#afraid of mice so very mixed feelings there

[gentil-minou]

im gonna go ahead and say it this is the greatest compliment i have ever received thank you

[sleepy-frog-lady]

FROG LADY’S TOP TEN BEASTS:

(btw if one animal is the domesticated version of another then I counted them as the same cuz it makes the list feel less redundant)

#1 Bear:

These guys are so big and fluffy. I wanna hug one so bad. There’s this video of a bear just sitting next to a guy and it’s my favorite thing ever. I’m so jealous. I also fed a baby bear once!! Out of a baby bottle!! At Yellowstone!! It was dope. They’re also kind of scary, which is good. It makes me feel like if I could convince one to trust me, then it would keep me safe.

#2 Wolf (and dogs):

This is really a classic pick all around. They’re a good mix or edgy and cute, which are the two essential traits of a good beast to me. This is a very social and friendly beast, I feel, although they can be untrusting of humans at times. One of my most fond memories is feeding a sheep liver to wolves. Really quintessential to my development. Dogs lean more into the cuteness than the edginess but they really make it work.

#3 African Wild Cat (and domestic cats):

These gentlemen are absolutely delightful. They just look like domestic cats but longer. They’re so cute. I learned about them very recently so I don’t have much to say about them, but I have rapidly become quite fond of them. I like domestic cats too! They have a very wide spectrum of slightly spooky to violently cute and silly. I think that’s good.

#4 Ravens:

Honestly, I can’t tell the difference between ravens and crows so I just picked the one with the cooler name. I love these guys. They’re edgy cranked up to 11, at least at first glance. Very spooky, Halloween vibes. They’re also really really smart! They use tools, they remember people, and they communicate with each other. Did you know, that they’re also silly :3? Ravens have been observed rolling down snowy hills just for fun. I love that for them

#5 Rats (and mice):

This might be the single cutest entry on this list. I don’t understand how anyone is afraid of them cuz they’re just little tiny guys. They make happy noises when you tickle them! (Although these noises have to be pitched down to be audible to humans). And sometimes they grab food with their little hand while they nibble it! This is also probably the beast that humans have put in the most situations over the years. Honestly some of it makes me feel pretty bad for them. One time they made a rat with snake genes, and it just didn’t grow legs. I’m sad now. I’m going to stop talking about this.

#6 Elk:

This is a bit of a wildcard in this list, as it might be the only entry that isn’t all that cute or edgy. Instead, they have a real elegant and mysterious aura about them. They intrigue me. I would like to have a conversation with one. I also associate them a lot with when I lived in Colorado, which makes me even more fond.

#7 Pigeon:

I’m back on my cutesy shit. They guys are ADORABLE. I love the kind of absent look on their faces. I love the way the walk (and I often mimic it when I see them). I think these guys get an unfairly bad reputation. They’re so cool, and honestly, the subtle green on their necks is very pretty. They also tend to be used to humans so they might let you get pretty close to them or even touch them. I have a friend who regularly befriends and picks up pigeons. She’s very cool, and I send her pictures of birds whenever I see them.

#8 Sheep:

I used to ask my friends what animal their fursonas would be, cuz I think it’s a fun and silly question to ask people who mostly had never thought about it before. This naturally led to many of them asking me the same question, to which I didn’t have a good answer. After much deliberation, I eventually reached the conclusion that my fursona would be a sheep. Anyways, sheep are cute! Very fluffy, very social, and I love their baaaaa sounds. Good beast.

#9 Whale Sharks:

When I was young, I lived in Georgia for a few years, and I would often visit the Atlanta aquarium. In this aquarium, there is a glass tunnel surround and all sides by water and marine life. The grandeur and majesty of watching whale sharks swim peacefully overhead cannot be overstated. It was magical. It would only be years later that I learned that this was the biggest aquarium in the world, and that no other aquarium I would ever visit could quite capture that same magic.

#10 Frog:

I really expected these guys to end up higher on the list! I feel like they’re a big part of my brand, and yet they’re all the way down here. I still love these guys though. I like how slimy they look, and I like that they really small and cute, or really big and sage-like. I like that they jump far and have really long freaky tongues. I wish I had a long freaky tongue, honestly. They’re also very vocal, which is cool when you’re in their home but less cool when they’re in yours. When I was in Oklahoma City, I had to take frogs out of my apartment sometimes. Never figured out how they got in.

Honorable mentions:

* Hyena: they’re kind of dogs to me. Also they laugh funny. And I like that the males are small and submissive. Yay femdom (?)

* Fruit bat: ughhh talk about a perfect cute-edgy combo. They look so precious when they eat, by the way.

* Cow: these guys used to be my favorite! I’m shocked they fell down this low. They are very cute tho. I want to pet one

* Koi fish: these guys are very elegant and I really really like imitating the way they go “pop pop pop” with their mouths

[tenabrye]

Could I possibly get some headcanons for what type of music Vash, Nick, and Knives would listen to in a modern au?

If not thats totally fine! Thank you so much!

I hope I wrote this well since a lot of bands and artists can fall under a variety of genres.

Vash

Psychedelic rock is a genre he's not afraid to admit liking and listening to. MGMT, Tame Impala, Pink Floyd, etc. He typically likes to hum along and even sway his body to the beat, oftentimes just flat out dancing to the rhythm if it's a song or band that he can get really get into.

Alternative/Indie rock is another good genre for him. His top five might include Arctic Monkeys, Florence + The Machine, Two Door Cinema Club, Chase Atlantic, and possibly Teflon Sega. Not only do a lot of the ones he listens to sound amazing, but some songs just feel good after a stressful day.

Alternative/Indie pop, but he's picky about this genre. Lana Del Rey, Twenty One Pilots, and Blink-182 are just a few that he'll listen to. He's open for recommendations with this genre, though.

Synthwave is his JAM. It's his go-to genre for literally doing any sort of chore around the house. Kavinsky, Trevor Something, Mr. Kitty, and Wayfloe. He may also listen to such songs when trying to sleep, as they have an easy way of relaxing him.

Anything classical, but that's really only because his brother likes it. He's not really picky with any pieces belonging to this genre, but he does tend to listen to the softer, less intense ones. Sometimes he'll play a piece, whether it be on his own piano or from an app on his phone, and just think about Knives and how he's doing at the moment.

Knives

He's very into the classical genre, so anything from Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, and Puccini can and will be heard in his home. He'd much rather play the pieces himself than to use an app to listen to them, however, he'll elect to use the app if he doesn't have any intentions to play them himself.

Classic pop, which he's honestly very picky about. He leans more towards artists that are similar to Frank Sinatra, and of course he listens to Michael Bublé.

Synthwave, but only because Vash had it playing when he visited. He didn't care much for the genre, at first, but it grew on him. Only listens to Kavinsky and Wayfloe, though. Might seem stubborn to broaden this genre, but he's just picky.

Alternative/indie. Only listens to Florence + The Machine, Lana Del Rey, and Fleurie. Such powerful and captivating voices will always grace his ears for as long as he lives. Not that anyone would know he listens to them.

Industrial metal, but no one will ever know. His favorites from the genre are Rammstein, Oomph!, Celldweller, and Nine Inch Nails. He once heard Vash play an Oomph song and got scared, thinking his brother knew about it.

Wolfwood

Alternative just oozes out of this man. Bands/artists such as Muse, Sub Urban, My Chemical Romance, Green Day, ThxSoMch, etcetera, are what he will be listening to. Will even sing along to the song if he's feeling it, and that happens a lot.

Not opposed to rock or heavy metal. Metallica, Slipknot, Korn, Tool, even Ghost are bands he'll listen to. He likes the volume loud a lot, however, he'll make exceptions for when people visit him.

Rap rock bands such as Hollywood Undead, Linkin Park, and Limp Bizkit are also thrown into the mix. Listens to it during chores because he says it "energizes" him. Will most definitely sing along to every song.

Electropop, yeah, he likes it. Anything similar to Graveyardguy, Slayyyter, Night Club, and Ayesha Erotica he likes. Vash doesn't like riding in the car with him ever since he played Emo Boy with a smirk. Kidding, since the blond suggests similar songs for car rides now.

Metalcore, but he only ever listens to this genre when he's in a certain mood. Usually a bad one, but he thinks listening to bands like Bring Me the Horizon, Bullet for My Valentine, All That Remains, and Of Mice & Men will cancel out his bad moods. It's become a tell of his that lets everyone know how he's feeling without saying.

[your-fave-adopted-you]

MC turn into Child and hug Trein like his reaction made him recall his children

oh god what a cute idea!

Guardian! Mozus Trein reacts to MC that has turned into a child

Characters : Mozus Trein , mentions of Pomefiore students

Gn pronouns were used.

Context : (y/n) has been one of the top students in potionology class since they started attending the NRC. There was something very comforting about being able to excel at something that didn't really require the student to have magic abilities of their own.

It also helped that your partner in that class was a Pomefiore student, as they tend to have better grades on this subject.

For today's class, you and your partner had to make an anti-aging potion.

There's a very high demand for those in the market, so it makes sense that they would teach you how to make them.

As you stirred the mix, you noticed that it was changing colors...

Pink. It turned pink.

Huh?

Crewel said that it should turn dark purple... wait, why is it bubbling?!

As the bell rings, not many people notice neither the tiny explosion nor your entire face covered in pink goo.

your partner can't help but laugh at your face, what a silly view!

the laughter turns into dead silence when, in a matter of two minutes,

your clothes can't fit you anymore, your eyes are bigger than ever, and you're not much taller than Grim.

lucky you, there's no one else in the room with you two, since it's lunch break.

Afraid of being scolded by Crewel, your partner brings you to his dorm in hopes of fixing you.

How. The hell. Did you do this.

Even Vil has NO IDEA of how to turn you back to normal.

One of the leech brothers also has a reputation of being quite skilled on this subject but by common sense they won't let him near you.

Meanwhile your guardian has been looking for you all day.

Mr.Trein believes that letting you be independent is the best thing for you.

You two barley see each other outside of class, he's always buried in work and you're always studying hard to keep up with everyone.

BUT today at lunch you didn't send him the usual 3-5 funny cat videos

so he knows something's up.

Fortunately for everyone, Rook knew what your password was, for like, everything.

don't ask.

but seriously why would you use the same password with little to no variations for literally EVERYTHING

he unlocks your phone.

he's an EmPatH 🥺🤪 so he tells your old man about the situation via text.

He just knows Mr.Trein could be very worried about you for not replying.

Also, if even Vil can't do anything about your state, then it's better to call an actual adult.

Mr.Trein goes to the dorm, just to find Epel playing games with you. Several half eaten apples laying by your side.

God. you're tiny.

He thanks them for telling him about the situation, Vil apologizes for not being able to do anything.

Then, he picks you up.

you hug him, with all the strength that your little arms can provide.

And for just a moment, time stops.

Or maybe it's just him recalling a memory. A very distant one.

it's an odd feeling, isn't it? they way one thinks that some things just fade away forever.

but it feels just like when he was holding his (now grown) children.

everyone in the room could swear for the great seven, that for a fraction of a moment, the look in his eyes...

it made it seem you were the only thing that mattered in the world. the most beautiful, wonderful being of all.

Rook may be crying

He and Epel escorted you two to the mirror.

A few hours pass and the effects of the potion finally fade for good.

you wake up in your dorm room. And sitting in the armchair besides you is your old man, fast asleep, with a book in his hands.

"The princess who could talk to mice"

[darcymariaphoster]

Any headcanons about what the Nordics houses look like?

Can you rank them from most to least stylish?

What’s they favourite animal each & would they have one as a pet?

Alrighty. All my thoughts. It's gonna be sorta long -- sorry in advance! Headcanons below ⬇️

Houses

I'm a little uncertain about Iceland's house, at least as far as architecture or exterior goes. I feel like, though, his home is cozy and warm and just very inviting. Maybe slightly cluttered, probably because he tends to start something and then get distracted and only sometimes comes back to his project. And he probably also has stacks of books because I know he's a reader.

I'm also not super sure about Finland's house? I feel like he's always off on adventures, so the stuff around his house is kind of haphazard. He has a big mix-match of aesthetics, because I think he gets an idea into his head and he'll start it but then get going on another. He needs a designer to come in and help him sort his life. He's all about that overwhelmed deep clean when he's like, "Something *has* to get done."

Sweden's house is modern and sleek, minimalistic. Everything has a purpose -- even aesthetic. He keeps a pretty organised house, and minimalism helps because I feel like organising and cleaning is most definitely not something he enjoys doing. But everything still manages to be cozy. Cool colors. And a garden in his backyard.

Denmark is all about the architecture. Cool and unique, probably multi-functional -- like an outdoor living wall or something along those lines. He's a neat freak, so of course it's tidy and clean. But it's also full of loud colors and lots of knickknacks and photographs all over. He has all sorts of books stacked up all over that he grumbles about whenever he has to clean, and some video games around. Everything has a place and he's really the one who knows where everything goes.

Norway... Is a thrifter. And by that, I mean he just "borrows" stuff from his friends/family and then they end up as decor in his house. He has books and pillows from the other Nordics, and throw blankets that they've gifted him. He's definitely the kind of guy who ends up leaving stuff around the house with the mindset of "I'll get to it" and some of it just ends up becoming part of the decor at some point. 🤷 He probably has a cabin-style home, though. Very comfortable and woodsy.

Styles

Um. I feel like that goes Sweden, Norway, Denmark(?), Finland, Iceland. Although I am torn with swapping Finland and Denmark. Iceland's style is objective, to be honest. I feel like they all have neat styles that fit them, but something about Finland taking comfort as a priority and Iceland trying to keep up with trends, and then... Hold on. On that note: Sweden, Norway, Finland, Iceland, Denmark. Idk. Denmark just has fun vibes where he cares less about style and more about comfort and color. To be fair, he probably knows how to dress well, he just likes the reaction he gets.

Animals

There's only one that I don't think has a pet because he's too afraid of accidentally killing it somehow, and that would be Iceland. Norway loves his pet, though he has the same fears as his little brother. Then there's Mathias who probably should not own a pet because he's a bit scatterbrained. Finland is really good at taking care of his pet, while everyone thinks that he shouldn't actually own a pet. Literally the only person who is responsible enough to own a pet doesn't actually have one -- Sweden.

Their favorite animals:

Iceland - I feel like he doesn't have a favorite; he loves all animals. Of course he's partial to the puffin. He has a barn cat, aka a cat that he found and feeds and it brings him mice and he panics.

Norway - rabbits and cats, probably. Thanks @pvffinsdaisies. I can see him with either, but I feel like probably a cat because they're a lot less maintenance. There's a lot less that can go wrong.

Sweden - Okay, I can see him liking little animals like mice and hamsters and hedgehogs and the like. He does not have a pet.

Denmark - I feel like he's probably a bird person, in his heart. He loves parrots and song birds and he's fascinated by the predator birds. He owns a dog, though. A bigger breed that he takes on runs twice a day.

Finland - Honestly? I feel like he likes horses a lot, but also rabbits and dogs and snakes and spiders. He has a puppy, of course!

[protagcnists]

settings with potential — accepting

@eulogier: [  TOP OF THE WORLD  ]:  one of the muses finds the other on the roof-top in the middle of the night. neither of them want to sleep, and so they sit together for the remainder of the night until the sun comes up, content to sit and talk and exist with each other. shiv roy + roman roy

it's funny to think about a life, an alternate reality maybe, where siobhan roy is afraid of heights. where she didn't spend her youth scaling fences or scraping her palms on the trunks of trees. where she can't bear to live in the penthouse. where the executive floor makes her nauseous for reasons other than the intolerable mix of custom cologne and misogyny. for years, she'd known her best escape routes were always up and out. avoidance without making a complete disappearance. plus, the added benefit of perspective. one where shiv was made to feel big, standing tall above the rest, watching as they scurried like little mice. satisfying.

tonight wasn't that. there was no dull roar of a party emanating from the windows. no brutal small talk that warranted escaping. just restlessness. almost worse, in a way. guests would vacate eventually, but restlessness? persistent little fucker.

"you too?" she catches roman from the corner of her eye and doesn't bother to fully turn her head. good. they're both losers. for a rooftop terrace, it isn't very large. and the seating is terrible. hard and reclined at an awkward angle. not the least bit comfortable. she knows she's more critical when she's in london. maybe it's the proximity to her mother that inspires the judgment. there's just so much to go around. she sips at dark liquor. "you can't jerk off up here. i think i saw a sign."

[cypressthecursedfox]

Angel in Disgrace

TW: This story has a lot of religious themes to it, mixed with my own lore and ideas. If stuff like this upsets you, please do not read.

After the fall of Lucifer, Azrael, the archangel of death, faces relentless suspicion and mistreatment from his heavenly siblings. Despite his neutrality during the ancient war, they believe he's destined to follow in Lucifer's footsteps. As eons pass, their constant accusations ignite a growing anger within Azrael, threatening to unleash a power that could shake the very foundations of Heaven. Will Azrael succumb to the darkness they fear? Or will he find a way to rise above their doubts and prove them wrong?

Several characters in this story are not my own, but owned by a friend of mine who assisted me with their dialogue. These characters include: Diablo, Michael and The Father.

Prologue • {Chapter 1} • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3(WIP)

Chapter One: The Final Break

Azrael pushed his way through the thicket of the mortal realm, his wings pinned to his sides. They dragged on the ground several feet behind him, due to their immense size. By the time he managed to push through, his majestic gray coat and especially his light gray, feathery wings were covered in leaves and other vegetation. He shook this off, but not completely. Much of the plant life clung to him, most of it stuck in his wings.

He immediately began to scan the clearing he was in. It seemed oddly darker than the rest of the forest and was mostly devoid of life. The only thing that stood out was a small pond of strange water further back in the clearing. This was one of the many so-called Wishing Wells the Devil had cleverly planted in this realm. This place was like a mousetrap, but not for mice...

After a moment of scanning to ensure no one was present, he called out the name of his brother: Diablo. Moments later, he saw the Devil emerging from the shadows.

“I swear you do that simply to show off,” Azrael said, with a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Perhaps," replied Diablo with a small chuckle, "but you always liked seeing my tricks.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Azrael said with a small eye roll. He soon moved closer to the well, his fluffy tail laying neatly over his paws. He spread out his wings to their full height, twice his own size. He flapped them roughly to get rid of the remaining dirt and leaves.

“I just like seeing you whenever I can,” he continued. “It helps me take my mind off... things.”

Diablo, sticking his tail into the water, fixed his fiery gaze on Azrael. "By 'things', I assume you mean all the stuff going on with you in 'Paradise'." With a black star in tow, he withdrew his tail from the depths of the Well. "What has Heaven become since I've been gone? Honestly, I feel like I kept those sheep in line.”

“A disappointment, that's what. I didn't want to say anything, but I honestly think—” He began, but was cut off by a figure leaping from the shadows. Azrael turned his attention toward them, a bit surprised. It was another angel.

“So the rumors are true!” they huffed in disgust.

“Did you follow me?” Azrael questioned, tilting his head to one side, his hard gaze locked on the other angel.

"Oh look, the little lamb thinks they've got dirt on the lion," taunted Diablo, his eyes blazing with black and red flames.

The other angel turned toward the Devil, rolling their eyes. “Everyone is going to find out about this. After all, Azrael deserves to be revealed as the torturous, sorry excuse for an angel he is!” they huffed, turning to leave. Their words caused Azrael to let out a small sigh of irritation, with a hidden growl right behind it.

He was about to say something when he noticed the angel had come to a complete stop. Upon further inspection, he realized their legs had begun to turn to stone. The angel immediately looked down at their paws in confusion.

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen. Say what you want about me, but you will NOT talk shit about Azrael." Diablo stood to his paws and stepped up to the angel, who was becoming more and more petrified. At this point, the angel was completely immobilized, and they began to panic. "Such exquisite wings you have," he jeered, scraping his claws along their stone body. "They'll make splendid additions to my throne..."

“H-hey, let me go! This isn't fair!” they squeaked, desperately trying to move but failing.

Dark, maniacal laughter escaped the Devil, along with the pitch-black smoke of sulfur that left his lungs as hellfire began to build inside him. "What isn't 'fair' is you mindless deadbeats scorning someone who has done nothing to you. Why is it you're all beginning to hate Azrael? Because he simply wants to have a real conversation and not the rotten lies spoon-fed to you ants? What utter bullshit!" With his fire now burning fully black, he made sure everything but the angel's head was turned to stone before continuing, "As the one facing execution, tell me how you'd like me to kill you.”

“P-please, no. I-I- promise I won't tell anyone, just please let me go,” they begged, the terror clear in their tone. The angel turned their pleading gaze toward Azrael, who only looked back with the same cold expression he always had.

“Azrael, please don't let him,” they begged. Their whines, their pleas caused Azrael to pin his ears back in pure annoyance.

He suddenly spoke. “I don't think you should. Heaven would just find some way to blame their death on me,” Azrael sighed.

Diablo glanced at Azrael with a sigh, "Oh please, not a single one of them will know about this insignificant fuck. As a matter of fact, I'll show you." As quick as a bolt of lightning, he sliced the angel's wings clean off, the severed parts turning back to normal. The angel screamed in pain and began to beg more and more. "Trust me, I get angels in Hell too many times to count, and I've personally ensured that not one of them made it out alive. It'll be just like those.”

“Well, I hope you're right, because the last thing I need is more suspicion against me,” Azrael muttered.

“Y-you can't let him, Azrael, you just CAN'T!” the angel whimpered. “You standing there and watching him kill me would be no better than killing me yourself! You'd be no better than Diablo!” they pointed out, their voice filled with pain, panic, and desperation.

"Wow. The only thing right about that is my name." Becoming bored, Diablo shattered the stone with a quick strike from his tail. In pieces, but still alive, he stepped onto the severed head and began to crush it under his paw. "Say hello to the other angels I sent to the Void for me, will you?" No more pleas or cries left the angel, as Diablo had ended their life, their head reduced to a gory mess, splattered across the clearing.

With that done, Diablo's flames began to return to their normal red as he sat back down by the Well. "Sorry 'bout all that. I'm not about to let you suffer more abuse from those idiots.”

Azrael stared at the mess before them, seemingly unfazed, at least by that. “It's fine, at least someone cares. And the fact that it ONLY seems to be you is just downright depressing. No offense.”

"No, I get it," he responded softly, a rare gesture from him. "The last anyone would expect from me is a caring approach.”

“To be honest, you're the only thing that's been keeping me from just losing it. I just ain't sure how much more I can take. You'd think after all this time I'd be used to it. But I guess that's not how it works.”

Diablo scoffed, "When they say 'time heals all wounds', they don't say anything about the scars sticking around. I can't even begin to imagine how hard it's been for you since the Fall.”

“Yeah...” Azrael sighed, turning his attention away from his brother. It was quite obvious this topic was making him emotional, and he didn't like that. “I should go.”

Diablo was silent for a moment, letting out a sigh as the fire in his eyes dimmed, leaving behind only embers. "All right. Make sure you take a holy water bath as soon as you're able; the last thing you need is someone finding sulfur on you.”

“Don't worry, I will. I know what I'm doing,” Azrael spoke to his brother, and without another word, he stood to his paws and began to walk off.

It didn’t take him long to reach the heavens once more, but before he had the chance to walk off and do anything, he spotted someone approaching from the distance. As they got closer, he was able to make them out better. They were a large angel with a pure white pelt, gray wings, azure eyes, and a very obvious scar over his left eye. Azrael frowned slightly when he realized who it was: Michael, another one of his siblings. The relationship they had was not one of like or dislike, more of mutual respect. Not that they really interacted much. Azrael was puzzled as to why Michael was coming toward him—Michael never approached him unless it was something important.

He watched with a rather blank stare as Michael approached him in a neutral manner.

“Can I help you?” Azrael meowed curiously.

"Am I not allowed to greet my siblings?" Michael's tone was heavy with sarcasm. "Others have seen you go down to the Overworld a lot more lately. I'm just here to do my job and ask a little about it.”

“I simply go there to get away from Heaven, believe it or not. And that's IT. So don't you dare start assuming shit like everyone else has for eons,” Azrael said coldly.

"Good to know. Also, I'm not assuming anything," said Michael, his wing brushing against Azrael for a moment before pulling back. He sniffed at his wing and looked back at his brother with an expression that condemned Azrael, though his face remained neutral. "Last I checked, nowhere in the Overworld has the smell of brimstone like this; the volcanoes don't come close to hellfire smoke.”

Azrael met his brother's look with a cold gaze. “So? What's the problem?” he said with a slight challenge in his tone.

"The problem is that everyone will think you're colluding with Satan—or whatever the hell he calls himself now. I'm not one to act on suspicion, Azrael, but this seems like pretty solid proof that you've at least been around demons." Michael's light-filled eyes grew brighter as he continued, "For now, I'll let this slide. Rinse off that ungodly stench, and for the love of Father, don't go near any more demons unless you're killing them."

“It's a little late for that, isn't it? Everyone already thinks that—they've always thought that! Even when I didn't do anything! And personally, I don't exactly see how me speaking to our brother is a problem. It's not like I'm inviting him into Heaven!”

"Azrael," said Michael, his halo and the light around him beginning to mix with his azure eyes. "Ever heard of the right to remain silent? I'm not going to stand here and argue with you about whether talking to our fallen siblings is right or wrong." He spoke, turning away.

“Just—never mind, it's not worth it,” Azrael huffed, and without another word, he walked off.

He stormed through Heaven, his feathers ruffled in irritation from the conversation with his brother. He didn't like it when anyone questioned him—because that's all anyone ever did. It was either that, or they assumed things that weren't true, and he was just getting sick of it!

He was on his way to wash out his fur, hoping to take some time to relax for a little while and not be disturbed. However, these hopes were crushed as he spotted more angels approaching him.

With a sigh, he faced them. “What do you want?”

“Our friend followed you to the Overworld. Where is he?” one asked.

Azrael paused for a moment in thought; he had a feeling he knew exactly which angel they were talking about. “I don't know. I didn't see anyone else when I was there.”

“He should be back by now!” the same angel spoke again, the other two nodding in agreement.

“I told you, I did not come across them. They probably couldn't locate me,” Azrael spoke firmly. “Now, leave me be. I'm busy.” He tried to walk off once more, but the trio blocked his path.

“There’s no way he didn’t find you. You must have done something to him! Otherwise, he’d be back by now!”

“I did not do anything to him, so stop assuming. Also, you all should know better than to spy on someone anyway; it is not very polite.”

“Well, then stop plotting with the devil!”

“You know, it really irritates me when everyone keeps making these outrageous assumptions,” Azrael sighed.

“It isn’t an assumption; it’s the truth,” one of the others said confidently.

“What’s the proof then?” Azrael challenged.

“Our friend went missing after following you, which means he probably saw something you didn’t want him to see, so you got rid of him!”

“That’s ridiculous! I am nothing like that! I may be the angel of death, but that does not make me a murderer, so I suggest you stop making these outrageous assumptions and find something more important to do with your time!” Azrael growled.

“If none of it’s true, then why was Michael speaking with you today?” another questioned.

“What? That is really none of your concern. You really need to stop messing around and spying on Archangels. Find a different hobby before you get yourselves in trouble.” Azrael warned, now pushing past them. He wasn’t going to stand around and hear this nonsense anymore, and if they knew any better, they'd leave him alone.

“If anyone is going to get in trouble, it will be you!” One of them growled after him. “I hope you get banished for what you’re doing, just like you should have been with Lucifer long ago!”

Hearing those words—those words so similar to what many had spat at him before, what many had been saying for literally eons—caused something to snap in Azrael. Normally, he’d just take these words, burying the pain and anger they caused deep inside him, but this time, it was different. He couldn’t control it. Azrael jerked around, lunging at the angel, his claws and teeth tearing into them aggressively. The angel immediately began to let out cries of agony, the other angels begging Azrael to stop. But he didn’t.

By the time the realization of what he was doing kicked in, he immediately jumped back, his jaws dripping with blood as he stared down at the torn-up body of the angel, now limp and lifeless. The other two were staring at their friend in terror. Azrael only stared on in pure confusion. He wasn’t sure what had happened, or how it had happened.

Without saying another word, he turned and ran off through Heaven, his eyes wide with confusion but at the same time, pain and anger. He had so many thoughts going through his head and so many mixed emotions swelling up inside him, he just didn’t know how to handle it. For the first time in his life, he was unable to contain them, unable to push them aside. Had he finally reached his breaking point? He honestly didn’t know . . .

[gloryofdawn]

We haven't trained our corgi mix nearly so well, but "Yell every time the cat does something" resonates with me on a spiritual level.

We trained our animals to tell on each other accidentally. We got a cat even though my wife is allergic because she's less allergic to cats than she is terrified of mice, the shit shack we were living had A Fucking Mouse Problem, and we both had issues with mouse traps in terms of ethics and effectiveness. We got a Cowboy Corgi because my wife loved her Cardigan (I think?) more than anything and desperately wanted another Corgi. Unfortunately, the breeder we got Dingo, the Corgi, from was not great and she gave her to us about a week earlier than she should have been separated from her mom because she was going on vacation or something.

This is important because we now have a Very Smol puppy trundling about the house (this is her only form of movement to this day, regardless of the speed she does it at) and a cat who, while sweeter and snugglier than any other cat I've ever known, liked to play rough. We were very afraid that Yankee would hurt or kill Dingo by accident because he is a strong boy. So, we watched the two of them like hawks and shooed him away when he started getting rough with her, but it was a little hard because he was also raising her because he's a good boy and knew she was small and impressionable. Dingo still has many catlike behaviors to this day.

After a month or two, Dingo is a much larger dog than she used to be, and she loves to play with her brother. Now the concern is that she's stronger than she thinks she is and she might hurt Yankee. This is reinforced by him making "I am distressed and hurt" noises when they play too hard.

Yankee realizes that these noises summon us to fuss at Dingo.

He needs to experiment with this.

We realize after a few days that he will walk up to Dingo, sit down, and make a "poor injured kitty" noise completely unprovoked, and the dog reels at the injustice of it all. We're pretty sure Yankee thinks it's funny.

In retaliation, Dingo begins paying attention to the things we fuss at Yankee for. Scratching at the furniture, climbing the untreated wooden walls of the shit shack, getting up on the stove, attempting to unlid the bowls we defrost meat in (he'd previously been caught stealing chicken thighs), stuff like that. So now, she knows what he isn't supposed to do, and will throw a fit if he starts trying to do it. Sometimes she'll start if she thinks he might be doing something wrong but isn't sure, or even if she just feels like it's been too long since Yankee has been in trouble. There is no lower time limit on this by the way, she always thinks it's been too long.

In addition to telling on each other like a couple of bratty kindergartners, Dingo also gets excited whenever we say Yankee's name in a warning or chastising tone these days. She'll bark and come tearing across the apartment until she finds him, eagerly looking at us like, "What'd he do? Is he in trouble? I definitely noticed him doing it and told you, can I have treat?"

Herschel Has Discovered Tool Use. Again.

In january of 2021, deep in the throes of pandemic psychosis, we acquired a Corgi Puppy.

I would like to go on the record that we did not get a Corgi because they're cute. We got a Corgi because they're criminally brilliant and enthusiastic working dogs that were bred to bully cattle, which is the exact temperment a dog living in a house with three ADHD adults should have. Herschel does commit a lot of crime, but he also does his appinted service-dog job of "make everyone wake up, eat meals and go to bed at a reasonable and consistent time" extremely well, as well as his bonus jobs of "Keep the squirrels the hell out of the garden" and "Yell every time the cat does something". I didn't actually ask him to do that last job but it has helped in the "teach the cat to stay the hell off the stove" area.

But even with having a whole pack of humans another dog, and a cat to manage, this pales in comparison to his genetic capacity to manage several hundred sheep or cattle across the fields of Wales, and thus, Herschel has decided on further intellectual pursuits to occupy himself, namely, speedrunning the early phases of human tool use and terraforming.

I realized he has the brains of an entire hunter-gatherer tribe shortly after he got fixed, and within 24 hours and still dpey from anesthesia, he'd figured out that his plastic cone could be used to monopolize the water bowl and his favorite chew toys, and within a week, had learned how to carry three toys at once while leaving his mouth open by tucking the toys behind his enormous ears and under his chin. He also figured out that he could wiggle the cone to rest against his shoulders, and started using it as a shovel by literally running the bottom edge into the ground. But that wasn't making holes effeicently enough, apparently, and I ended up watching him figure out how to rotate the cone around so the two pieces of overlapping plastic were under his chin, then use his chin and the stairs to the deck to pinch both ends into a much more efficient V-Shape that let him gouge huge strips of dirt up in seconds. The anthropologists and animal behaviorists in the audience may recognize this as Tool Creation, a behavior normally only seen in higher primates, crows, and some parrots. Once a hole of suitable length, depth and temperature had been achieved, he very carefully rolled the cone around so the digging side was over his head and the smooth side under his chin, and splooted into his hole to cool his little tummy and stitches off. It was at that point that I realized that I was going to have to teach him how to garden, or he was going to teach himself.

He no longer has the cone (He was beginning to experiment with it as a battering ram), but his morning ritual is now "Wake everyone up at 8AM by screaming, locate everyone in house and jam my nose up theirs to make sure they're alive, go outside and scream at the squirrels. Now that Yard is Secure, go get Fun Parent who has hopefully taken their meds by now, and supervise them while they rifle through the plants (this is apparently KEY to their mental health), eating any pest animals Fun Parent points out, chase squirrel AGAIN, go inside and get Breakfast cookie." and BY GOD if we deviate from it there will be much screaming and destruction. If I am not home, it has been reported that he walks round the garden beds and sniffs the plants in the order I usually check them in before he will agree to come in. He doesn't quite know what the deal with the melons is, just that they need to be checked.

But we're out of the labor-intensive parts of gardening and now into Harvesting Season, and this is a bit boring except when I give him snap peas right off the vine, and he has decided to work on the complex physics problem that is Doorknobs.

And last week, he had a breakthrough.

Sometime in 2020, my mom sort-of taught her horrible crime herding dog Arwen how to open the back door so she could let herself out as she pleased during the day and stop interrupting Mom's Zoom calls. Arwen is a Kelpie, which means she's about 60lbs with full-length legs and horrible monkey paws that are one joint away from being hands, so when Arwen wants to open the back door, she sits up, leans on the door for purchase/to push it, and uses her terrible crime hands to *push* on the knob until it turns. She can pull the knob open by pawing and catching it on her toes, but she's 11-13 years old now and has mild arthritis, so she prefers to catch it on her central pad instead. She taught Charlie, the other equally brilliant but less criminally inclined dog, to do this but he doesn't like to go outside alone, so he rarely does this.

Herschel, ever the observant student, immediately tried copying them, but even though he is actually tall enough to reach the knob, his toes are just too stubby to get a decent grip on the knob, pushing or pulling, and the first few times, gave up and sat down to scream until one of the fullsize dogs or humans came to open the door for him.

Last week, we were up at my parent's again, and I watched him hunt around the living room until he found his slightly-sticky orange rubber ball (It's clean, it's just a kind of rubber that's always a bit tacky), carry it across the house, stand up on his hind legs at the back door, put the rubber ball on top of the gap between the knob and the wall, and then push down on the ball, which caught the doorknob and turned it for him, thus opening the door. He let himself out, had a merry time yelling at the squirrels, came back in, stopped a few feet inside the door, went back out, grabbed his ball, and brought it back into his kennel, a place he can leave toys if he doesn't want the other dogs playing with them.

This means he somehow worked out how doorknobs work, how fucking levers work, and that his orange rubber ball specifically was the one that would work (none of his other toys are the correct size/texture), that he'd need that ball specifically to open the door again, and yesterday he did the same trick with the bedroom door, so he knows that the rubber ball/skeleton key can be used on all doorknobs, not just that one.

I wonder if I can teach him to sweep.

___

If you want to fund Herschel's research into Tool Use and/or get me therapy for the ensuing chaos, please feel free to donate to my Ko-Fi, or get further Dog Content by subscribing to my Patreon.

[sesamestreet47]

The Madrigal Triplets headcanons because it was their birthday recently

Julieta Madrigal, Pepa Madrigal, Bruno Madrigal, random headcanons

!english isn’t my first language, so there can be some grammar mistakes that I am sorry for in advance!  

MASTERLIST

JULIETA

she loves her daughters to the moon, but secretly wishes she had at least one son

for that reason, she became very close with her two nephews

she has only cried seven times in her life: every time she found out she was pregnant, every time Pepa found out she was pregnant and when Bruno left

every morning she takes some leftovers from breakfast and puts them in Agustín‘s pocket just in case

her love language is touch

she’s afraid of small animals, like mice, but loves big ones, like jaguars

when she and her siblings were little, they would experiment with Julieta’s gift like checking if using expired products for cooking would affect the food’s healing abilities

she’s very minimalistic and hates when there’s a mess

when she’s stressed or exhausted, Agustín plays on a piano for her for hours till she falls asleep, she loves it

cleans Mirabel’s glasses because her daughter forgets to do it herself

when Isabela’s sad, she brushes her hair very very tenderly, she also hums a song while doing so

loves to squish and kiss Luisa’s cheeks

secretly loves reading books packed with a lot of action

can do a cartwheel

the most infectious laugh and when she laughs out loud you know that whatever joke she had heard was hilarious

PEPA

as a teenager, she was really insecure about her hair because it was always tangled an unruly, only after she started dating Félix who turned out to be great at braiding, did she start loving her curls more and more

her siblings envy her for her height

she gets easily sunburnt

 the weather mixes when she gets drunk, she feels a lot of emotions at once so it can be hailing while there’s three rainbows above the house

she’s addicted to coffee

her love language is words of affirmations

when someone cries around her, she’ll also start crying

she misplaces a lot of her stuff

both coffee and tea person

fixes her children’s hair at every given occasion

sometimes when she’s bored she places Antonio on her feet and holds his hands while walking like this around the Casita, she used to do that with Camilo and Dolores when they were little

used to make tea for Camilo when he’d get upset as a kid, he picked up on it and that’s why he does it for her now

still calls Dolores “my baby” or “my little, sweet girl”, basically refuses to acknowledge her oldest is all grown-up

BRUNO

awkward with children, the thought of being a parent stresses him out

meditates in his free time

is the kind of person to get the joke after like ten minutes of it being said

eats really fast

always hurts his fingers when sewing

bites his lip a lot

is actually very intelligent and gets annoyed when he has to explain something for the third time

uses boring visions as night lights

knew Félix and  Agustín prior to his sisters

his love language is gift giving

loves making sand castles

after he had to give Antonio his jaguar plushie back, Bruno asked Mirabel for one

enjoys wearing a birthday hat

has a spare hair tie on his wrist at all times

 when they were kids and Alma was measuring their height, Bruno would cheat by standing on his tiptoes

after he came back, everyone would make sure that he would always stand in the middle while taking a family picture

MASTERLIST

happy birthday to my favorite triplets <3

[squadrah]

squadra members as kings? what would each one be as a king of his realm? you can take this to a variety of directiins, ve it realism historical or fantasy kingdoms, long in the past or modern... i guess what i am craving for is each as a king + general genre/outline/vibe of this story 👀

Risotto: I feel like he would have risen to power by assassinating a usurper to reclaim the throne for his own family; at the same time, the rumors and the repercussions would have ensured that his reign would be bittersweet as well as short. Say, the neighboring kingdoms have conspired to put that usurper on the throne because that person would have favored them in terms of foreign policy, but with Risotto foiling their plans, the neighboring kingdoms decided to go to war with him instead. He is known as the Knight King. I want him to have an enormous sword, and I want a dozen men to carry his body home from the battlefield.

Formaggio: Aww, gosh. My immediate thought was that if you wanted to have a miniature kingdom with a Tiny King, here is the perfect candidate. Maybe he made a fairy turn him small with the ability to speak in animal tongues, and now he has a whole empire of mice that have learned to walk on their hind legs to be fancy and songbirds as his messengers. Despite his stature, he would be such a wild card in foreign negotiations; imagine some normal king trying to throw his weight around, and this little rascal just tells him he has agents in all the kingdoms and they will target the vital crops first. An absolute madlad.

Prosciutto: Oh, man, this is tough. I absolutely love an eldritch angle on Prosciutto so I was tempted to go with him being some sort of lich king type being? But then I realized that out of everyone here, he has the potential to become that One Illustrious King who remains legendary for centuries to come. I'm talking amazing statues and portraits accentuating his handsome face and how much royal cunt he served. I'm talking anecdotes of his rapier wit and his absolute ruthlessness in times of war. I'm talking him sponsoring so much culture, particularly fashion. The type of king where you read a true history of his reign and you're still like, Wait, is this real? Really?

Pesci: I want this boy to be King of the Merfolk. He is friendly to humans and actually fascinated by their relationship to the sea, to the point where he has a very extensive fishing pole collection, wears hooks as earrings, and actively trades with the local people - in exchange for water-resistant trinkets, which have actually inspired an artisan revolution in the region, the merfolk are trading pearls, shells, deep sea fish, and the finest seaweed. He isn't particularly about power and control so he rules over the waters with a loose hand, but threaten anyone he loves and he might just invoke a storm upon your ships!

Ghiaccio: The predictable answer would be to make him a fantasy-type Ice King, but somehow it feels better, more organic, I guess? To just have him be the king of a realm in a very cold climate where he is a small man wearing enormous furs for warmth as well as swag, and he is constantly challenging himself to endure the cold better by swimming in the icy waters and meditating outside in his own constantly angry way. Might have difficulties skirmishing too far from his region or out of season, but attack him on his turf, especially in the dead of winter, and there will be no survivors.

Melone: Now this one is a mixed bag. On the one hand, he is a Sovereign Scholar, he is a thinker and a scientist and a philosopher and an alchemist, the type of monarch that isn't afraid of new ideas. On the other hand, he might just fuck around so much among the courtiers that there would soon be a hundred different bastards in line for the throne, and not being too whole of body, Melone would have to spend the last years of his life devising some sort of competition to figure out who is fittest to rule. Did he just invent the Hunter Games but for his own children? Goes down in history as a very interesting but very confusing period for his people.

Illuso: Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who's the most paranoid ruler of them all? That's right, it's Little King Meowmeow over here. I could see him as being the eldest of a dozen royal siblings with a sickly father who soon passes him the crown by default, but now this otherwise good-looking and even somewhat functional specimen lives in constant fear of his seven swole and terrifying brothers, who are not only praying for him to be infertile, but are so ready to slaughter him to take his place. He will be romanticized as a delicate and tragic figure whose policies might have been shit, but just look at that hair. Wow. (He was ultimately killed by his sister, who also killed all her other siblings. She then reigned for fifty years.)

Sorbet: I am sad to say that he would go down as His Miserly Majesty, the type of king that is absolutely obsessed with the treasury and the gold. Perhaps he assumed the throne at a time when things were looking bleak for the monarchy, perhaps he was born this way, but the fact is that he is constantly counting coins and entering into trading agreements with him is like trying to draw blood from a stone with a widow's peak. Despite all this, he is sporting little to no finery, and nobody really understands where all that wealth is going, because it's not really circulating that well if you catch my drift. Kind of an enigma, but historians will probably figure it out.

Gelato: I sincerely believe that if you combined a feral king and a goofy clown, he would be what comes out of that interaction. In fact, let it be known that his mother the Queen had a turbulent affair with the court jester, and now their offspring is passing very silly laws and setting things on fire and he is a nightmare to negotiate with because in-between puns and being just a little too familiar, he will murmur in your ear that he will stab you thirty times if you back out of that sweet bilateral agreement the two of you had just made. Very controversial in retrospect, but is known for having thrown some of the most amazing feasts and festivals the kingdom has ever known.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – One // Wanda Maximoff

story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter two

author’s note: here’s the long-awaited first chapter! i do hope you all enjoy!

Also a quick one – Y/B/N = your brother’s name, Y/M/N = your mother’s name and Y/D/N = your dad’s name

"You move anymore and you're gonna hit a waiter."

I gave my brother a disapproving look as he grinned at my dismay. "Easy for you to say. You're wearing a suit and not a dress that's heavier than your body."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Y/N, you complain too much. Look where we are! You need to learn to enjoy yourself."

Taking a look around the room, I saw a hall filled with people I didn't know mingling with one another. Flutes of champagne were on almost every hand and laughter filled the air as everybody enjoyed their evening, soaking in the luxuries of a ball somebody I didn't know was hosting. Orchestral music was drowned out by conversations and servers moved through the hall like mice, scuttling around and constantly topping up champagne. I wasn't a fan, as usual.

"Are you both ready? Your father is bringing the Maximoffs here any second," my mother's voice grabbed my attention. "Y/N, at least try to look happy to be here." 

I forced a smile, making her give me a knowing look before looking to my brother and fixing his tie.

"You both know how important this is," she told us for the millionth time, fussing over my brother's appearance. "They're expecting–"

"Well-behaved, respectful individuals," I finished for her. "We know, mum. You've told us only a gazillion times."

She pressed her lips together, hands on her hips as her eyes fell to me, displeased. "If this engagement is to go as planned, I need you on your best behaviour."

"I'm always on my best behaviour," I reassured her. "But okay. I'll lighten up."

"Thank you," she said with a grateful smile, before glancing over her shoulder. "Okay. Here they come. Smiles, please."

My brother looked to me, showing me his teeth. "Is there anything in my teeth?"

I cracked a smile to make myself feel better. "Gums."

He gave me a disappointed look. "You know men don't like women who are smart arses." 

I rolled my eyes at his comment, knowing men didn't like women who didn't like men. But, of course, I didn't say that.

All her and my dad had been talking about for the past few weeks was this engagement. My brother, a very successful author, was to be engaged to his publisher's twin sister, some girl called Wanda. The Maximoffs were an esteemed family and their unification with ours was in everyone's best interests, especially my brother's who was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city.

I didn't know much about the Maximoffs, only that their son and my brother's 'boss', if you will, Pietro, ran a successful publishing house. It had been in their family name since their parents emigrated to England from Sokovia when Pietro and Wanda were children. They'd built themselves up from nothing and were now high members of society, the perfect family to be involved with.

Y/B/N was to be engaged to Wanda, their daughter, since she was getting to that age where they wanted to find someone for her. My brother's name was put into the mix when Pietro recommended him and the rest was history.

Tonight was the first unofficial meeting with them and my mother had been nonstop lecturing me on the dos and don't's of how to act, as if I was a child that couldn’t behave. Of course, it was only a mere greeting. The true engagement was to be proposed tomorrow night, but that didn't matter to my fussy mother who was insistent on making a good impression.

I found myself straightening up and pressing my hands down my dress to rid it of creases as my brother adjusted his blazer. The Maximoffs were being led our way by my father, the four of them all with smiles on their lips and flutes of champagne in their hands.

"Dear, I would like to introduce you to Mr and Mrs Maximoff and their lovely children, Pietro and Wanda," my dad introduced, stopping before us, before looking to the Maximoffs. "This is my family. My wife, Y/M/N, and my children, Y/N and Y/B/N."

"Please, call me Oleg and my wife Iryna," the twins' father, Oleg, said with a kind smile. He held out his hand to my mother, adding, "It's a pleasure, Y/M/N."

They shook hands and then looked to my brother and I, exchanging quick greetings with us. As they were saying something to my brother, probably gushing over his writing as everyone did, I took a look at the quiet twins behind them.

I vaguely recognised the guy and his striking silver hair from my brother's work, knowing he was Pietro. But I'd never seen the girl before and knew immediately that if I had, I wouldn't forget her face. She was stunning, it didn't take a genius to see that. But not the stunning that you glanced once at and forgot about. No, she was the stunning that knocked the breath out of you and made you forget what your name was.

"...lovely to meet you again!" my brother was saying all the right things to impress his soon-to-be in-laws, but it went over me as I found myself unable to tear my gaze from this mystery woman.

Further introductions went on in the background, before the green eyes I was so enthralled with were looking my way, making me blink suddenly. I instantly looked away, afraid I'd been caught, and zoned back into the conversation that was taking place.

"It's great to finally put a name to a face," the girl, Wanda, was saying to my brother with a honey sweet smile and sultry Russian-accented voice, and judging by his expression, he was just as caught up in her beauty as I was. "I look forward to getting to know you more."

"And I you," he returned with his signature grin.

Her eyes fell to mine once again, lips curving into an amused smile. "And of course, Y/B/N's beautiful sister, Y/N. How lucky a man he must be to have a sister as stunning as you."

The others chuckled, clearly taken by Wanda's smooth way with words. In their eyes, it was flattery at its finest. After all, she was to be welcomed into our family and sucking up to the sister was the best way forward. But I guess, I'd like to believe that there was some truth to her words as her entrancing green eyes sparkled with delight.

"You don't need to win over my sister to get on my good side," Y/B/N joked before I could speak, stealing Wanda's attention away momentarily.

She suppressed a laugh, tilting her head as she studied him with an unreadable expression, before looking to me with curious eyes.

"Thank you for your kind words, Wanda," I finally said to her, offering a small smile.

"Anytime," she quipped, biting her lip to contain her smile.

It was oh so wrong of me to even slightly check her out as she did, knowing that it was not only inappropriate since she was to be my brother's bride, but also wrong since she was a girl and I wasn't supposed to do this. A heat crept up neck as I avoided her teasing gaze, wondering if she knew what she was doing or if she was just a naturally flirty person.

"I'm Pietro," her brother spoke, making me look up again. He was directing a charming smile my way as he continued, "It's an honour to finally meet my best author's younger sister."

I put out my hand for him to shake, but he simply grabbed it and pressed a gentle kiss to the top. I flushed at the contact, a nervous smile on my lips.

"Er, it's nice to meet you, too, Pietro," I returned, subtly wiping my hand when he let go of it.

The twins stood side by side, smiling our way, and I realised just why all the chatter in our social circles revolved around them. Charming, distinguished, good-looking – they were the whole package.

Our parents continued to talk, catching up and talking about stuff I didn't care much for. Every now and then, Y/B/N would chime in if a question was directed his way, or Pietro would add his two cents, or Wanda would say something funny, and I would pretend to get along with all of them when I so desperately wished to go home and go to sleep.

Admittedly, my eyes veered over to my soon-to-be sister-in-law every now and then, unable to look away. She was drop dead gorgeous, with bright hazel eyes that looked green like the earth at this moment, and long brown hair that was pulled back out of her face, revealing her charming smile. Sometimes, when she would smile really widely, a dimple would expose itself on her left cheek at the corner of her mouth, and I was sure that nothing else was cuter than that. Y/B/N was one lucky man.

"...would love for you all to come to our home tomorrow evening for dinner," my father was inviting them all over, bringing me back to reality. "It'll be a great way to get to know each other in a more intimate setting. And it'll give the kids a better chance to get to know each other."

Iryna smiled brightly. "We would love to, Y/D/N. Tomorrow evening is great."

"Perfect," my mum said excitedly. "We'll see you all then."

"Do enjoy the rest of your evening," Oleg said, looking to us all, before looking to my brother. "And Y/B/N, it was good to meet you tonight. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

"You, too, sir," Y/B/N said, shaking his hand with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Oleg and Iryna gave us all a smile before turning to leave. Pietro and Wanda did the same, though when Wanda's eyes flickered to mine, she waved her fingers slowly and with a playful smile on her lips. My mouth opened slightly, unsure what to do or say, but nobody seemed to notice as she turned and left, leaving me standing there with confusion.

"Well, I think that went well," my mum said, and I tore my gaze from Wanda's retreating form. "Couldn't have gone better actually."

"I agree," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my mum's waist with a smile. "Tomorrow night will be splendid." He looked to Y/B/N. "What did you think of Wanda, son?"

Y/B/N looked like he was on top of the world with his love struck smile and relaxed posture. "She's beautiful. And did you hear that accent? Wonderful."

My mother chuckled. "How sweet. You're already smitten."

"What did you think of her, Y/N?" my brother asked, and all eyes fell to me.

I straightened up. "Oh, I– er– she's very nice. A beautiful young woman."

"Right?" he said in agreement. "I feel like she really likes you, too. How cool is that? You guys can become friends and be, like, close sister-in-laws."

I forced a small smile. "Yeah. Something like that."

Of course, for everyone's benefit, getting along with Wanda Maximoff was the best bet. But something about her was different and I was yet to discover what.

—

The following evening was when we saw the Maximoffs next. As invited, they turned up at our front door dressed less glamorously than last night, given the occasion, but appearing just as excited. Our servants were quick to take their jackets and hang them up elsewhere as we exchanged greetings in the hall.

The Maximoff parents were genuinely kind and humbling people to be around, I'd come to learn that when they thanked our servants for their help and asked them how their day was, making friendly chatter. Not many people did that when entering our home – it was certainly refreshing to see. They greeted Y/B/N and I kindly before moving onto our parents.

The Maximoff children were just as kind, though with a hint of mischief in their stride as they moved to greet my brother and I. Pietro approached me first, lips pulling into a smile as he bowed playfully. In the corner of my eye, I could see Wanda and Y/B/N exchanging greetings.

"It's a pleasure to be in your presence yet again, Y/N," Pietro said generously. "You look lovely this evening."

A smile appeared on my lips at his kind eyes. "Thank you, Pietro. You look very handsome this evening also."

"Apparently it's lamb for dinner, is that true?" he asked, taking me by surprise. I wasn't sure if he was serious, but when his sister slapped him on the arm, I figured he was.

"Don't be greedy, Piet," she scolded him like this was a regular thing.

"What? It was a simple question," he said with a shrug, before looking to my brother with a grin. "Ah, Y/B/N Y/L/N, my favourite writer."

As he moved over to greet him, Wanda looked over to me with a knowing smile.

"It's good to see you again," she said softly, maintaining eye contact.

"You, too," I played along with whatever was happening, the usual script at a time like this. "I'm sure tonight will be something special for you and my brother. It's good to have you here."

She tilted her head intimidatingly. "Bol'shoye tebe spasibo."

I raised my eyebrows, intrigued by her ability to change languages so smoothly. Though, it made sense since she was Sokovian, making Russian her first language. Didn't make it any easier to not be attracted to though.

"I'm sorry," I apologised. disguising my attraction with genuine confusion. "What does that mean?"

She smiled, a hint of smugness present as she answered, "Thank you very much. That's what it means."

I pressed my lips together, humming in response. She held my gaze for a second longer than usual and I wanted to look away, but I was drawn in by the beautiful golden flecks swirled into her irises, captivating and chilling all at once. She didn't seem uncomfortable with the eye contact, instead revelling in it with a content smirk when she saw me squirm. I ended up looking away first, unable to hold a pretty girl's gaze for more than a few seconds without panicking.

"I have something to show you!" my brother was saying excitedly to Pietro. "It's in my study, c'mon."

The two of them wandered off before my mum could stop them.

"Don't be too long, boys!" she called after them, before sighing and looking to Wanda and I. "Y/N, dear, why don't you show Wanda around upstairs, maybe? Hopefully the boys should be back after that and we can all eat dinner together."

I swallowed hard, glancing at a still-smirking Wanda, before looking back to my mum. "Erm, are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, go on, it'll give you ladies a chance to get to know each other better!" she insisted, before ushering me away. "Don't take too long though. Dinner will be ready soon."

Licking my lips nervously, I nodded, watching my mum return to the conversation my dad and Wanda's parents were having. They were led into the living room as Wanda and I were left standing in the hall, her waiting for me to say something.

"This way, I guess," I got out awkwardly, purposely avoiding her eyes as I motioned to the grand staircase.

"After you," she said politely, and I said nothing as I took the lead.

I ended up showing her around the upstairs rooms, including the library we had and the many guest rooms. It was a big home with lots to show for it, so the tour wasn't too boring.

Wanda stayed quiet throughout it, sometimes dropping in a comment or question every now and then, but otherwise listening intently as I explained everything as interestingly as I could. When she did speak, she would leave me fumbling for words or forgetting how to speak altogether. I wondered if she was teasing me on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of her soon-to-be sister-in-law, or if she just wasn't aware of what she was doing.

But every time her mischievous gaze fell to me with a matching smile, I knew that she had to be aware of her actions. Nobody was that teasing without wanting to be. So, that led me to my next question. Why?

Eventually, the last room on the tour was my bedroom. I stepped inside first, holding the door open for her as she followed after and looked around with amusement.

"This is your room," she stated, feet taking her further inside as she took in the appearance of my desk, my bed and my wardrobe. "Fascinating."

I was curious to know what she meant by that, but realising that this woman was an enigma in more ways than one, I knew she wouldn't give me a straight answer. So, I said nothing as I followed after her, remaining close as she soaked in my belongings.

Stopping at my desk, her eyes gazed over the papers spilling from closed notebooks, books marked with string and pens littered across the wood. Thankfully, nothing was open and she didn't seem to be the nosy type, so had no intention of going through anything.

"I see you like writing," she noticed, fingers hovering above the notebooks but not quite making a move to touch them. "Runs in the family, doesn't it?"

"I guess," I said, unsure what she wanted to hear.

She looked up at me, smile tugging at her lips. The same damned smile that had been directed at me since she got here.

"Do you write like your brother?"

I tried not to laugh. "More like he writes like me."

She watched me closely, amusement dancing in her eyes. "He's the author in the family."

I mirrored her smile, though mine was fake. "Published author, love. Doesn't make him the only one."

A chuckle flew from her lips as she looked across my messy desk again, clearly not offended by the hint of annoyance in my voice. I shouldn't have been so offended by her words – she didn't know anything about me – but it always ground my gears when people stuck up for Y/B/N like he was God's gift.

"Do you write?" I asked, half interested and half wanting to change the subject. The least I could do was try to get to know her a little better.

"I prefer painting," she answered without mischief. "It's my favourite thing to do."

Her eyes lit up at the mere mention of art, but she did a good job at reigning it in. She was still studying the books on my desk, distracting herself with the spines instead of facing me.

"And what do you like to paint?" I asked, genuinely interested now that I was beginning to see her actually fond of something that didn't involve making me flustered.

She shrugged, but I knew it was a pretence. "Scenery. Landscapes. We have a beautiful garden at home and it's a pleasure to paint." She finally met my eyes again, a smile of adoration on her lips as she continued talking about the garden. "The flowers, the trees, the little pond we have. It's the perfect subject."

The smile that appeared on my lips was automatic as her passion for her hobby was contagious. The way her whole face lit up, eyes bright with excitement and lips unable to do anything but smile, was intoxicating and I tried not to get lost in the moment. It was true though, what people said. Nobody looked more beautiful than when talking about something they loved.

"I’d love to see your work sometime," I told her earnestly.

Playfulness returning, she hummed in agreement. "Only if I can see yours."

I laughed, looking down at my shoes. "Maybe not."

"Well, that's a shame," she said, still playful, though when I looked up, I almost believed her.

She did that thing again, where she stared at me and held my gaze as if reading my innermost private thoughts. Intimidating wasn't the word, yet it was the only one in my mind as I watched her attempt to decipher me. Clearing my throat, I looked away, suddenly aware of how close she was stood.

"So, my brother," I changed the subject yet again, noticing the entertained expression she wore. "You like him?"

"We are to be engaged, are we not?" she asked with a quirked brow, like the answer was obvious.

I hid the smile from my lips. "That's not what I asked, love."

She licked her lips, pursing them as she saw what I was trying to do. My eyes were immediately drawn to her mouth as she did, and I almost forgot to look away until she started speaking again.

"My parents arranged this," she admitted, not losing composure. "Y/B/N is a gentleman and he seems like a kind man."

I noticed how she still avoided answering the question, but decided not to say anything about it. My eyes studied her curiously though, wondering why exactly she'd agreed to the marriage then. Maybe it was a sense of duty, like every woman had nowadays. Eventually my time would come too and maybe I would be stuck in the same position as her.

"I adore his writing though," she added, like she needed to say something genuine to make up for her lack of answer.

"You and every other woman in the city," I mumbled knowingly.

Wanda let out a breathy laugh. "I'm aware of his many admirers, yes, but can you blame them? He has such a fantastic way with words. And don't get me started on that first piece he ever wrote..." Her eyes rolled back with satisfaction. "It's my favourite. I had no idea who he was back then, but the words he wrote were enough to make me fall in love. I guess it's convenient that my new husband is to be your brother, the author."

I crossed my arms as I leaned against the desk, trying not to break out into laughter. Not because of Wanda's words – they were actually quite sweet – but because of the whole situation. It was hilarious to me, since I was the reason Y/B/N got his big break as a writer anyway.

Following in our father's footsteps, Y/B/N wrote manuscript after manuscript with hopes of getting published. But unfortunately, he never got anywhere with it. I was also a writer, having been taught by my father like Y/B/N when I was a young girl, but unlike him, I was told to stop when I got older because it was 'unladylike' and 'not a woman's place'. That didn't stop me however, and I continued to write like no tomorrow.

Y/B/N's big break, and the first manuscript of his that got published by Pietro – ironically the one that Wanda was discussing right now – was written by me. I gave it to my brother, hoping he could get inspiration. He ended up sending that in and getting signed because of my work. And even now, I occasionally helped him work on pieces that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.

But nobody wanted to hear about the young, unmarried woman who writes about other women like they are God's best creation. So, Y/B/N keeps the fame and credit whilst I write in private, unable to share any of my work with the world unless it's in excerpts of my brother's books with his name on the front cover.

"That first piece was pretty good, wasn't it?" I played along with Wanda's words, a hint of bitterness in my tone of voice.

Wanda studied me up and down, teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya."

I hummed in acknowledgement, feigning a smile in response, though I wasn't sure what that last word meant. Probably another Russian term she was using to throw me off. Of course she'd assume I was jealous of my brother's recognition. She didn't know the truth and she never could. She was also to marry my brother, the perfect author, soon; my bitter state was merely a jealous sibling and maybe it was easier to let her think that way.

"Dinner should be ready now," I told her, straightening up. "Let's head down."

She followed after me and I said nothing else as I led her back downstairs, trying not to think about how much of an ego-boost this dinner would be for my brother.

There was nothing better than hearing everyone gush over the work your brother took credit for that you actually did, right?

"Ah, ladies, perfect timing!" said my mum when we reached the dining room where everyone was taking their seats. "Please, sit and we can get started. It's a lovely roast from the kitchen tonight."

As I made my way to my usual seat opposite my brother, I saw Pietro fist-pump the air at the mention of the lamb roast, making Wanda roll her eyes and me smile at his action. Y//B/N took his seat and Wanda's parents seemed to take the two chairs beside him already. My parents took to each end of the table, leaving the Maximoff twins no choice but to sit beside me. I sat at the same spot as usual, at the edge of the table so my left-handed self wouldn't bother whoever was sat beside me, and take a lucky guess to who sat on my right.

"Wanda, dear, how was your tour?" my mum asked her as she got comfortable beside me, leg and shoulder almost touching mine and making me both nervous and disgruntled.

With a grin wide enough to impress my mother, she answered, "It was great. You have a beautiful home, Mrs Y/L/N. And Y/N was a lovely host."

At that last comment, I felt her eyes glance towards me and I wondered if she was having fun making me squirm because I knew for sure that I was anything but a lovely host.

"That's reassuring to hear," my mother responded as the food was brought out and placed in the centre of the table. She seemed like she was joking, but I knew she was just glad I'd been on my best behaviour. "And please, call me Y/M/N."

Wanda nodded gratefully as my dad began to cut into the roast. Food was served up and drinks were poured as everybody began to dig in. The Maximoffs sent their compliments to the chef, admired our home and were the perfect guests, just as they were expected to be. My family complimented Wanda and Pietro's manners, talked about how business was going and laughed at every joke Oleg and Iryna uttered, just as they were expected to be. It really was a picture-perfect scene and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Okay, maybe I was acting a little cynical. The Maximoffs weren't that bad, at least not as bad I'd assumed they would be compared to my parents' other friends. They were down-to-Earth and humbled people, a welcoming change from the usual. I just hated forced dinners and being scrutinised under my mother's eyes to behave, hence the clipped attitude.

And just on cue, the topic steered towards something lovely.

"We can't forget to talk about Y/B/N, bestselling author over here!" Oleg beamed, motioning to my brother. "I have to admit, son, I'm amazed at your writing. You clearly have your father's talent."

My brother smiled bashfully as I watched on with narrowed eyes and a tight grip on my fork.

"You flatter me," he said, but Iryna shook her head.

"I have to agree with my husband here, Y/B/N," she said. "Your writing is superb. Pietro, obviously, loves it, and Wanda is a huge fan, too."

At this, my brother glanced towards Wanda with excited eyes and she merely smiled and looked elsewhere, either embarrassed to be mentioned or playing coy. Rolling my eyes came naturally at this point.

"Tell me, how did you think of what to write for that first book?" Iryna asked with intrigue. "It was my favourite one."

Ah, yes, the first book. Apparently everyone's favourite one.

"Oh, it's best not to bring all that up–"

"I'd actually like to know, too," Wanda cut him off, her curiosity getting the better of her as she leaned forward onto the palm of her hand and watched him under long eyelashes.

I couldn't keep the smile of delight from my face as I too leaned forward curiously, eyeing my brother. "Yes, dear, brother. Please, do tell us of how you came to write such an honest, heartfelt first book."

At this, I felt both my parents send me a warning look as they knew the truth. But neither of the Maximoffs noticed as their attention was solely on my brother.

Luckily for him, he was a great liar and he smiled his charming smile and nodded, looking between the four guests.

"I guess it started after my third failed manuscript," he began, very believably. "I realised that there was something missing from my pages. Something real and genuine. Something that would appeal to my readers and make them question just how much they were appreciating their partner, you know?"

As he rambled off into another literary spout of nonsense, my smile faded and I gritted my teeth, wondering how he'd gotten so good at lying without giving away a sliver of pretence. The Maximoffs were hanging onto his every word, fascinated by the mind of a writer. I tried not to let it get to me as he butchered the meaning behind everything I had written in that first novel. Some things were better left unsaid.

When he finished, questions were fired his way and my parents watched on with pride in their eyes, as he answered them with ease. I chose to stay quiet, as usual, letting him soak in the credit for something he didn't do.

"And what do you think, Y/N?" Wanda's voice included me in the conversation, and everybody's eyes fell to me. I was only looking at her as her lips were pulled into a wide, suggestive smile and she continued, "How is it being the sister of one of today's bestselling authors?"

The usual forced smile that accompanied my lips whenever talking about Y/B/N because present, but my eyes were questioning Wanda's as she was clearly trying to get a rise out of me yet again, especially now that she assumed I was jealous of her husband-to-be's fame. Her stupid beautiful smile and stupid pretty eyes and stupid attractive accent were all taunting me.

"It makes me proud to know that he's come so far from when we were younger," I said, and though I was irritated by the way it had happened, my words weren't entirely false. "He's a talented man and he clearly has a way with words. What more is there to say?"

The elders seemed touched by my words and when I looked over the table to meet my brother's gaze, I saw the gratitude in his expression, hiding behind his smile and reserved for me. I nodded subtly, letting him know I was happy to keep his secret as long as he wished, just like we'd agreed.

Chatter and compliments soon turned to the real reason for our presence – the engagement. I tucked into my dessert as I let them talk about dates for the engagement party, logistics for guests and all the other details I could care less about. Only when my brother mentioned my name did I look up, surprised to see all eyes on me yet again.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked politely, glancing around.

"Y/N, honey, lay off the chocolate cake, will you?" my mum said with a smile that I knew was code for 'put the bloody fork down'.

I forced a smile of my own as I lowered my fork and sat up straight, very ladylike, and looked to my brother.

"I was saying how I'll be sure to pick a beautiful engagement ring for Wanda here," he no-doubt repeated for my sake. "And maybe you could help me choose, to make sure it's something she may like."

A genuine sarcastic smile broke out on my lips, though not because I was interested in ring shopping with my brother. I knew absolutely nothing about dear Wanda or her taste in jewellery, but a woman was to do what she was best at – shopping! So, without sharing my true thoughts on the situation, I nodded respectfully and hummed in agreement.

"Of course," I said what everybody wanted to hear. "I'm sure we can find something to suit Wanda's taste."

Everybody resumed chatter about the wedding as I sighed quietly and got back to my cake. My right hand rested by my side and I jumped, startled when I made contact with Wanda's fingers.

"Sorry," I apologised, moving my hand a little from hers but keeping it there. "Left-handed an' all. I tend to forget."

Green eyes pierced through me with a matching sly smile. "No problem, milaya."

Again with the 'milaya' talk – what did that even mean? I returned the awkward smile as I continued eating, but I didn't fail to notice the way her hand would brush against mine throughout the rest of the meal.

Either by accident or on purpose, I'd never know, but I had my suspicions.

[apples-of-eden]

▷ Mukami / Tsukinami, Kino & Yui (Link)

─────────𝕰𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌... .────────

(Cristal, Belgum, Mina, Karla) Speaking. . .

[2] Do they wear perfume/cologne? If so what scents do they prefer?

【 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 = creator of Ophelia 】

「Yes, Ophelia wears perfume, she considers it a symbol of refinement and good hygiene, but she is not bothered by people who do not wear it. She often uses a parfume with scent of roses, which gives her a distinct scent, but she also likes combinations of flowers or aromas, such as cinnamon or vanilla.」

【 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐠𝐮𝐦 = creator of Jin 】

「Yes, she does, but she prefers body sprays instead, since you can carry them with you and use anytime you'd like. She prefers soft, gentle scents with a sweet hint to it.」

【𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐚 = creator of Tomoky】

「Tommy uses perfume for everything that means going outside or just to smell good in general. She likes sweet, citric and soft scents.」

【 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚= creator of Karla】

「Yes, she likes to wear perfume quite a lot and likes the mood different scents can impact her. Her favorite scent is the fresh and floral aroma of lavender. She likes to use lavender scented candles too since it relaxes her, but in terms of perfume she likes to mix lavender with something a little stronger and bolder, since lavender alone may be too soft for her in perfumes. Yet sometimes she may have a strong scent of roses too since she likes to spend her time in the rose garden after her arrival at the Sakamaki Manor.」

[7] Do they have any unusual fears?

【 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 = creator of Ophelia 】

「No, she has no uncommon fears. It is true that she has a phobia of storms, but this is the only phobia she suffers from. But she can say when a person is scared of something, so that, she can help the person.」

【 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐠𝐮𝐦 = creator of Jin 】

「Considering her current circumstances, it is not an unusual thing, but she is afraid of being stalked and/or being murdered. Living with vampires that are a thousand times stronger than her really makes any action risky.」

【𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐚 = creator of Tomoky】

「Tomoky is kind of afraid of mice, but nothing else haha.」

【 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚= creator of Karla】

「Since she has a fear of heights, Karla despises stairs a lot. So she has quite the fear of them and tries to avoid going down the stairs when it's possible. Since she is a person who relies more on logic and not on her feelings, after her arrival at the Sakamaki Manor she developed a fear of losing her sanity and ability of clear judgement too.」

[8] Do they collect anything? If so what and why?

【 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 = creator of Ophelia 】

「Ophelia has an impressive collection of porcelain and no, I'm not talking about plates or glasses. I mean trinkets, statuettes or porcelain things. She even has a collection of porcelain dolls. She likes this kind of thing, she likes beautiful things in general.」

【 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐠𝐮𝐦 = creator of Jin 】

「Jin loves collecting crystals! Her favorites are the typical ones; amethyst, quarts, moonstone. She truly believes in their healing properties and finds them very beautiful to wear.」

【𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐚 = creator of Tomoky】

「Tomoky doesn't collect anything in specific, but she does have a lot of books and clothes.」

【 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚= creator of Karla】

「Back at her home she had an impressive collection of books related to art and the history of art, also books related to designing clothes and anything that has to do with it. She also had collections of textile samples that attracted her attention and a collection of rare and unusual herbs since her adoptive mother worked with herbs a lot. Yet, of course, since she changed places she left almost everything behind.」

[trashyswitch]

Safety Within the Sanders' Pizzeria

Virgil's inner anxiety and interactions with some of the animatronics, causes Virgil to have a panic attack during work. Thankfully, Logan and Patton are there to calm him down and be playful with him.

The ending includes slightly dirty statements, because...Remus. But that's about it!

And this prompt was suggested by good ol' Pumpkin Paw! I hope you like it! And for the rest of you: JURY DUTY, JURY DUTY, JURY DUTY, BLACK MAIL-

Just kidding! I hope you enjoy!

Virgil was growing terrified of the robots. They all seemed to have a sinister side that tripled when they were kept in darkness and not surrounded by children. Though a couple of the robots were better-suited for children, there were robots he was much more terrified of…

Examples? Remus and Janus.

Janus was an unpredictable robot that managed to glitch himself into an impulsive liar. He’s encouraged kids to set things on fire, let kids play with sharpened swords, showed kids how to make chloroform, and taught kids all kinds of dangerous things. There was a reason Janus was kept in a locked room to only be used for spare parts. He was also scared that Janus was gonna pull some manipulative tricks on him or scare him. His worst nightmare was the thought of Janus sneaking up on him with a box of matches and saying “Humans are very flame resistant! Let me show you:” and setting him on fire. OH PLEASE NO.

Remus was even worse! He caused violence way too much, and looked like a creepy, insane robotic homeless guy that could kill hundreds if he was allowed to go free. He even smelled like a mix of mold, metal and dead mice. Worst of all? He had a mace. A FREAKING MACE! WHO THE HELL GAVE THE ROBOT A MACE?! And since his robot body made him so strong, Virgil’s head could easily be crushed by a single swing of the mace alone! All he could do was pray that Remus never got any ideas to try it out.

“Ooooh Viiirgiiil~” someone called.

Virgil jumped and moved his flashlight around to find the source of the sound. “You-You’d better leave me alone! I-” Virgil grabbed a lamp. “I have a...A lamp! And I’m not afraid to use it!” Virgil warned.

The voice let out a manic laugh that helped him identify the voice. It was Remus. “That’s a good one! The poor security guard’s all alone with only his lamp to hold onto! Such a shame it won’t save you.” Remus teased.

“Oh yeah? How do you know?” Virgil asked, plugging it in.

“The lamp’s hardly a weapon up against my pointy mace! All it’ll take is a big, fat, SPLAT! AHAHAHAHAHAAA! THEN IT’LL JUST BE BROKEN GLASS AND METAL!” Remus declared.

Virgil growled and held up the lamp in one hand, and the switch in the other. “Alright coward, COME ON OUT.”

Remus kicked the door down. “THE FUCK DID YOU JUST- AAAAAAH!” Remus interrupted himself and covered up his eyes with his hands. “FAAACK!”

Virgil smiled a little as he shined the light right into Remus’s eyes. “Not so tough now with burned robot eyes, huh?” Virgil spat.

Remus growled and started swinging his mace around blindly. Virgil’s confident smirk quickly turned to fear as he tried to get out of the way of the flying mace. “WHOA- Oh geez- REMUS!” Virgil shouted.

It didn’t take long for the lamp to end up destroyed into pieces by the mace. Remus let out some proud, chaotic laughter as his eyes very slowly adjusted. “Just like a piñata! A few more hits should do it!” Remus declared as he readied his mace like a baseball bat.

Virgil quickly dropped the lamp and sprinted away as quickly as he could. He sprinted out of the office and darted his way down the hall. But his sprinting was quickly brought to a halt by another robot who was blocking his path.

“Oooooh! Looking confident today, Security guard.” The robot teased as he tipped his hat. Oh no...It was Janus…

Virgil sprinted behind Janus and hid. “Please hide me! Remus is trying to kill me!” Virgil begged.

Janus turned his head a full 180 degrees to look right at Virgil. “My, what a brave soul.” Janus reacted out loud.

Virgil shrieked at Janus’s over contorted head and backed up from him. “That’snotright! that’snotRIGHT!” Virgil muttered.

Janus’s eyes moved to the right...they moved to the left...then they looked back at Virgil. “What do you mean? This is normal.” Janus told him. To top it all off, Janus had shrugged his shoulders like a human usually would. But Janus’s shoulder blades were literally just below Janus’s chin and were facing the terrified security guard. That was NOT normal.

In fact, that was enough to make Virgil scream and sprint off again. He sprinted his way further down the hall, and was soon skidded to a stop by one more animatronic:

“OOOH! A worthy opponent!” The animatronic declared, pointing his sharpened knife to Virgil. Virgil shrieked and put his hands up in surrender. “That’s right, you have no weapon! So that means you’re my prisoner!” Roman declared, grabbing his hand and leading him away. “I hope you can appreciate a quick death. Let’s say...Beheading! With my sword, of course!” Roman declared.

Virgil took one look at the sword and yelped: The sword was AN INCH AWAY FROM HIS EYE.

Roman giggled at his scared face. “Hehehe! Poke poke~”

Virgil screeched like a terrified hawk and pulled his arm out of Roman’s grip. The moment he was free, Virgil screamed again and took off sprinting.

“Wait! Wait, Virgil! I was joking! Come on!” Roman yelled to him.

Virgil sprinted all the way to the other side of the pizzeria. The animatronics were everywhere. He couldn’t get away! They wouldn’t stop grabbing him! Threatening his life! SCARING HIM TO DEATH!

OH NO! NOT ANOTHER ONE! Virgil tried to get up and take off running again. But this animatronic had him good. So Virgil started to kick, scream, and punch. Anything to get out of the animatronic’s strong grip.

“Virgil! Virgil Sanders! Can you hear me?” The animatronic asked.

Virgil’s fighting slowed a bit as he heard his actual name. “Wh- *huff, huff, huff* What-”

“Virgil Sanders. Is that right?” The animatronic asked. Virgil nodded his head. “Okay. I only know your name because I read your name tag.” The animatronic told him.

Okay...Okay. That makes sense. But this is an animatronic! Why are they being nice? The only animatronic he knew that was nice, was Patton! And even HE was a little sinister! “Pat- Patisthatyou?” Virgil asked.

“This is Logan. I need you to sit down and try to cooperate with me.” Logan explained. Virgil looked up and managed to catch the general outline of glasses...and a dark blue shirt. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. I’ve closed the doors and ordered all the animatronics but Patton, to leave you alone.” Logan explained.

Virgil started to relax his muscles bit by bit. “O...Okay...Okay.”

Something slid into his hand. “Can you feel my hand?” Logan asked. Virgil nodded. “Okay good. Can you feel my face?” Logan asked as he placed Virgil’s hand onto his cold, hard cheek.

Virgil nodded and looked up at him. “Cold...It’s cold.” Virgil added.

“Okay.” Logan replied.

“Good job Kiddo!” Another animatronic cheered. Virgil smiled a little at that.

“Now:” Logan placed Patton’s hand onto Virgil’s arm. “Can you feel the hand on your arm?” Logan asked. Virgil nodded. Logan continued. “That is Patton’s hand.” Logan told him.

Virgil nodded. “Okay.”

Patton, feeling a little playful, placed his hand on Virgil’s belly. “Do you feel this?” Patton asked as he started gently scratching it.

Virgil smiled and laughed a little. “Yeheheah, Ihihi doho.”

“Patton, I don’t think childish behaviours like tickling are recommended when a person is recovering from a panic atta-”

“It’s working!” Patton added his other hand to Virgil’s belly and started skittering all over. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

Virgil giggled and fell gently onto his back while he rolled around and pushed at Patton’s hands. “Hehehehehe! Hahahahahaha! Ihihi’m ohokahahahay.” Virgil let him know.

“Alright.” Patton stopped tickling him. “Did that help?”

Virgil smiled. “Yes. A lot, actually.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Fascinating...Virgil must be a rare human to appreciate tickling after a panic attack.” Logan reacted calmly.

Patton chuckled and shook his head. “Or tickling really does help for panic attacks and you just don’t believe me yet!” Patton picked up Virgil, held him in his arms like a toddler, and started skittering his fingers on Virgil’s sides. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!”

Virgil squealed and started to wiggle again. “HAhahahaha! Hehehehe Pahahahat! Thahahat ticklehehes!” Virgil giggled.

“Ihi can tell! If it wasn’t ticklish to you, then I’d still be looking for new ticklish spots.” Patton replied.

Patton lifted up Virgil’s Security Guard shirt a bit and found the guy’s belly button. “Oooh! Giggle button!” Patton reacted as he poked it a few times. Virgil guffawed! His back arched like a freaking rainbow, and Virgil just about kicked Patton in the face! But thankfully, Patton caught the foot right before it hit him. “That was close…” Patton said calmly.

Virgil was covering his belly. “Sohorry. My belly button is REEEALLY bad.” Virgil admitted.

Patton dropped Virgil’s foot. “It IS?!” Patton pretty much dove towards Virgil and started scratching Virgil’s belly again. “Does this tickle?” Patton asked.

Virgil squeaked and squealed while rolling around and kicking his feet. “AAAHAHAHAHAHA! YEHEHEHEHEHESS!” Virgil yelled back.

Patton grabbed both of Virgil’s sides and started squeezing. “Does this tickle more? Or less?” Patton asked.

Virgil’s laughter fell to giggles while Patton tickled up and down the one side of his ribs. “Yeheheheheheah. Ihihihit tihihihihicklehehes lehehehess.” Virgil replied.

Patton hummed. “I can tell! Your laughter went from super strong, to little giggles!” Patton reacted.

Virgil nodded. “It did, yeah.”

Patton gasped and lifted Virgil’s shirt again. “I wanna hear your laughter again!” Patton declared before poking and swirling his finger in his belly button.

“Patton...Maybe we should tone it down-”

“BAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WAITNOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” Virgil rolled onto his belly as soon as he possibly could, and then continued to giggle into the floor as he recovered. “Lohohoho...Loho hahahas ahaha pohohohoint.” Virgil told him.

Patton frowned a little and crossed his arms. “Fiiine. I guess I’ll give you a break.” Patton decided.

Virgil let out a breath of relief and turned onto his back again. “Thank you.”

Logan was staring at Virgil with his eyes slightly narrow and a hand on his chin. It looked like he was in a hyper focused thinking mode. Logan just kept on staring at him, and looking him up and down. It was growing a little creepy for his liking. But...Logan probably didn’t really realize it.

“Um...L-Logan?” Virgil asked.

Logan moved his hand off his own chin and brought his index finger closer to Virgil. “Virgil…” He said, pointing to the nametag. “A male name meaning ‘Staff bearer’ in Latin.” Logan explained.

Virgil bit his lip and nodded. “Yes...That’s right. It’s also the name of a Roman poet.” Virgil admitted.

“Yes: Publius Vergilius Maro. He became influential in The Golden Age. Also known as The Augustan Age.” Logan added.

Virgil smiled. “Isn’t Augustus the Emperor that was related to Julius Caesar?” Virgil asked.

“Yes! Caesar was Augustus’s great-uncle.” Logan replied.

“Okay.” Virgil decided. “So...What about it?”

Logan smiled. “The name is very uncommon in this century.” Logan told him.

Virgil smiled. “I guess I’m special.” He teased.

Logan shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps.”

Logan leaned in and brought his hands towards Virgil’s ribs. “Is your ribcage ticklish by chance?” Logan asked him.

Virgil widened his eyes and scooted closer to the wall with a wobbly smile on his face. “Nohoho, no, no it’s not. Totally not.” Virgil lied desperately.

“Hmm...I see...And,” Logan touched down and started skittering, “-does proving my point help the factual robot to see that you’re lying?” Logan asked with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Yes! Yes it does.”

Virgil bursted out into fits of giggles and laughter mixed into one reaction. “Aahahahahahaha! Ohohokahahahay, okay yohohohou’re rihihihight! Ihihi lihihihied! Ihihi’m sohohohorryhyhyhy!” Virgil admitted.

“I appreciate you apologizing. However, I’m afraid it’s a little too late for mercy to be bestowed upon you.” Logan told him as he started to move up the ribs.

Virgil’s laughter grew higher in octave, and a little louder. “WahahaHAHAHAIT- WHAHAHAHAT?! IHIHIHI THOHOHOHOHOUGHT-”

“You thought you were getting a break?” Logan finished for him. “Nah. I just wanted to have my turn to be the infamous ‘tickle monster’. Coochy coochy coochy coochy coo Virgil~” Logan teased.

Virgil threw his head back and started cackling. “AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHERE! PLEHEHEASE! EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Virgil begged, trapping Logan’s hands in his upper arms.

“Oh dear...Patton, did you trick me into entering a trap?” Logan asked.

Patton giggled and shook his head. “Nohoho, why?”

Logan huffed dramatically and pulled. “Because I appear to be stuck. And Virgil is a lot stronger than I envisioned.” Logan explained.

Patton laughed even harder. “YOHOHOU’RE A ROBOT! You’re made of METAL! All it takes is a tug, Logan!” Patton reminded him.

Logan paused his tickling as he looked down at his arms and started pulling. But the pulling was made to be super weak and...quite pathetic for a robot.

“Ohohokahahay, nohohow you’re just beheheheing rihihidicuhulohohous.” Virgil told him.

Logan looked at Virgil with a frown and a smirk. “Excuse me?” Logan reacted. “Pathetic?”

Virgil’s giggles skyrocketed from Logan’s reaction. “Yeheheheahahahah!” Virgil further provoked.

Logan smirked even wider and fixed his glasses. “Excuse me while I do this:” Logan picked up Virgil like a toddler, brought him into his arms and covered every part of Virgil’s middle with tickles. Ribs, belly, sides, belly button, hips, they were all tickled.

Virgil absolutely LOST IT! He was a mess of cackles, snorts, hiccups, and even squeaks mixed together into one big ball! Virgil looked like a snorter, so the snort didn’t really catch Logan off guard.

However, Patton was ecstatic. “Logan! Did you hear that?! He snorted! He has a snort laugh! Hahahahaha! I love it! I wanna hear it again! Can you make him snort again?” Patton asked amidst his rambling.

Logan giggled at this and nodded. “Sure thing Pat in the Hat.” Logan replied. To make Virgil snort again, Logan specifically targeted his upper ribs and his belly all at once. This made Virgil cackle, squeal, and as Patton wanted: snort.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE! *snort* TOHOHOO MUHUHUHUCH! TOHO *snort* MUHUHUHUCH! MEHEHEHERCYHYHYHYHY! *snort* PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE?” Virgil pleaded.

“Uh oh...I do believe his oxygen level is dropping a bit too low. I will need to stop and let him breathe again.” Logan told Patton as he stopped tickling.

Virgil went limp in Logan’s arms almost immediately. He was breathing heavily as well, which further proved Logan’s observation.

“Hohohow…” Virgil was stopped by Logan’s index finger on his lips.

“Hush Virgil. Just breathe for a bit. Then you may ask your question.” Logan advised.

Virgil rolled his eyes and listened to him. But Virgil did feel a little annoyed by Logan’s advice. How did Logan know what’s best for him? He’s not a human. He hasn’t experienced being human since he was made. Heck, even his human-mimicking socializing was quite off. No one quite talked like Logan. Well, except for the super introverted nerds in the world.

BUt Virgil still listened to him. When he felt recovered enough, Virgil tried again. “How do you know my oxygen level?” Virgil asked.

Logan looked down at him. “I have been fitted with a pulse Oximeter at my fingertips.” Logan explained briefly. He brought his fingers to Virgil’s. “I can squeeze gently on your finger, and a number will show up. If it’s normal, then I don’t have any reason to act concerned. If it’s low however, I may advise breathing more heavily or going outside for some fresh air or a short walk. That usually helps raise a human’s blood oxygen level.” Logan explained.

“Hm...I see. Can you do anything else?” Virgil asked.

“Indeed I can.” Logan replied. “Not many people know this, but I have been fitted with a Glucometer for checking the blood sugar of any suspected or confirmed diabetic of any age.” Logan told him. “I also have a way to check your general body temperature.” Logan added. “You’re fairly warm still. However, exerting activities such as tickling can make you increasingly warm.” Logan explained.

Virgil smiled. “That’s really cool.”

Logan smiled. “I can also confirm that you are, in fact, a male. If you were a trans male, I would know. But I would still be ordered to call you by your preferred pronouns due to backlash if I failed to do so.” Logan explained.

“Kinky!” Someone added randomly.

Patton jumped at the new voice, and frowned at the word he used. “Remus, no!” Patton warned.

Logan sighed and fixed his glasses. “Remus, it is NOT kinky! It is basic knowledge!” Logan argued.

“Sounds pretty kinky to me! Right Security Guard?” Remus teased.

Virgil looked away, growing a little more uncomfortable than he expected. “A...A little…”

Logan looked at Virgil. “I don’t quite understand…” Logan admitted. “Did I do something wrong?”

Virgil shook his head. “No! No you didn’t. Just for the future...Maybe keep the ‘gender’ identifying technology a secret. For...social purposes.” Virgil advised.

Logan nodded. “Noted.” Then, Logan smiled. “However, we are gonna take advantage of your more regular oxygen levels and resume tickling you.”

Wait a minute, WHAT?!

Patton gasped and clapped his hands. “YES! MORE SNORTS!”

And more snorts Patton got. Dozens, to be specific.

[illfoandillfie]

please give me Anything himbo roger i need this like perhaps... him being obsessed with eating pussy? pls? - cloud anon

I’m so so so glad you requested more himbo rog because i love any excuse to write him lmao. This is a bit of a long one, certainly well over blurb length but what are you gonna do. I just have a lot of thots where himbo rog is concerned and then there was that convo a little while ago about dressing him in a maid uniform and I had to use it in here. 

warnings: smut, hypnosis & bimbofication, dom!reader, fingering, pegging, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, a little bit of spanking, a little choking, a very brief mention of public sex, free use (perhaps leaning ever so slightly into consensual non consent), humiliation and degradation

Blurb Advent: Day 15

Future Management Series (all my bimbo/himbo writing)

Taglist:  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini  

The costume shop was quiet when you entered it, one of the fluorescent lights at the far end flickering. The lady at the counter looked up from her magazine, her gaze lingering on Roger for a moment before she looked back down.

“What was the theme again?” you asked Roger as you flicked through a rack of women’s costumes.

“The letter M,” he replied from one of the other racks.

“How did Freddie pick that?”

“Dunno, you’d have to ask him. Bigger question is what are we going to wear.”

“What about Mickey and Minnie Mouse?” you shrugged.

“That sounds easy. And we’d look cute as fuck.”

“Sorry, hun,” the woman at the counter piped up, “Sold out of them two days ago.”

“Rats.”

“Mice, love,” Roger teased poking his tongue out as he went to check out another row of costumes, “We could make them from scratch I suppose.”

“Left it a bit late though. We’re meant to have them by Saturday.” You headed to the counter in the hopes that the woman there would be able to speed things up, “Do you have any other costumes starting with M then?”

She sighed as she were being interrupted in a very important task before putting down her magazine and pulling out a binder full of lists of stock. Flicking through it she located the section with M. An awful lot of it had been crossed out.

“How many people are invited to this thing? And do they all shop here?”

He shrugged as he joined you at the counter, “Roughly half of London if his last party was anything to go by. What are our options?”

The women smiled at Roger, her attitude becoming much friendlier now that he was involved, “Not a lot I’m afraid. We’ve still got a Mummy, as in Ancient Egypt, ummm, a Maid, as in French, Marilyn Monroe, Mary Poppins, a Monk, Mrs Clause, Medieval Princess…”

“Looks like you’ll be easy to sort out,” Roger said to you, “not much in the way of mens costumes though. I’d be an alright Mummy I guess,”

“Sorry, should have specified. It’s a women’s costume that one. Very sexy,”

“How do you make a Mummy sexy?”

“Strategically removed bandages. I can show you if you like,” she said this last part to Roger, suggestion dripping from every word.

“What about the Monk?” you suggested.

“Ehhhh,”

“Beggars can’t be choosers Rog.”

“Alright, it’s the backup idea. Would I be able to fit in any of those other costumes though?”

The woman thought about it, giving Roger a once over as if measuring him with just her eyeballs, “The Maid maybe. Think we should have one large enough.”

“Alright I’ll try that.”

“And I’ll go Marilyn Monroe?”

“You as Marilyn? Oh there’s a joke in there somewhere…something about How To Mary A Millionaire?”

You shook your head at him, “Just go and try on your dress,”

It was a good thing Roger had no qualms about cross dressing because the maid outfit fit perfectly. One look at Roger’s legs in the short, ruffled skirt had your mind whirring with ideas. He bought both your costumes, adding in a maid’s headband and fishnet stockings for himself and a blond Marilyn wig for you. And on Saturday night you watched him don the outfit once more, struggling to keep your hands off him. Without you knowing, he’d gone and bought himself a pair of simple black heels, explaining that if he was going to do it he might as well do it properly. Unfortunately for you they just emphasised the shape of his legs in the fishnets and made his hips sway as he walked.

 The party itself was fun but you constantly found yourself zoning out, thinking about what you’d like to do to Roger before he got out of the dress.

“Love?” he asked, making you blink yourself back to the thumping music and loud voices, “You alright?’

“Fine,” you nodded.

Roger frowned and grabbed your hand, leading you away from the main throng of people, “You’ve been zoning out all night, are you sure you’re okay? Haven’t had too much to drink or anything?”

“No, it’s fine. Someone lit up a joint before and I must have breathed in some of it without meaning to.”

He gave you a look like he knew there was more to it.

“Also, maybe I can’t stop thinking about trancing you in that dress.”

“Oh,” his eyes widened and if it hadn’t been as dark as it was you would have seen a light pink stain creeping up his neck. He glanced around and then pulled you off down the hall and towards an even quieter spot, “and um, what might that look like?”

“I don’t know, got a few ideas,” your breath hitched as Roger pushed you into a dark corner of whichever room you’d ended up in, “like the idea of you on your knees. Bet I could see your arse if you leaned forward enough.”

Roger attached his lips to your throat, oblivious of if anyone else was around.

“Maybe spanking you or edg – ” you were cut off as Roger kissed you full on the mouth, his hands already working at getting his underwear and stockings down far enough to get his dick out.

“We’ll continue this conversation at home,” he said as he lifted you up, pushing your back against the wall as he moved your underwear aside.

 It took a couple of days for the topic to come up again but Roger was still just as into it as he had been at the party. He’d clearly been thinking about it too because he had almost as many ideas as you did and for a week or so you discussed it on and off. It came up intermittently, sometimes a single idea out of nowhere.

“What if you tranced me and made me think I was your maid or uhhh servant? Maybe like acted really strict? Or mean even?”

“What about I get a bell to ring to get your attention but use the hypnosis to condition you to get hornier when you hear it?”

Or sometimes it was more of a conversation with each of you building on what the other said.

“What do you think about exploring that free use thing we talked about a few months ago? Like me just having you how I want and when I want.”

“Would that require a more extended hypnosis? A whole day maybe? More?”

“No I don’t think so. I mean, maybe longer than the usual couple of hours. An afternoon? Not longer than a day though, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that to you.”

“Then yeah okay, we did agree it sounded hot in a non-hypno way so mixing them together should work. Um, what about that pegging thing we tried?”

“You wanna do it again?”

“Yeah I think so. Again, it was pretty hot last time so doing it while I’m hypnotised can only be better, right?”

“Are you sure? We’re both pretty new to it.”

“Yeah I’m sure. I really enjoyed it,” he laughed nervously, “and I would have suggested doing it again anyway, this just seems like a good excuse.”

By the end of the week you had a pretty solid idea about what you were both looking for from the scene and what you’d both feel comfortable doing. And you arranged it so you were both at home on Friday, free to spend the morning relaxing and the afternoon playing.

After an early lunch in which you made sure to mess up the kitchen, Roger went and changed, once again putting on the dress, fishnets, hair piece and shoes. Only this time he wore one of your thongs, sheer black, underneath and a butt plug you’d picked up for him, complete with a pink jewel on the end. For your part, you dressed in one of your work outfits with a grey pencil skirt and white blouse, hopeful that it would make you seem more authoritative. Roger did a little spin for you when he was dressed and then sat in one of the kitchen chairs so you could talk him down into his trance. The scenario you’d agreed upon had him believing he was your silly brainless maid, hired to do whatever you asked. The sound of your bell meant you had another task for him, but it also made him extra horny. So horny in fact that he’d have trouble remembering what he was meant to be doing. As you dropped him deeper and he relaxed more, you noticed his legs spreading further open, making you laugh to yourself. Finally you rang the bell to wake him.

Roger grinned at you from the chair, “What can I do for you Ma’am?”

“Your first job of the day, Dummy,” you said, putting on a stern voice that left no room for argument, “is to dust off the bookshelf in the living room. It’s filthy up there.”

“Where?”

“Through this doorway,” you pointed and he dutifully stood up and began to walk toward it.

“You’ll need a duster,” you reminded him.

“Oh! Of course, Ma’am. Umm….”

“In that cupboard,”

Roger nodded, cheeks pink with embarrassment and retrieved the feather duster.

You followed him out to the living room, watching his skirt bounce with each step. He started off with the shelves at eye level, humming to himself as he brushed the duster over them, but soon had to move on to the shelves higher up. You perched yourself on the couch, acting as if you were reading though your eyes were on Roger, watching as he wobbled on his tip toes, his skirt riding up. You rang the bell and Roger jolted, looking around for you as he bit his lip.

“Yes Ma’am?”

“I think you might need to stand on a chair, Dummy. It doesn’t seem like you can reach the top shelves.”

He nodded and hurried to retrieve one, nearly running in his haste to please you.

The chair was a stroke of genius on your part. It gave you a good view up his skirt as he happily continued his dusting, especially when he leant over to get the far end of each shelf without moving his chair. You could clearly see the pink jewel every time and it made you eager to get him onto the next task. With another ring of the bell Roger jumped down to the ground and hurried to ask what he could do now.

“My shoes,” you said, pointing at the heels on your feet, “they need polishing. I want you to spit shine them for me.”

Roger blinked at you.

You clicked and pointed at your shoes again, “On your knees. C’mon, I’m not paying you to stand around and look pretty. Lick my shoes clean.”

“Yes Ma’am, sorry Ma’am,” he bowed his head and dropped to his knees where he stood, crawling over to you.

“Good Dummy,” you said as he trailed his tongue over the toe of your shoe. You’d wiped down the shoes earlier just to make sure Roger wouldn’t pick up any germs from them, but he was too brainless to notice they were already clean, enthusiastically licking at them. You made it clear you were watching him closely though. Midway through the second shoe you saw him brush his hand over the front of the skirt and stopped his shoe shining.

“I’m sorry, Dummy, is this making you horny?”

“Yes, Ma’am, it is,”

“Show me how much,” you wiggled your shoe under the hem of the skirt and pressed it lightly up, rubbing the toe against his crotch, “Hump my shoe, Maid.”

Without any more encouragement he began doing exactly as you’d asked, dragging his clothed cock along the top of your shoe, letting his eyes shut as he bit his lip.

“Alright, enough.” You pulled your food free and held it out in front of you, “Is it my imagination or did you make a mess on my shoe?”

He tilted his head to the side.

“I think you’re so fucking horny you’ve got precum all over my shoe. Is that right?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well,” you grabbed him by the hair and pushed him over the streak, “clean it up and tell me.”

Roger whimpered as you pulled his hair to move him where you wanted but thanked you for helping him and confirmed you were right. After that you felt he deserved a reward so you readjusted yourself, pulling your pencil skirt a little higher up your legs before you rang the bell again.

Roger groaned quietly at the sound, his breathing a little harder than before and then sat back. His eyes fell to where your skirt was gathered against your thigh as you crossed your legs.

“What now Ma’am?” he watched closely as you recrossed your legs, “Is there something else you’d like me to lick?”

“I don’t know. Is there something else you’d like to lick?”

He nodded, eyes still firmly on your thighs.

“Aren’t you just a pathetic little slut.”

“Am I?”

“I’m afraid so. Do you understand why?”

Roger nodded, still staring at your crotch, and then shook his head.

“Oh Dummy. It’s one thing to be my good little maid and eat me out when I tell you to, it’s entirely different for you to ask to do it. Do you see how slutty that makes you?”

Roger tilted his head and then shook it.

You tutted at him and knocked the bell as if on accident.

He whined at the sound.

“Crawl to the dining room. I want you to wash the floor in there.”

“But…please? I want to lick you soooooo bad and I’d be so good at it.”

“Careful, Maid. Now crawl.

“Yes Ma’am.” Roger dipped his head in apology and began crawling to the next room.

You stepped around him to retrieve a bucket of water and a cloth, placing both on the floor of the dining room where he stopped, “You know what to do.”

He looked at the bucket and back to you, confusion written all over his face.

With an exaggerated and exasperated sigh you handed him the cloth and, taking hold of his wrist, plunged his hand into the warm water. He gasped as you then wrenched it free and dropped it to the floorboards.

“Scrub.”

He nodded, looking mildly upset and dragged the cloth slowly over the floor.

You watched for a little while before coming up behind him, “Put your back into it, stop being lazy.” you pressed his upper back with your foot to make him bend forward.

His neck and face were bright pink, though it was hard to say whether it was arousal or embarrassment that was making him flush more. He did as you asked though, scrubbing the floor harder. You stepped behind him again, admiring the view and occasionally reminding him what you expected. After you felt you’d watched him struggle enough you stepped up behind him again. He pushed the cloth harder, expecting another reprimand. Instead you trailed you hand over the curve of his arse, pushing his skirt up higher.

Roger stilled, though you heard him whine softly into the floor.

“You’re doing a very good job, Dummy.”

He gasped when you suddenly spanked him but he pushed his arse back against your hand.

“You want another?”

He shook his head but kept pressing back against you.

“But I think you do,” You gave him another spank, “Now keep being good and see if you can earn some more.”

He nodded and smiled, though there were tears in his eyes, and then returned to scrubbing the floor.

 You let him go for a while, stepping out into the other room to calm down and get ready for the next part of the plan. You could feel your wetness pooling in your underwear with how turned on you were at ordering Roger around and how much he was enjoying it. Originally you were going to make him wait to get you off until after you’d fucked him but perhaps you could have your cake and eat it too. All the same you headed to the bedroom to gather the strap and dildo you’d bought when the topic of pegging had first arisen between you. You grabbed them and the lube and then put them down again as you considered your next move. The conclusion you came to was that there wasn’t much point having a desperate bimbo toy if you were only going to deny yourself. Roger came as much as he wanted when you were the one under his influence, so why shouldn’t you do the same. You quickly shimmied out of your underwear, and then picked everything up again, dropping it on the couch in the living room on your way back to see how Roger was getting along. He was still scrubbing though he’d spilt some of the water as he’d moved the bucket, the top of his dress wet in patches. You pulled out one of the chairs, standing in front of it as you rang the bell, and watched as Roger squirmed at the sound.  

“What can I do for you Ma’am?”

“Come here.”

He immediately dropped the cloth and crawled towards you.

“Good Dummy. Need your fingers to make me feel good.” You rucked your skirt up and dropped onto the seat, placing one leg up on the table.

Rogers eyes lit up and he leaned forward as if to lick hungrily along your slit.

You grabbed his hair and held him back.

“Ma’am?” Roger whined, struggling against your grip with his tongue hanging out, desperate to reach your cunt.

“I said fingers, slut.”

Roger whimpered again but brought his hand up, trailing his fingers along your slit.

“That’s right Dummy. You’re gonna finger me and make me cum and you’re going to keep your eyes up here so I know you’ll behave yourself.”

He nodded rapidly, his eyes on yours, “You’re wet,”

“You know how much I like watching your cute little arse work. C’mon, finger me,” you instructed, waiting until he’d sunk one digit into you before continuing, “Love seeing you with that pretty plug. Makes me want to use you.”

“Ma’am can I…?”

“I didn’t say you could talk. Focus.”

Roger’s eyebrows furrowed as he pulled his finger out and pressed it back in.

“You look confused Slut. What’s the matter?”

“Is this good?”

You smiled indulgently at that, half convinced he’d been about to ask to eat you out again, “So good Dummy. Add a second finger.”

He did as you asked, automatically curling them against you as he pulled them out.

“You’re such a good, obedient servant.” You relaxed back into the chair, letting Roger find a good rhythm.

He was quiet for a bit, concentrating, and then “Can I lick you now?”

You made a tutting noise, “I thought you understood your position.”

“Pos-tition?”

“I guess I have to explain it again then. I don’t care if you like licking cunt, this isn’t about you. You’re my maid. Your job is to serve me however I want, remember? I don’t care if you want something different. You’re mine to use how and when I want. Those were the conditions I hired you under, do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am,”

“Are you sure? Then why haven’t I cum yet?”

Roger kept his eyes locked on yours as he sunk a third finger into you, pumping them faster and bringing his other hand up to rub your clit.

“Better,” you managed to get out, though it was much breathier than you’d intended.

Roger poked his tongue out between his teeth as he put all his energy into pleasuring you. You let your head drop back, rocking your hips in time with his thrusts as he sank his fingers deep into you, his other hand firmly occupied too. He slid his thumb between your lips and up to circle your clit, spreading your arousal over your cunt. The mixture of sensations sent you over the edge without too much delay, your legs clamping shut to keep his hand where you wanted it until you’d come down. Afterwards you made Roger hold his fingers up, cleaning them off with your own tongue. He whined and pouted as he watched you lick up your juices, so desperate to taste you for himself. You gave him a small concession though, grabbing his cheeks when you were done to force his mouth open. He looked confused as you brought your face close and spat onto his tongue, your saliva tinged with what you’d just licked from his fingers. But he thanked you with a big smile and a small hum of satisfaction as he swallowed it.

“What now Ma’am?” he asked softly, sitting up straighter and glancing at the bell.

You bumped the bell against your palm as if in thought, watching Roger wince with each ring, “The kitchen needs a tidy up. Go in there and wipe down all the benches for me, okay? I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

Roger nodded and walked on unsteady legs back through the house. You followed him, needing to point him in the right direction a couple of times, and then continued on to the living room to collect your supplies and remove your skirt. It took you a little while to figure out the harness. Last time Roger had helped you get set up so doing it on your own was a little confusing. You took a breath and reminded yourself you were a smart and capable woman and that you could figure out a simple sex toy on your own, and eventually got it on right. When you were comfortable you popped open the lube and spread more than you thought you’d need along the shaft of the toy. It still felt a little bizarre to look down and see a penis, even if it was obviously fake. The first time you’d tried it on you’d wondered aloud if the work you did for those living rough would have been easier to achieve if you had a real one and Roger had suggested you wear it to work one day and find out. You’d laughed at how ridiculous that was and the memory made you chuckle again as you double checked everything was in the right place.

Roger was in the kitchen when you arrived, standing at the bench with a cloth in his hand, humming to himself, though he seemed to have forgotten what he was meant to be doing. You stepped behind him and ran your hand up the inside of his thigh, over the stockings.

The humming stopped and he stilled, “Ma’am?”

“Bend over.”

He did as you asked, his chest and arms leaning on the bench.

You felt him up, letting your hands roam under his skirt, brushing over his cock and along his thigh and over his arse, making his shiver and whine. “Good thing this dress is so short, Dummy. Makes it so much easier for me. And it makes you look like a slut. You’re very hard by the way, does that mean you like it when I tell you what to do?”

His voice was soft when he spoke to the bench top, “Yes, Ma’am,”

“That’s good because I like telling you what to do. And you should be happy to know that I’m wet from watching my brainless maid working all day.”

“I am happy!”

“You are?”

“Mmhmm. Maybe I could help you Ma’am, I love cunt so much.”

“Aww Dummy,” you cooed, stroking your fingers through his hair, “That’s sweet of you to offer but it’s not what I want right now,” you took the fishnets in both hands and tugged until a rip formed right along the back, “For now I want you to stay bent over for me so I can use you. Just like I talked about before, remember?”

“When you said I’m yours to use how you want?”

“You do remember! Good boy!”

“And you said, ummmm,” he gasped as you moved his underwear aside and began slowly working the plug out of him, adding lube to make it easier

“Go one, what else did I say?” you asked as you pushed the plug back in, fucking him with it, adding more lube as necessary.

“Umm, you said they were the,” he stretched out the word as he thought hard, “oh! The co-com-bit-ons and that its, umm, my job to serve you?”

“Very good! That was so much to remember, I’m very impressed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dummy. I think I’ll have to give you a reward for remembering it all so well.”

Roger looked over his shoulder at you, grinning, “Thank you Ma’am,”

“Alright, turn back around, I’m still going to use you. Because….?”

“Because I’m yours?”

“Good boy,” you pulled the plug free and placed it on the bench beside you. Squeezing some more lube onto your fingers you began spreading it over his arsehole.

“‘s cold,” he said softly to the bench.

“I know baby, but it won’t be for long. And I gotta make sure there’s enough so that I don’t hurt you. And then you’ll be all ready for my cock.”

Roger nodded, flattening himself on the bench as you lined up the tip of the dildo and slowly sank into him.

Roger made a high pitched keening noise and you reached out to stroke his hair again as he adjusted.

“You okay, baby?” you asked letting the stern act drop for a moment.

Roger nodded, “yeah, ‘m okay. Just feels funny.”

“But good though?”

“Mmhmm. Good.”

“Good. I want you to like it. It’s more fun when you do.”

“I do!” as if to prove it he pushed his hips back, making you sink a little deeper.

“I can see that,” you laughed, “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay Dummy, and you’re going to enjoy it, right?”

He nodded, whining as you pulled your hips back slowly and then thrust forward again, figuring out your rhythm and adjusting to the sort of muscle movement it required. As you got more comfortable with it you let yourself be a little firmer, grasping Roger’s waist and fucking him harder, drawing more gasps and whines and moans from him. You varied your speed, sometimes faster and sometimes slower, keeping Roger from knowing exactly what you would do next (and giving yourself a break every so often). He’d taken your instruction to enjoy it to heart though. His fingernails scraped along the top of the bench as he tried to ground himself, rocking his hips back against you whenever you slowed.

“I want you to cum, Dummy. Rub your cock through your pretty sheer panties.”

“Th-through?”

“Over your panties.”

“Um,”

You stilled your hips and pulled out of him so you could grab his hand and lift his skirt, placing his palm over his cock, “now rub.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he began to stroke himself. His hand stilled as you plunged into him again but a warning word made him remember what you wanted and he shakily followed your orders as you fucked him hard.

“How does it feel, Maid, being used for my entertainment?”

Roger babbled something incomprehensible in response. You couldn’t tell if it was just noise or if he’d been trying to form words but it was hot either way.

“C’mon, show me how much you like being my pretty little fuck doll. Be the pathetic little slut I know you are, and cum.” You panted between the words but Roger didn’t seem to notice or if he did he didn’t care. It must have sounded authoritative enough because a few seconds later he was moaning, his fingers twitching and legs shaking as he came. You slowed to a stop and replaced the dildo with his plug again before fixing his underwear and smoothing down his skirt.

“There, all pretty again,”

“Thank you Ma’am,” he sighed.

You patted his head, “Finish up cleaning off the benches in here and I’ll have another job for you.” You walked off, releasing a long breath once you were out of his hearing.

 In the time it took you to get out of the harness, put your skirt back on, throw the dildo into a sink of hot water and relocate the bell, Roger achieved very little. He hadn’t moved from where you’d bent him over though he had stood up and grabbed his cloth again, drawing circles with it over the benchtop. When you came back to get him for his next job he was shifting from foot to foot.

“What’s the matter, Dummy?”

“Nothing,”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded though he didn’t meet your eye.

“Tell me.”

“My panties…”

“Aww, is it a bit uncomfortable?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Well maybe I can distract you.” You rang the bell and watched as his eyes glazed over and his hips jolted. “The bed needs to be made Dummy. Go on, off you go.”

He nodded and hurried off, his heels clicking against the wooden floorboards, his step awkward as he squirmed in discomfort. You followed him and showed him where to get a clean sheet from, watching as he pottered around the bed pulling off all the bedding, throwing them into a pile on the floor. Putting a new fitted sheet on the mattress seemed to be too hard a task though. It was almost cartoonish how much he struggled, placing the wrong corner of the sheet on the wrong corner of the bed and then somehow repeating the same mistake when he tried to turn the sheet around. He wouldn’t stand still, uncomfortably dancing around in his cum soaked underwear, getting more and more frustrated as the corner he thought he’d got on flew up when he tried to fit the next one. Every so often you jangled the bell under the guise of getting his attention to give him a helpful tip or reprimand him for taking so long, but it had the added effect of turning him on more than he already was, his face flushed and his eyes begging. You let him continue for a few minutes and then, when he next turned in response to your bell, you surprised him by pushing him onto the mattress.

“Ma’am?” he asked, voice trembling as you positioned yourself on his thigh and pushed his dress up.

“You made such a mess before, didn’t you? Ruined your panties and I’m afraid it’s spread to your pretty dress,” you showed him the patches on the inside of the skirt from where it had rubbed against the sheer fabric of his knickers and been stained. “Lucky for you I like messy little sluts. And” you palmed him roughly, “I think you like it too. Already hard again?”

Roger shook his head but tilted his head back and whined.

You placed your hand over his throat, “Don’t lie to me, Maid. I can see it; I can feel it. You’re a dirty little slut who gets off on being my property. My dumb little fuck doll.” You punctuated the last sentence by grinding against his thigh with each word, squeezing his length through his stained underwear. “I’m going to make you cum again now and if you’re good I might see about letting you eat me out. I did promise you a reward earlier,”

“Please,” Roger whimpered, “I’ll make you feel so, so good.”

“I know, Dummy. But not yet.” You squeezed his throat at the same time you rubbed your hand over his cock, choking off the moan that had begun to build. Roger squirmed under you as you wanked him off, cooing at him about how pretty he looked and how wet it was making you. Each stroke along his shaft was accompanied by a breathy whine or moan, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut. It was always fun to watch Roger be pushed towards release when he was tranced. It was fun when he wasn’t hypnotised either but there was something about taking his brain away that made him more animated and vocal. He babbled at you again, his hand grabbing your wrist as he got closer, his back arching as he tried to buck his hips up into you.

“Good boy, good Dummy,” you praised him as he finished, able to feel the warmth of his release fill the material again as you kept stroking him, milking every drop you could. He whined loudly as he became more sensitive, but you kept toying with him until tears began leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“Alright, Dummy, stay there while I take my skirt off.”

Roger remained lying where you left him, so you gave him a soft kiss and wiped away his tears, praising him a little more, before you swung your leg over his face and finally let him have what he wanted.  

 It was as if you’d told him he’d won the lottery. He just about cheered as he thanked you repeatedly and then wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull you down onto his tongue. You had to stick out an arm to try and steady yourself as he devoured you, excitedly tracing your lips with his tongue, sucking them into his mouth. He hummed and whimpered against you and used his hands to encourage you to rock yourself against his mouth, spreading your wetness across his face. At one point, so giddy with joy, he giggled, and you jolted at the bizarre tickling sensation of his breath. But that just seemed to spur him on as he licked and sucked every inch of your cunt he could reach. You weren’t sure if his end goal was to make you cum or if he just got very excited and enthusiastic about pussy but, either way, the result was the same. It was impossible to hold back your release as his tongue slid along your folds and his lips latched onto you. He hummed as you gasped and tensed above him, refusing to stop until you pried his hands from your thighs and let yourself fall back to the bed. He pouted as if he wanted to throw a tantrum at having his favourite food taken away, but you managed to make him smile by telling him how incredible you felt and how good he was.

He let you lie down next to him and listened quietly as you talked him out of the trance, reminding him who he was and the reality of your situation. You waited as Roger opened his eyes, stroking his hair back from his face softly as everything returned to him.

“Wow,” was the first thing he said, “That was,” he cleared his throat and pushed himself to sit up, “that was something.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, a very fun something,” he hurried to clarify so you wouldn’t worry, “I take it you enjoyed yourself too?”

You laughed and nodded, “Definitely. This is going to sound bad but I like being mean to you.”

“I get it,” he leaned over to kiss you softly, “I like being mean to you too.”

“And the pegging and free use stuff? All of that was okay? How do you feel now?”

“Oh, better than okay. That was brilliant. We’re definitely playing with them more in the future. Bit sore now and I really, really want to get out of this thong. Also take the plug out.”

“I can arrange that. D’you want some help with the plug?”

“Yes please.” Roger shifted onto his stomach, trying to relax so you could peel off the underwear and slowly wiggle the plug out of his arse, “Add these knickers to the list of ones I’ve ruined though.”

“That’s only cause I get such a kick out of making you cum in your pants.”

He hummed, wincing a little as the plug slipped all the way out, “y’know one of these days I’m going to wake up from a trance and decide to gag you with whatever underwear you made me destroy while I keep eating you out. I still have a bit of a lingering need to have my head between your legs and I do so enjoy overstimulating you.”

“Save that for a special occasion,” you laughed, giving his bum a tap to let him know he could roll over, “C’mon, shall I run us a bath?”

Roger nodded and let you pull him up, kissing you softly before he stood on slightly wobbly legs followed you out of the bedroom.

[hammurabicomplex-a2]

REALLY  LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY. RULES. repost ,   don’t  reblog !    tag 10 ! good  luck ! TAGGED.  @facesofeve an eternity ago, but i only got around to it now TAGGING.  man my brain is fried,  just steal if you want.   just quickly tossing this @streetsofsecrets @crestazul​ @kryetar​ 

BASICS. FULL  NAME :  patricia carosella ríos. NICKNAME :  pat.   make up others at your own risk,  but she hates the sound of patty or trish  ( though patty was acceptable when she was younger,  so long time friends or family members get a pass for that ). NAME  MEANING / S :  derived from the latin word patrician,  patricia means  noble. HISTORICAL  CONNECTION? :  none really tbh.   her parents just liked how it sounded.

AGE :  29 BIRTHDAY :  april 15th. ETHNIC  GROUP :  latina,  very mixed mostly with european and mexican indigenous people with some african heritage thrown in there from her mom’s brazilian side of the family.   she would just say brown or mestiza if describing it,  and like many mixed people in latin america,  doesn’t know all the details about her family tree and ethnicity. NATIONALITY :  mexican. LANGUAGE / S :  spanish,  brazilian portuguese,  english. SEXUAL  ORIENTATION : bisexual. RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :  single.   formerly a mistress of a drug lord who definitely gets possessive of her from time to time.   in some versions of her older verses,  she’s married to  román salazar. CLASS :  this has varied over the course of her life,  but currently upper class. HOME  TOWN / AREA : pat was born in ojinaga,  chihuahua,  which she holds a lot of nostalgia for;  but she considers ciudad juárez to be her true home. CURRENT  HOME :  las vegas,  nevada.   she also owns a home in juárez and is able to alternate between the two a lot due to her job. PROFESSION :  juárez cartel businesswoman.

PHYSICAL. HAIR :  chocolate brown.   naturally she has curly hair ( a 2C kind of texture ),  but it is heat-styled into soft curls most of the time. EYES :  dark brown,  round and slightly almond-shaped. NOSE :  not too large but definitely not a button nose either. FACE :  she has a heart-shaped face,  with accentuated round cheekbones and a strong,  slightly pointy chin. LIPS :  full,  she has a very defined cupid’s bow and a slight dip on the center of her bottom lip. COMPLEXION : a medium golden brown.   tans  very easily  so she might look darker or lighter depending on the season. SCARS :  minor cuts and scrapes from fights aside,  pat’s most noteworthy scars are the gunshot wound on her thigh and the gash on her scalp,  covered by her hair along with cigarette burn scars around it. TATTOOS :  a sun and a gun on her arm,  further down a knife and a serpent on her forearm.   santa muerte on her back.   two aztec gods on her thighs. HEIGHT :  5′4″ / 163cm. BUILD :  fit,  quite hourglass-like in shape. USUAL HAIR STYLE :  her hair is long,  around waist-length.   as mentioned before it’s heat-styled into softer curls than her natural texture.   it’s not that pat doesn’t like her natural hair,  she just feels a lot of pressure to look “put-together” most of the time. USUAL FACE LOOK :  again,  pat feels as if she has to look put-together all the time,  so she’s often seen with makeup on.   very rarely  you’ll catch her with a completely bare face outside of home,  unless she’s just running errands or something.   expression/behavior-wise,  pat likes people to see her as a  confident  woman,  so that’s how she carries herself. USUAL  CLOTHING :  pat definitely dresses like someone who has money and isn’t afraid to show it.   fashionable and elegant outfits,  high heels,  designer dresses,  embroidered shirts,  lots of jewelry;  usually gold,  or diamonds or other precious gemstones if she’s going somewhere fancy.   comfortable clothing is usually reserved for home only.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S :  dogs,  bugs and small creatures like mice,  helplessness,  abandonment. ASPIRATION / S :  since she was a child,  pat wanted to be a cartel gangster like her dad.   even as she grew up and tried to convince herself all she was good for was being a mistress,  pat still had that ambition,  that thirst for  more  inside of her.   and the more she grows within her businesswoman position,  the more she wants out of it.   she plans to climb up as high as she can within the cartel and acquire a stronger leadership position at some point. POSITIVE  TRAITS :  passionate,  confident,  ambitious,  determined,  assertive. NEGATIVE  TRAITS :  short-tempered,  aggressive,  vindictive,  arrogant,  selfish. MBTI :  entrepreneur  -  ESTP-A ZODIAC :  aries. TEMPERAMENT :  choleric. ANIMALS :  lioness. VICE / S : wrath,  pride,  greed,  lust. FAITH :  her parents were catholic,  but not overly strict about it.   pat isn’t completely sure if she believes in anything. GHOSTS ? :  not really.   she doesn’t actually believe they’re real,  but would rather not mess with them just in case. AFTERLIFE ? :  maybe.   would rather not think about it most of the time. REINCARNATION ? :  again not really.   she thinks it’s a really cool concept,  but is unsure on whether she thinks it’s real or not. ALIENS ? :  yes,  on some very far away galaxy she will never have to worry about. POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT :  democratic from an american standpoint,  but she’s not above working with republican/conservative parties as long as it benefits her business. ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE :  she  definitely  does not miss being broke,  and is very happy living in all the luxury cartel money can offer. SOCIOPOLITICAL  POSITION : currently bourgeoisie.   in juárez she’s pretty much royalty. EDUCATION  LEVEL :  high school. FAMILY.

FATHER :  javier carosella. MOTHER :  luisa azevedo ríos. SIBLINGS :  santiago azevedo  (half-brother on luisa’s side) EXTENDED  FAMILY : way too many people to list.   lots of uncles and aunts and cousins on both sides.   pat’s very close with her paternal grandmother.

FAVOURITES. BOOK :  pedro páramo by juan rulfo. MOVIE :  pat loves many movies,  but some of her favorites are ferris bueller’s day off (she loves coming of age movies,  even if most of them are different from what her actual experience was like,  they bring her a sense of nostalgia),  the back to the future trilogy,  scarface.   she also likes children’s movies like the fox and the hound.   in modern day i feel like she’d really enjoy gone girl and disney’s coco. 5  SONGS :  please don’t ask me this question i’ll have to be period and location-appropriate and i  really  don’t want to. DEITY :  itzpapalotl from aztec mythology. HOLIDAY :  día de muertos,  christmas. MONTH :  august. SEASON :  summer. PLACE :  her home in juárez,  the las vegas strip. WEATHER :  sunny and warm. SOUND :  strong female vocals,  the roar of a crowd,  violins,  the crackling of a fire. SCENT / S :  coffee,  citrus scented perfume. TASTE / S :  the soft burn of spicy food. FEEL / S :  the triumph after winning a fight or competition,  sore muscles,  racing down an empty street,  feeling your heartbeat in your throat,  watching a firework show. ANIMAL / S :  all kinds of cats;  specially the exotic ones,  like lions or tigers. NUMBER :  doesn’t have one. COLOR :  red,  gold,  carmine.

EXTRA. TALENTS :  singing (she’s attended singing classes as a child and teenager,  and it remains her favorite hobby even if she doesn’t do it as often as she’d like anymore),  playing piano and guitar,  shooting,  playing chess. BAD AT :  drawing,  painting,  teaching things to others. TURN  ONS :  danger,  violence,  assertiveness,  confidence.   people in positions of power.   being manhandled. TURN  OFFS :  meekness,  boredom,  corny dirty talk (her mom always used to say  if you have nothing to say,  be quiet). HOBBIES :  working out,  singing,  playing chess,  hanging out with friends at bars or nightclubs or casinos.   idk if fighting counts as a hobby for pat ig it does. AESTHETIC : golden jewelry,  bruised knuckles,  diamonds,  luxury jet planes,  vintage cars,  golden assault rifles,  tan skin,  blood-stained stacks of money. QUOTES : “nobody gives me the right.   i take it.”

FC INFO. MAIN  FC / S :  teresa ruiz. ALT  FC / S :  none. OLDER  FC / S :  dolores heredia. YOUNGER  FC / S :  jenna ortega. VOICE  CLAIM / S :  jennifer damiano.

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ?       A1 : i’m not sure what it would be called,  as i prefer to come up with titles about halfway through.   i have tried novels,  but i feel like the story i envision for pat works much best with screenwriting,  and i could see it both as a show or as a movie,  with some changes to the story depending of which.   a tv show or limited series would be about pat’s original arc of being a spy for an enemy cartel as a means to achieve her revenge,  while a movie would be more focused on her actual revenge quest,  since it doesn’t leave as much room for details and alternate storylines.

Q2 :   what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ?         A2 : def lots of mexican / spanish speaking songs.   i’m not great with music so i’ll just leave it at that for now.

Q3 :   why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ? A3 : pat was originally an oc for the breaking bad fandom,  and i was really into the show at the time,  but the more i wrote her the more i felt disconnected from the show’s canon and realized she would work way better as a fandomless muse.   another reason that brought me to creating her was that for most of the time i’d been writing,  i used to focus a lot on white american characters.   i was starting to feel more connected to latin america,  and it really felt good to write a muse that had more cultural similarities with me.

Q4 :   what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ? A4 : the main thing that attracted me was that i was getting more and more interested in morally gray characters within the crime genre;  truly  morally gray,  not victims of circumstance or people who did bad things without meaning to,  or with good intentions or the greater good in mind.   just straight up career criminals who,  despite of course having a believable backstory and trajectory that led them to this point,  were aware and unapologetic about what they did.

Q5 :   describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse.         A5 : i actually love most of pat’s worst flaws,  as if i feel like the essence of her character is with them.   however,  from a writing perspective,  what i dislike writing the most is her constant refusal to be cared for,  comforted,  or taken care of depending on the situation.   there are times i literally just want someone to be caring with her but pat’s not having it.

Q6 :   what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ?       A6 : we’re both latinas,  both like to sing and regret having stopped practicing for a long time,  both adrenaline junkies (tho we express it in different ways).   i believe that’s where the similarities stop.

Q7 :   how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ?         A7 : i think pat would think i’m alright.   she wouldn’t admire me but also wouldn’t think i’m a total loser so that’s good enough for me lmao.

Q8 :   what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions with ?   A8 : we know the answer to this question don’t we sdhgfhgd i won’t @ anyone.   but in a general sense,  pat tends to have the best interactions with people who have as much of a strong personality as she does,  for better or for worse.

Q9 :   what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ?       A9 : the show narcos: mexico (as well as the original narcos, tho not as much) is a  major  source of inspiration,  not only for her fc but also aesthetics,  cartel conflicts,  everything.   except for the boring dea agents no one cares about.   any media that depicts organized crime (specially drug cartels,  but stuff like mob movies counts too) brings me inspiration.   also characters like amy dunne,  z.ulema zahir,  unhinged women overall.

Q10 :   how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ?       A10 : technically a few hours,  except i started doing this a while ago,  drafted it and forgot about it for months.

[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!