her merry way, happily sitting down at a table and munching on her snack. Checking your watch, you realized it was time to take your lunch. You sat down at your usual booth and waited for Izuku, sipping at your own drink.

The bell by the door went off, your eyes instinctively looking to see who had entered. Time slowed down as three men came in, guns at the ready and masks pulled over their faces. The first had a black mask, the second having a red one, and the third having a white one.

“Alright! Nobody moves, and no one gets hurt!” the first one shouted, as horrified shrieks went off in the small shop. “Put your hands up and go over there!” he motioned with his gun to collectively gather in a corner. You obeyed along with everyone else in the shop.

The second one aimed his gun steadily at the barista at the register, “No! Not you, you’re going to fill this with all the money you have!” He threw a bag over at the barista who shakily picked up the bag where it had landed, tears running down her cheeks. 

The third held out a bag to the gathered group, “ Put anything valuable in here! Watches, Jewelry, Money, Phones, all of it!” He shouted, an elderly woman shakily began taking off her earrings, another gentleman taking his wallet out. 

The young girl stared with wide eyes, tears falling rapidly down her cheeks, face red as she tried to be quiet, but her hiccups would not allow her. When red looked over at the little girl, her wails increased tenfold.

“Hey! Shut up before I give you a real reason to cry about. You don’t want that do you?!” he shouted, taking a step forward the girl took an extra step back as she put her arms out in front of her to protect herself.

“I said QUIET!” he raised his hand.

Your body moved on it’s own. 

You took the hit for the young girl, your cheek stinging from the impact. That didn’t matter, not over the safety of the little girl, the roar of your heartbeat thumping against your cheek.

“What the hell?!” “Just leave her alone! She’s a little girl, she’s just scared!” You held your arms out, effectively blocking her from view. The elderly woman took the girl to her side, watching for the slightest movement from the robbers.

“ So you want to take her punishment? Is that it brat? Fine,” He shoved you down to the ground easily, glancing over to the young girl, “Take this as an example of what happens when you disobey me!” 

You couldn’t hear anything, your sight blinded as well as his foot collided with your stomach, sending you rolling across the ground. He pinned you down as he punched you, over and over again, arms, stomach and your face, seeing stars as your head hit the ground.

Izuku...Izuku please....

You didn’t know what you wanted from him, whether it was to save you from the pain somehow, or to not show up at all in fear he’d try something heroic like you did. 

The shop doors burst open, a cloth or tape like substance shooting out from someone you couldn’t see, wrapping quickly around the robbers, dragging them to ram into one another, the shock of it making them let go of the guns they held so tightly onto. You faded in and out of consciousness, even though the sounds of battle continued on.

It was all a blur as you slowly came back into reality, sitting in an ambulance being checked over by a nurse. The other heroes who had arrived stood before you, scolding you for your actions.

“What were you thinking?! You put yourself and the girl at risk! They could have made you watch as they hurt her!” 

What was I supposed to do, let her be beaten?

“There were so many other things you could have done! Next time think through your actions before you do anything!”

What could I have done? You fail to mention what else I could exactly do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

But you didn’t say that. You took the abuse as the nurse began to shoo them off, proclaiming that they’d made their point, nothing more could be said. It wasn’t long before the nurse gave you your results. You were a bit battered but otherwise alright, you’d bruise like hell but you amazingly didn’t have a concussion. Once you were home you were to Ice the bruising spots. With that they sent you with your things back home.

Upon entering your home you changed out of your clothes, something bubbling under your skin. It felt so up close and in your face you couldn’t decipher it. You changed into some incredibly soft shorts and tank top, wincing as you moved to change. 

The silence was too much in your apartment, with shaking fingers you called the only person you could.

“(Y/N)?” “Izuku..” something in you snapped as you heard his voice, a sharp gasp turning into a sob. “(Y/N)? What is it, what’s wrong?”  “I...Can...can you come over? Please? I...I don’t think I can over the phone”  “What? Yeah, Yeah of course, I’ll be right there!”  You gave him your address and hung up after that, flopping onto your couch and hugging a pillow.

It only took him twenty minutes to arrive, but it felt like forever and a second simultaneously. The swift knock at your door startled you out of your blank and racing thoughts. He was dressed in casual clothing, some jeans and some random white button up, a thin green vest over top. Your vision blurred as he stepped in at your allowance, going head first into his chest as you sobbed. He grunted from the impact, but wrapped his strong arms around you regardless. “ Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m here” he cooed softly into your ear, “ Here, let’s go to the couch alright?” You nodded but didn’t let go. You shuffled your way to sit on the couch with him, only parting to readjust his hold.

“There was an attempted robbery at the shop today,” you sniffed, resting your head on his shoulder, “ There was a little girl there...she was so scared, she was crying. The...one of the robbers got angry at her, which made her more scared. So I...I took the hit for her”

He lifted your face gently, examining the forming bruise. His frown showed his worry, but he didn’t comment on why you ran to this girls side, “ I was wondering about this black eye I see” You nodded, continuing your story, “Yeah...He didn’t like that I’d taken the hit for the girl...so as an example he beat me up. I don’t remember too much after the ‘heroes’ arrived.” you spat.

“But the heroes arrived and saved everyone, that’s good right?” he prodded. If you had been more aware, you would have heard the underlying tone in his voice. He didn’t really believe the heroes had done well, not with how you spat their name as if it was venom. 

“They told me i was stupid for putting myself in front of the girl, that I should have done something else! What else was I supposed to do? My body moved on it’s own! They could have tortured the girl to get a rise out of me, or hurt the both of us…” As you said those words, another sob tore from your core. “Maybe they were right, maybe I should have just...I don’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t think of anything faster.”

Izuku cut you off gently cupping your face in his hands, thumbs softly brushing away stray tears. Your eyes refused to meet his.

“Oh darling, look at me,” hesitantly you looked into his eyes, filled with concern, determination and...something else you couldn’t quite place, but it was so soft...so powerful. “You’ve done nothing wrong, you are perfect darling. Without you, that girl could have ended up beaten, or worse!” 

The endearment was new, but not unwelcome, his words wrapping you in a soft blanket of safety.

“You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, everything about you, you’ve done nothing wrong. So please, don’t apologize” You leaned forward to hide in his chest as his words brought a fresh wave of tears. He gently rubbed your back, taking care if you so much as winced to move his comforting circles. 

“It isn’t right that they lectured you. You had just gone through a traumatic event, you needed reassurance, kindness. You aren’t trained to be a hero, you acted on instinct. An instinct that hardly anyone else in that room had. They acted so wrong to you” he whispered, “Those ‘heroes’ are what's wrong with the hero society as a whole. Things need to change”

“But I don’t know how to do that, or where to even start” you whined, your hiccups slowly dispersing. 

“Join me” 

Wait...what?

“Join you...I don’t...I don’t understand…” You look up at him, searching for any hint that it was a badly timed joke. You found none. 

“When I told you I worked with computers....I wasn’t lying, but only technically. You see, I work with this group, as a hacker. We’re going to show the world what these heroes really are, and the need to fix them. The roaches will have nowhere to hide, not from the public, and certainly not by the hero commission”

That was...quite a bit to process. He was a Villain?! All this time?! 

You were shocked, your heart sinking to your stomach. “Why...why didn’t you tell me?” You knew why the second you said the words...but you needed to hear if those were the same words he’d say back. 

“If I’m being honest darling...I was scared. You were always so kind, so soft hearted, to learn you were talking with a villain? Plus, it wasn’t like I could just...tell you in the shop right?” the corner of his mouth lifted up into a slight smirk, though it quickly vanished.

You thought back to today, how angry the heroes had made you. How many others did they tell the same thing when they were just trying to help? How many children paid the price? How many people? 

But the feeling of fists landing on you echoed back in your rapidly increasing heartbeat. You couldn’t do that again, not against a villain, not against heroes, not against anyone!

“I...I’m not cut out for villain work Izuku, you see what happened to me! I...I couldn’t go through that again...I don’t want to go through that again”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, warmth blossoming from the spot. “You don’t have to, just...supporting me is enough, more than enough” he took your hands in his, gentle circles rubbed into them. “You wouldn’t have to quit your job, or move, or anything, just knowing you support me? It fires me up, I have to do this, for you, for everyone, to right the wrongs that have been done. What do you say?” his green eyes were lit up in hope.

Your hands squeezed his, “I do.”

[gigslist]

34+ Voiceover Roles & 3 Musician Open Calls - Work From Home - Paid

'F*cking Sober' Podcast

22 + Roles

3 Open Calls for Musicians With Their Own Music

PAID WORK FROM HOME NON UNION

Deadline : September 15, 2021 2:00 PM

Somehow9am Productions // F*cking Sober: the first 90 days Podcast

Katie Mack, coord.

:"A call for artists in recovery for the 2nd Season of The Webby Award Winning Podcast Series 'F*cking Sober: the first 90 days.' We are looking for voice over talent and musicians/music producers for 'FS: Shadai.' 'F*cking Sober' is a semi-comedic mostly non-fictional narrative podcast following Shadai’s first 90 days of getting sober. Thirty-five year old Shadai is the black, queer, strong female in advertising— so what if she keeps shots in her bra for between meetings, right? But after a shitshow holiday party, a fuzzy cop encounter, and a disaster presentation with the new big account, Dry January doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Maybe Dry Forever is better. This is what it looks, acts, and feels like to get f*cking sober. This 8 episode serialized show features music by artists with their own story with recovery. F*cking Sober Season 1: Anita has received 15k downloads since it’s release in Nov 2020, and received a 2021 Webby Nomination for Best Limited Series, and a Webby Win for Best Writing for a Podcast. At this time we are only looking to work with artists who have a relationship/understanding of recovery. Please follow instructions for submitting and what to include in the cover letter to be considered! Thank you! Listen to Season 1 to get the vibe: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/f-cking-sober-the-first-90-days/id1538804959?i=1000499155627 And check out: www.fckingsoberpodcast.com @fckingsober90_podcast More information about Somehow9am Productions & Katie Mack (Producer): www.somehow9amproductions.com www.mackstage.com"

Roles

Shadai (Voiceover): Female, 18+WORK FROM HOMEproduction states: "Note: We are only accepting submissions from artists who have their own story in recovery, TY! 35 year old, black, queer, cis gender female attorney with a dry sense of humor, who has strong opinions and shares them sometimes, is a powerhouse and knows it all… until… until she doesn’t. Please note your experience with improv/comedy in your cover letter If you have writing experience or are interested in writing please note this in your cover letter. We will be giving writing credits to the right candidate who desires to contribute to the molding of this character."Required Media: Voice Reel

Other Characters (Voiceover): 20-70

"Note: We are only accepting submissions from artists who have their own story in recovery, TY! We are looking for diversity in every sense of the word, from all genders, to ages, to ethnicities, to lived experiences, to food preferences!! In short, we are looking to cast dope, interesting people. Looking to cast various characters through out the S2 Shadai, including but not limited to:

Dad (black, army veteran, a dad’s dad)

Mom (black, hyper critical, the opposite of Shadai)

Dana (any ethnicity, work enemy)

Coco (white, work bestie)

JewBoo aka Therapist (Jewish, confidant, motherly, with a special sense of humor)

Miriam (black, best friend and ex-lover who tells it like it is)

Galen (white, gay, best friend who is warm and caring and pushy)

15 other characters Please note any experience you may have with comedy/improv if any. Please submit your reel along with your cover letter."Required Media: Voice Reel, Cover Letter

Musicians (BIPOC Artists in Recovery) (Voiceover): 18+ music from BIPOC identifying artists.

Musicians (Queer Identifying Artist in Recovery) (Voiceover): 18+ music by Queer Artists.

Musicians (Non-BIPOC/Non-Queer Artists in Recovery) (Voiceover): 18+ music from non-BIPOC or non-Queer Identifying Artists in recovery.

"To be produced over the course of October 2021 - January 2022 Shadai’s commitment is estimated at two hrs/wk. Other characters 30mins. Musicians, all work should already exist. Please be prepared to send stems or stripped down tracks."

Compensation & Union Contract Details

Stipend: $25 - $75Production states: "Shadai (Lead Character), $550 for full season. All Other Characters: $25-$50 per episode. Musicians: $25-$75 per song per episode. Sync license contract."

Seeking talent: Nationwide (United States)

Website:http://www.fckingsoberpodcast.com

======================================

'Rain: Series III'

12 Voiceover Roles

PAID WORK FROM HOME NONUNION

Deadline: September 14, 2021 8:59 PM

JKPRising James Klim, filmmaker

Seeking voiceover talent for "Rain: Series III," a web-series, created in the video game Halo Reach on MCC via Xbox/PC. "This series will have a total of 13 episodes. I have many characters to cast, 12 specifically. If you wish to learn more about the show, you can check out my documentary series regarding the show. You can view the first episode here - www.youtube.com/watch?v=AlzPQvJS3og A little bit about me, I am a freelance filmmaker who actually got into film through making Halo videos as a kid when I was younger. You can check out some of my work here - www.jkprising.com/ I've always wanted to return to my roots & finish a series I was never able to before, but now I have the time to focus on it. This is a paid position. Rates depend on each character as some have more lines than others & vice versa. I am not the wealthiest person in the world, but I will to compensate each voice actor for their performance. My budget per character is between $100 - $300. This again, all varies per character. In this post, there is a video of what the character will look like in the series. I have also attached a single page from a random episode script from the show. The highlighted lines are what the character will say. There will also be non verbal lines highlighted, this is meant to be voiced kind of like an anime, where every movement usually has sounds. Typically, how would you make a sound if you did any of the following, head turn, turns around, surprised gasp, sighs, etc. Since this a paid gig, I am expecting a professional voice audition & if hired, continued professional audio. This means minimum to no background noise. The audio needs to be crisp."

Roles

Chloe Moody (Voiceover): Female, 18-35WORK FROM HOME29. Voice type: English/United Kingdom accent, polite, doesn't get mad often but when she does, she loses it, anxious, low self esteem, hopeful. Chloe Moody used to be a psychiatrist, but after the death of her soon to be husband, she spiraled into insanity. She met someone later on in life named Tom Rains, who looked exactly like her dead boyfriend. She became obsessed with him & tried to get with him, which sunk her further into a deep depression. She finally hit rock bottom, which causes her to seek out help from the very people she used to serve. Chloe meets a psychiatrist named Jennifer, who is able to help herself almost fully recover. Chloe eventually accidently runs back into Tom, which triggers Chloe to try one last time. After a final rejection, Chloe comes to the realization that she is not redeemable & decides to take her own life in front of Tom. Chloe's death, triggers a massive event for Tom Rains, which has massive ramifications for the series. Chloe is a major character and will appear in a couple episodes.Languages:

English

Accents:

British

Australian

Voice Styles:

Soft

Softspoken

Crazy

Compassionate

Sad

Angry

Required Media: Voice Reel

Dark Daryl (Voiceover): Male, 18-40WORK FROM HOME

32, voice type: Very dark presence, evil. sadistic, look at examples like Yami Marik from the Original Yu-Gi-Oh - www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xaa_ycud6o, manic, darkness. Dark Daryl is the darkness of his original persona, Daryl. Daryl accidentally acquired a powerful technology known as an imperium. This caused Daryl to lose himself to it at some point & was taken over by an alternate personality named, The Professor, which caused tons of damage. When Daryl came back to his senses, the damage had been done & others abandoned him, which caused him to grow angry at something that he didn't consciously do. Daryl once again loses himself to the imperium, which turns into Dark Daryl, a representation of all the anger & hatred he endured over the course of his past uncontrollable actions. Dark Daryl is very aggressive, sadistic & wants to destroy the people who wronged him in the past. Eventually, he comes face to face with Daryl & fights to stay as the one who remains in control, even if that means killing Daryl & anyone who gets in his way. Dark Daryl is a character who appears in the second half of the show, & becomes the series main villain. He will appear in many episodes.

Languages:

English

Voice Styles:

Aggressive

Angry

Evil

Commanding

Straightforward

Scary

Dangerous

Intimidating

Demonic

Required Media: Voice Reel

Nikki (Voiceover): Female, 18-35 WORK FROM HOME

25. Voice type: Energetic, passionate, caring, open-minded, loving, positive, independent, fighter. Nikki used to date Tom Rains. She didn't really have much going for her, as she had no ambition at all during that time of her life. After Tom broke up with her, this was quite the shock to Nikki. It caused her to really dive deep within herself & from that moment, she tried to learn more about herself. She discovered a love for storytelling, & so went into journalism. Nikki is now dating Jennifer & they have been together for almost a year. Nikki eventually gets wrapped up in a major conspiracy, which drags many of her friends in with her. She is in for the story of her entire career. Nikki is a major character and will appear in many episodes.

Languages:

English

Voice Styles:

Comforting

Compassionate

Caring

Amusing

Animated

Brave

Heroic

Required Media: Voice Reel

Talent works remotely with professional recording equipment.

Professional Pay: $100 - $300Pays between $100-$300 depending on character.

Nationwide (United States)

Additional Materials

Website: https://www.jkprising.com/

Nikki Audition.pdf - https://d26oc3sg82pgk3.cloudfront.net/files/media/uploads/casting_call/7f95c65b-ab53-43d3-a66b-9e59d1041acb.pdf

Dark Daryl Audition.pdf - https://d26oc3sg82pgk3.cloudfront.net/files/media/uploads/casting_call/00cfdf46-84c1-4da6-9dee-91c7bcdeed3d.pdf

Chloe Moody Audition.pdf https://d26oc3sg82pgk3.cloudfront.net/files/media/uploads/casting_call/186cbe9e-9c7e-4ce5-bcbe-2407a9dec00b.pdf

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Bubba Bo Bob Brain and Cameo

Can I just say that I think I’m somehow getting worse at keeping the screenshot count down?

Neither the cameo nor the main episode in this post are animated by TMS, so that’s not the reason for the surprisingly high screenshot count. However, the regular episode is animated by Wang Film Production, who are the same folks that animated the very first PatB segment and have done most of the episodes I’ve covered so far, including the previous one. I can tell they’ve gotten a better handle at animating our main duo in the skit we’re looking at today, especially Brain. Wang Film Production is no TMS, but they’ve gotten very, very good at expressions. They’ve also seemed to settle into a rounded and soft design for Brain, something that they’re kind of known for among fans if I recall correctly. Pinky can still be a little…off at this point in time, though.

Moving on, the cameo that we’re starting with is animated by Akom Film Productions. They’re the folks who usually do the animation for the Chicken Boo and Goodfeathers episodes, and they usually do a pretty good job with those characters. As far as our mouse duo go, though, Akom has only done “Opportunity Knox” so far. You know, the one with the oddly nightmarish Brain close-ups. Thankfully we get none of that since it’s only a short bit.

So yes, onto the cameo in “Noah’s Lark”!

So this is actually a Hip Hippos episode, but luckily we don’t have to deal with them at all right now. The premise is the story of Noah’s Ark, obviously, but the character of Noah is done as a parody of the stand-up comedian Richard Lewis, who was somewhat popular in the 80s. The most modern and notable media he’s been involved in that people on Tumblr might know him from (or at least, what I think folks here might recognize, it can be a little hard to gauge that since both millennials and gen z folks are the main demographic of this site) are Robin Hood: Men in Tights where he played Prince John, and Curb Your Enthusiasm where he plays himself.

Noah is rounding up two of every animal to go onto the ark (which is a popular depiction of how the story goes, but is actually false: it’s supposed to be seven male and female pairs of “clean” animals of each species and one pair of “unclean” animals of the same species, but that’s as far as I’m going into that topic). He’s nearly finished the list and has just been mauled by the wolverine pair, and…

“Lab mice?...”

The fact that he’s specifically asking for a pair of lab mice raises a lot of questions that I don’t think we have time to unpack.

The pair of lab mice that he gets is, of course, Pinky and the Brain.

And Pinky is, for the very first time in the series, crossdressing, presumably to pass as a female mouse so he and Brain can survive the great flood by boarding the ark.

…This is also a lot to unpack.

“Check!” they both exclaim, although Pinky does it in a very deep voice for some reason.

Wow, look at the surprise and then hostile suspicion on Noah’s face there!

Their outfits are very 1950s, with Brain even carrying a suitcase. Anachronisms aside, these two really went all out for the “we are a normal, heterosexual pair” ruse, didn’t they? Not only is Pinky in a dress and a blonde wig, but Brain even put on a little bowler hat. Why did he feel the need to do that? Did he feel left out of dressing up otherwise? Was he afraid he wouldn’t look “manly” and hetero enough without it? I have so many questions…

“Whew! These pantyhose are killing me, Brain!”

Wow, for once it’s Pinky physically hurting Brain, even if it’s a relatively minor tug on the ear.

“I think I prefer knee-highs…”

…Pinky, you’re not even wearing pantyhose. What the hell are you talking about?

Assuming that this is just the result of an animation oversight (which, honestly, I’m certain it was), we now know that his disguise went so over-the-top as to include pantyhose which Noah wouldn’t normally see…and also it’s a type of pantyhose that Pinky doesn’t even like wearing, which implies to me that this is something Brain acquired for him.

There is just so much going on in cameos like these if you think about them for even a few seconds.

Also, I agree with Pinky. Knee-high pantyhose are much less uncomfortable to wear.

BONK!

So the mice are allowed to board and the audience is left to think that their little ruse worked, but immediately after the two run off and are out of listening range Noah rolls his eyes and says

“Who am I to judge?”

Heavily implying Noah completely saw through it and let them on anyway. Wow.

That’s the end of their cameo. Who’d have thought that this little scene would be the precursor to Brain having Pinky crossdress to disguise him as Brain’s wife so many times in the series? And who’d have thought that this very first time wouldn’t fool anyone at all?

But now let’s move on to the meat of this rewatch post:

We open to Acme Labs at night, as usual, though I’ve never noticed until now how lonely and eerie the place seems if you ignore our mouse duo.

“Pinky… I believe I have conceived my most brilliant plan to date!”

Oh boy, we have another first for today! Brain is very much a fan of using temporary mind control for his plans. It’s the method he falls back on the most, which is very interesting when you consider his various psychological issues involving having control taken away from him all his life.

“I shall use subliminal mind control to take over the world!”

“…Pinky?”

The hand-on-hip pose here is great.

“Today’s inside story is country mega-star Willie Ray Cypress!”

Uh, Pinky? Considering that this is pretty much the expression you had while looking at Pharfignewton, I am very, very worried about you looking at the Billy Ray Cyrus parody the same way.

“Don’t tell my head, my empty hollow head!~”

“You know I wouldn’t understand!~”

Same, Brain. Same. It’s just like Pinky to enjoy a song as earworm-y as this (not to mention how relevant this parody is to his everyday experience with Brain’s plans), but lord was the real song this is making fun of annoying as hell back in the day. Like, I was a small child at the time this song came out, and I still hated how often this would be played on the radio.

Luckily, Brain pounces on the remote’s off button and puts an end to the nonsense.

But oh, the look of sad betrayal on Pinky’s face is heartbreaking! I’m sorry, sweetie!

“It must be inordinately taxing to be such a boob.”

Heh, Brain said “boob”. /inner six year old

“You have no idea…”

“Pinky, do you know what a subliminal message is?”

“Something you leave on a subliminal telephone answering machine?”

Nice try, Pinky.

“No. It is a recorded message perceived only by the subconscious human mind.”

Two things here:

This diagram bothers me because my mind always interprets the way they’ve drawn the bottom of the cerebellum as the person shutting their eyes extremely tightly.

Brain using his own tail as a pointing stick is very, very cute and I love this detail.

“I have recorded such a message.”

He’s still holding his tail, aaaa!~

“Citizens of the world, you are under my control. You will do whatever I say…”

“Nice mix, but it’s not exactly danceable, is it?”

Oh, Pinky. Only you would sincerely compliment Brain’s incredibly dry mind control message and then immediately point out a flaw that has nothing to do with its purpose. Bless you, you stupid and wonderful little mouse.

I like how Pinky’s interjection startles the hell outta Brain for a moment, too.

“If people heard this message enough times, they would succumb to my control and we could take over the world!”

Notice that despite Pinky being a minor annoyance and despite the fact that Brain claims that everyone will be under his control, yet again it’s still both of them taking over the world.

“What do you think, Pinky?”

And he still wants Pinky’s input. It’s small and scattered and very, very subtle, but in my opinion this is Brain’s most frequent way of showing that he cares about Pinky. Brain likely isn’t even aware that he does it. Pinky might not be aware, either.

“I think I’m getting dizzy and I rather like it! Ahahahahahoo!~”

“Sometimes you hurt my head, Pinky…”

And yet, Brain. And yet…

“The only problem: How to get this message repeated worldwide airplay…?”

Offscreen, Pinky turns the TV back on and startles Brain again, but only for a moment.

Another great pose and expression here: Mildly annoyed, but interested and on the verge of an idea.

“I just adore Willie Ray!”

“I listen to his song twenty times a day!”

I…really don’t know why they chose to have this shot done with Brain walking over the “camera” towards the TV so we get a brief close-up of Brain’s mousey behind. It made me laugh, though, so I thought I’d share.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

I’m also kind of obsessed with this brief expression of Pinky’s I unintentionally managed to capture. It’s a bit of a smug, knowing, and yet endeared look. I’m sure it’s completely unintentional on the animators’ part, but I love the idea it gives me of Pinky knowing exactly what Brain’s thinking but purposefully saying something entirely unrelated to playfully tease him.

“Well, I think so, Brain, but burlap chafes me so.”

To be fair, Pinky, I think burlap chafes everyone. And were you thinking about doing a potato sack race? That’s the only connection to burlap I can think of that would be in any way relevant...

“Country music, Pinky. I will go to Nashville and become the biggest country music star of all time! Everyone will hear my record and my subliminal message and I will take over the world!”

In all honesty, that would probably be easier to do in the early 90s when this takes place since country music wasn’t such a…well, “dead” is a bit of an exaggeration, but country music as a genre is incredibly unpopular nowadays with the occasional notable exception. In the early 90s? Not so much.

“Egad, Brain!”

This is the most enthusiastic swoon I’ve seen and heard from you yet, Pinky.

“Oh! But no, no… It takes people years of hard work to become famous, Brain.”

Well, that or they’re born into a famous family. Or they’re just rich.

“Why, take Kathie Lee Gifford for example: She did community theatre, and—“

I actually can’t find anything via Googling about Kathie Lee doing community theatre before she became famous. She seems to have studied music and drama in university, and had a folk music group in high school, but the only reference to theatre I can find is professional musical theatre in the late 90s.

It’s possible Pinky’s right, though.

BONK!

BRAIN! …Wait, where did you even get that tiny club?

“Stop talking, Pinky, I must think.”

You… Brain, I think I’m starting to see why some fans believe you may be as neurodivergent as Pinky is, but in a different way. I can’t in good faith elaborate on that myself, since I haven’t been diagnosed as such and it would be completely disrespectful of me to do so, but if anyone wants a good little theory on that, try here.

“I have calculated every ingredient necessary to become a country music mega-star. Read me the list, Pinky!”

He’s typing by hopping from one key to another, aww!

Eeeh, the lettering work on that computer is pretty bad, though.

“A cowboy hat.”

“Check!”

“A southern dialect.”

“Check, ya’ll!”

“Nice, Brain.”

The way Pinky says “nice” here reminds me of this meme. Also, aww, Pinky’s always ready with the compliments.

“Working class values…”

“I enjoy beef jerky and the comedy stylings of Gallagher. Check.”

His visible cringe at having to say he enjoys Gallagher is wonderful. I first heard about Gallagher through My Brother, My Brother and Me, but for anyone that doesn’t know, Gallagher is a frankly terrible prop comedian whose most famous act was smashing things on stage (usually fruits of increasing size) with a large mallet that he called the “Sledge-O-Matic”, ending with smashing a watermelon. It was apparently a mildly popular bit of comedy in the south. Does that sound entertaining? No? Yeah, that’s…that’s why Brain is cringing so hard.

“A song.”

“Check!”

A song titled “A Song”. Brain, sweetheart, I think you’re going to need to put in a little more effort than that.

“A name consisting of not less than three words.”

“From now on, I shall be ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’. Check.”

I would make fun of him for this name, but honestly it’s kind of genius in its bland simplicity.

“And…a height of at least six feet!”

“Aaa--guebuh…”

Whoops. Forgot about that one, huh?

“Drat!”

“There must be some way for me to increase my height…”

Gee, if only you had a fully operational mechanical human suit just laying around.

“Hmm, let me think…”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Pinky.”

He is trying his best!

“Faster, Pinky! Faster!”

…Why does Pinky have to spin the thread? The whole point of sewing machines like this is that they’re powered electrically, Brain. Are you just making him do this so Pinky feels included?

Oh. Oh no…

Brain’s “WTF?” face is great. He’s surprised and yet not at the same time, because things like this just happen when you have Pinky around.

“You amaze me, Pinky.”

“I do my best…”

A very cute exchange.

So instead of using the mechanical human suit they usually fall back on in times like these (maybe it’s under six feet tall?), the mice instead come up with…this.

“Proceed, Pinky.”

I have to give them some credit, regardless of how ridiculous this is, as sewing denim to make a very bizarrely thin and tall pair of jeans must have been an absolute nightmare.

“Ki-yi-yippee-yi-yo. How do I look?”

I’m getting flashbacks to the similarly deadpan singing of “Camptown Races” from last episode. Brain’s really on a western kick lately, isn’t he?

“Oh, very nice, Brain!”

Your finger-framing may be focused on the back of Brain’s head for some reason, Pinky, but your pupils are definitely pointed a bit…lower.

“It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’.”

“You are my manager, Colonel Pinky.”

This is a reference to Elvis Presley’s manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who was honestly quite the bungler when it came to managing Elvis’ career. I honestly don’t think Brain’s making a subtle jab at Pinky’s competency here for once because Brain’s grasp of pop culture he’s not already interested in is surface level at best most of the time.

“You discovered me playing the guitar on the front porch of my humble pig farm. Any questions?”

“Oh, just one: When you farm humble pigs, how far apart do you have to plant them?”

“…If I could reach you, I would hurt you.”

Hey now, you’re the one that asked, Brain.

“But for now, on to Nashville!”

“On to Nashville!”

BONK!

“This is a pain that is going to linger…”

That’s what you get for rolling your eyes at Pinky’s enthusiasm.

No perilous car trips this time! Instead, the boys are getting bus tickets to Nashville.

“Two tickets to Nashville, please.”

“Ooh-wee!~ You’re a tall drink a’ water, aint’cha, darlin’?”

…Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am? Ma’am, are you flirting with The Brain?

Like, sorry, that “tall drink of water” saying is not just to point out that someone’s tall. It’s specifically for flirting with someone who is tall and gorgeous and a refreshing sight to see, like a tall glass of water on a hot summer day.

This lady is flirting with a mouse on stilt legs.

I know that Brain’s disguises are prone to inexplicably work even when by all rights they shouldn’t, but…

“Actually, I am a lab mouse on stilts.”

Brain does his usual bold and plain truth shtick and I’m a little surprised that he didn’t react to what she said beyond that. Then again, this is Brain and he’s quite terrible when talking to women in general, so maybe we dodged a bullet here.

“…At least he didn’t ask me to pull his finger.”

I’ve worked in retail and food service for years, ma’am, and if that’s the extent of your experience with unpleasant men, consider yourself lucky.

“EGAD, Bibby-boo-bop-Brain! Round trips are so exciting!”

“It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’, Pinky.”

“Right! Sorry. Zort!”

Honestly, Pinky’s version is much cuter.

“Concentrate, Pinky, concentrate!”

BONK!

“YES! This pain will definitely be with me a while.”

Brain out here looking like a bad Minecraft texture.

Hello again, Warner Siblings! Gosh, that little fringed western skirt on Dot is cute.

“’The Rowdy Ranch Nightclub’… What are we doing here, Boobie-baa-baa-Brain?”

I checked the official subtitles for this and yes, that is exactly what he mistakenly calls Brain here. We have had both of these two call each other “boob” or some permutation of it this episode.

Pinky and the Brain sure is a show that exists.

“…It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob’ Brain. And according to statistics, and inordinate number of country western superstars have gotten their start at this very establishment.”

You probably didn’t need me to tell you this, but there’s no Rowdy Ranch Nightclub in real life. There is, however, “The Rowdy Ranch”, uh, ranch in Texas.

“Egad! [gasp] Do you suppose Minnie Pearl performed here?”

“One can only hope…”

Man, Brain, you are really laying the sarcasm on thick this episode. Come to think of it, he’s been slightly more sassy towards Pinky than usual this episode as well. I suppose he’s still sore about the end of the last one. You know, for reasons.

BONK!

At least he’s getting some karmic punishment for it, I guess.

“I am a telephone repairman from this area!~”

This little ditty this man is singing has bugged the hell out of me for quite a while, as it certainly sounds like it’s a reference to something but I never knew exactly what it was referring to until just now thanks to an old Animaniacs Usenet group from way back in the day: It’s a parody of the song “Whichita Lineman” by Glenn Campbell. The writers are really giving it their all with the pop culture references this time.

“When I give the signal, play the subliminal message tape.”

“Right-o, Bippie Bebop Balloola!”

“…Sometimes you frighten me, Pinky.”

Why, though?! Despite it being a mistake it’s honestly a goddamn adorable one. Why must you fear affectionate, innocent, unknowing malapropisms, Brain? Pinky’s still going to do what you told him to.

Anyway, Brain is ushered onto the stage as a newcomer and he’s…not exactly any more eloquent than Pinky was just now.

“Howdy, you all. Here’s a little…ditty I wrote. Hope you enjoy it…you all.”

Here’s the thing: Brain’s not one to get stage fright, and while he’s not the best actor he’s still usually better than this. He was saying “ya’ll” and getting the country-isms perfectly fine beforehand, although he was still doing it in his deadpan Brain way.

Now, suddenly, after hearing Pinky cutely screw up his fake name and going on stage he’s starting to mess up. It’s like Pinky’s error is still in the back of his mind and flustering him enough to throw him off for a bit.

He gets back into the swing of things when he starts singing his song, though.

“I am a lab mouse, I escaped from my cage

Never had a job, never earned minimum wage.~”

“He ain’t half bad.”

“Ain’t half good, either.”

OUCH. That’s a little harsh. Sure, the lyrics are kinda blah but he’s a decent singer here. Really, it’s just not a genre of music that his voice fits very well.

Also, lady? You’ve got a suspiciously busty doppleganger in the back there. That’s got to be a bad omen for you.

“But you will respect me, YES, once my plan is unfurled!~

You will call me your leader, I’ll be king of the world!~”

Careful, Brain. Your complicated emotional complex is starting to show in those lyrics.

There’s some more nice facial expressions here too. I can’t really capture it with still images, but Brain’s got a very tender demeanor when he sings about being king of the world.

“Now, Pinky!”

…I just noticed that Pinky’s wearing a completely different outfit here at the nightclub than he was when boarding the bus to get to Nashville. He was previously in an all-white colonel outfit and now he’s in a more generic yet very sweet cowboy get-up. Did you make yourself an entire wardrobe, Pinky?

Another minor detail is that while Pinky’s cowboy hat is a generic tan colour (although before, it was white), Brain’s hat is completely black, which as per western film traditions marks him as a clear villain.

You and I know he’s not really a villain and is, at worst, an anti-villain…but I thought this was worth pointing out anyway.

“Citizens of the world, you are under my control. You will do whatever I say.”

I love how he does this completely unneeded strum on his guitar in the middle of his subliminal message. It's for the drama!

“Buy my record and listen to it twenty times a day.”

Corporations be like…

Who am I kidding? Corporations nowadays would have you pay a fee monthly to have a song on your phone playlist and you would never really own a copy.

“Let’s buy his record…”

“And listen to it twenty times a day…”

Lady, that doppleganger is still over there. Do you need a distraction while you sneak out the back?

This smug lil’ jerk. Gotta love him, though.

And so Brain’s cassette tapes fly off the shelves at record speed.

Man. Cassette tapes. I feel so fuckin’ old…

“I don’t know ‘bout ya’ll, but I can’t get enough of Bubba Bo Bob Brain. Let’s hear it again!”

JFC, that spittoon. Blegh! And just what do you need that rope for?!?

“Well, he’s the hottest thing to hit Nashville since my mama’s jalapeno grits! Here’s Bubba Bo Bob Brain!”

Having just recently learned what exactly “grits” is, I am very disturbed by the idea of jalapeno grits.

“I’m your biggest fan! What d’you say to that?”

Hi, Dolly Parton! I’ve gotta say that the animators nailed the caricature of 90s Dolly here pretty well. She’s instantly recognizable, unlike some other celebrity parodies Animaniacs does. It’s not just because of Dolly’s, uh…most renowned physical characteristics, either. That’s a very Dolly Parton smiling face.

Not much to say here other than that Dolly’s a sweetheart of a woman, from what I know about her, especially for a celebrity. She’s a staunch supporter of Covid relief and Black Lives Matter as well.

That said, she’s sadly—both in the 90s and now—most well known for…

“I’d say puberty was inordinately kind to you.”

BRAIN!

Well, yeah. That.

I guess now you can see what I mean about Brain not being very good at talking to women. Like, he’s definitely not ogling her here. In fact he’s just kind of…stating something he’s noticed and looking absolutely done with this whole celebrity thing. But Brain you don’t just make a joke like that about a woman’s bust size no matter how deadpan you do it, you ass!

“Haha, go on.”

She takes it well, though, just like Dolly seems to in reality.

Still, though! Brain, you retroactively deserved all those run-ins with doorframes.

Continuing on the buxom southern women thing this episode has decided to run with (seriously, what’s going on here?), we now have a brief parody of a Hee Haw skit.

“Hahahahaha!”

“Hey, Bubba Bo Bob Brain, I just got back from France!”

“How’d you find it?”

“I used a map.~”

“Hahahahaha!”

Yeah, that’s an accurate depiction of Hee Haw style humour.

“And the Country Tune Award for best male vocal goes to…”

“Bubba Bo Bob Brain!”

Here we have Garth Brooks and Crystal Gayle emceeing this awards ceremony. I had to look up who these two were supposed to be, though, since the caricatures are pretty vague this time.

“EGAD! YIPPEE! Narf! Ah hahahahahaha!”

Aww, he’s so happy for Brain! And oh, is that yet another outfit I see? And a much more appropriately sunshine-y yellow and flamboyant one at that! Pinky really went all-out for this.

Again with the tongue hanging out too, except this time it’s more understandable.

“You’re embarrassing me, Pinky.”

And you’re continuing to be a jerk, wow. Someone needs a nap or something.

“Pardon my effervescence, but your accolade is more than any bucolic mouse merits.”

“What’s he sayin’?”

“I don’t know.”

Yes, Brain just used the word “effervescence”, much like in that one Tumblr Twilight meme. To those reeling from the fact that this compares Edward to Brain via their shared pretentiousness: You’re welcome.

Also, a Brain-to-common English translation: “Pardon my bubbly enthusiasm, but your award is more than any countryside mouse deserves.” Would that have been so hard to say, Brain?

“…I’d like to thank my mama and Elvis.”

I wouldn’t thank Elvis. He was an asshole. But that’s probably not wise to say at a 90s country music award show, so I guess it’s understandable.

“Oh, how nice!”

“Well isn’t that nice!”

“I’m outside the Grand Ol’ Opry, where tonight’s concert featuring country music sensation ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’ is being televised worldwide.”

“In two words: Bubba is hot!”

I… That’s twice in this episode where a human woman thinks a tiny, big-headed mouse on stilts is hot.

Furries, come get these poor, confused women.

“You gotta know how to cut ‘em

Know how to shuffle

Know how to deal the cards, before you play Fish with me.~”

Hello, Kenny Rogers. I only know the song parodied here, “The Gambler”, again through “My Brother, My Brother and Me” and the long and hilarious conversation about it.

It’s kind of weird to have a song that was made famous by Rogers in 1978 sung like it’s a recent hit in an early 90s awards show, but ehh. Maybe the shelf life of hit country songs is a lot longer than songs of other genres.

And then you die in your sleep~

“Do you realize what will happen if the world hears my song just one more time?”

“An angel will get its wings?!”

If only, Pinky.

“NO, Pinky!”

I think all this country stuff is really getting on Brain’s nerves. He’s being snappy and irritable and lashing out an abnormal amount ever since arriving in Nashville, and there’s not a lot of joy in the minor successes he’s had so far. Like, compare Brain smiling and praising Pinky for his work during the alien encounter spoof they did together, the last episode with Brain cheerfully singing to himself when he was certain he’d win the race…to now where he’s yelling at Pinky for minor mistakes that no one but himself is aware of and being joyless and faking pleasantries and rolling his eyes at the country stars he’s surrounded by. This mouse is crabby as all hell, and I don’t think it’s just because he finds the whole country western thing stupid and below him. This is a mouse who’s done and will continue to do degrading things to achieve his goal of world domination without this much jerkishness.

I think he’s still fuming about the whole Pharfignewton and Pinky thing, and the current plan being a very rural, country-focused plan like the last one with the Kentucky Derby is just exacerbating it by reminding him of it. Like, you don’t even have to take it in the gay way I am and instead take it in a “how dare that goddamn horse take the complete attention of my friend/world domination partner away from me and my plans, this sucks and I can’t believe Pinky’s just being his usual dumbass self like everything is fine and the same” sort of way.

But the gay way makes way more sense, fight me.

…Okay, don’t fight me, I’m tired and old and I really don’t want to get in internet fights about cartoon mice.

“My subliminal message will take permanent hold, and the world will be under my control!”

Ooof! We’re back down to “my” control and not “our”. Jeez, Brain. You really are spiraling right now, aren’t you? Your attitude has quickly devolved from the beginning of this episode...

“Oh, that.”

And dang, even Pinky’s enthusiasm is starting to get deflated.

“Now, do you remember what you have to do?”

“Yes. I need to make a dental appointment. I have horrible plaque buildup!”

Pinky, you do realize that unlike a regular, non-sapient mouse you can just brush your teeth, right?

“The tape, Pinky, the TAPE!”

“Oooh, right! When you give the signal, I play the tape.”

“And now, I’d like to introduce…”

“This is it, I’m on.”

“Good luck, Booba Bip Bop Brain!”

Folks, I swear to you that I tried to get a decent screencap of Pinky slapping Brain to figure out if he slapped his back or his ass and for the life of me I could not get it. The slap goes by just that fast and I’d honestly have to go frame by frame if I wanted to get it, but my video player will not go that slow.

Either way, Brain is certainly startled by the contact but is fixated more on the continued mangling of his fake name.

“How many times do I have to tell you, my name is--!”

Uhh, Brain? Getting a liiiittle close there.

“—Bubba Bo Bob Brain!” exclaims Kenny Rogers. And oh boy are these screencaps exploitable. Again, you’re welcome.

“Yee-haw! Let’s start this hootenanny!”

Better than last time you came out on stage to sing at a show, at least.

This time the crowd even sings along with him, and they’re not even hypnotized yet. Much better.

“Now, Pinky!”

“You are under my control, you will do whatever I say…”

“I will do whatever he says… Whatever he says… Whatever he says… Whatever he says…”

A confusingly consistent detail here: Every woman in the crowd has swirly red hypnotized eyes and every man in the crowd has swirly green hypnotized eyes. Why? Who knows!

“Way to go, Blubber Boo Bean Brain. Narf!”

Heh, that hand flip.

It looks like Pinky is trying hard to suppress his verbal tic here for some reason? Or maybe he’s just realized that he’s messed up the name again and is cringing in anticipation of Brain yelling at him? Either way, poor guy… You really don’t deserve any of what’s coming.

And what’s coming? Well, given Brain’s heightened pissy attitude and his mental issues with not having things go exactly the way he wants them to, plus his obsessive need this episode to correct Pinky on this one thing that doesn’t need to even be addressed because no one else hears it, plus other repressed emotions…

“Do me a favour and forget my name. While you’re at it, forget you ever knew me!”

Holy shit.

…Now you fucked up, Brain. Now you fucked up.

Man, I hate the one thick facial hair on the dude in the middle. It’s so unsettling.

“Hey, who’s that skinny guy on stage?”

“Who is he?”

“Get him off!”

“Boo!”

“We wanna see someone famous!”

Yup. Look at what you did. You messed this up all because you were having a temper tantrum about Pinky messing up your stupid false name. You hang that head in shame. And you apologize to Pinky.

Later...

“Tonight’s inside story: A complete unknown somehow made it on to the stage at the Grand Ol’ Opry.”

“…Turn that off, Pinky.”

You know what? Keep it on for a bit, Pinky. Let Brain wallow in this humiliation just a bit more. He needs to have the lesson set in.

“I’m trying to concentrate on a better plan for tomorrow night.”

“Why, Brain? What are we going to do tomorrow night?”

“Same thing we do every night, Pinky:”

“Try to take over the world!”

Hey wait just a minute! You can’t just reuse this excellent ending from “Win Big” on this episode! Brain doesn’t yet deserve to get back to being cocky and determined after being such an ass!

Ahh well. He does get better, folks, I promise. This is just a rough patch. Brain is… He’s going through some things, I think. He’s not processing his emotions in a healthy way and it’s really coming back to bite him.

Listen, I understand this whole thing with Brain being extra grumpy and hostile after the whole Pinky dating Pharfignewton thing is largely coincidence. We don’t actually know what order these episodes were made in, after all, and the Animaniacs writers were not big on continuity.

Here’s the thing, though: I still find it fascinating that these episodes were aired one after the other…especially with a random cameo with Pinky and Brain disguised as a married couple in between. It makes for the beginning of a strange sort of arc that occasionally reminds us that, hey, these two mice are a duo and something is amiss when that duo is broken up or there is a strain put on that relationship.

I’ve read that after a while, network executives at the time tried to push for these mice to settle down and have families and for the skits and the eventual spin-off to largely abandon the whole world domination thing. They wanted it to be more sitcom-like to rival and imitate shows like The Simpsons.

That obviously doesn’t work. It can’t work. The writers, especially Peter Hastings, very much pushed back against the idea. When you have a duo of characters who fit together and play off one another so well, when the basic premise of a story is of a pair of characters working together to achieve a goal, and when those characters just mesh so perfectly and basically complete one another…trying to add another main character just puts the entire story completely out of wack and/or changes it into something unrecognizable. You can add reoccurring characters off to the side, sure. You can have a nemesis or two pop up and return every now and again. But with something like Pinky and the Brain where the main story is a small pair against incredible odds working towards a singular goal, disrupting that core relationship is going to cause a domino effect that will ruin the whole thing.

All this to say that I like this approach that’s going on here much more, even if it was completely unintended by the creative team: There is the element added of Pinky, off-screen, dating someone. It’s not something that’s brought up a lot and whenever it is brought up, Brain is irritated. We’ve seen at the end of the last episode where this development was introduced that Brain is unusually snappy, and now in the next episode he continues to be angry more often than he was before. It’s a more subtle and smooth way of seeing how these characters react if something or someone threatens to come between them, in a way that doesn’t immediately break the entire premise to pieces. Of course, it helps that Pharfignewton is…largely absent for all this and is only brought up every now and again. It’s not a perfect way to explore this kind of thing, but it’s preferable when compared to something like Pinky, Elymra, and The Brain.

However, after this episode Brain’s temper begins to de-escalate, and we won’t pick back up on this accidental “arc” for a few episodes. So to folks who are maybe a little bit bummed out about his behaviour here: don’t worry. We’re getting quite the breather next time with a very odd alternate universe skit courtesy of the Warner Siblings  messing around with character placement, as well as an entire Animaniacs episode devoted to a Pinky and the Brain skit…fantasy style!