#I guess it could be worse i could still be in my drawing only cartoon cats and fir trees phase of my teen years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forasecondtherewedwon · 1 month

Text

trading paper dolls - chapter two

Fandom: Masters of the Air Rating: T (may change) Chapter: 2 / 3 Word Count: 2628

Summary: Tired of the pin-up girls, Alex draws Buck Cleven in a similar style, never intending for the sketch to fall into the hands of Bucky Egan.

read on tumblr: one

Stalag Luft was full of secrets. It was the one thing there was plenty of. If Alex looked as though he were hiding something, well, that was unexceptional; it made him look like everyone else. It made him, if anything, safer, because it increased his trustworthiness in the eyes of those around him. And those eyes were always looking, always peering, always glancing away with a quick flick that you couldn’t quite prove. Luckily, Alex was quick too. While most of those boys had flown (or flown in) bombers, he and Macon knew planes of a different velocity. That made them observant, made them careful, and Alex wanted to be careful with those boys’ trust now that he was gaining it. Trust was the one commodity he knew he wouldn’t be able to buy back if he lost it.

He was still drawing. Actually, he was drawing more publicly than he had before, even testing out a sketch on the hut’s front step, the cold biting his fingers as he gripped the pencil. Two goons on patrol passed his perch. Alex glanced up and saw one of them looking at the page in his hands, but then the guard only sneered and continued on, neither alerting his companion nor disciplining Alex for whatever crime they might’ve decided he had committed by drawing a pretty white girl in close-fitting pajamas. Spreading filth? Having a hobby? Surely those were both extreme offences in the eyes of cogs in a genocide machine, Alex thought sarcastically as he retreated into the bunkhouse, flexing his freezing fingers.

“You know I’ll help you no matter what,” Macon announced from his bunk. “Unless you get frostbite from bein’ stupid. That’s where I draw the line.”

Alex rolled his eyes and crossed the room to sit heavily on his own bunk.

“Got it.”

He knew that wasn’t the end of it though; he could feel Macon looking over his shoulder, like he always did, like a judgemental angel.

“What’re you doin’, doin’ that out there?” Macon demanded.

“I thought…” Alex sighed and set the half-finished drawing aside. “I thought I could make a trade.”

“With Nazis?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. Guess they’re horny too. Maybe you should draw a girl in a… what’s the dame version of lederhosen?”

“Dirndl.” The answer came from Crank, reading at the table.

“Dirndl,” Macon repeated, instead of telling Crank to mind his business, like Alex knew he probably wanted to. They were both feeling fortunate for the group’s tentative acceptance of them though, and Alex was glad Macon seemed equally unwilling to jeopardize that over a small annoyance. Crank could hardly help overhearing them anyway.

Alex laughed.

“Yeah, maybe next time.” He hunched forward and rubbed his forehead. “Or it was just stupid, like you said.”

“What’d you think they’d give you?” Macon wondered.

“Not much they have access to—not much material. I was hoping, you know, information.”

Macon burst into laughter that startled the book out of Crank’s hands.

“You thought…” he panted. “You thought those damn Nazis were gonna take one look at those perky cartoon sweater-fillers and let you in on their plans?”

“I don’t see you tryin’ anything!” Alex said defensively. The plan hadn’t sounded quite so foolish in his head as it did leaving Macon’s mouth.

“Maybe you could bandage my damn neck with something and see if one of them goons feels tempted to write secret information on it.”

“Alright,” Alex said, signalling the end of their talk with a dismissive wave over his shoulder at Macon.

So, his plan hadn’t been any good. At least it hadn’t made anything worse. That was always a very real danger, and one Alex did not wish to bring down upon the heads of himself and his bunkroom fellows.

Feeling his ambition had been frustrated but not yet blunted, Alex tucked the pencil behind his ear and left the bunkroom. He went to the library, where he hoped he’d be able to make some real progress. It was empty when he arrived. Skimming his fingers over the spines, Alex drew a book from the shelf seemingly at random. He made sure to sit away from the windows and facing the door so he would be able to see if anyone walked in.

Cautiously, he cracked the book open, then thumbed a few pages back from where the leaves parted naturally. He had left a folded sheet of paper there, and there it remained. Though this wouldn’t have been how he’d have found out had the drawing been discovered (there would have been more violence—more fists, more guns, more dogs), Alex sighed in relief to see it still in its place. He shot another look at the empty doorway before sliding the paper free and unfolding it.

It was a map—one of his. Most days, he had nothing to add. Some days, he added little things, like guessing at the density of a stand of trees. All information was valuable; if anyone tried to escape, perhaps it would be necessary for them to double back, to hide amongst those trees. Lately, Alex had also roughed in dashed lines to represent the routes the goons took when they patrolled the camp. These, of course, weren’t fixed, but he could tell the cold was getting to the Germans too, and that they often followed the same path when they were keeping out of the sharp, dry wind that whipped between the huts. Alex found the line that represented the route the guards had travelled today as he’d sat outside and pressed his pencil to the dashes, darkening the path to indicate repeated use.

Every mark he made on this paper, every line he added, was meticulously straight. Straight fence, straight rows of huts, straight guard paths that turned corners and turned back on themselves with right angles. It was how Alex was managing now, since that other drawing had gone missing. He kept the curves for the fantasy pin-up girls (who were girls, exclusively) and the straight lines for reality. No crossover. He wasn’t tempted to go there again. His truce with Egan felt far too tenuous.

He would feel Egan looking at him at all hours, only to have the man glance swiftly away when Alex summoned the nerve to meet his stare. Alex suspected Egan was paranoid that he was already watching him, which made Alex absolutely certain Egan still had that drawing of Buck Cleven. Neither could expose the other without dooming himself, and Alex guessed he really didn’t know Egan well enough to be sure, beyond doubt, that he wouldn’t do something so unprofitable and reckless.

Alex had no plans to give up Egan’s secret—secrets: that he’d kept the drawing, and what continued possession implied about his other hungers—and he wished more than anything that he could just forget he’d ever done the sketch. Unfortunately, he knew it was out there. So slight, so fragile that paper. So relatively meaningless, considering the scope of their circumstances and their precarious chances in the hands of capricious tormentors, but so valuable for the raw need it betrayed in the one who concealed it. War, Alex knew, confinement… these things winnowed down desires until a man could only want one thing or else feel the lack so sharply that his mind would starve long before the meagre rations gave out. Egan’s one thing was Buck Cleven, and Egan knew Alex knew.

Did he really think Buck didn’t?

—

If Bucky could’ve burnt the paper, he lied to himself and told himself he would’ve. As it was, the drawing kept him warm, no flames needed, making him feel as though someone had dropped a hot spark down the back of his shirt whenever he peeled open the page’s softening folds and stole a glimpse. It wasn’t always easy to resist.

He kept it with him, down in the pocket of his coat. Out in the bitter chill of the yard, hands shoved deep, he would twitch the page between his cold fingers, curl it around his thumb, all while glowering at the goons or chatting with Brady or fetching a pail of water like a goddamn dystopian nursery rhyme. At night, Bucky smoothed the page flat and slept on top of it. He could hear its muffled crinkle when he shifted. He ached with how hard he needed it to not tear, but he couldn’t bring himself to hide it elsewhere. This was how the paper had become worn; this was why it was no longer crisp, but soft, like skin.

The beds weren’t warm, and neither were the bunkrooms that housed them. Still, Bucky managed an occasional sweat. This, added to his body’s persistent grime, was fading the pencil lines Jefferson had drawn. He was seeping into Buck, the lines that made Buck up rubbing off onto his skin and clothing. When he erased him completely—and it was a when, not an if—Bucky wondered whether it would feel like a loss or an accomplishment, a man gone or a single body holding traces of them both. Because he felt, some days, to be only a trace of himself. A lone shot in the night, a slicing sheet of rain snatched away by the wind. He felt sharp and cold and intangible. He clasped the drawing of Buck all the tighter to feel like he was real.

The thought of telling this—telling any of it—to Buck the man terrified Bucky. He couldn’t unzip his skin and unbuckle his ribs and unclasp his heart and say, Look here. This is where I need you. It’s gettin’ pretty desperate, Buck. Better to use the drawing to wipe the filth off his face than to dirty the man.

It would be fine, Bucky told himself—lying again—if not for two things: that Jefferson was a loose end, and that Bucky knew a day was coming, faster and faster, when his body would overrule his brain. Some morning, his eyes would find Buck’s as they were just waking up; some afternoon, he would stand too close to him; some evening, he would lean his leg against Buck’s under the table while the boys played cards; and, late some night, he would go to Buck in the dark and remind him of the radio, would remind Buck how he had gathered what he’d asked for, would say, Put me to use, because I only feel the edges of myself when you define them. Beyond that was an abyss, a haze, a pit—and Bucky’s imagination was too scared to jump.

“Your mouth”—those words were the dual harbingers of Bucky’s collapse. He spoke them to Buck while watching him eat a thin soup with a shallow spoon. Buck paused with that referenced mouth open, spoon on its way up. He lowered it back to the bowl.

“What’s that?” he asked, like he hadn’t heard.

Bucky cleared his throat, then shook his head, wearing a vague smile.

“Your lips are cracking,” he said. “From the cold.” He added, “Mine too,” like that would make it better, but now he was thinking about Buck’s mouth and his own and his head was swimming, only partially from hunger.

Slowly, Buck replied, “Uh huh.” He kept eating.

Bucky stared down into his bowl as he finished the meal. He worried Jefferson was watching him, but he wouldn’t look up to prove it; he preferred being discrete to being right. That might have been a first. Where his glance eventually landed was back on Buck, who wasn’t looking. Regardless, Bucky suspected his suspicion. He felt stupid and obvious. He felt he was one big pair of eyes.

It took minutes for him to fuck it all again, but worse. Dizzingly so.

He’d pushed away from the table after eating, donned his coat, and sought his solitude in the yard. Hadn’t worked. Buck had followed, just long enough after that Bucky knew before he even turned to look at the inevitable owner of the approaching footsteps that he’d taken time to wind the thick blue scarf around his neck. He always took more care than Bucky did; this, this situation, Bucky felt, would never happen to Buck. He would never have succumbed to the same insanity, falling asleep on a drawing of his best friend and waking up with a pale grey tattoo on his stomach where the graphite had transferred.

He turned and nodded at Buck. The blue made Buck look colder—his skin more wan, his eyes that squinted in the pale light bright and diseased—but also more beautiful. In spite of the distress holding the one drawing was causing him, Bucky wanted Buck captured like this too: this pallid, enduring creature against the barren landscape of dirt and huts. Buck walked close and Bucky sighed hot air in his direction.

“Y’alright?” Buck checked, and Bucky nodded but turned away. He didn’t want company.

He strode to the lee of the hut, out of the wind, but Buck came. They went together. Didn’t they always? Bucky leaned back against the wall, hands in his coat pockets.

“John,” said Buck, and that was all.

Then, he did something he hadn’t before, slipping his hand in next to Bucky’s, down in the pocket where Bucky was toying with the folded paper. Bucky stiffened and Buck frowned in confusion. He hadn’t felt it yet, but because Bucky didn’t try to extricate himself, Buck was able to explore. His fingers slid between Bucky’s, slow like rain, and Bucky closed his eyes, knowing it was all over, deciding he was at least going to enjoy these final moments. Buck’s fingers felt slim, his palm rough, his hand an easy one for Bucky to hold. He felt Buck hit the paper and stall his movement. Tears rose like a tide behind Bucky’s eyelids until one rolled out, so cold on his cheek that it was almost hot.

“Something they shouldn’t see?” Buck asked under his breath. He didn’t mention the crying, so Bucky assumed he hadn’t noticed.

He knew who Buck meant: the Germans. He thought Bucky was carrying plans of some kind, maybe a map.

Bucky shook his head, spilling more tears, and now, Buck saw.

His hand went to Bucky’s face. By the time Bucky opened his eyes, it was gone, but he still felt the way Buck’s palm had curve to cup his cheek.

Buck said things, many things, attempting to soothe Bucky even though he didn’t know what was wrong. He said them in the low voice that seemed to roll out of him. But, like a man adrift in the ocean, Bucky had given up. He smiled at Buck as if he were a hallucination—a final sight before his head went under. A kindness from his panicked mind. He understood that this was alarming, what with his wet eyes, but he sniffed and pressed the paper into Buck’s palm, still in his pocket. He felt the back of Buck’s fingers as they closed around it. And then the handoff was over. The waves were rising. His legs were too tired to kick.

Buck concealed most of his confusion, but Bucky knew he would be curious. Even so, he didn’t leave right away. He stayed. The two of them, sheltered from the cutting wind.

“Don’t… just don’t ask where it came from,” Bucky said when Buck finally pushed away from the wall. “That doesn’t matter. I take full responsibility for that.” He darted a look at Buck’s closed fist in explanation. “It’s just mine. Anything now… it’s between you and me, Buck.”

Buck smiled like this was the first thing that made sense.

“Always is,” he said simply.

Bucky nodded his gratitude.

#my writing #MotA #Masters of the Air #Alexander Jefferson #Richard Macon #John 'Bucky' Egan #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #Bucky x Buck #MotA fic

36 notes · View notes

slashersgirlypop · 1 year

Text

Grilled Cheese Chapter 6.

TW: NON-CON AND NON SEXUAL SPANKING

(September 1st, 1978)

I huffed, bored out of my mind. Yes, I was still scared of the big, strong, stabby man, (who I just started to call Mask-Man), but I also was locked in the closet for a great majority of the day. If I had to guess, I had been in this closet for maybe five or so hours? Maybe more? All I knew was that when I knocked on the door, asking for at least some food, a slice of cheese was shoved at me. He only let me out today twice to use the restroom. I heard him leave about maybe an hour after locking me in the closet and then come back four hours later through the back door.

Some point during the day, before he left, I heard Miss Petunia come down the stairs. I don’t know what happened, but it didn’t sound like there was any sounds of pained meows. I did hear her begin to eat food, so thankfully the stoic and silent Mask-Man does have decency to at least feed her.

“Excuse me? Sir? Mr. Mask-Man-Person? Are you, uh, just planning on keeping me in here forever? You know, I got a job and friends who might be wondering where the hell I am. Also, it’s really boring in here. I counted all the brush-hair-things on the broom in here fifteen times. I’m worried I’ll go crazy, so, can I be let out?”

As expected, I got no response. I groaned, slumping against the door, sliding down until my butt hit the floor. I began to light bonk my head against the wood. Alright, time to use the annoying-hostage-girl approach.

“Let me out please.” Bonk.

“Let me oOF-,” I huffed, falling on my back once he opened the door. I stared up at him, my head between his shoes, him looking down at me. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I hoped he looked annoyed by my successful antics.

“Mra?” Miss Petunia chirped from Mask-Man’s shoulder, looking down at me curiously. My mouth slightly opened in betrayal at my cat. While I was locked in the dusty old closet, my beloved pet was buddying up and getting all cozy with my captor. The audacity of pets, I swear.

“Alright. So, are we just gonna have a staring contest, Mask-Man? Am I allowed to come out? If you’re planning on a staring contest, it’s not really fair on my end because you could be blinking and I’d have no way to tell with your mask and all.” Shrugging, I looked up at the man. He just stared at me before walking away, leaving me on the floor.

Groaning, I sat up, feeling my joints cracking in my back. I hoping he wasn’t planning on locking me in the closet tonight, because that would not be comfortable to sleep in. Speaking of which, where did he sleep last night?

I turned, jumping as he just stood behind me.

“How are you so fast and quiet, pal?” I asked. Wordlessly, he thrusted two objects into my chest. It was a notepad and crayons. Did…did he want me to draw or something? Then, Mask-Man pushed me not too gently into the family room, where the TV was on, playing cartoons. He shoved me into a chair before walking over and plopping down on the couch. Miss Petunia mewed softly at him as if the gently chide him before hopping off his should and walking over to me. She laid at the bottom of my chair, her head on my foot, and she began to purr quietly.

Mask-Man said nothing, only focusing his attention on the animated figures. Honestly, this is not how I would imagine a kidnapping or hostage-taking-thing would go. It could be worse; I could be dead. At least my only reason to be alive is that I make him food.

I began to absentmindedly draw on the paper, getting lost in my thoughts. I didn’t want to be his cook forever, and eventually someone other than Mr. Steinberg is going to wonder what happened to me and come check on me. Mrs. Gracie most likely will send one of her boys to check on me, like she did when I was sick with the flu and had to take off work. Until then, I have to figure out how to play my cards right and not piss off this guy to the point of killing me. Despite my numerous other escape attempts, I knew I could get out and get help. But how is the question? He’s always there, he’s quieter than an ant, he can kill me probably with one hand, so what would I do-wait. My crayon skid to a stop on the mane of the badass centaur I was drawing

Does he know I have a gun?

Earlier, when I thought he was just some kid pulling a mean joke, I did mention it, but I don’t know if he thought I was bluffing or not. I hope he does think I’m bluffing. I could use the gun and force him to let me out, or even kill him. I frowned at that idea. I don’t really like the idea of taking a life, even if he did kill people, but if I must…

I stood up, stretching my arms, his head turning to me. He began to stand up as well before I sighed.

“I’m just going to make myself some food, Mask-Man. No need to patrol and act as my guard. I’m not dumb enough to try to escape again,” except that I was, “so just, chill out. I’m just hungry because all you gave me was a slice of cheese.” He paused before slowly sitting back down, his head still pointed at me. Then, he slowly turned his attention back to the screen.

Taking deep breathes as quietly as I could as I walked kitchen, my eyes zeroed in on the drawer where the pistol was. Casually, I approached the pantry, which was near the drawer, but unfortunately in sight of the family room, meaning Mask-Man could see me. It also just occurred to me that I had no idea how to use a fucking gun. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Just aim and shoot. I mean, I think it was loaded, although I wasn’t sure.

After pretending to peruse the pantry, I took a deep and shaky breath before yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. I gripped it with both hands and pointed it at the man, who now was staring at me, standing up.

“You know what this is, buddy? It’s a fuckin’ gun. I didn’t wanna do this, but I had no choice. Let me go,” I ordered, trying my best to look intimidating despite the man practically being a giant compared to me. He merely stared at me, before taking a step in my direction, which I yelled at.

“H-HEY! No! Don’t take any steps towards me, you mask-guy-man. Stay there! I will shoot! Don’t try me!” He proceeded to take several more steps, despite my warnings. When he was within five feet of me, I closed my eyes and aimed the gun at his head.

“I’m sorry, but I warned you!” I pulled the trigger, wincing and bracing myself for the inevitable fact that I will be staring at a corpse when I opened my eyes.

Click. My eyes whipped back to the gun, wide. It’s in that moment I realized that it, in fact, wasn’t loaded. Fuck.

He grabbed the gun and wrenched it out of my hands, throwing it aside, staring down at me.

“Shit, oh shit, I’m sorry, please don’t kill me, I’m sorry! PLEASE!” I pled, shrieking as he grabbed my hair, no doubt pulling out strands as he dragged me to the living room, my scalp screaming in pain.

He sat down on the couch, yanking me over his lap, making me lose my breath. He grabbed my jeans and yanked them down along with my panties, exposing my ass to the open. I began to writhe, desperately trying to get off him. He was going to rape me, he was going to fucking rape me-

I gasped in pain as I felt his big hand come down of my right cheek, the pain bursting out. I didn’t have time to process what he was doing though because he continued to spank my ass, no doubt leaving bruises at a relentless pace. I began to sob around thirty, dangling miserably from his lap.

My ass felt like it was on fire. He didn’t stick to a pattern, he just spanked. I never had felt so humiliated in my life.

By the time he was done, I was a sobbing mess. Snot was dribbling slowly out my nose onto the carpet below, tears also staining the carpet.

I choked on air when he cruelly gripped my left cheek, digging his nails into the skin. I just let him, feeling defeated. I didn’t know how to react. I was just grateful he was done.

He shoved me off his lap and onto the carpet. I yelped, before continuing to sob, my rear exposed to the air still.

He just ignored me, as he normally did.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪

ye, sorry if you aren't normally a crier, (y/n) got a bit of a traumatic experience. I was basing her reaction off what I would do in this situation, and I would just fuckin sob and feel weak. MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HANUKAH/ HAPPY WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE!!!! See ya, my fellow slasher sluts.

#halloween 1978 #michael myers #slasher #yandere michael myers #yandere michael myers x reader #hostage reader #tw: noncon #captive reader

68 notes · View notes

jourquet · 9 months

Note

for the 'get to know your fic writer' prompt — 3, 17, 43, & 56 🫶🏼

GET TO KNOW YOUR FIC WRITER PROMPT

3. describe the creative process if writing a chapter/fanfic

usually, i base it on the franchise's genre. for example a halo fanfic, i would follow science-fiction rules about writing the fanfic. such as long chapters, complex or expanded lore, military, politics, and so on.

i'll use maybe half a year studying the plot, characters, and lore. and game it myself if possible. just take my time to reflecting on how i interpret everything.

first at the third stage, i begin to talk to other people in fandon, read others fanfics and headcanons etc. without the groundwork, a proper fanfic can't be written. my spn fanfic readers knows this better than anyone.

i tend to mix half plotting and half pantsing the story with the three main plot not changing. the characters have normally free reign, i do not chain them down as long they get from plot point A to B.

17. what do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

i take a break from writing entirely. indulge in some other fanfics either in same fandom or others. sometimes i play games on my ps5. or watch documentaries, read books (usually classics), manga, cartoons or draw.

i sometimes take fanfics breaks by roleplaying online instead. that way, my writing skills remain sharp.

other times, i go on hikes or travels IRL. or go to the cinema, to the mall to buy stuff or just eat at Baker Brun (mini baker place).

i don't force my writing, ever. that only makes my block worse. i like to write out of habit; that's why i'm dependable about it when i've the energy capacity for it.

43. do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

i do enjoy hurting my characters. i wouldn't have been known as 'the evil writer' without reason. though, for me, is more of a catharsis than actually sadistic enjoyment, because they reflect my own struggles most readers wouldn't pick up on unless i told them about it.

is for a reason my headcanons are rarely, if any, self-inserts. i like to stick to as close to canon as i possibly can. and if that means i've to write scenes the whole fandom will witch hunt me for, i'll. because i write my fanfics to be AS IF THEY WERE ACTUAL CANON from an outsider.

56. what’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

that my readers never in my full life of being a fanfic writer, have complained of my canon characters being ooc. that i've great unique concepts which i actually pull off and do my own research on (though, i still daydream of the day i get to have my own beta readers), and that i've no issue taking criticism about my writing and correct where necessary. only from trusted writer friends and readers, ONLY, however.

that my first two fanfics are completed with 50+ chapters. one of them with 13K reads on wattpad too. 🤍

the praise i've gotten from multiple native speakers over the years, that they could've never guessed i was not american or british because i write well enough to be considered as one of them. this means a lot to me, considering i'm mostly self-taught in english. used so many years reading books far above my age range not understanding anything, and barely passing my english grades. the constant judgement i got for not knowing how to write "i'm" or "you're". to now people sometimes asking me if i live in new york, texas, or london. 🥺 for most of my childhood most of the psychologists believed i had dyslexia too (i never did, i just learned to read by complete/recognize words instead of letter for letter, which was greek to me).

also that i combine my knowledge in classic books and the fact i understand many languages into my writing. it creates an unique writing no AI could ever dream about mimicking. is hard; but i always go the extra mile of deep research. my fanfics are meant to be read for anyone outside it too. and all the extra hours i spend just doing research so the characters feel like real human beings. it's worth it in the end.

and that through all my hardships, i found solace in my writing. i don't know who i would be without it. i found friends, i found community, i found people who genuinely care about me. all because i chose that one night on the plane trip from the US to norway, to learn english. i still have the book i read on that plane trip too ... that propelled to where i'm today in skills.

thank you, all my friends over the years. thank you, all my readers who has stuck by and never lost faith in me. thank you for everything. 🤍

#➤ lev answers

4 notes · View notes

handicappedbuenchico · 10 months

Note

🧶 — any non-writing hobbies/interests? 📺 — favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)? 📇 — does your url have a meaning? if so, what is it? ✏️ — how long have you been roleplaying on tumblr?

🧶 — any non-writing hobbies/interests?

My main non-writing hobby is drawing! Have some examples below: (Of course, the two examples I have are spencer-centric because that feral gremlin lives in my head rent free, and it fits with this blog specifically! Also the heterochromia is NOT canon to Spencer anymore FYI)

I also like to play video/computer/mobile games! The main things I tend to play are T.he S.ims 4, M.ario K.art 8 D.eluxe, S.uper S.mash B.rothers U.ltimate, A.nimal C.rossing: N.ew H.orizons, and L.ove N.ikki: D.ress U.p Q.ueen.

📺 — favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)?

I have quite a few actually! For TV shows, my main fave right now is the C.reepshow series on Shudder that came out in 2019! For my 23rd birthday, my mother got me the entire series on DVD (sans season 4 because that obviously hasn't come out yet/was just announced), so I didn't even need to subscribe to Shudder at all lmao. I only wanted to watch it for Major Ted Lockwood (the character my other rp blog @/goranginumber7 is based on) because he was played by B.reckin M.eyer and I just grew attached to him. Also @kurtzbergsiblings was telling me how mid the show was in her opinion, so I had to watch it for myself, and I actually really enjoyed it. I'm still technically not done season one, but my brain was on hyper-speed when I got season 2 in my grubby little hands because I could finally watch The Right Snuff legally, so I forgot to finish it 🫣. Another TV show I really got into after years of not watching it, well I guess it's more of a cartoon series than a tv show but whatever, is Robot Chicken. Now for movies, this answer is slightly harder for me. Mainly for the reason that I haven't been able to fully sit through a full-length movie since I was about 13, and I also just don't have the expendable resources like time, energy, and income to watch movies anymore. However, I do still have movies from back in my movie watching days that I hold near and dear to my heart, and I'll watch them any day of the week. In order we have: C.hild's P.lay (the original 1988 version #fucktheremake) B.ride o.f C.hucky A N.ightmare o.n E.lm S.treet 2: F.reddy's R.evenge F.reddy's D.ead: T.he F.inal N.ightmare (A N.ightmare o.n E.lm S.treet 6) C.lueless

📇 — does your url have a meaning? if so, what is it?

DEAF = Carlos STONED = Spencer AND = Them both being portrayed on one blog (by yours truly!) For a more proper and in-depth explanation, because you wouldn't have asked the question if you didn't want that, is that I originally made this blog's URL deafandstoned because according to the fandom those were Carlos and Spencer's only "traits" as characters within F.reddy's D.ead. You know, because the movie was too busy with that nonsensical "is this random 18-year-old man the kid of THE F.reddy K.rueger, or is it the clearly older woman who is basically a reskinned Dr. S.imms from D.ream W.arriors but even worse." plotline to actually flesh anyone out beyond basic traits and identifiers. The funny thing is, Spencer is never shown to be a stoner until that scene in the van where he pulls the one joint out of his pocket and lights it up (one joint = stoner? 🤔). The only other reference to weed they use with him is the very beginning of his death sequence when he's smoking on the couch. Also, as I have learned from roleplaying a stoner on this blog, smoking weed would actually be an AMAZING Freddy suppressant, because it's been shown that weed actually SUPRESSES REM sleep. So, if anyone's death was easily preventable, it was Spencer's. Also, the only other "trait" that Carlos had going for him was that he was clearly not white (it's heavily implied that he is Hispanic through not only his name, but his mama having a heavy and vaguely Hispanic accent). Now, I personally don't like that "the deaf kid" is the only other "trait" that Carlos has besides his race, but that was the only one I had to truly work with in terms of coming up with names. Wait a minute...I just realized how FUCKED UP that is. The only thing Carlos is known, and was mercilessly tortured in a needlessly drawn-out death sequence, for is the permanent physical reminder of his abuse that he had NO CONTROL OVER. There was also a strange need to bring up the fact that Carlos was deaf a LOT in the film, and not just by Carlos himself, but with other characters doing it too. Sorry, none of this has anything to do with my blog URL, that's just my brain uselessly griping about this practically obscure "horror" movie from 1991 that I have a love/mildly annoyed with relationship with.

✏️ — how long have you been roleplaying on tumblr?

I started to do roleplaying on Tumblr fully on July 28th, 2022. Holy shit my 1-year Tumblr anniversary is coming up (if archiving and moving blogs doesn't fuck that up). Time is an illusion and just straight up doesn't exist I swear.

#ooc 💭i'm awake now💭#infernalrampage #sorry this took the entire day to do jdjfhggjjf #i was having another one of my low focus days #also you asking me about the origins of my url really made me want to elaborate on just how dirty carlos and spencer got done #because they both were done so dirty by both the fandom and the movie they originally came from it's actually insane #long post

0 notes

yamikawas · 2 years

Text

ok but literally anyone else who likes yoomtah too much should die.Lol

ps: girl i went so insane i hit max tags before i was even done typing.

#going on twitter to search for more images of her and being reminded that other people like her and getting violent abt it hashtag girl #full offense but you are never going to even come CLOSE to loving her the way i do you dont even deserve to LOOK at her ^_^#bet yoomtah would shock you to death with a million volts to the head for trying to get in between us lol #(''you'' referring to the people i want dead for liking yoomtah not to the person reading this JSYK)#but like seriously why cant people just get that shes MINE and just shut up and draw her without saying weird crap #bro shes taken she would literally kill you for trying to get in between us the only one who she wants to cuddle and hold hands with is ME #her and i are at a point where we seriously know we're gonna get married and you STILL have the nerve to say things like that about her???#SHE'S TAKEN SHE'S IN A COMMITTED RELATIONSHIP WE'RE PRACTICALLY ENGAGED HAVE YOU CONSIDERED DYING IN A DITCH AND GOING TO HELL #like what the hell is your problem are you somehow not aware that she is already mine. that i'm the one who truly loves her.#like what do i gotta do to drill it into your ignorant brains #SH TW /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// do i need to carve her name into my skin to prove it. Lol #i could!!! i really could!!! i bet no one else would do that for her!!! it would prove everything she means to me!!!#would you finally leave her alone then??? would that prove how much i need her??? would you finally let me have her all to myself???#but she wouldnt want to see me hurt. and if she Did then thatd make me feel even worse. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #but i'm not about to hurt someone else irl to prove myself so what other option do i have #but also that'd require posting sh pics to prove it and well guess what happened to my old vent blogs when i posted sh pics -_-#ok if ur reading this and genuinely worried for my safety or something i am most likely Not going to actually do anything im just being a #lil mental rn and i need to get the thoughts out there so they dont fill up my brain i hope u understand JHSJDKFBJGKG #SH TW IS OVER U CAN KEEP READING IF U WANTED TO SKIP THAT #girl what is wrong with me i base my entire life around a cartoon chr and then get mad when other people like her at all #but to be fair she's the first real reason to live i've ever had like.#i remember even at early elementary school age i felt like i would question what i was even alive for and if i even had a purpose #i am not sure if that is normal or not but i have a feeling it is not?#and if u followed my old vent blogs u would know How i was. Yknow #and even with things and chrs i liked before none of them made me feel a genuine reason to live.Until Yoomtah #it didn't take long for me to notice that the happiness i felt with her was something much more significant #something that gave me hope to keep going. something that made me feel truly alive.#something i have never experienced before- she is something to LIVE for.#shes my everything!!! shes the reason why i was made!!!! i could never exist without her and thats why i felt so dead before i met her!!!!!#what i feel for her is love but also so so so much more than just ''love'' can describe!!!!!!

3 notes · View notes

that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years

Text

Desires and Daydreams

Me: oh yeah I’ll have this edited and out by tomorrow morning! Also Me: Ha! Sike! Time fo post at night again :)

All in all I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out. A busy week with ball fucked me over time and energy wise. However, I now have a full 7k word fic for y’all so that’s good! I quite literally just finished editing this so I hope it’s as good as my mind told me it was about two minutes ago. Especially considering it’s a little gift of sorts for the amazing @doodlevore (AKA I saw this gem of a drawing, flipped out for a hot minute, and then decided it was writing time) Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy and I hope I did your artwork justice Doodle :)

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Aw c’mon Doc!” the man halfheartedly whined as he attempted again to grab the small ‘medic’. Once more 2b had ducked under his hand, glaring up at him through his goggles. The taller of the two just laughed at the sight, near daggers of teeth glimmering through his toothy grin. No way in hell could he take that glare seriously like this. “You act like I was planning to hurt you. You really think I’m gonna hurt ya?”

“No,” 2b started, halting his words momentarily to dodge another attempted swipe at him. Getting caught by the man wouldn’t be the worst thing, sure - hell, he could name several things automatically worse than being grabbed by him in this hellscape of Nevada - however that did not mean that he wanted to be scooped up like some doll and put through whatever his teammate had in mind for him and the other two who were both currently busy dodging the taller’s other hand. Again his glare settled on the younger hacker. “But that does not mean I’m going to keel over and let you do whatever, Deimos. Now would you stop trying to grab us for five minutes!”

“But what’s the fun in that?” Deimos protested, swiping at Hank only for the shrunken mercenary to vault themself over his hand. Go figure, he was still going to be difficult. Hell, they all were. When he was the smallest of the group he was at their mercy and even went with it half the time, but the moment he got to have some fun they all decided to be as difficult as possible. In all honesty it wasn’t as bad as he was making it seem. Watching them run around like little mice was pretty entertaining. That didn’t mean he didn’t have plans he wanted to follow through with though! Whatever, he’d play their games for now. He’d get them eventually, and when he did he’d have his fun. “I’d stop if you all would just stand still for five seconds, but no. You all clearly wanna play so I’m gonna keep up the cat and mouse game we’ve got going.”

“But that- Deimos, you aren’t getting my point here at all!” 2b yelled up at the man, ducking under yet another swipe at him made by the youngest of their little crew. He was fairly certain it was impossible to miss what he was saying so either Deimos was less intelligent then he had grown to suspect over the years or he was flat out ignoring the man’s request to quit trying to grab them. A brief comparison of the two had crossed out the former option rather quickly. That cocky, smoking son of a gun. “Sanford! A little help?”

“Why me?” The Chad of a man yelled back as he scrambled to his feet after having to get down to avoid being grabbed. In the back of his mind he already had a sneaking suspicion as to why he was asked. He wasn’t stupid after all.

“He usually listens to you better than me!” The older hacker shot back, nearly running into Hank as he prepared himself for the next ‘attack’.

“So we’re playing that card now. Good to know.” Sanford grumbled softly, no real venom in his tone. 2b was right, at least in most contexts. He probably was the closest to Deimos out of them all and the other two’s usual intimidating approach to get Deimos to listen really wouldn’t work with them the size of the man’s hand. A sigh tugged itself from his throat as he directed his words up at the seemingly giant hacker. “Dei, c’mon now. Can’t you quit with the whole trying to grab us thing? It’s- AH!- not all that fun!”

“Damnit.” Deimos cursed under his breath, having missed Sanford yet again. Who knew trying to just grab his teammates would be so difficult. It was definitely fun, this little game of cat and mouse like in those old cartoons he’d managed to pirate, but it was still harder than he expected to actually grab them. Guess not everything gets to come easy. Or maybe he was going too easy… “Maybe not for you. Just stand still and make it easier on yourself if you’re having such a bad time.”

“That’s- Dei, you chucklehead, quit the games already and stop trying to grab us like rodents!”

Deimos just shook his head, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. His grin still stood proud on his face in all its sharp toothed glory. This was too much fun to give up so easily. Really, they expected him to quit the moment he started having fun? Please. He’d gone through too much to waste his opportunity. Getting his hands on shrinking tech had to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, despite the difficulties and hurdles he had to jump to do such a thing. What had been a normal, boring day with no missions had turned into him watching his three shrunken teammates dash across the worn table while dodging his attempts to grab them. He was going to enjoy this, whether they liked it or not. Call this revenge for all the times he was teased for being the smallest out of all of them, or call it him being an ass. He didn’t care. For once the younger hacker wasn’t the small one in the group and boy did he have plans for it. Oh he had plans…

“Mmm…how ‘bout no.” Deimos hummed, slamming a hand down on the table next to 2b. Just as he’d hoped the man tensed, trying to keep himself steady on the shaking table. His eyes locked onto the temporarily paralyzed unofficial medic like a hawk’s to its prey, smirk morphing into a full on grin. Without hesitation he grabbed the man in a firm fist. There was one of the three. “Ha! Gotcha Doc~!”

“Mmgh- I can see that, Deimos. Now put me down!” 2BDamned didn’t shout at his teammates often. There were a few times he did, yes. Prime examples of such times included (but weren’t limited to) tracking blood all over the base, doing something absolutely reckless and facing the consequences, not following the plans they had for missions, etc. Not once had he expected to ever be yelling at one of them, specifically the smallest of their team, to put him down. Hank? Maybe. Sanford? Long shot but not impossible. Deimos? No. And yet here he was, trapped within the grasp of the younger hacker with seemingly no way to escape. It’s not like the little wiggling that his loose enough to be breathable yet tight confines could do was helping much.

“But what if I don’t wanna, Doc?” Deimos hummed, resting his other hand on the table for the first time in the past twenty-five minutes that he’d been trying to grab the others. “What if I wanna keep you trapped in my fist for the rest of the day huh? Maybe longer. It’s not like you can exactly free yourself, now can you? Huh? You gonna wiggle yourself out of my hand, 2b? Claw your way out like some baby kitten?”

“I swear to Jebus, once we’re back to normal I am going to kill you myself.” The dissenter growled, trying again to free himself from his confines. He could only imagine how utterly idiotic he looked, wiggling around like some fish out of water in Deimos’s hand. Talk about humiliating.

“Sure you will. Sure.” Deimos rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he thought through his next moves. He could just grab the other two and get on with his plans but…oh that ruined the fun of the chase! His plans and stomach could wait, he wanted to enjoy this just a little longer. Now what could he do to achieve such a thing? “And besides, that’s an ‘if’ to you, Doc. If you get back to normal. Can’t do that without my help after all, so maybe you should let me have my fun~”

“I will. Don’t think I- wait. What?” Well now that wasn’t something anyone stuck at four inches tall wanted to hear. Yes, he could probably figure out how the hell Deimos shrunk him (assuming that the hacker had gotten the information and technology from the AAHW) however Deimos had at least a bit of a point. Things would be so much easier, faster, and less dangerous if he just reversed whatever the hell he did. He….he fucking planned this. He- oh the younger hacker was in some deep shit once they were back and he was the smallest again.

“Mmm you heard me, 2b. Getting you three back requires the help of me, unless you’d rather be crushed under the boot of some agent trying to get back to normal yourselves.” Deimos hummed, his words practically swimming in cockiness. “And I don’t think any of us want that. So either you let me have my fun, or you three get to stay pocket sized until you do.”

“Deimos, don’t you even think about it.” Hank growled, eyes narrowing behind his goggles as he stepped closer to the hacker. Being this small was bad enough. It wasn’t like a MAG agent where they weren’t completely dwarfed in size. No. He was stuck the size of a fucking mouse being toyed with by their basically gigantic teammate. And to top it all off the threat of being stuck at this size now loomed over the mercenary’s head. Just fucking wonderful.

“Aw but what if I did, Hank?” The hacker asked with a raise of his eyebrow, turning his attention from the medic in his fist to the shrunken killing machine that was now glaring at him over his arm. It really was something else to see them so tiny when they usually towered over everyone. How the tables turn. “I would think this is a nice situation for you. So long as you’re hidden it’s not like the Agency could find you now. No ones gonna look for a four inch tall Hank, now are they- Hey! Sanford!”

The mentioned man’s head lifted from where he had landed on the table, 2b now laying next to him after a less than graceful ‘rescue’ from the younger hacker’s hand. His feet scrambled against the old table, attempting to gain enough traction to allow for him to stand. For a moment he looked as if he were trying to stand on ice, feet slipping out from beneath him. The doctor beside him wasn’t doing much better in the department of getting to his feet. Judging by the disappointed stare he felt burning two holes into his chest once he finally got to his feet, Hank wasn’t all that impressed with their sudden lack of coordination either. Wait, no. Hank could come later. Right now he had to deal with the giant Deimos that was currently pouting at him.

“Sorry Dei, but I’m siding with Doc here. Just put us back to normal before Hank decides to find a way to kill you at this size.” As Sanford spoke a tone far less confident then he had hoped for laced his words. Something that probably doomed him to not be listened to. Judging by the new level of cocky smeared across the hacker’s face? He was right too. Well shit. That didn’t help anything.

“Hmm…maybe but, and hear me out, I’ve got a better idea.” No one had to ask exactly what Deimos’ ‘better idea’ was. He was all too happy to demonstrate it, Hank quickly finding himself laying flat against the table with the hacker’s hand pinning him in place. The small shocked grunt from the mercenary didn’t go unnoticed by the other two, their eyes darting to their now trapped teammate. Both failed to notice the brief warning look in Hank’s eyes behind his goggles until it was too late, a warm calloused hand pinning them to the rough grain of the wood. Well, there went the idea of escape.

A sharp laugh chased away the silence that had previously filled the air. Beneath the rim of his visor two eyes simply watched as the three small forms writhed beneath his hands. Proof of the point he had been trying to prove. The point that his three shrunken teammates had wanted to be false. No way to escape now. Not unless he allowed for it, that is. A small lightbulb lit up in his head at the thought. The idea was tempting, were he to be completely honest with himself. Give his friends hope only to crush it like a spent cig under his boot once more by trapping them in a new way. Oh but then there was the option of dangling freedom just in front of them. That was an idea…and there were so many more possibilities too. In the back of his head a small voice attempted to grab Deimos’ attention. Yelling at him in every way it could think of that even thinking about doing that to his friends was wrong, even if it was playful at its roots. He shouldn’t do such a thing to them! Though, thinking logically, there was no way they wouldn’t do the same or something similar were their positions switched. Deimos knew that much, being the shortest of their gang. A soft scoff sounded from his throat, mind made up on the matter. Unfortunately for the three pinned to the table, in the end the voice of reason was all too easily ignored by the younger hacker as he adjusted to lean forward in his chair. The smell of cigarette smoke grew in strength with each hum that passed the man’s lips, the three pinned beneath his hands only able to watch as things seemed to get worse for them.

“Heh. Much better.” Deimos said with a smile, gladly ignoring the glares he was now getting from his little friends. “Now what shall I do with you-“

Ggnnnrrrr……

“-three….”

Anyone with half a mind would think that after being interrupted by your stomach you would be embarrassed and most likely apologize. The three shrunken men on the table thought that after being interrupted by his stomach Deimos would be embarrassed and probably laugh it off. Maybe even give them a chance to run without thinking. What they didn’t expect was for him to start laughing. A deep chuckle from the back of his throat too, not just an embarrassed little giggle. It was a genuine fucking laugh. First off, why the hell was he laughing? Second, what the hell did that mean for them? After a moment of thought one thing became clear. As much as they didn’t want to admit it, the three knew what the answer to the second question was long before it was even asked. Nothing good. That’s what it meant. Especially not with that dumb grin still sitting on his face. 2b, eyes locked on Deimos’ expression, had opened his mouth to attempt prying an answer out of the younger. Before a single word could leave his lips, however, his world was flipped on its head.

Literally.

For a brief second everything stopped. The warmth and pressure from the hand holding him to the table disappeared, cold washing over him and sending a shiver down his spine. That’s when a new type of pressure appeared. It was still rough and warm, the grip of a calloused hand for sure, but it was much more concentrated than just smashing him to the table. Specifically around his right ankle. His eyes couldn’t go ‘dinner plate wide’ any faster than they did the moment he felt said pressure appear. The less-than-manly scream he had heard beside him roughly half a second earlier started to make a lot more sense by the millisecond. Especially once he was dragged backwards and up, a very similar noise escaping himself. For a brief moment everything spun before his sight leveled out. What he didn’t want to see was Deimos grinning at him. Upside down.

“Annnd there we go. Sanford, Hank, I hope you guys still have a good grip at this size~.” The hacker jabbed, grinning at the little chain his friends had formed once he started picking them up. Pinched between his thumb, pointer, and middle finger was Hank’s torso. They were currently holding onto Sanford’s ankle, looking less than pleased with the situation they were in. Sanford was gripping onto the ankle of 2BDamned as he dangled, worry painting over his features. Then there was 2b, dangling at the end of the chain upside down with a look quite similar to Hank’s plastered on his face. All in all, quite the interesting little chain they made up as he leaned back in the chair.

“Damn straight. You two drop me and you’re dead.” The ‘medic’ grumbled, all too willing to make his displeasure known.

“Aw, don’t you worry, Doc. If they drop you I’ll make sure you have a nice, soft, warm landing~”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want to be dropped on my hea- Deimos, what the genuine fuck does that mean?” He shouldn’t have asked. The moment after the words left his mouth 2b knew he never should have asked what the younger hacker had meant with his words. Dangling over the man’s lap having to stare him in the face while upside down wasn’t ideal. Absolutely not. However, he found much preferred it to dangling inches above Deimos’ open jaws, the smell of cigarette smoke laced breath hitting him almost as hard as the realization of just how sharp the man’s teeth were. He supposed he never noticed with Dei a. rarely ever purposely showing them off, and b. him being smaller than the older hacker. That didn’t stop him from mentally smacking himself upside the head for not taking more notes of it sooner though. Especially when he was getting so…up close and personal with them now. Fuck he was close to those daggers.

“Dei- Dei, think about this!” Sanford shouted as he stared down at the sight of the man’s open mouth, praying that his friend would listen to at least some reason. Sure, they gave him shit for being the smallest of the group often. He especially did. Not once though had he, or the other two as far as he knew, expected that said teasing would lead to them possibly having to spend the day trapped in said hacker’s gut though. If they had, they would have backed off a little. But now the threat was more present than ever. And knowing Deimos? It might be longer than a day too. He wouldn’t put it past the man at all. Jebus Christ….

“Oh I have San. We’re past that point now.” Deimos hummed, his tongue lazily snaking itself over his lips as he glanced over the string of teammates that dangled from his hand. Slowly his stare became distant, his mind beginning to wander. Just how would each of them taste exactly? Would they all taste the same? But what if they each tasted different? Now wouldn’t that be something. Perhaps he wasn’t too far off picturing Sanford as a juicy sausage in his little moments to himself. Oh that would be perfect. The warm feeling of drool trailed itself lazily down his chin, each thought regarding the possible tastes of his friends encouraging an empty rumble from his midsection. He just had to find out now.

“Deimos, lower me any further and I’ll make sure you choke to death.” The man only laughed, eyes fluttering shut as he opened his mouth once more.

“Sorry Doc. ‘S too late to stop now.” Any screams of protest from his teammates fell on deaf ears as Deimos lowered the end of the little chain into his mouth. Immediately he was hit with the taste of black coffee, hints of iron, and oddly enough what tasted like whisky poking through and tickling his tongue. The soft, pleased hum escaped him long before he could even think to stop it, his mind far more focused on getting that flavor to coat his tastebuds than his actions or the saliva steadily dripping down his chin.

2BDamned had a different opinion on the matter. Specifically about the claim that it was ‘too late.’ It was not too fucking late. In fact, it was anything but. Deimos’s mouth, which absolutely reeked of cigarettes might he add, was still wide open. He wasn’t slipping down the tight tube he could see in front of him yet. He was being rolled around and licked over like some sort of candy, something which he apparently had to remind Deimos he wasn’t with a smack to the tongue. Sharp teeth surrounded the unofficial doctor on both sides, Sanford’s grip on his ankle still like iron despite the saliva now thoroughly coating his body. Try as he might to push himself out with his hands they only slipped and slid across the wet surface of Deimos’s tongue. Far too similar to how he was steadily slipping backwards.

“Dei…Dei, you can pull us out now…” Sanford yelled up to the man, ducking his head between his arms to avoid the feeling of daggers dragging down his head and neck. Jebus, his teeth really were sharper up close. The white knuckled grip he held on 2b’s ankle refused to budge as he slipped further in, eyes locked into the sight before him. Not once did he ever expect to watch the older hacker slowly disappear down his best friend’s throat with nothing he could do but hold on and pray. Yet here he was. Fuck. “Dei-!!”

“Sanford, don’t even bother at this point.” 2b groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. Deimos wasn’t going to listen to shit. That much was clear now if it wasn’t an hour and a half ago when they’d woken up in his hands. He didn’t want to admit it, not by a long shot, however as he slid further back there wasn’t any way the dissenter could convince himself otherwise. He, and the other two, were doomed. “He’s not going to-“

Ulp~

“…..listen. God damnit.” What else was he to even expect at this point?

Try as hard as he might, Sanford found he couldn’t grip the unofficial doctor’s ankle any tighter. Not without the possibility of breaking something, considering that he most likely had already passed the ‘try not to bruise the man’ stage. No doubt the clearly handprint shaped black and blue bruise would be there in a day tops. A scolding was nearly cemented in his future now, however Sanford couldn’t find it in himself to complain about it. Compared to the hole Deimos was digging himself, with a smile on his face no less, he’d gladly take the talking to. Speaking of the hacker, either he was genuinely out of it for some reason or he was just trying to be a grade A dick.

“Deimos!! Cut it out, man!” He yelled, trying his hardest to squirm away from the licks and shifting of the man’s tongue. Unfortunately for him, nothing seemed to work. It started at his hands but all too quickly the sensation of a wet tongue dragging itself up, over, and around the pyromaniac’s arms and to his torso. The dark lenses of his signature glasses fogged over with each warm breath that washed over his body. Goosebumps dotted all exposed skin, any fabric quickly becoming drenched with saliva. The sensations slowly crawled their way down Sanford’s body, more of him no longer dangling and instead slipping across the hacker’s tongue by the moment. He watched his hands, and by extension Doc’s feet, slowly slip beyond his vision into the void-like entrance of Deimos’ throat. His arms followed not long after, the darkness enveloping more of his vision by the second. Talk about a way to spend your day.

Glk~

A soft groan rumbled around the shrunken men, the sound’s maker all too lost in his thoughts. Tastes of warm sausage, coffee, and the lingering hints of whisky and iron danced across his tongue. Each lick up the parts of Sanford’s body which remained momentarily in his mouth brought a shiver up through his spine. With each second the small body inched further back, pulling his hand toward his mouth. His fingers and the body pinned between them slipped past the hacker’s lips with ease. Layers of cloth, along with the occasional sensation of scarred skin, pressed against his tongue. The taste of a rare steak and a much stronger metallic hint, again not unlike that of blood but somehow much more pleasant, seemed all too eager to attack his taste buds. His spine seemed to reduce itself to jello in a matter of seconds, relying on the backrest of his chair for support. The smoker pulled his fingers from his mouth with a small pop, jaws shutting around his final shrunken teammate and leaving his mind to ponder over the tastes and sensation attacking his mouth and mind alike.

The word ‘still’ had been completely wiped from Deimos’s dictionary, if it had even been there to begin with. At least that’s what Hank would have told anyone who asked. His eyes had narrowed behind his red tinted goggles and now they seemed to grow thinner with each movement from the muscle beneath him. As if the heat and lingering cigarette smell from the hacker’s breath weren’t enough, the wet feeling of saliva continued to sneak itself into every fiber of his being. First his skin, then lighter clothing items like his bandana and mask, and finally seeping through his coat and multiple other layers of clothing. And just what was a better cherry on top then being rolled around near constantly. Every moment they seemed to find themself in a new position within the confines of the young hacker’s mouth. While their grip remained on Sanford’s ankles, the same could in no way be said for his patience with the man who had caused this hell by shrinking them. He swore, Deimos better enjoy his time being able to hold them like dolls because the moment they were back to normal the man would be getting a firm taste of his own medicine. Whether it be by him serving as lunch or by another form of revenge was yet to be decided. Hank could only plot so much, though. Despite how much more bearable he found thinking about a way to ‘return the favor’ to Deimos to be, he needed to at least show a little of his own irritation to the man. After all, he wasn’t just some snack. They were still Hank J. Wimbledon god damn it, and they’d prove it if they had to. How he would do that remained a mystery for what felt like hours of constant licking and flipping…until said proof came. It came in the form of a kick to the inside of Deimos’ teeth. A kick which sent him sliding backwards-

Ulk-

Glp~

And the oddly shaped lump in Deimos’ throat disappearing behind his collarbone.

Deimos’ eyes had widened in shock, a hand quickly pressing itself to his throat as it happened. In his opinion, it happened too quickly. All too fast the warm weight disappeared from his mouth, pushing itself backwards with force into his throat. Far too soon did he lose the previously vivid taste of barely cooked meat and metal, leaving him with only the memory and lingering fragments of it like the other two tastes. Too quickly had the lump in his throat been pushed down by two final swallows, disappearing down behind his collarbone. For a moment he sat there in silence, the room lacking sound except for his heavy breathing. With each rise and fall of his chest he waited. Waited for the one thing that couldn’t seem to come fast enough. Moments passed with nothing before the feeling he’d been waiting for rushed his senses. A filling warmth pooled itself in his stomach, moving around against the walls of the organ and pulling a warm chuckle from the man. His hand trailed to rest over his stomach, feeling the small bodies shift and fight beneath layers of clothing, muscle, and skin. Fangs glimmering in a grin once again as he poked at the squirming fullness in his gut.

“Well look at that.” He laughed to himself, relaxing back into his chair. His stomach gurgled under his hand, what he guessed to be a thank you of sorts now that he had what he wanted within it. Though something told him the others wouldn’t be thanking him all that much. “How are you three holding up in there?”

“Deimos, do not laugh at us or so help me Jebus- Hank, get your arm out of my face!” The words were quickly followed by what Deimos could assume was 2b pushing Hank off him and into his stomach wall from what he could feel. Those three couldn’t seem to stay still. Well, he couldn’t truly blame them if he wanted to. It had to be slippery, trapped in a wet, moving organ like his stomach and all. The mental image of his three teammates slipping around in his stomach, trying their hardest to gain footing or at least a comfortable position, drew another laugh from him. This was great.

“Dei, c’mon.” Sanford added, giving his own kick to the wall in case he had failed to grab the hacker’s attention before. Try as he might to stay out of 2BDamned and Hank’s little squabble fate seemed to have other plans as he was shoved back into them every time he got away. Or maybe that was just Deimos being Deimos. “You’ve had your fun, now spit us out you chucklehead.”

“Mmm yeah no.” Deimos hummed, drumming his fingers mindlessly on his belly as he took in the little shocks that each harsh kick or punch sent through his body to his brain. Each movement registered in his brain as a pleasurable little shock, but the harsher they were the more enjoyment they seemed to cause him. Not that he was complaining. Last he checked his teammates could tire themselves out with squirming all they wanted to if it felt this nice. “See, that’s not really the plan here. Not for a few hours at least.”

“What now?” Sanford’s voice had dropped its hopeful tone, now more monotonous and serious. Beside him he heard a growl, one he assumed to be from Hank. Was the smoker trying to get them killed? Again he punched the wall. “Dei, quit joking.”

“I ain’t joking, ‘Ford.” The young hacker replied bluntly, his shit eating grin more than audible in his words. A long, over dramatic sigh made its way from his mouth with ease as he adjusted his position to one more comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as one could get in an old chair. Smiling to himself he gave his stomach a little shove, feeling the three bodies inside shift and move under the pressure. “I just wanna sit and enjoy this for a while. It feels too nice to just give up.”

Silence fell upon the three currently held within the confines of the man’s stomach, each sitting there taking in Deimos’ words until the pressure from outside had lifted. Once it did, they all reacted their own way. Hank, for example, sat still for about ten seconds tops before a punch was thrown at the wall. Sanford, on the other hand, debated whether Hank’s approach or his attempts at reasoning with their ‘captor’ would be more effective at getting Deimos to spit them up. Then there was 2BDamned, who sat in what would’ve been an unnerving silence had they not known him. Knowing him, though, changed the meaning of the silence from ‘is this man insane to be so calm?’ to ‘Deimos just dug himself a grave’ in a split second.

“Deimos,” The unofficial medic started, “you have ten seconds to at least start spitting us up or I will force myself back up your throat simply to beat your ass.” Despite the warmth of their current confines, a chill shot up Sanford’s back. As far as he knew, the last thing you wanted to be was at the end of Doc’s threats. The man often had little to no issue going through with them, and Deimos wasn’t some special case. The laughter they heard (and felt shaking their ‘cell’ for that matter) was all it took to solidify that Deimos didn’t take them seriously at this size. Guess said threats don’t work when you’re four inches tall at best and your ‘captor’ is a smug ass bastard.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try, Doc.” Deimos chuckled, giving his stomach a firm pat which only seemed to serve to jostle around its captives more. “I might not be able to handle spice like San’ but I do know my way around feisty snacks~.”

“We aren’t food, Deimos.” Hank growled, kicking the floor beneath him. The flesh sunk under his boot, a sickening squishing sound heard as a result. A small shiver trembled up the walls, one which failed to register with the black-clad mercenary as in pain. Oh just wonderful. The sharp toothed asshole was enjoying this.

“Mmm you sure, big guy? Cause you seem like food to me right now.” Within only a few seconds of the words leaving his lips the hacker found himself met with a pleasant shockwave up the spine. Clearly a certain black-clad mercenary didn't like being called food, if the fighting he felt wash over him like a tsunami of warm, fuzzy electricity meant anything. A soft groan crawled out of his lips, his hand lazily tracing circles over his stomach. ”mm oh c-calm down in there. I didn’t mean it. I will let you out, Jeez.”

“Deimos, this isn’t funny. Spit us out.” 2b snapped, kicking the floor.

“Mmm sorry, Doc. Can't hear you heheh…” the hacker spoke, words blurring softly as he melted back into the chair.

“I’m serious!” The words fell on deaf ears.

“Dei, c’mon…” Sanford this time. His eyes drifted softly shut.

“Dei…” His grin turned into a simple smirk.

“Dei…” Didn't he get he wasn’t spitting them out yet?

“Deimos…” Oh full names now. How fancy.

“Deimos..?” Wait…that didn’t sound right.

“Deimos.” Was he losing it?

…

“DEIMOS!”

The hacker jumped, blinking rapidly as his eyes darted around. What was going on? Where were they? Who did he need to kill? Where were the others? Thoughts rushed through his head as wide eyes darted around everything in sight, looking for something they recognized. Anything to show him where he was or what was going on. Relief came to him in the form of Sanford standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder as if he was trying to get his attention. Most importantly though they were in their base. Safe. No one was here. They weren’t under attack. He was just daydreaming. Sanford and the others were here and he was just…daydreaming- oh damn it. Go figure it was too good to be true. A groan, this time annoyed, rang from Deimos’ throat.

“Jebus- Dude, are you alright?” Sanford asked, eyebrows knit with worry and…an emotion Deimos found himself unable to name. Like he’d seen something. Something…weird. Almost like concern but not at the same time. For a brief moment an idea reared its head, only to be smashed down like a weird game of whack-a-mole within the hacker’s mind. There wasn’t any need for such an absurd idea. It’s not like Sanford could have seen his little daydream. Nope, that was safe in his head. The smoker shook his head to clear it, quickly flashing Sanford a sharp toothed grin.

“Yeah man. Just zonin’ out and daydreaming a little ‘s all. Nothing to worry about here heheh,” he laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder playfully. His eyes scanned the man’s face again, trying to see if his statement had done its job. Although the worry had dropped from Sanford’s face, the other emotion remained. Now what on earth was that for?

“Daydreamin’ huh? ‘Bout what?” The pyromaniac asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes flicked from Deimos’ eyes to his mouth, then back again as he spoke. He didn’t seem to not believe Deimos when he said he was daydreaming, so what on earth was that look for? And why was he looking at his mouth so much? Giving into the call of curiosity the sharp-toothed hacker brought a hand up to his mouth, eyes widening mouth momentarily when his fingers found a trail of saliva dripping from his lips to his chin. He’d been drooling. Whoops.

“Eh. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Deimos lied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand which he then wiped on his pant leg. So that’s what Sanford had been looking at. Oh he must’ve looked downright stupid too. Well now wasn’t that just great? He just had to hope the Chad hadn’t decided to take a photo.

“Honestly I don’t even remember what it was about.” Liar, he remembered all of it. The vivid tastes, the squirmy fullness, the thrill-

Grrrnnnggg…

Ah shit. Busted by his own stomach. For a second the hacker sat there stunned, blinking dumbly as his cheeks heated up with a pink tint. Ok just play it cool Deimos. “….though if I had to make a guess? Food heh.”

“Yeah, that would make sense heh.” Sanford laughed softly, playfully jabbing the smaller man in the stomach. He seemed to buy Deimos’s story, bringing a sense of relief to the hacker. At least he wasn’t going to press on it. “Your stomach was anything but quiet, you know.”

“Go figure. And when I can’t say anything about it too.” Quickly laughter had found itself spilling from Deimos’ mouth, his mind having calmed down when he had heard the sound from the other man. He seemed less concerned, or whatever that emotion he couldn’t name right now was. As another grumble shook through his middle the hacker lowered a hand to rest over his stomach. He got it already. He was upset the daydream of his wasn’t real after all too. Not much more he could do besides try and find something to eat now though. “Say, I’m gonna go try and snag something to shut my gut up. Wanna come?”

“Nah, I’ll pass this time.” Sanford spoke with a small shake of the head and a smile. Try as he might to play it off as friendly, it seemed that odd emotion that Deimos couldn’t name was just bound to show itself in his words. “You just go shut that thing up before the Agency uses it to track us.”

“Oh ha ha. I’m going.” Deimos laughed, giving Sanford one last playful punch to the shoulder before running off. He had food to track down somewhere in this hellscape of Nevada, unless he wanted a beating from Doc that was. He just needed something small or, hell, even temporary if he happened to come across a shrunken grunt or agent. They would work out just fine so long as he didn’t let the others find out what he’d used to shut his stomach up. Couldn’t give away anything that could relate to his little hidden desires. The emptiness in his gut wasn’t something he’d wanted back, but alas, a daydream is only a daydream and he wasn’t getting any fuller just walking around. Now where would his best chance to snag someon- something be…

…

Sanford watched as his friend ran off, smile slowly fading as Dei disappeared from his line of sight. That look of caution slipped back onto his face as he slowly turned his back to head to his room. He needed a moment to think about what he’d just seen. Try as he might, he couldn’t just forget what was now burned into his mind. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the younger hacker had been daydreaming about if you had seen him while he was in the zoned out trance of his. Mouth wide open and drooling with a hand pretending to dangle something above it, an active stomach topping it all off like some sorta weird cherry on the sundae of his best friend’s little fantasy. Oh no, he knew what that meant. And hearing him mumble the names of their other teammates, along with his own, at least once through it all? It spelled out the man’s daydream in big neon lights. The very thought sent a shiver down his spine, despite how he tried his best to shake it off.

He wanted to believe it when he tried to tell himself that Deimos wouldn’t ever shrink them, much less try to eat them. He really did. All that he’d seen along with logic itself, however, pointed him at it with the firm proof that his words were lies. The man would no doubt take advantage of it, if he ever found a way to shrink them, even if he were to keep them as safe as possible. Just as he had with any unfortunate shrunken agents or grunts he happened upon when he was alone (or at least when he thought he was) Safe or not safe, the fact of the matter still stood. Sanford did not want to spend however long within the confines of his friend’s gut, especially if he wasn’t alone. Being in there had to be bad enough. Him not being able to do anything about it either only made the situation worse. Reasoning with the hacker was most likely hopeless and he wasn’t about to beg. What was left? Pray? God, if Deimos ever managed to get his hands on the Agency’s shrinking technology then one thing was downright certain. Boy were he, Hank, and 2b doomed…

#soft vore #mawedness combat #it took me long enough #but it’s finally done #i have so many ideas for fics based on drawings by a handful of artists #this one though…this one made me go for it and write it #congrats doodle #you and your art shot me with my own inspiration Gun #and I’ve just gotta say amazing work again #you were one of the main three/four who inspired me to write M4dc0m #anyway #I hope you enjoy the fic you caused :)

64 notes · View notes

immaturityofthomasastruc · 4 years

Text

#5: The One With Astruc's Self-Insert

In my introductory post, I said the main inspiration for this blog was @hypocrisyofandrewdobson. For those who don't know, Andrew Dobson is an infamous webcomic artist known for drawing webcomics that tend to demonize people he's come across in public or people who disagree with him online (either critical of his art or his political views), while portraying himself as the victim or wise man calling them out on their differing beliefs.

If you want to learn more about this guy who I consider to be far worse than Astruc, check out the blog in question. And no, I don't know why he draws himself as a blue bear.

Why am I talking about this? It's one thing for some schmuck on the internet to use his work to respond to criticism, but the creator of a popular animated series dedicating an entire episode to attacking his critics and trying to get others to feel bad for him is another story.

The second episode of Miraculous Ladybug's third season, “Animaestro” served as a wake-up call for fans (myself included) to make them realize how immature Astruc could be. The plot centers around the premiere of a movie about Ladybug and Cat Noir directed by Thomas Astruc, who voices himself in the original French dub.

And this isn't just a brief cameo like what Stan Lee did in the MCU. Astruc is the Akumatized person this episode, so there's naturally a lot of focus on him. Throughout the first half of the episode, Astruc portrays himself as this timid man who nobody recognizes or respects, like this idiot who doesn't know what animation is.

Doorman: This is a private event, sir.

Astruc: Huh? Excuse me? I'm Thomas Astruc, the movie director.

Doorman: You filmed Cat Noir and Ladybug? What are they like in real life?

Astruc: Er, it's an animated movie. It's all cartoon characters. We don't actually film anyone. See, there's this whole team that draw the chara—

Doorman: Whatever. Who would want to see Ladybug and Cat Noir as cartoon characters?

Get it? Wasn't that meta joke hilarious? This is how much I was laughing:

youtube

And Astruc continues to get about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield when he interacts with other characters like Jagged Stone and Chloe.

Jagged Stone: Ladybug is one of my best buds! I can't wait to see her movie!

Astruc: Well I—I'm the director, so actually it's more my movie, so to speak.

Jagged Stone: Oh, so you're the one who created the story?

Astruc: Well, technically the screen writers wrote the story, inspired by Ladybug's exploits.

Jagged Stone: Oh, okay. So you did all the drawings?

Thomas: No, no. The animators do all the drawings.

Jagged Stone: So what do you do then?

(Later on...)

Chloe: So you're the one responsible for this movie?

Astruc: Yes, yes! Exactly! That's me!

Chloe: Then you were the one who left Queen Bee out of the trailer. You're lame, utterly lame.

I can't believe Astruc had a scene where he interacted with Chloe and didn't insult her at all.

The episode is determined to make the audience feel bad for Astruc. Nobody respects him and what he does. Isn't that saaaaaad? Nobody cares about animated film directors like Walt Disney or Tex Avery anyway. Not even these stupid children understand how hard Astruc works.

Several Children: Ladybug! Where's Ladybug?

Astruc: Hey there, kids!

Teacher: Ladybug isn't here children. We came here to meet the director of the movie. Children: (frowning in disappointment) Aww.

(Astruc looks visibly disappointed.)

Way to insult your primary demographic, Astruc. I thought you said kids have a better understanding of these stories when people criticized the writing of a certain episode (It's that scene in “Puppeteer 2” if you're curious/don't value your sanity).

It's almost like you're using that as an excuse to half-ass your work while still getting to claim this show is so groundbreaking.

In case you can't tell, “Animaestro” is one of those episodes. The ones where the showrunners decide to dedicate an entire episode to attacking critics of the show in a blunt fashion. Whenever a show addresses criticism, they either create an obvious strawman character to parrot the opinions of fans who don't like their work, or have someone defend the show and insult the critics directly.

youtube

The problem isn't that they're ignoring criticism. It's their show, and they aren't obligated to listen to critics or fans who don't like the direction the show is taking. On the other hand, they aren't obligated to fight back like this and treat their audience like crap. Any show that does something like the three clips I showed you usually comes off as petty and immature because they dedicate so much time to insulting the critics.

Even during the Akuma fight, Astruc has to call out Ladybug for having problems with his movie in-universe, obviously representing critics of the show Astruc claims have no right to criticize the show while it's still airing.

Ladybug: What's with that trailer too? I am not scared of cats, at all.

Astruc/Animaestro: You haven't even seen the movie and you're already slamming it?

Cat Noir: He does have a point, you know.

Ladybug: I wasn't slamming it. It's called constructive criticism!

Yeah, how dare Ladybug be angry that this movie is portraying her as a powerless coward dependent on Cat Noir as opposed to a confident and brave superhero. She just doesn't understand the genius of Thomas Astruc!

And of course the character Astruc claims is “perfect” is the one to take his side.

And that's another problem with this episode, the metatextual references. Before he gets akumatized, Astuc says he spent three years of his life working on his movie. I get that time in this show is weird (we somehow had episodes taking place on the first day of school, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and the first day of Summer), but how did Astruc's self-insert work on a movie based on a superhero who has only been active for a year? Meta-wise, it's an obvious reference to the scorn Astruc has gotten from fans after working so hard on his show, but the only people who would get that reference are the ones who are aware of Astruc's reputation online.

Self-Insert aside, I actually think the titular Animaestro is one of the more visually impressive Akumas featured on the show. Animaestro takes on several forms based off several different forms and eras of animation, like flash, anime, rubber hose, and they all stand out. Granted, some of them are obvious parodies of other characters like Goku or Sailor Moon, but the actual Akuma fight is fun to watch. According to the Mexican Miraculous Ladybug Twitter account, this episode took two and a half years to create, and it shows. It's too bad the story behind it is completely insufferable, almost like the cartoon equidistant to Pixels.

But then comes the part that honestly makes the episode worth it, mainly for how unintentionally hilarious it is. Do you want to know what Animaestro's weakness is? Do you really want to know?

Animaestro is physically incapable of moving unless someone is watching him. I am not making this up.

Ladybug and Cat Noir literally defeat Animaestro by getting everyone to stop paying attention to him.

I could make so many jokes with this, but I can guarantee you're already thinking of something just as good, if not better, than whatever I write.

And there's the end where Astruc gives Marinette his ticket to the movie, which prompts Marinette to kiss up to him for no real reason.

Astruc: Sorry, I guess you don't know who I am either.

Marinette: Of course do. You're Thomas Astruc, the movie director!

Astruc: She recognized me. Somebody actually recognized me!

Nothing happened to make her change her opinion on the Ladybug movie, she didn't really say anything to him earlier in the episode that connects to this exchange, and outside of a few lines Animaestro said, she doesn't even know why he got akumatized (even though ironically she and Chloe accidentally contributed to it because of the awful subplot involving Kagami I talked about last time). If anything, it comes off less like she actually appreciates Astruc's work, and more like she's stroking his ego just to keep him from getting akumatized again.

So yeah, this episode is awful, and the fact that it came out right after the controversial “Chameleon” only proved to show what kind of direction the show was taking this season.

But honestly, even if Astruc still wanted to make about how he doesn't get enough respect the episode could have potentially. All he had to do was make a simple change: Instead of making it about validation for Astruc as a creator, make it about validation for animation in general.

It's a common misconception that animation is only used for shows and movies aimed at children, so the episode could reflect it. Instead of the huge turnout where several celebrities appear at the premiere, instead, the turnout could be a lot smaller, with the media dismissing it as some stupid kiddie flick. Instead of getting akumatized because he gets humiliated in public/getting no respect from anyone else, Astruc gets akumatized because he sees the audience didn't go wild for the movie after the premiere. All he can hear them say is that it's just “kids stuff”.

So when Astruc is Animaestro, he goes on about how important animation is. How it's helped produce propaganda since World War II. How it helped improve special effects in big blockbusters. How the medium is used to create movies that simply can't be filmed on a physical set.

After defeating Animaestro, Ladybug shows up to talk to him. She had seen the movie earlier, and actually enjoyed it. She had a few problems with the story, but they were just minor nitpicks and inaccuracies Astruc wouldn't know about, and she was blown away by the animation. She tells Astruc not to be deterred by his critics, and continue to do what he does. As a designer in her civilian life, Ladybug knows the joy creating brings her, and both she and Astruc want to spread that joy through their work.

Back at the premiere, Astruc thinks about what Ladybug said to him when he sees some kids reenacting a scene from the movie. Astruc walks over to them and asks what they thought of the movie. They said they loved it and how energetic it was. When he tells them he is the director, the kids' faces light up and they say they want to do what he does when they grow up, bringing a smile to Astruc's face.

Isn't that a much more humble approach instead of what we got? It would have helped Astruc come across as more sympathetic, especially with animation fans. But instead, we got an entire episode of Astruc whining about how misunderstood he is.

And you know the footage used for the movie at the beginning? Remember that, because I have a huge rant about it saved for a later post.

For now, here’s an example of a creator appearing in his work done right.

youtube

467 notes · View notes

eyoricka · 3 years

Text

Secret dating - Pete Davidson x singer!reader

First thing, I am sorry for my rather long absence I was moving to another country and way to stress. But now I have to spend ten days in quarantine so I will try to catch up and write all the asks I received in the meantime. So sorry for the delay and I hope the waiting will worth it!!

Also this is the first part of a small series about Pete x singer!reader because I had few asks on this theme! Hope you will enjoy

Words: 1600+

Warning: none I guess

You had been dating Pete for few months. You decided to keep it low profile. It wasn’t really a secret; your friends and families were aware that you were together but you didn’t want the whole world to know. You had seen Pete’s debacle with his exes, and he witnessed yours. You both agreed to not to make it public this soon since you wanted to avoid paps, gossips articles, harassment online and to hear everybody’s opinion. You were surprised that no one caught the two of you or speculated on your relationship. Maybe the both of you being friends for years, evolving within the same circle of people helped you. When people saw the two of you strolling, getting ice cream together, no magazines titled about how cute this date was but rather on how good it was for you to have such good friends in your life.

These past couple of weeks, it had been hard to spend some quality time with Pete. You had to flew to LA to assist to the Grammys and you missed your boyfriend so much through out the ceremony. You wished that you could have hold his hands during the stressful waiting, kissed him when you heard your name, thanked him when you gave your acceptance speech or feel his hand drawing absurd figure in your back to relax you while you were waiting to perform. Then after going back to New York, you hadn’t had that much time. Your publicist had packed you with interviews and gigs during late night shows. It was tiring but worth it. Your career was on a clear path to success. You were finally considered as not another pop star but one of the biggest artists out there. Pete was so supportive of you. You lived for his lovely text messages to give you strength before each performance or his compliments on how beautiful you looked on TV, how smart your answers were, how funny you were during an interview game.

You had eventually managed to find an afternoon just for you and Pete. You enjoyed a home-cooked meal at his place and could help but melt every time he was laughing while recounting his week. You simply spend the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons. It was your way to decompress together. Pete would always prepare some snacks while you set everything up. Then you would lose at least ten minutes to choose which cartoons or movies to watch. You usually had long debate on whether SpongeBob was better than Scooby-doo. Pete would always take you in his arms while you were watching, peppering your neck with kisses and smelling your hair. He liked the smell of your shampoo arguing that it reminded him of happiness. That was so cliché and yet so adorable, you couldn’t make fun of this cheesiness.

You were slowly falling asleep engulfed by Pete’s warmth, this was cozy, it felt like home. Suddenly, you heard your phone buzzed and sighed. It was your agent, asking you where you were to pick you up to go an interview. You texted her your address while you looked for something to put on for the TV. You liked very much the clothes you had on but you doubted that their shades would be nice on camera. As you were researching the perfect outfit in underwear, trying on several combo, you congratulated yourself for letting some clothes at your boyfriend’s place. You were hesitating between two tops and asked Pete’s opinion. After a quick joke on how good you looked in underwear and that you probably should go like this, he made up his mind for the baby blue top.

You rushed outside to be picked by your team but not before sharing a sweet but passionate kiss with Pete and agreeing to spend the night at your place after the show. Your team smiled at you knowingly as you entered the car but they didn’t make any comment on your relationship. You discussed the show, the possible questions and what the best answers would be… The ride was pretty quiet after that and you soon arrived at the building where the show was taped. You were warmly welcomed by the host. You had already done some interviews with him, he was easy to talk to, always made you comfortable and was rather fun to be around. He lead you to the make-up artist trailer who didn’t fail to notice your tired look but promised you that it was nothing than a bit of foundation and powder could hide. Indeed, after only 15 minutes there you were glowing, looking fresh, like a fairytale princess leaving her bed.

As you were waiting to be called on stage, you received a message from Pete telling you that he was excited to see you on the show, that no matter what you were the best and that he was eager to see you tonight to finish the nap you had started together. You quickly replied before entering the stage. The interview went rather smoothly. You had begun with questions about your last album and upcoming project teasing a possible collab with Taylor Swift. The crowd went wild at this info and you knew that you would certainly end up in top tweets. After a commercial, you played a game with the host where you had to sing a random song imitating another artist. Clearly, it was not your forte, but you were funny enough to make it a good moment to watch. Then, you proceeded to answers some more interrogations from the public that could be found on social media. Those questions were a lot more personal and globally more focused on your art, compositions, writing skills, inspiration. You were passionate, your eyes were big with enthusiasm and you did a lot of gesture with your hand with made the host smile.

You were so happy that when a question about your dating life came up, you didn’t think twice before saying “Well I am the luckiest person, I have my dream career and dating Pete Davidson is just the cherry on the top, you know. He is just so perfect for me, like me understand and support each other, it just so great when you can share all those moments with someone you love and trust.” As you finished your rant, you noticed how the host was staggered. You finally realized what you had revealed and blushed furiously. “Did you just announce publicly that you are dating SNL cast member Pete Davidson?”. It was like words were dying in your throat and you envisioned Pete’s reaction at this. Surely it was not how you had planned to go public. You nodded shyly and the show stopped there. The host thanks the audience who was visibly thrilled, and you made your way backstage. You compulsively checked your phone every five seconds waiting for a text from your now very public boyfriend. But none came and it was worse. You felt so bad, you never wanted to put him in such a position, you were not sure that he was ready to go public, face the world’s reaction but here you were because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Your team drove you back to your place assuring you that it was okay, he couldn’t be mad at you for this but actually he legitimately could. They insist that you should check your social media, people were very supportive of you, saying that you were so cute together, goals… however you didn’t think that it was a good idea right now, you head spinning with the prospect to face Pete.

You silently entered your house waiting for Pete to arrive, a huge lump in your stomach. You felt so guilty, obviously you had to ruin everything, didn’t you. You were in your kitchen drinking a hot cocoa to calm your nerve when you heard Pete unlocked your front door with his spare keys. You didn’t dare to approach him and let him come in the room, your hands shaking so bad that you had spilled some hot beverage on it. You didn’t really feel the burning sensation, you were too scared of what he would say. To make it even more torturing he remained silent as he glanced at you. he eventually approached you and put away your cup as he took your injured hand in his. He put it under cold water and you let him do it, not understanding what was happening. “Do you think that I hate you or that I am angry at you for making it public without talking about it first?” he stated more than questioned as he stood behind you with his hand on yours. “Yes” you sighed looking down. He made you turned to face him and since you were still not looking at him, he put gently his hand on your face and lift it up. His face was so calm and soft, not what you were expecting at all. “I don’t mind, I mean sure it would have been better to discuss it and find a way together to announce it but you didn’t did on purpose. You were just so excited and you didn’t really think of it so I can’t blame you. I certainly would have done the same. Also, how I can be mad at someone who is so cute and so adorable when talking about me. You know what you say about us, it means a lot to me, a lot more than you can imagine. I love you, okay, and I don’t care if the whole world knows as long as you know it.” He smiled down at you and brushed away some tears that you hadn’t realize where rolling down your face. He cusped your cheeks and kissed your forehead as you buried yourself in his shirt.

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fanfic #pete davidson imagine #snl fanfic #fluff

196 notes · View notes

novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

for the prompt, please do dani and jamie with 22 thank you :)

prompt: kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches

Jamie can’t remember the last time she needed someone to tend her cuts and scrapes. Can’t remember, even, the last time she wanted as much from another person. There’s something too vulnerable about holding out an open wound and saying, Here. Please. I can’t do it alone.

Jamie can do it alone, is the thing. Has done for so long, she’s forgotten what it was to want another person’s skin brushing her own, another person’s eyes concerned for her well-being. It’s become second-nature, pushing all of that aside. How many times has she wandered into the kitchen, a cloth pressed firmly to a torn-open patch of wrist or palm, and scoffed at Owen’s worry? How many times has Hannah strolled into the room to find her bracing an ice pack against a freshly-bruised knee, rolling her eyes heavenward at her own clumsy misfortune? It’s natural, courting injury as she maneuvers the grounds. Almost easier than it should be.

She’s never wanted anyone to fix it for her. Never trusted, if she’s honest, anyone to have the touch. People are too soft. Too twitchy about doing damage. As if there’s any helping a thing like that.

She’s never wanted it--

But Dani, meeting her in the doorway of the greenhouse, has an expression she’s never seen before. Not open worry, not nauseous distaste--an almost perfect, steady calm.

“Let me.”

No question mark at the end of the sentence. No hopeful sway to Dani’s hips, no itchy pull of Dani’s fingers along the elbows of her own jumper. Dani’s face is set, determined, almost as though she’s been waiting for this day since the first time their eyes met.

“No need,” Jamie says, though her head is pounding. Dani is plainly unimpressed.

“C’mere. Sit down.”

She can’t explain why she obeys; her body seems primed to follow instruction, perhaps as evidence of a concussion. There is a split above her brow where a tumbling branch caught her just right, and privately, she’s relieved--that it was her standing beneath the tree as the wind jerked it out of place, and not one of the kids. Jamie had been quick enough to dodge aside. If it had been Flora, if it had been Miles...

Better me. I can take it.

Dani has a kit in hand, she realizes, lifted from the manor bathroom. Sitting beside Jamie on the sofa, she tears open a single-use alcohol wipe. She hesitates only once, one hand hovering beside Jamie’s jaw; when Jamie nods, that hand takes her chin, fingers splayed gently to tip her head back.

“Deep breath.”

“I’m fine,” Jamie starts to say, the words hissing out of her when Dani angles the wipe against the edge of the wound. It’s small, thankfully--the branch had been, too, though Jamie knows better than anyone that size is no measure of danger--but the sting clenches her teeth together. She closes her eyes, trying her best to disassemble the pain and piece it back together into a more enjoyable sensation.

Not the burn, but the soft pressure of Dani’s hand on her skin.

Not the throb running a path along her skull, but the warmth of Dani’s breath mingling with her own.

Maybe this isn’t better, she realizes. Maybe it is infinitely worse, fixing on Dani’s knee pressed to her thigh, Dani’s hand cradling her cheek as though she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Her eyes flick open to find Dani leaning close, inspecting the wound with an unflappable composure.

“It isn’t deep,” she says. “Might scar a little, though.”

“Not my first,” Jamie quips before she can stop herself. Dani’s eyebrows raise, her lips curving in a small smile.

“You’ve got stories.”

Not a question--and not a pressure, either. Just an easy statement. Sometimes, this is just Dani’s way: neat, straightforward, to the point. Jamie wonders what kind of life shapes a woman this way, to navigate the grip of anxiety one moment and turn utterly steadfast the next. She’d like to know. She’ll never push. Dani is a co-worker, nothing more; the last thing Jamie needs is to go crossing bounds again.

“Thank you,” she says, as Dani fishes out a bandage and some tape. “Didn’t, uh. Didn’t need--”

Dani silences her with another smile, tinged with something so like sadness, it puts any knock on the head to shame. “When I was little,” she says, “I was always getting hurt. I was a clumsy kid, I guess. Fell down a lot--out of trees, off my bike. My dad was always the one to take care of it.”

Jamie says nothing. This is the most Dani’s ever spoken directly to her, and she finds the bounce and curve of her Midwestern accent strangely comforting.

“He wasn’t really a typical dad that way, I guess,” Dani goes on, gently holding the cotton bandage up to the wound. She reaches down, clasps Jamie’s wrist, eases her up to hold the square in place. “Hang onto that a sec. My dad, he was...softer than other kids’. He always knew how to clean my scrapes without making me cry. Never quite got the hang of that, after--he died when I was eight, I dunno if you knew that--”

Jamie shakes her head. Dani, patiently cutting a strip of tape, shrugs.

“Got sick. Was gone almost before I knew it. And my mom was never...much good at any of that, so I had to learn how to patch myself up. The alcohol was always the worst part. Almost.”

“Almost?” Jamie repeats. Dani is replacing her hand with deft fingers, adhering the bandage with simple efficiency. When she checks a mirror later, she suspects the whole affair will be neat, orderly, perfectly applied.

“Yeah,” Dani says, leaning back to observe her handiwork. She seems satisfied, piling everything back into the first aid kit, closing it with a click. “Worst part was after. He would always find the best bandaid--something brightly-colored, or with cartoon characters--and then he’d lean over whatever I’d busted open that day, and he’d kiss the spot twice. Once for forgiveness, he always said, to let the skin know he didn’t blame it for bleeding. And once for healing. Two kisses, every time. It felt like magic. I could never...”

She quiets, her smile fading. It’s too easy for Jamie to imagine a small girl with a blonde braid, kissing her own scraped knee after a fall, knowing full-well it wouldn’t be the same. Too easy to imagine Dani at eight--eleven--thirteen, patching herself back together on her own.

“Well,” Jamie says, clearing her throat. “You left a bit out, then.”

Dani raises her eyes, frowning. “Sorry?”

“Did the patching,” Jamie points out. Her mouth is weirdly dry, her head thundering away. This is, she senses, navigating too close to the brink of something. Friendship, maybe. Or just Dani thinking she’s making fun. And still, she can’t stop herself. “Seems like you forgot the magic.”

Dani hesitates, her hands folded in her lap. She’s picking, Jamie realizes, at one cuticle, nearly enough to tear the skin.

“Go on, then,” she adds, heartened to see Dani’s grave expression tilting toward the sun. “Forgiveness and healing. Could use a little of both, maybe.”

She doesn’t know what she expects, exactly--even saying this feels like the product of insanity, a crack on the head urging her toward things she’d never normally try--but Dani draws a breath. Folds a hand around the back of her head, fingers sifting into curls. Leans forward.

It hurts, a little, Dani pressing her lips to the bandage, though she knows Dani is being gentle. Hurts a little, and sparks something Jamie hadn’t meant to let in, too. She closes her eyes, Dani’s kiss seeming to scorch.

“Once for forgiveness,” Dani murmurs, lips brushing the skin of her forehead. Another kiss, sweet and soft and sending an electric charge down her spine. “Once for healing.”

She doesn’t lean back, not right away--her hand is warm, her eyes searching Jamie’s, and for a single beat, Jamie wants to tilt her chin. Coax that gentle kiss to find her lips. Change it all.

The concussion, she assures herself, responsible for the reckless impulse. Responsible, too, for the thread of disappointment coiling in her stomach when Dani removes her hand, places it back in her lap, shakes her head almost ruefully.

“He was better at it.”

“Maybe,” Jamie says. “But I can be clumsy, too. Stay long enough, you might get enough practice to measure up.”

Dani meets her eyes, looking embarrassed, looking delighted. Jamie rubs the back of her neck, casting around for a way out of this hole she’s dug.

“Listen to me. Take enough thumps to the head, I’m gonna starting spewing puns like Owen.”

“Oh no,” Dani laughs. “Anything but that.”

She has to go, she explains, back to the kids. Jamie’s welcome to join them--she’s got a game of cards planned, and they could use a fourth. Jamie almost agrees. Almost lets herself follow Dani into the house, her fingers straying mindlessly to brush the fresh bandage sealed with a kiss.

“Shouldn’t,” she says--to Dani, to herself, to the burgeoning heat in her cheeks as she recalls how gently Dani had pressed her lips to the wound. “Work to be done, y’know.”

Dani nods. “See you at dinner?”

She should say no to that, too. Should go home to her little flat, to the quiet which always makes perfect sense, which never turns up with a first aid kit and assertive hands.

“Yeah. Dinner.” She’s smiling. Dani, leaning against the doorframe, is, too.

“No more knocks on the noggin,” she adds with mock-gravity. Jamie snorts, gives a careless little salute.

“No fuckin’ promises.”

It’s difficult to say what’s harder to ignore, when Dani’s gone and the work rises up to meet her once more. Hard to say which part--the thumping of the headache, or the memory of Dani Clayton’s lips pressed to her forehead--has a greater hold on the rest of her day. No one asks, and she’s honestly relieved.

If asked, Jamie would insist the headache has won out. If asked, she’d have no other choice.

If asked, Jamie would absolutely lie.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #physical affection tag

85 notes · View notes

ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

Text

What I Thought About "Yesterday's Lie" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who absolutely won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!

Here it is! The midseason finale of The Owl House Season Two! An episode featuring Luz going back to the human realm, is hyped up to heaven about how painful it'll be for the audience, and features more anxiety by how Creepy Luz is a thing. And BOOOOOOOOY howdy were fans not ready for this. I'm sure as hell not ready for when I wrote this intro at *checks time* thirty minutes before watching the official premier. Yup, the words you're reading right now are from me in the past, when everything was still pure and simple. Whereas future me is still probably destroyed by the events that transpired. Isn't that right, future me?

Future Me: Actually, it wasn’t that bad. The ending hurt, sure, but other than that, it wasn’t too painful.

Wow, that is some neat input! At least, I think it was. I wouldn't know because I literally wrote that after watching the episode. With the words you're currently reading being written at *checks time* twenty-six minutes before the premier...this whole intro is confusing, isn't it, future me?

Future Me: Sure is.

Yeah, it's definitely confusing. In any case, let's dive into this spoiler-filled review as we find out together just how painful this episode was! Take it away, future me!

Future Me: Will do! Major spoilers ahead, folks!

Now, let’s review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz’s Room: We only see it for a short time, but everything about it just screams Luz. The pile of weird-looking stuffed animals, the witch hat in the center of the floor, and the fact that she has bunk beds, a single child's dream (Or so I've heard). It's a small thing, but I love it.

Vee: Here she is! The character previously dubbed Creepy Luz who now turns out to be yet another new addition to the ever-growing list of characters that we, as a fandom, would give our lives for. Because holy s**t was Vee the best type of expectation subversion. Showing us all the ominous ways of how she basically took Luz's place made fans assume that Vee was an evil doppelganger. Turns out, she was just a tortured soul that was desperate to live a new and better life and lucked out in finding Luz's. What Vee does is...questionable at best, but seeing what she went through with the experiments Belos pulled on her, you understand why she would do it. And I personally love it's that same background information that makes Vee resentful of Luz of all people. Luz's life is a relative dream come true, and running away from that would be insane to someone who spent most of their existence through imprisonment and experimentation. It's an intriguing point of view, even though it's admittingly flawed given how it's mostly Camila that seemingly made Luz's life bearable. But the flaws don't matter. What matters is that you can see where Vee is coming from, and to me, personally, I think she's understandable enough to make me root for her to have some kind of happy ending. Whether as Luz or as herself, I'm hopeful to see Vee get some semblance of peace.

Camila: *Round of applause* Don't mind me! Just taking the time to love how all them sons of b**hes who thought Camila was a bad mom are now heavily invalidated. 'Cause, guess what? Camila is a fantastic mother, both to her daughter and her daughter's doppelganger! Allow me to walk you through the highlights:

How Camila looks like she’s not okay with the fact that "Luz" is clearing out her weird stuff, seemingly acting too different to the Luz she knows. Added to the fact that Camila doesn't like it.

How Camila drove Luz to camp whether than letting her take the bus

The fact that Camila takes that box of junk back in, not willing to part with the tin foil sculpture Luz made.

The way she was willing to play along with the game she thought Luz was doing, supporting her daughter's creative mind that Camila admits to being glad to see.

And, best of all, the willingness Camila had to help this poor creature, despite the lies it lived.

It's that last part I really want to touch upon, though. Because an action like that shows just how much Luz's heart comes from Camila. The kindness and generosity of helping this poor creature, who she has every right to run out on, proves how Luz learned to be everything she is today through Camila's own loving heart. Vee was scared and hurt, and the second Camila saw that she was then more than willing to help because of it. It's something that Luz would do, and it proves that even though Camila didn't exactly get everything right, she's still a great mom where it counts.

“A new life”: A perfect line.

Initially, it makes audiences think that it has everything to do with replacing Luz. It's only through future context that we know it's about escaping the s**t show Vee once lived through that it's clear she's talking about starting over. It hits us with intrigue on the first viewing, only to hit harder with the feels during a second. Really well-done.

Luz in the Mirror: A well-done surprise that makes fans curious about how this even happen in the first place. Kudos to you, writers.

The New Portal: I don't mind that they found a way to build this off-screen. Showing Luz and the gang slowly building a new portal would have been a little too tedious to watch, and it's so much better to just start this episode out with it. Besides, maybe we'll get the slow and steadier version now that we've seen how quickly building one might not have been the best way to go, given how fast that thing fell apart.

Luz Between Dimensions: I have no clue what the hell that place she was in is called, but it's awesome! The overall design of the realm is the correct type of unsettling, like it's oozing with mystery, but it's somewhere that you probably don't want to be in for too long. Whoever designed it deserves all of the credit because I don't want to even think about all the hard work that went into making this look as well-made as it was.

Luz Resisting to See Amity: What? Luz and Amity are adorable, and seeing Luz's immediate thought about seeing Amity makes my shipping heart scream with glee. Don't judge me!

Hiding Luz’s Dad’s Face: Well, that was a fun story while it lasted.

So, it turns out that Luz's dad really was a part of Luz's and Camila's life at some point, but not anymore. As for why remains to be seen, as we don't really know yet if we'll see him make an appearance. I'd say that the odds are high that he will, given how much of a point this episode made about keeping his face hidden. Shows don't usually do that unless the goal is to hype up some official reveal, and I can't wait to see what comes of it.

Luz Telling Herself to Count to Five: Hey, more evidence for how I relate to Luz! I know how it feels to be all panicky about a specific situation, and I only got better when I took the time to calm down for a bit. Sometimes, I even tried the "count to x" method that Luz used...it never worked, primarily because it made me feel worse when people told me to do it, but I still tried it! Plus, there's also some narrative foreshadowing when after Luz says five, the realm shows her Vee, or Number V, which is a pretty cool detail you'll notice on a rewatch.

Luz Helping Vee: I gave Camila praise for helping Vee in the end, but that doesn't abstain Luz from her own set of recognition. The second that Luz realized that Vee wasn't really a threat and is far from evil, our favorite human does what she can to help and even makes a deal where they're both happy. Because, of course, Luz is that perfect of a protagonist who is more than willing to help others in need. And it's why we love her so.

Looking for Magic that Eda Left Behind: A pretty cool idea that gives Luz and Vee a chance to bond and giving us an insight into Eda's past antics and misadventures in the human realm. Not much I can add to it, though.

Gravesfield: It's surprisingly not as jarring as I thought it would be to spend an episode in the human realm. I thought for sure, after all that time in the Boiling Isles, there would be something off about walking around a normal environment for a change. Turns out, it's almost easy to get used to. Or, for me, it is.

But I will say that there's this neat use of colors when comparing Gravesfield with the Boiling Isles. In Gravesfield, the coloring looks dulled down and standard, which is a stark contrast to the bright vibrancy of everything we've seen in the Boiling Isles. It's a subtle way of showing how things are different, aside from the major discrepancies we could come to expect. And I think that's why I appreciate it much more.

Eda’s Called Herself Marylynn in the Human Realm: Hang on...hang on...do you mean to tell me that the crack theory about Eda being Stan's ex-wife is actually true?

...

...What even is this show?!

Vee Making Friends with Camp Members: This shows the most apparent difference between Luz and Vee. Where we see Luz is already fearing the many ways that could go wrong with interacting with teens, Vee revealed that she adapted to her situation and had a chance to make friends. The implications of this are worth discussing another time, but for now, I'll say that it's pretty intriguing that we gain this much insight into both Luz and Vee through such a small thing.

Belos Wanting to Learn How Basilisks can Drain Magic: ...Didn't Raine say that Belos was taking away magic? If so, I think we can figure out how he's doing it. The question now is: Why?

Jacob (The Curator Guy): This guy was a riot. At first, Jacob seemed like a threat with the way he trapped Vee and was apparently stocking her, but the second he goes off about his conspiracy theories, it becomes clear what type of character he is. And was it a blast seeing how much of a crackpot this man is. It wasn't cool seeing him wanting to dissect the precious angel that is Vee, but I still chuckle about things like his "Flat Eather's Certificate." So while he's not that much of a threat, he's still fun to watch.

The Owl Beast was in the Human Realm: ...How did that happen? When did it happen? And how the hell did Eda get out of a situation like that?! Who knows, but it's still a shocking piece of news to learn.

Luz Telling Camila the Truth: Hey, she faced her fear after all! Although, the results aren't as pleasant as when Amity faced her fear two weeks ago.

Camila is a Veterinarian: ...One insignificant reveal...managed to destroy so many fanfics. I mean, we probably shouldn't have just assumed Camila was a nurse...but what the f**k else were we supposed to think?! Sorry for seeing the scrubs, and the first thing that came to my mind was "nurse" and not "vet."

By the way, that had to have been intentional, right? There's no way that Dana Terrace didn't think we'd assume Camila was a nurse. She'd had to have put off a reveal like that just to trip up her fans. And if that's the case, then that is a major d**k move...but that's why I mildly respect it.

Two Human Brothers went to the Demon Realm: Turns out we don't have to be in the Boiling Isles to learn more about it. Because now we have more information about how two humans were taken to the Isles with the help of a witch, thus setting up a grander reveal if it turns out that one of the humans was Philip and the witch was Belos. Because if that's true...then there's more of a history between those two than we thought.

Jacob has a Training Wand: This helps me believe that it's highly likely for Jacob to make a return and to have a power boost for when he does. After all, focussing all that attention on the training wand is way too convenient for it not to come up again in the future. Meaning we're most likely going to get more pain from Jacob if he shows up again.

Camila Beats the Crap out of Jacob for Vee: ...Writers, don't make me choose between Camila and Eda on who's the better cartoon mom. I know Eda's technically not a mom...BUT I STILL DON'T WANT TO CHOOSE DAMNIT!

Also, the sandal...just...

Why the f**k does Camila have a sandal in her purse? I don't know. Is it still funny that she does? Most certainly.

Camila and Luz’s Talk in the Rain: Ooooooooh, I was not ready for this...

I wasn't ready for the crying.

I wasn't ready for the hurt in Camila's eyes when she found out Luz chose to stay in the Boiling Isles.

I wasn't ready for Camila asking if Luz hates being with her that much.

I wasn't ready for Luz profusely stating how it was never Camila's fault.

I was not ready for Camila to tell Luz that she'll try to do better.

And I definitely was not ready for Luz to barely have enough time to promise that she'll come back.

This episode wasn't the twenty-two minutes of nonstop angst that I thought it was going to be...but this short scene more than make up for it.

Luz Tries to Stay Strong: Yet another thing she unwittingly learned from Camila. Camila tried to keep a brave face when Vee was with her and Luz, most likely not wanting to tear either of them down in the process. Luz does the same thing here as she avoids talking about the details of what went down in her sort-of journey back home. And seeing her clearly fake smile slowly droop into an uncertain frown, it uh...it definitely tore me up inside.

WHAT I DISLIKED

I want to say it's perfect, but there's one major issue that really bogs this episode down.

Continuity Error in How Vee Replaced Luz: Having Vee take Luz's place the same day Luz appeared in the Isles is a smart idea on paper...if it wasn't for the fact that it's impossible.

Because Eda closed the portal door the second that she saw Luz, meaning that there's no way for Vee to go to the human realm. It's a major plothole that makes no sense, and it might just be the first time ever that this series wasn't so closely knit with its story. Which ends up taking a dive in quality in the process.

IN CONCLUSION

I'd say that "Yesterday's Lie" is an A-. Everything about Luz, Vee, and Camila is incredible, combined into a story that ends in tragedy and uncertainty for the future. That plothole may drag things down a bit, but everything else is handled so well that I'm not lying when I say it's easy to forgive and forget.

(And that's ten episodes in a row without a single stinker. HOW THE F**K DOES THIS SEASON KEEP WINNING?!)

#the owl house #the owl house spoilers #toh spoilers #luz noceda #camila noceda #camila is a good mom ok!#toh vee #emperor belos #what i thought about #the owl house reviews

51 notes · View notes

emospritelet · 3 years

Text

Heatstroke - chapter 20

Last time, Gold and Lacey danced :)

Words: 2,331

[AO3]

The music kept playing. The Nolans breezed past them, moving in step with each other as though they’d been dance partners all their lives. David Nolan winked at Gold again, and Lacey bit her lip to hide a grin at the long-suffering expression it caused. She was beginning to feel more relaxed, which considering she was pressed up against the man she had a crush on was something of an achievement in her mind. Gold’s grip was firm on her waist, his hand warm in hers.

“What made you want to be a journalist?” he asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Guess I’m a nosy bitch.”

Gold burst out laughing, head rolling back and she felt a lurch in her belly.

“People are interesting,” she said then. “Their lives, why they do what they do. I mean there’s unearthing scandals and exposing corrupt public figures, and that’s all good, but sometimes it’s nice to just document humans doing human stuff, you know?”

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly.

“I think I understand that,” he said. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

Lacey pulled a face.

“I probably spend way too much time drinking in bars,” she said. “But I guess you’re only young once, right?”

“I vaguely remember,” he said, in a very dry tone, and she clicked her tongue.

“Come on, you’re not old.”

“Tell that to my aching bones.”

Lacey stepped back immediately, looking him over.

“Oh, are you hurting?” she asked anxiously. “We can sit down, if you want.”

Gold shook his head, pulling her close again.

“I’m joking,” he said, turning her in a slow circle. “A little, anyway. I’m in no more pain than usual.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They fell silent for a moment, and Lacey smiled as she saw Astrid and Leroy waltz past. Leroy, it turned out, was a surprisingly good dancer.

“How did you injure your leg?” she asked, and Gold looked surprised.

“You don’t want to save that deeply personal question for Sunday?”

“Thought about it,” she confessed. “But it seemed appropriate to ask now.”

He nodded, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, as though he was wondering whether to answer.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing remotely newsworthy,” he said. “Merely a motorcycle, an icy road, and bad luck. Or good luck, depending on your point of view. I suppose I was fortunate that a ruined ankle was the worst I had to suffer. Physically, anyway.”

That comment made her curiosity grow, but she filed it away for the moment.

“Besides,” he added. “We were talking about you. Other than drinking with Miss Lucas, what are your interests?”

“You expecting me to admit to book-binding or basket-weaving, or something?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“I find I never know what to expect with you, Miss French.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” she said. “I work, I drink, I eat and I read. Pretty much it.”

“I’m almost certain that’s not true.”

“How did we get fixated on me, anyway?” she demanded. “How about you answer a few questions?”

A tiny grin twisted his mouth.

“I agreed to,” he said, his eyes glinting. “On Sunday. Tonight I want to hear about you.”

Lacey let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, I run,” she said, and grinned at him. “The scenery around this town can be very interesting at times, you know?”

Gold gave her a very level look, as though unsure whether she was teasing him or not.

“I’m even worse a runner than I am a dancer,” he said, and she chuckled.

“You’re doing fine, but I take your point. I guess yoga might be more your thing. That’s another thing I like to do. Part of my morning routine.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you,” he said, and closed his eyes, looking pained. “I - I don’t mean I’ve been watching you, I’ve just - seen you in the garden, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I like it out in the open air,” she said. “I’ve even done it in the rain.”

A tiny grin appeared on his face, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“Sounds - invigorating,” he remarked.

“You can always come over and join in, if you like,” she suggested.

“Me?”

“Sure, why not?”

Gold looked down very pointedly before meeting her eyes again.

“Because I’m possibly the least flexible person in Storybrooke.”

“Then you’re the one that needs it the most,” she countered, and swatted his shoulder with her free hand, making him blink in surprise. “Come on! It would be good for you! The more you do it, the better it gets.”

Gold’s eyebrows twitched, and that twisted little smile appeared again.

“True of so many things in life, I find,” he murmured, and Lacey smirked.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Indeed it does.”

His voice had gone low and throaty, his grip tightening a little, and she could feel her heart thump, her breath quickening a little. She licked her lips, her eyes on his mouth. He was almost close enough to kiss.

“Oh, Mr Gold, there you are!”

A familiar and unwelcome voice cut through the tension between them, and Gold jerked his head upwards, mouth flattening. Lacey wanted to growl as Zelena West strode up to them, in a long green strapless dress with a thigh split, white teeth bared in a grin. Gold’s face had taken on an oddly closed expression, his eyes losing their light.

“I’m so delighted you could make it!” went on Zelena. “And dancing with Miss French! I always knew you were a charitable person!”

She smirked as she said it, which made Lacey bristle, before turning her attention back to Gold.

“I certainly hope you don’t intend to make this your last dance,” she said. “The night’s young, after all. Perhaps I can tempt you later.”

“I think one dance is really my limit,” said Gold coolly. “Thank you for your effusive welcome, Miss West. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss French and I were having a private conversation.”

Zelena let out a tinkling little laugh that made Lacey want to throw something over her.

“Ooh, be careful!” she said, in a sing-song voice. “Miss French might seem as though she’s just making conversation, and the next thing she’ll be poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong and getting you to confess to all manner of things.”

“That would suggest she’s very good at her job,” said Gold, as Lacey opened her mouth indignantly. “However, other than attempting to school me on the merits of yoga, she’s been going easy on me. I detect no burning desire to get me to spill my darkest secrets this evening.”

“Wait for Sunday,” muttered Lacey, and his mouth twitched as though he was trying not to grin. Zelena rolled her eyes.

“Well, I insist on speaking to you later,” she said. “I doubt Miss French can hold your attention for long.”

She sauntered off, leaving Lacey staring after her in outrage.

“Miss West appears not to care for you too much,” said Gold mildly.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Lacey was still scowling after her, but his hand was warm on her waist as he pulled her back towards him. She caught the scent of his cologne, feeling his fingers splay out across the small of her back and then slide together as he tugged her close.

“She’s a woman of poor taste,” he murmured.

His body was very warm, and Lacey was feeling a little breathless. She licked her lips.

“She seems to like you well enough,” she said, and he chuckled deeply.

“That only proves my point.”

The music slowed to a stop, and for a moment they stood there in silence before Gold smiled a little awkwardly and stepped back, releasing her.

“See?” she said. “You can dance.”

“With you to hold me up, perhaps.”

“Details, details…”

Gold grinned at that, and Lacey felt her heart clench again. The music started up, a livelier tune, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You want to go again?”

“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” he said, in a dry tone. “Drink?”

“Please.” She grinned at him. “I can see David and Mary Margaret are calling it quits, too. I think I’ll go get to know them a little better.”

Gold gave her a slanted grin and bowed his head before turning on his heel and heading in the direction of one of the wait staff. Lacey watched him go, fully aware that she probably had, in Ruby’s words, ‘big pulsing cartoon hearts’ in her eyes.

The evening continued to go well. David and Mary Margaret were every bit as nice as they had seemed, and David seemed to be the only person in Storybrooke that Gold didn’t mind being teased by, however gentle the teasing might have been. Lacey was reluctant to pull herself away from Gold, but she was technically working, so she made sure to talk to plenty of other guests. She caught his eye on her a few times, and he glanced away whenever she turned to face him, causing David to nudge him with a grin and say something that made Gold close his eyes and sigh. It made Lacey bite back her own grin, and she wandered back over to watch the prize draw with Gold and the Nolans. The champagne was going to her head.

Once the prize draw was done—the top prize of a three-course dinner with champagne being won by Leroy—Zelena walked onto the stage to take the microphone as the applause was dying down. Beside her, Lacey felt Gold stiffen, as though he was apprehensive. As though he was waiting for something. She recalled Sidney saying that he thought the evening was about more than charity work, and across the room she saw him watching Zelena intently. Zelena bared her teeth in a wide smile, flicking back her reddish curls.

“Thank you all for coming and for making this event the incredible success it’s been,” she said, her voice carrying. “I think we can all agree that the food has been first class, so thanks to Granny’s Diner for providing it.”

Applause rang around the room, and Lacey joined in.

“Tonight’s event has been the work of months,” Zelena went on, “but seeing the smiles on all your faces and knowing that all the money raised tonight is going to such a good cause - well, it just fills my heart with joy!”

Mary Margaret shared a smile with David, and Lacey eyed Gold, who was staring at the stage with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I have to confess,” said Zelena, “that I have another reason to speak to you tonight.”

Gold made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, as though he was confirming something to himself. Lacey found her curiosity growing, and edged closer to him. Zelena had begun to pace slowly back and forth across the stage.

“Storybrooke has opened its heart to me ever since I came here,” she went on. “We’re a close community. A community based on good old-fashioned values. Friendship, and family. Neighbourliness. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to move here from New York and find a town so - so steeped in wonderful local traditions. So eager to welcome a stranger who felt that she had lost her way.”

She bowed her head a little, as though overcome by emotion. Lacey snorted quietly, but flattened her mouth as Zelena looked up again.

“You see, I’ve always wanted a life of service, a life of - of giving,” she said. “It’s why I’ve done so much for charities in the past. It’s why I’ve been organising these events since I came to Storybrooke. And yet - I feel that I could give more.”

She paused, shaking back her hair as she gazed around the room.

“I like to think that in my own, small way, I’ve helped this town through difficult times,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart with a self-deprecating smile. “And that’s why, after much soul-searching, I’ve made the decision to try to serve the town I’ve come to love so dearly in the best way I can.”

Another pause. Lacey had to admit that she had a talent for holding an audience’s attention. Zelena smiled, eyes widening with a hopeful expression.

“I have decided,” she said. “To run for Mayor of Storybrooke.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the audience, and a scattering of applause that rippled around the room. Lacey glanced at Gold, whose eyes had narrowed further, his mouth set in a grim line. Her eyes flicked to Regina Mills, who was looking shocked, lips parted and eyes wide. Her wife grasped her hand, leaning to whisper something in her ear, and Regina started before nodding and whispering something in return.

“I trust that I can count on the support of the many friends I’ve made since this town opened its heart to me,” said Zelena, in honeyed tones. “I have every faith that Storybrooke will prove to me once again that wishing for something hard enough can make dreams come true.”

She seemed to glance in Regina’s direction, but then smiled broadly.

“Thank you all,” she said. “Enjoy the rest of the night!”

More applause, and Zelena sauntered off stage as the music started up again.

“Well,” said Mary Margaret. “That’s - unexpected.”

“What’s the deal with the Mayoral elections?” asked Lacey.

“Regina’s run unopposed for the past few years at least,” said David.

“No one else wanted the job?”

“Pretty much.”

“Regina’s been Mayor as long as I can remember,” said Mary Margaret, looking puzzled. “Surely no one’s going to vote for Zelena over her?”

“Depends what she’s offering,” said Gold, in a grim tone. “Or what she can use to bring Regina down.”

He said that last in an undertone, and glanced at Lacey as he did so. She could feel curiosity surge in her. His eyes flicked away almost immediately, but she nodded to herself. He knows something. And I’m gonna find out what.

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #golden lace #my fic

33 notes · View notes

anarchyduck · 3 years

Text

Peas in a Pod

Day 20 Alt Prompt: De-Aged

(posted it on AO3 yesterday, forgot to post it here oops) AO3

----------------------

“So let me get this straight,” - Tony massages his temple in effort to soothe his growing headache - “There was a wizard.”

“Yeah,” Ned nods. “And he was shooting off fireballs, like real fireballs, and it was awesome and kinda scary and-”

“Ned. Ned. Find the shortcut to the point. Because nothing explains” - Tony gestures towards the couch - “that.”

Ned blushes with embarrassment and nods . “Right! Sorry, sir. So, uhm, Pete was fighting the wizard guy and he was doing really good! Was totally kicking his ass! And then the wizard like, shot him with some kind of purplish black energy ray stuff? Like it shot right out of his hands. Then the wizard was gone and Pete was… like this.”

Tony eyes the kid on the couch. Same curly brown hair. Same doe brown eyes. It’s everything else that’s wrong. Peter is sixteen, a teenager, and this kid looks like he’s no more than five years old.

As for Peter, well, he looks content watching videos on Ned’s phone. Some children’s cartoon about dogs or something, Tony didn’t quite catch it. But the kid likes it and he isn’t crying anymore so Tony counts that as a win. Judging from the confused state the kid was in upon arrival, it’s safe to assume Peter’s memories are wiped. Or, rather, memories of his life in the present day which is a problem in and of itself.

“So,” Ned’s drawl catches his attention. “What are we going to do?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “We?” he shakes his head. “No, no, you are going home.”

“What about Peter?”

Yeah Stark, what about Peter?

“He’ll go with his aunt.” Tony says simply. Easy enough solution.

“You mean you can’t like, fix him?” Ned asks. “What if he ends up staying like this forever?”

Tony waves off the teen’s concerns. “He won’t.” he assures. “Whatever the wizard guy hit him with will probably wear off in a couple hours. Easy peasy.” After all, the kid couldn’t stay like this forever, could he? That is just absurd.

----------

The effects don’t wear off.

Two hours later and Peter is still a child. Ned is gone, reluctantly dragged out by Happy who also delivered clothes that fit the kid better so he’s no longer swimming in the Doctor Who shirt Tony assumed belonged to one of the boys. During that time, Tony contacts May to fill her in on what’s going on. The woman is stuck at work (“We’re incredibly short staffed today, it’s ridiculous.”) and unable to leave before her shift is over.

It leaves Tony in charge of the kid which, while normally wouldn’t be an issue, he suddenly finds himself out of his depth. Teenagers, he can handle. No problem. They could be reasoned with. But small children?

“Mr. Tony?”

Tony jumps, spinning on hell with his hand pressed firmly against his heart. “Holy shit!” he gasps.

Peter flinches back, eyes wide and looking as startled as Tony feels. Then his bottom lip begins to quiver.

“No no, don’t cry.” Tony says in a rush. “I didn’t mean to scare you, kid. You snuck up on me. Ought to put a bell on you someday.”

That earns him a giggle which washes away the rising guilt. “Uncle Ben says that too.” Peter says. “Says I’m really good at sneaking.”

“You are good at sneaking.” Tony affirms. “What are you doing down here anyway? Thought you were watching TV?” Least that’s where Tony left him. Kid was content with watching the cartoon with the dogs and he figured he could get some work done tracking down the wizard guy.

“I was, but it’s over now.” Peter says dismissively, his eyes already wandering the workshop. Then he actually begins to wander. Tony watches him, contemplating on whether it’s a good idea to let a four year old wander his workshop. It isn’t exactly kid proof and if he knows anything about kids (which is very limited) it’s they like to touch everything. And put things in their mouths.

“What’s that?” Peter asks and Tony leans to the side to look past the monitors and equipment to see what the boy is pointing at.

“Oh that’s DUM-E.”

The robot chirps in response, clicking it’s claw as it peers curiously at the boy. Tony takes a couple steps towards them, immediately thinking Peter might fear the robot. Much to his relief, the boy’s mouth is agape with wonder and eyes equally wide.

“Wow!” he gasps. “Hi DUM-E. I’m Peter.” Peter reaches up to pet DUM-E’s extended arm, giggling as the robot chirps at him. “So is he a robot?”

“Yep. I made him.”

“You made him?” Peter gives him the same look of wonder and amazement. “Wow. Are there other stuff you’ve made?”

“I’ve made a lot of stuff.”

And so Tony gives the kid a proper tour of the workshop. Like his older self, Peter is sharp minded and incredibly smart. He asks questions Tony doesn’t think a four year old would know to ask and hangs onto every word Tony says. When he introduces Peter to FRIDAY, the kid is so ecstatic he can’t sit still. It warms his heart to know Peter keeps that same excitement as he aged.

After the tour, Tony brings him into the kitchen to feed him a late lunch. The kid sits on the kitchen counter next to him, watching Tony’s every move. PB&J sandwiches are the easiest thing he can fix and turns out to be the kid’s favorite.

“So you’re a superhero?” Peter asks curiously.

“Sometimes.” Tony replies as he spreads the peanut butter onto the bread.

“Like Batman?”

“Kiddo, I am way cooler and richer than Batman.”

Peter giggles and Tony thinks it might be the cutest goddamn thing he’s heard all day.

“My daddy is like you.” the kid says suddenly.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Tony asks, finding himself equally curious. He knows through his early research into Peter Parker that the boy’s parents are deceased. Father worked for OsCorp, mother worked for some type of law firm. Aside from the atrocious choice of working at OsCorp, both of them seemed relatively normal.

“Because he makes stuff. B-But not robots like you do. He makes other stuff and-and he white wears a coat and he helps people.” Peter gives a long, wistful sigh then and adds, “I want my daddy and mommy.”

Tony freezes, butter knife stuck in the jar of jelly. Quite suddenly he remembers something else about Peter’s parents.

They both died in a plane crash.

When Peter was four years old.

The man internally panics, mind going blank on what to do, what to say because what can you say?

“Mr. Tony?” Peter’s little voice draws him from his internal crisis. He tilts his head, looking at him curiously and, dare Tony say it, concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony sniffs and finishes up the kid’s sandwich. “Yeah, totally fine kiddo. A-OK. So you want this cut up?”

“Yes.” Peter replies, apparently moved on from the incident. Yet, as Tony puts the knife to bread in order to cut, the kid shouts, “No! No no, not like that! You have’ta make the X.”

“Huh?” Tony looks a little helplessly from the kid to the bread.

“The X!” Peter leans over and traces an X on the sandwich. “Like that!”

Tony cuts it up according to the kid’s desire and it’s only then that he sees what the kid means. “Yeah, guess it does look like an X when you cut it, huh? Well, here you go kiddo. Eat up.” He slides the plate to the boy’s side.

Peter takes a large bite and hums with approval as he chews. “‘Ood yob!” he says around his mouthful. It’s the additional thumbs up that makes Tony chuckle. He grabs a juice box from the fridge for the kid, something teenage Peter would have rolled his eyes and grumbled about. Toddler Peter says a polite ‘thank you’ and picks it up with fingers covered in grape jelly.

He decides to capture the moment for May and pulls out his phone. “Heads up, kiddo.” he says and takes a picture. Peter is caught in a half smile, peanut butter smeared on the corner of his mouth. There’s a glob of jelly on his shirt that’s run down the image of Thor’s hammer.

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” Peter instantly demands.

Tony moves to stand next to him and flips the phone for the kid to see the picture. Peter grins and immediately reaches for the phone. “Uh uh, sticky fingers.” Tony says, which gets the kid giggling about being called ‘sticky fingers’. He moves the phone out of reach and sends the image off to May.

“So,” Tony says. “What do you want to do after lunch? TV? Go play with DUM-E? Whatever that wannabe Merlin did to you took away your powers, or maybe just suppressed them. Maybe we ought to run some tests to figure that out.”

On second thought, maybe not. Teenager Peter detests needles; he imagines little Peter hates them just as much.

“DUM-E!” Peter says excitedly.

“You’re going to spoil that bot, kid.”

---

“Thank you so much, Happy.” May says as she steps into the Tower’s elevator. “You really didn’t have to pick me up. I could have drove.”

Happy directs FRIDAY to take them to the penthouse then shakes his head. “It’s no problem.” he says. “Boss wanted to make sure you got here quickly and with that guy who attacked Peter still running around-”

“Right.” May sighs. “Well, guess he could have done worse things than turn Peter younger. At least him and Tony seem to be hitting it off.” She smiles fondly as she recalls the image Tony sent her. She only hopes Peter has been good while they wait for her.

“Yeah, well, the kid’s grown on him.”

“I feel a little jealous, honestly.” May admits. “Peter was so cute when he was little.”

The elevator comes to a stop, the doors slide open to the entrance of the penthouse. It’s oddly quiet inside and the lights are dimmed. “Tony?” Happy calls out as he and May walk through the foyer into the living room.

It looks like a tornado hit it. There are papers thrown about with childish drawings covering them. A sheet covers the kitchen table which has been pulled away from the dining area and there are mini marshmallows covering the floor with some sticking to the large windows that overlook the city. A device that looks like a mini catapult sits on top of the table next to a pile of marshmallows and markers.

May follows the chaos, finding the TV on with the Incredibles playing on a low volume and both Tony and Peter fast asleep on the couch. Peter is still a toddler in every way May remembers, sleeping with his head on Tony’s chest. There are stickers on their faces and she spots marker smears not only on Peter’s arm but also on the hand that’s resting on Peter’s back.

“Did you find-” Happy starts, quietened as May shushes him. He comes to her side, expression softening at the sight. “Least they kept each other busy.” he remarks.

May nods in agreement as she pulls out her phone to take a quick picture of the two. “Like two peas in a pod.”

#webpril 2021 day 20 #webpril 2021 #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #ned leeds #may parker #happy hogan #spiderman #spider-man #iron man #marvel #mcu #duckie's writing

18 notes · View notes

yamithediaperdork · 3 years

Text

How to break a bully (My hero academia)

Kirishima was on cloud nine as he walked though the halls of the school. he'd just gotten a98 on his last test, He was at the height of his powers AND he had a blond cutie pie for a boyfriend and a big baby. for a daddy dom like Kirishima it was like getting triple 7's at a slot machine, even though there was ONE slight problem with his cutie pie big baby. it was that his big baby who could be loving and sweet and such a widdle cuddle bug in private..was a big brat and a total bully in public. If you hadn't of guessed as much by now, the baby in question was Katsuki Bakugo, Who as Kirishima looked out one of the hallway windows he say him bullying anther student. 'Little man..I thought we talked about this.' Kirishima thought and frowned, crossing his arms as he watched the scene. He was NOT a fan of his little sweetheart being a bully and had tried everything from washing his mouth out to spanking his bottom bright red and even tried bribing the brat, but nothing seemed to work. Slowly thought as he kept watching, a plan formed in his head. it was a evil plan to be sure, and one that might just break the little guy, but as a responsible daddy he knew it was his duty to teach his widdle guy right from wrong.

Meanwhile, not knowing he was being watched, Katsuki was having fun as he gave a third wedgie to glasses wearing student. he hadn't even bothered to learn the nerds name, he'd just felt the need to blow off some steam and the nerd had been the closet target. "S-Stop this o-or I'll-" the nerd whined and whimpered, lifted in the air by his hello kitty briefs and Katsuki snickered. "You'll what? wet your panties? Tell a teacher? go ahead~ But if I get in trouble because of you you'll WISH for something as kind and loving as I'm doing right now~" Katsuki said and then holding the geek up with one hand twirled him with the other. with the geek all twirled up, Katsuki let him spin and held out his palm so the geek got slapped every rotation. "Geez stop hitting yourself on my hand nerd!" Katsuki laughed and when the nerd was all dazed and confused, hiked him up higher and then dropped him to the ground. Hilariously at least to Katsuki, as the nerd whimpered and sobbed, the front of his pants started to darken and then the geek was wetting himself. "Pffft, Are you pissing yourself? what a BABY!" the blond bully laughed loudly, even though he was the last person who should be teasing someone else. "Maybe you should ask your mommy and daddy to get you some huggies, LOSER!" Katsuki chuckled, and again, considering he was at the moment wearing a power ranger pull up under his own pants, he had ZERO room to talk. Still, he decided the geek had had enough and walked away, whistling and feeling good and having NO idea of the hell that would be waiting for him all too soon.

That night while snuggling with daddy, Katsuki was in his normal daddy time attire (Read: A thick massive white disposable diaper and a t-shirt reading daddies little stinker, and sucking on a paci) they were watching one of daddies shows but since it wasn't a cartoon Katsuki basically tuned out of it, thinking about how tomorrow was one of his rare brief days and looking forward to it. it wasn't that the blond didn't like his pull ups or his diapers (Clearly he loved them) but well, the pull ups just sorta felt close enough to his huggies that sometimes Katsuki would almost boom boom in them before catching himself. Daddy also had promised if he could prove he didn't need his pull ups by keeping his undies clean 10 times in a row (and tomorrow was day number ten!) then he could stop with the pull ups at school anyways. with dreams of big boy undies during the day Katsuki suckled extra hard on his paci, not registering the weird taste on it and the fact he was sleepier then normal, and just snuggled into daddies side and closed his heavy eyes for a second.

when he opened them again he was being dressed by Kirishima and it was morning. "Hey sleepyhead, welcome back to the world of the living. you conked out HARD on me last night." the red head chuckled. "I..I did? huh..Weird." Katsuki said and sat up. he felt a little wonky still, but gave a yawn as daddy finished getting his shirt on him, his socks, undies and pants were already on and a glance at the clock told him that he'd super slept in, they were gonna have to boogie to get to class on time. "Sorry I conked out on you, wanted to play with you." Katsuki said and got up, pecking daddies cheek with a smooch and reached down for his school bag. "hey it happens. maybe my cute big baby needs to start taking naps." Daddy said and winked. "heh, maybe." Katsuki agreed though the thought brought a blush to his cheek. "something to talk about later, for now, let's get going. one more tardy and you'll have to spent Saturday in detention inside of crawling around in the living room making presents for me." Daddy said and lead the way out the door. Katsuki who loved being a little present maker, gave no argument.

Getting to school with a few minutes to spare, Kirishima and Katsuki split up, their lockers where on different floors and the blond noticed something weird as he walked towards his locker. Normally the other students steered clear of him or gave him looks of hate because of his bullying ways, which was how he liked it. It was part of his (in his mind) brilliant cover for his big baby life with daddy, that in public he was the meanest toughest asshole you ever had to deal with. Daddy wasn't so fond of the plan but Katsuki could endure any of daddies punishments and truth be told, while daddies spankings hurt and Katsuki didn't get off on them..well, they helped him feel like the little boy he really was. Still today as he walked to his locker he was getting lots of chuckles and smiles. a couple of girls were whispering to each other and pointing at him, then both burst out laughing and he raised a eyebrow. he stopped to go and ask them what was so funny when a boy from a grade lower then him came over, wagging his eyebrows for the sake of the crowd and then spoke up. "Are you lost little guy? Do you need me to help you find your daddy?" "..The fuck did you say?" Katsuki asked, going to go for a badass pose when anther student from behind swatted his thigh. "Bad boy! no potty mouth!" Katsuki yelped and jumped at the swat, more from shock then pain but the reaction got a chuckle from everyone. turning around to slug whoever had slapped him, the slapper had blended into the crowd. "Alright, who's got the balls!?!" Katsuki growled, and started to take a battle stance. "Awww somebodies all grumpy!" a voice from the crowd called. "I think he needs hims paci!" anther called. Katsuki's mind was racing now, his cheeks turning red. 'what the FUCK is going on here?!?' he thought. The stand off came to a end when the warning bell rang. "Aww, better hurry up and stock up your diaper bag little guy!" was the second to final insult hurled Katsuki's way though as the crowd moved, SOMEONE patted his ass! "he's still clean!" came the final insult and Katsuki was left sputtering in rage, before stomping off to his locker. almost ripping the door off it's hinge, he found a pastel blue pacifier on a whine cord hanging inside of his locker, with a note taped to it. 'Suck on this before you end up crapping yourself' the note mocked, and he didn't know the handwriting. '..Somebodies gonna die toward.' he growled red faced, and yanked the paci down and tossed it in a nearby trash can. packing his books into his school bag he dashed for class.

if he'd of thought the classroom would be a sanctuary from his torment, he'd been wrong as right there on the chalkboard for home room was a drawing of him, in just a diaper and a baby bonnet squatting and who'd ever done the art had added stink lines. with his distinctive hair it was clear just looking who it was suppose to be, but if there had been any doubt it's been labeled in big bold letters "BABY KATSUKI BAKUGO GOING BOOM BOOM!!" Katsuki let out a soundless screen and almost blasted the chalkboard, but restrained himself, barely and erased the drawing and turned to face the smirking faces of the the rest of the class. "OK, which one of you twat monkeys has a god damn death wish?" he growled. "Sheesh, somebodies a grumpy baby." Tenya chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Maybe he needs a diapie change already." Yuuga suggested and laughed. "No, i think we'd all KNOW if the baby was poopie." Momo giggled, holding her nose and waving a hand to prove her point. "G-Guys..Come on.. be nice..it's not his fault if he needs diapers.." Midoriya said, sweat dropping. "I DON'T NEED GOD DAMN DIAPERS!" Katsuki yelled. "oh wow, then that makes it worse! you wear'em by choice!" Jirou chuckled. there was throbbing vein on Katsuki's forehead and he was about to blow up the whole classroom when not only their teacher came in, But Kirishima. "everyone, calm down and take your seats please." Fuming and blinded with raged, Katsuki stumbled for his desk and got some d'aww's and 'baby can't walk yet' comments from the class.

the rest of the morning crawled by, with Katsuki receiving more then one note with various drawing of him being a big baby, or worse questions about how his diaper was holding up. so was it any wonder that his school work for the day suffered as a result, and when he was asked to read out loud for the class he stumbled over even the most basic of words, which got quiet chuckles. Come lunch time he couldn't wait to get away from all of them, and add into it that his belly was growling from not only missing supper last night but breakfast this morning. the tummy growls had gotten him even more teasing but he didn't even wanna think about that right now. Kirishima had been called away just before lunch break and so Katsuki didn't have his daddy to help him calm down as he strolled into the cafeteria. he went and picked up a lunch tray and scanned the crowd for Daddy's trademark red hair but then first noticed a crowd at the back of the cafeteria and then noticed WHAT they were all looking at. there, in blown up giant posters were 6 pictures of Katsuki in all his baby glory. The first picture had him triple diapered and asleep, sucking on his thumb on a blanket on the floor. he was face down and ass up and using a teddy bear as a pillow. He didn't recognize when the picture had been taken but daddy HAD told him he'd end up like that more often then not when he conked out on the floor. The second picture had him laying on his back, hands balled up in fists and rubbing his eyes and laying on a teddy bear print changing mat, and in a clearly loaded diaper. THIS one he reorganized as the first time he'd loaded a diaper for daddy, he'd only meant to let out a little bit to try but his butt hadn't listened to him. he'd been hysterical for a hour but daddy had given him LOTS of hugs. Picture number three had him asleep again, this time in a crib and wearing a teddy bear onesie with a bear eared hoodie to go with it and a fluffy tail. he was also hugging a teddy bear to his chest and drooling up a storm. That had to of been from his birthday, because that was what daddy had gotten him and he'd tried to wear it as often as he could. Picture number four he remembered taking not that long ago, and had assumed that Daddy had been joking about sharing it, but it was becoming PAINFULLY clear who had posted all of these. It had Katsuki in a thick balloon print diaper sitting on a duck shaped training potty, holding onto the handles and filling his diaper, a look of pure pleasure on his face even though he was blushing. Moving onto number five and Katsuki felt himself pale even though he was blushing, making for a interesting look. it showed him on top of a teddy bear that was a foot taller then him, hugging it around the neck and kissing it, and from the blur around his pampered hips it was clear to everyone what he'd been doing. he couldn't even pin down WHEN this had been, as it was the only way he'd been allowed to get his rocks off. the last picture had Katsuki again in just a diaper, but he had paint all over himself and was holding up a poorly made finger painting for whoever was taking the picture to see. of course it was Kirishima but that much wasn't in the picture, though the painting was signed 'To daddy love Baby Katsuki' Katsuki felt his knees going weak and he tried to say something, anything as countless students laughter, chuckled and took pictures, then someone noticed he was there. "HEY EVERYONE, THE BABIES HERE!" practically the whole school turned and started laughing at Katsuki, and the taunts and jeers came. "What a big dumb baby!" "Stuffie humper!" "Diaper pooper!" "who's the big baby now?" "i bet he's filing his diapers now!" "Cry baby cry baby!" "Diaper boy! Diaper boy!" it was that last chant that caught on and Katsuki whimpered and whined. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP ALL OF YOU! I'M NOT WEARING A DIAPER! I'M NOT! I'M IN UNDIES! T-THOSE WERE ALL PHOTO SHOPPED! STOP LAUGHING AT ME!" he screamed, stomping a foot and his voice cracking and going higher and higher pitch. "prove it!" Called the geek he'd beaten up yesterday. "yeah! prove it!" a girl he'd tormented last week agreed. "H-How can I prove it?!?" Katsuki huffed, and whined, fighting back tears. Where was daddy!?! he needed daddy! "Drop your pants!" "yeah! drop your pants and show off your undies!" "drop your pants! drop your pants!" It was a mob action mindset at it's worse, and Katsuki knew it would only get worse if he didn't give the crowd what they wanted. thankfully for him, it was a undies day and he just prayed that daddy had picked a basic white pair of briefs for him when he'd been dressing him this morning. of course if Katsuki had been thinking clearly, he would of realized that since daddy had set this all up, there was no way in hell this would of ended well. but can anyone really blame him for not thinking of that? Undoing his belt to a cheer from the crowd he undid the button on his pants and let them drop to his ankles, smirking. "There see? I'm in big boy underwear!" he said, not bothering to look down. the crowd exploded in laughter and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, then the geek from yesterday called out. "Nice pull ups! I guess compared to the DIAPERS those ARE big boy undies for you!" Katsuki's eyes went wide as saucers and he looked down to confirm that not only was he indeed in a pull up, it was a barney one. "I-I no! I..But..Daddy dressed me..and.." Katsuki whimpered and cried. "Bwhahahaha! he doesn't even dress himself! he really IS a baby!" "what a dork!" "What a baby!" "WHAT A LOSER!" more laughs and taunts and Katsuki couldn't take it and started to bawl, even as the front of his pull up started to swell and Barney's smiling face faded away. he was wetting himself. He couldn't take it anymore and turned to run away, but forgot about how his pants were around his ankles and tripped, landing face down and ass up and giving everyone a perfect view of what happened next. maybe it was all the teasing, maybe it was all of his nerves. maybe it was from the laxative powder that Kirishima had slipped onto his paci for a bit this morning before he woke up. In any case he found himself stuck there as his body suddenly had a payload to get rid of and he let out a massive fart that shut the crowd up for a second. but only a second. "wait..is he going to.." "No way!" "ah jeez, if his FARTS stink this bad.." three loud and powerful farts came out in a row and then the back of Katsuki's pull up started to puff out as he cried and sobbing, pounding a fist on the ground and putting his forehead to the floor. whether his cries and sob and behavior was from the shame of what he was doing or just trying to force what looked like a painfully large movement out was anyone's guess, though most believed it was the latter. the puffing of the back turned into a large lump that was poking out the back of the pull up and one boy who's quirk was force fields thought quick as it looked like the big baby was gonna leak. Forming one around the pull up the lump shushed against it and then as Katsuki screamed out "DADDY!" the mess was smushed all around. the ONE thing the force field couldn't contain however was the smell and lots f students started to hold their noses even as thy laughed and waved hands. "YUCK! what did you eat? roadkill skunk?" "Somebody open a window!" "Are we sure THIS isn't his quirk? super stenches?" with his poopies all out and it all over, Katsuki was crying big time and blubbering for daddy. "Awww, did somebody have a accident?" Came Kirishima's voice. Though tear filled eyes Katsuki looked up and saw daddy, who had a large diaper bag with him. "You..you.." Katsuki whined and whimpered. "am here to save the day." Daddy said, then held his nose. "whew, just in time, force field or no force field, i don't think that load is staying contained for long!" Daddy came over and scooped the blubbering baby up, and Katsuki sniffled and buried his face into daddies chest, getting a d'awww from the crowd. 'it's over..d-daddies gonna take me away and get me changed and-' Katsuki thought, eyes closed. then he felt himself being plopped onto a changing mat that had been set up on one of the lunch tables. "D-Daddy?" Katsuki asked, opening his eyes. no way he was gonna change him HERE..in front of everyone! "Shh, be a good boy and let daddy change your stinky bottom." Daddy said and winked. this was a humiliation a step too far, even in light of all of this and Katsuki screamed and thrashed about, shaking his head no and yelling it it too, till daddy rolled him on his tummy and got the kid making the force field to drop it, then walloped his squishy backside. "Little man! that is enough! you are going to be a good little boy and let me change you're pull up and put you in a nice thick diaper, then you're going for a nap, or daddies gonna paddle your bum and then all of that will happen anyways! got it?" Katsuki bawled and whined, but nodded he understood.

One change later, and earning a new nick name to go along with all the others he now had (the new one being little nub..go ahead and guess why) and Katsuki was in 4 for his over night diapers and had been changed into a light blue t-shirt with a teddy bear in a night shirt and night cap sleeping on a quarter moon on the front. He'd been given a ba-ba of formula to drink while he was changed, and it had been oddly filling but didn't make things any better for him as he now had to wave night night to the rest of the school. scooped up with dadies hands under his butt and his legs sticking out behind daddy while he held onto daddy with his arms for support, Katsuki was carried towards the shop class where they had built a crib just for the impending big baby. he was sulking and whining and looked eyes with Kirishima as he was carried away. "..why?" he sniffled. "because I told you to stop being a bully or else. you didn't wanna listen. now you'll NEVER be a bully again, and will see what it's like to be picked on. I know it's a hard lesson, and trust me, I didn't wanna have to teach it to you like this. Just, you left me NO other choice." Daddy said. "I-I would of stopped if you'd of told me this was the punishment.." Katsuki pouted and whined. "...Huh. didn't think of that. oh well, too late now. Look at it this way. you'll get to be a big baby ALL the time now. and don't worry, daddies never gonna let anyone physically hurt you." Kirishima said and kissed the huffy boys cheek. Somehow, that didn't make things better but Katsuki just didn't have it in himself to fight anymore. the bully terror of hero academia was gone, replaced with a huffy diapered toddler who could only strike back at his tormentors with stinky diapers.

The end

20 notes · View notes

fandomlurker · 3 years

Text

A Ponderous Rewatch: Jockey For Position

Now that we’re done with that long cameo, it’s time for our feature presentation for tonight, and it’s a doozy!:

We open with Pinky frantically running on a spinning globe while Brain stands above him on the…globe holder? I don’t know if that part has a name or not.

“[winded gasps] Can I stop now, Brain?”

“Not until I finish my demonstration.”

Brain, that’s just… Well I was about to say it was mean, but given that Pinky understands the details of his plans better when Brain demonstrates it or draws elaborate diagrams, maybe it’s for the best? I doubt Brain could make that large globe spin just by using his hands, and Pinky’s been seen a lot of times running on the mouse wheel in their cage so he’s gotta be pretty in shape. Still, it feels like Pinky’s been running for a lot longer than he needed to…

You know what? I change my mind. It is a bit mean, Brain.

“When I build my reverse geotropic arrestor, Pinky, and throw it from the North Pole like this…”

The word “geotropic” doesn’t quite sound right. I wonder…

…Okay, yeah, Brain’s getting worse at naming things.

“…In a matter of seconds the cable will become taut, gravity will cease, and everyone will fly off the face of the Earth!”

Oh my GOD, Brain. This has got to be the stupidest plan you have come up with yet! Nothing about this will work.

Well, there goes poor Pinky.

“Leaving us alone to assume control.”

It’s still “us”, huh? Noted.

Long Pinky.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! Haha hehe heh—!”

Pinky, sweetheart, I know praising Brain is kind of your thing but this is one time I’m going to have to call you out on your bias because this is super not brilliant and I’m actually a little worried for Brain’s mental state.

“—Oh wait, no, no. What’s going to keep us from flying off the Earth?”

That’s one flaw of many, Pinky, but I guess it’s as good a start as any.

“We will duct tape ourselves to a tree.”

Because the tree will totally stay in the ground when the Earth abruptly stops spinning. Not that it will stop spinning, because none of this makes any sense.

Brain, did this idea come from, like, a dream you had or something? Is that why the plan is working on dream logic?

I know this is a comedy cartoon and this is all a joke but sometimes Brain’s plans are so fucking out-there I just have to roast him for it.

“Unfortunately we still need to raise money to buy a one billion ton magnet. But I have a solution!”

Oh boy, can’t wait to hear the solution to this one. It’s gonna be stellar if the whole plan today is anything to go by.

Oh nice, Brain’s the one sewing for a change! Usually this is Pinky’s area of expertise, but it’s always nice to see that Brain can do some classically domestic things too.

“Tomorrow is the running of the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what that is?”

Most of my knowledge on it comes from “My Brother, My Brother, and Me” goofs, so my mind keeps autocorrecting it to “Kenfucky Derby”, but go on.

“Umm… Oh! A very large hat?”

“Promise me something, Pinky. Never breed.”

“I’ll try.”

Well, that’s going to come back to haunt them.

“The Kentucky Derby is the biggest horse race of the year. There’s a one million dollar purse going to the jockey riding the winning horse.”

“And I am going to win that purse!”

Okay, first off: Pinky, are you just going to stand there and stare at Brain as he gets changed? Like, I understand they’re naked normally and this is the exact opposite of stripping but umm…

Secondly: Brain, did you really have to get that up close to tell Pinky this? You two are making this too easy for me.

“Zort, Brain! A million dollar purse?!? Ooooh!~ You’re going to need matching pumps and earrings for that!”

Pinky’s got his priorities in order.

“Focus, Pinky, focus!”

“Now watch.”

And now Brain’s ordering Pinky to watch him dress and I just…I have no words. This is all so suspect. Why do you two even need a dressing screen if you’re usually naked anyway? And it shouldn’t matter if anyone sees you get dressed unless this is some weird reverse nudity taboo you two have developed and if that’s the case, why are you allowing Pinky to watch? And if it’s for a dramatic reveal WHY ARE YOU ORDERING HIM TO WATCH YOU CHANGE???

This episode is already so goddamn wild.

I am really not sure how I feel about that pan-up of Brain when he’s thrust his pelvis forward. At least the outfit is cute, though.

“Narf! Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament!”

“Beautiful”, huh? Also noted.

“Look at me, narf, I’m a pink flamingo! Ahahaheh!”

Oh LORD, Pinky, how are you—?!?

“I’m a cement deer! Ah hah!”

PINKY, STOP, YOU’RE SCARING ME! D:

“Oh, I’m one of the seven dwarves, Brain!”

That’s more acceptable but Pinky, sweetie, warn me if you’re going to nightmarishly shapeshift again, okay?!

I guess we can add that to the list of random abilities Pinky has.

“Stop it, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you.”

You are much calmer about this than I would be if this happened in front of me, Brain.

“Oh. Right-o, Brain. Narf.”

“Now let us make haste, for we have much to do before the race begins.”

“Poit.”

So then we cut to Churchill Downs, and I can only assume another roadtrip adventure was had off-screen.

“First, Pinky, we must visit the stables.”

“Inside, we will find the winning horse.”

“Err… How are we gonna do that, Brain?”

“The racing form, Pinky.”

My bet’s on... [squints] hLUUNO the horse.

“By analysing the velocity-based pace line, mile turf win and bayer speed figures, we’ll find a grade one stakes claimer who’ll give us a key horse situation.”

“Key Horse Situation” would be a great band name. Also, whoops, little bit of an error on the name plaques, background artists.

What do your mouse eyes see, Pinky?

“Err, can’t we just ride the pretty one?”

SHE!

So here she is, one of the few characters debuting in the Animaniacs run that will matter to PatB lore going forward aside from our main duo.

A fun fact for you all: Phar Fignewton’s name is a triple reference joke. “Phar Lap” was a champion thoroughbred race horse in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Fig Newtons are small pastries filled with fig paste. Lastly, “Fahrvergnügen” was a slogan for Volkswagon starting in 1990. Translated, it means “driving enjoyment”.

Phar Fignewton makes a whinnying noise and ends it off with a goofy laugh.

Brain is not impressed.

“Heavens, they’re multiplying…”

Pinky is instantly smitten with her.

BONK!

“This is a business trip, Pinky!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Brain.”

“Here is our horse.”

“’Daddy’s Little Angel’…”

I guess it’s an ironic nickname.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Whu… I think so, Brain, isn’t Regis Philbin already married?”

…

Now I’m wondering if Pinky is suggesting that one of them marry Regis or if he’s suggesting that Regis marries the horse. Either way, what the fuck?

Yeah, same.

“The race, Pinky. By combining the statistics and my low body weight, this horse cannot lose! The prize money will be ours!”

GAH! Brain, I’ve had enough minor heart attacks from this episode because of Pinky’s eldritch morphing ability, I don’t need another one of your bizarre close-ups to do the same!

“Now I must take the place of the real jockey.”

“Hello?”

“Is this the Jockey who’s going to ride ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Ed Mcmahon from Publisher’s Smearing House. You’ve just won ten million dollars.”

Pinky delightedly and silently listening in and chuckling in the back is precious.

And honestly, Brain, I don’t know why you’re crouching here, but it’s also cute.

“I won ten million dollars… I WON TEN MILLION DOLLARS! I am outta here! Later!”

The mice are lucky that he’s so excited about winning all that money that he forgets to do basic things like ask when and how he’ll get the money.

“Louie! Louie!”

“Later!”

“Who’s gonna ride my horse? I mean, Louie is the smallest, lightest jockey in the entire world!”

Did you know that there’s a weight requirement for jockeys, but no height requirement?

“Not anymore!”

“[GASP]”

Whoops, I just noticed another error, though it’s minor: Brain’s jockey outfit throughout this scene is light tan and purple instead of the pea green and purple that it’s supposed to be.

“You’re a jockey?!”

“Actually, I am a mouse in the early stages of an elaborate scheme to take over the world.”

The more this happens, the more I’m starting to think that Brain does this shtick on purpose to emotionally and mentally disarm people who would otherwise suspect that he’s not human. The fact that it works shows you just how idiotic the human beings of this world are.

“Well, fine, we all need a hobby but…will you ride my horse?”

Oh, sir, I think it’s much more than a hobby at this point. If only you knew…

“I shall ride! And win!”

His design is a little odd here, but it’s still a good pose.

So Brain next has to be weighed to make sure he meets the requirements.

“Saddle: Seven pounds. Saddle and rider: Seven pounds 3 ounces.”

So if you can recall from the previous rewatch post, a house mouse on average weighs 19g, and a common wood mouse weighs 23g (it can be up for debate which type of mouse Brain is). Converting Brain’s 3 ounces of weight to grams would result in him weighing 85.0486g.

Brain does have a bit of a cute little potbelly thing going on, but he’s also consistently much smaller in height and width than the average adult mouse in the series. I think the incredible difference in weight is mostly coming from the heft of Brain’s, well, brain and skull…and the muscle mass packed into that tiny body to help keep him upright.

“A genetically perfect jockey! This is fantastic!”

Please don’t phrase it like that.

“…Let’s look into early retirement.”

That jockey on the left is going through some shit, man. He looks like how I feel after working an eight hour shift on the holidays.

And so we skip to the beginning of the race!

That poor, poor jockey…who changed colour schemes for some reason.

There’s Phar Fignewton with a jockey who honestly looks like he’s high.

And here’s our little mousey fella, who has somehow managed to make this aggressive horse obedient.

“Camptown race is five miles long, do-dah, do-dah.~”

He’s so happy he’s singing to himself! This is honestly so precious that I completely forgive him for not getting the lyrics correct.

Coincidentally, Daddy’s Little Angel is positioned next to Phar Fignewton.

“Ooh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?”

Uh oh.

“Pinky, what are you doing here? Your weight will disrupt my winning calculations!”

I don’t know if it’d be that off, Brain. The combined weight of two mice is still much less than that of a human jockey.

“But Brain, it’s too exciting! I—“

[TARGET LOCKED]

“Oooh! Heh. Hello.~”

I think I’m going to save my thoughts on this whole…thing until the end. Right now I will say, however, that I wasn’t quite expecting the tongue-hanging-out-of-gaping-mouth lovestruck/horny??? reaction.

“Pinky, the race is starting!”

Too late, Brain.

And we’re off!

Bye, Pinky.

“There’s baloney in our slacks…~”

Pfft.

So as the race goes on, we get to know a few more of the horses’ names: Isle of Yap (a nice callback to the first PatB short), Flamiel (which is apparently the WB writers’ favourite word?), and Leggo-my-Egoiste (a double reference to an old Eggo slogan and the name of a cologne).

The other jockeys are more than a little surprised by Brain and his steed taking the lead early in the race.

Phar Fignewton is trailing way behind.

Meanwhile, Pinky’s woken up from fainting, seeing the oncoming horses—

--and promptly freaks out and stumbles back down again.

“Victory, she waits for me! Oh, the do-dah-day!”

You really have to stop tempting fate like this, Brain.

Phar Fignewton’s very tired, but what’s this?

Is that…Pinky in harm’s way?

ThePowerOfLove.mp3

Determined and fueled by her inexplicable crush, Phar Fignewton starts gaining ground on the other horses.

Brain didn’t calculate for this!

…Oh! Hi, Warners! Looks like they’re cheering Phar on.

“Oh no! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

I didn’t think whips were allowed in races like the Kentucky Derby, but apparently they are. Their use was only restricted—not banned—in the summer of 2020, which is alarming to say the least.

On a different note, I know some of you folks are now jotting down the fact that Brain knows how to use a whip. I see you.

She makes the save!

And she also wins the race! Way to go, Phar Fignewton!

“In the words of the great Willie Shoemaker: ‘Nuts!’”

It was a good try, Brain, but honestly I’m glad you failed this time if only so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself with your actual world domination plan’s failure later. Maybe take a couple nights off to rest up a bit and formulate plans that aren’t totally bonkers, hmm?

I might as well go ahead and talk about this now. I…am conflicted on this whole Phar Fignewton thing. It makes for a very strange one-off joke about Pinky instantly falling in love with a distaff counterpart of his that’s a horse for whatever reason…but the fact that she’s not a one-off character is baffling in and of itself. Like I’ve said before, she’s mentioned a couple of times going forward as being Pinky’s girlfriend, or as a bizarre joke at Pinky’s expense about him being in/having been in a relationship with a horse. There’s even a small running gag about Pinky’s reaction to people’s disgust about it: “People can be so intolerant!”. I don’t know if the joke is supposed to be one about racial segregation or a wink and nod to queer folks in the only way that the writers could get away with in a cartoon at the time (in a “see, Pinky’s down for a relationship with anyone, even outside of his species!” type of way).

Phar Fignewton herself is a sweetie but besides that she has no personality to speak of and we’re just meant to assume based on physical appearance that she is equivalent to Pinky. And like, she hasn’t been uplifted to human levels of intelligence and sapience like Pinky has because of Acme Labs, but she seems to be naturally sapient for some unknown reason and just simply unable to speak English.

On top of all this, the relationship is very shallow and the only reason we’re given as to why Pinky likes her is because he finds her pretty. It’s perfectly in character for Pinky to easily fall in love, as he does so with other animals a couple more times in the spin-offs, but it just feels weird that this is the one that sticks around purely to become a running gag that gets mentions that are sometimes literal years apart from one another.

And listen, I know the writers most likely made this a thing just because they thought it was a funny joke and a few of them managed to remember about Phar and would use Pinky dating her as a gag. I know this. But it doesn’t make it any less confusing and weird. I remember the jokes about Pinky and horses from way back when I first watched Animaniacs and the PatB spin-off when I was a kid and I never had any context for it because I don’t think I ever saw this specific episode. Coming back as an adult and seeing all these episodes in order and watching this one in particular and finding out the context is “Pinky thinks a horse is pretty and the horse and him are in love and long-distance dating now” is both underwhelming and leaves me with more questions than answers.

…Also, if my earlier theories on why the writers made this joke are correct, does this mean Phar Fignewton is metatextually a beard for Pinky?

I just don’t know, folks. You’re welcome to leave your thoughts on this in comments.

Let’s wrap this up.

So as we can see, Brain is, as usual, back to work on another plan that involves—

—a goddamn cannon, holy shit! What is he using the glue for? That’s a little ominous, given what’s been involved in this episode.

There’s a hammering noise in the background and we see Pinky putting up a photo of Phar Fignewton.

“Pinky, will you please stop that? I’m trying to concentrate on tomorrow night!”

Wow, you’re more irritable than usual, Brain. I didn’t think some delicate hammering would annoy you that much.

“Mwah!~”

…Despite my ramblings earlier, that’s very cute of you, Pinky. I’m sure you could’ve gotten a better photo, though.

“Why, Brain, what’re we gonna do tomorrow night?”

Try to take over the world, of course! Right, Brain?

“Guess.”

…

Umm, wow. That’s a first. You look like you’re absolutely enraged, Brain. All this over some hammering sounds?

This had me taken aback a bit when I watched it the first time, not gonna lie. We’ve seen Brain after a plan’s failure plenty of times before. He’s been frustrated, sure. Humiliated at times, or maybe he just sighs in resignation and walks off into the sunset. It always ends with him simply using these feelings to fuel the fire in him to do better tomorrow night.

This is the very first time we’ve seen him jumpy and irritated at the most minor of things and so angry that he literally refuses to participate normally in his and Pinky’s shared catchphrase. And this was for a plan that was just to fund the real plan! So why is this time any different?

Oh.

OH.

Okay, that’s… That makes a lot of sense, actually. Damn.

Hey, fanfic writers? Ya’ll ever use this as the very first time Brain experiences romantic jealousy? Let me know.

“Oh yeah, try to take over the world. Right.”

I think even Pinky’s put off by this development, if his hesitant and quiet finishing of the saying is anything to go by.

And that’s what we end off with.

All in all, this episode is a wild ride of strangeness in small moments and bizarre additions to lore and ends on the first subversion of the long-running closing gag of the series. It’s not exactly a great episode, but that ending is intriguing enough for one of the main purposes of this rewatch. In short, I’m just baffled.

Luckily the next episode is much better. Next time, the mice head on down to Tennessee to seek world domination via country music.

See you then!

#Pinky and the Brain #PatB #Jockey For Position

22 notes · View notes