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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months

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Passion for Fashion Part 3

Danny nervously twirls his thumbs as Dan paces before him, mumbling insults to the Waynes under his breath. They were supposed to go third in the walkway line, as it was supposed to be in alphabetical order, but just as the computation was going to begin, a disaster struck.

Tim Drake-Wayne had been kidnapped. In broad daylight, as the teenage CO-CEO was getting out of his limo, a group of men broke through the crowd, swinging guns around and demanding everyone to get on the ground and give them their valuables.

Of course, there were security who attempted to gain control of the situation, but it seemed that three of their newest hires were traitors and in on the heist. A shoot-out was ensured.

Drake-Wayne had been taken in the chaos, and Bruce Wayne had passed out from worry. He and the rest of his kids were on their way to a hospital- a secret location to deter further kidnappings of the remaining Waynes- and the first runway of the competition was canceled.

Danny hadn't seen anything from the model changing room, but Dan had forgotten his make-up bag in the front entry and had gone back for it while Danny changed. He had been front and center when the whole thing went down.

"Who just lets themselves get taken like that!?" Dan huffs, practically spitting fire. According to the ghost, Tim Drake-Wayne's actions were an act, and the teenager had been able to get away from his kidnappers but didn't.

Dan found his nonaction insulting since it paused his fashion show.

"Um, look around you? Situation awareness." Danny tells him, gesturing to the cage they had been shoved into. While the people had been preoccupied with Tim Drake-Wayne's kidnapping, a second group of men had gone in through the backdoor and taken all the models.

Danny had thought it was the staff moving them until he noticed a few people crying as they were placed into vans. In his defense, most people aren't used to seeing someone armed like he is, so the gun-waving hadn't tipped him off.

Dan had joined him later when he followed the coordinator- another traitor- to the vans, and his counterpart had only gotten upset when they took his make-up bag.

"Please, this is just metal." Dan rolls his eyes, bending the bars and straightening them out again to prove his point. Danny doesn't mention the electric buzz the bars release, as neither is really affected by the shock. It's more of an annoying light show. "Sides, it's not like we're human. Not like them."

He tilts his chin to where other models sob in their cages below. They are all waiting for their new owners to pick them up. At least, that's what Danny was able to gather from the men's taunts. They were taken by human traffickers, who had buyers look at the competition lineup and pick which model they wanted before the actual kidnapping.

Danny and Dan were in such high demand they would be sold at an auction that would take place while the rest of their pals kept the Bats busy. Danny had no idea who the Bats were or why they would save them instead of the police.

"Tell the whole world why don't you?" Danny hisses, twirling his thumbs more " If they found out what we are we could be turned over to this world version of the Guys In White."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my human boots." Dan rolls his eyes. He resumes his pacing. "If the Waynes had taken this seriously, we could have been seeing the results of the judge's panel already."

"Dan, this is a little more important than your fashion Obsession."

"Excuse you, my Obsession is a medical condition," Dan huffs, sliding down the cage bars, and for a brief second, his hair flickered to white before it settled back into black. A flash of pain crosses his face. "My core is killing me."

Danny winces. "Right, sorry, that was insensitive. How about I steal you some paper and pens so you can design a ball gown?"

"I like that."

Danny turns to the bars, bending them open and closing them behind him. He carefully makes his way across the giant shipping crates, to an office at the top right corner.

They are at the docks, hidden somewhere in a warehouse among many crates that will be shipped out, and Danny is honestly a little offended they have yet to be found. Sure, the kidnappers had driven through the sewers on a strangely built road that led them here, but surely someone would have noticed the apparent fact the van disappeared at a fake dead alley?

Weren't there cameras in almost every corner of the city? Dan had warned Danny about them while doing his Obsession-driven research, and both agreed not to Go Ghost while in public due to them.

Now, they could escape, but Danny wasn't kidding about the Guys in White or whatever their equivalent was here. He would rather know what level of competence they have before he makes any rash moves.

Danny also wants to see his fellow models' buyers, and he would like to have a word with them. His ghost Obsession may not be protection- much to the shock of many- but Danny has always had a moral compass that pointed to protecting others around him.

Dan knew and respected this about him, so his counterpart was willing to sit and wait for the buyers. He's just a little angsty since it disrupted his obsession.

Danny grimly peeks into the office window when he sees the coordinator talking on a phone. There doesn't seem to be anyone else around, so he carefully opens the door and creeps up behind the man.

"-If you ever want to see your son again," The man is saying, smirking. Danny can't see it due to the man facing away from him, but he can hear it in his voice.

On the desk is a laptop that repeats what he said only, the sound sounds robotic and unrecognizable. Is that a voice changer? "I suggest you ask Batman to find your boy before it's too late."

Batman? The man they were supposed to help save his humanity?

Danny knows it's a risk, but this is too much of a chance to pass up. He carefully picks up the office chair and brings it down hard on the disgusting man's head. The coordination lets out a chocked grunt of pain, but he's out like a light when he hits the ground. His phone flies across the floor, and a voice is heard speaking urgently.

Danny ties the man to the bolted-down desk using zip ties- the same ones they had used on him and the rest earlier that day, before picking up the phone.

"Hello? Is this Batman?" Danny asks, jumping slightly when the laptop repeats him in a creepy robotic voice. "Wait hold on, I think I can get rid of this voice thingy."

"...what?" A man asks over the phone, but Danny pays him no mind as he tries to click some boxes.

"Hello, testing one two three," Danny says, wincing when the voice changer makes him sound high and unnaturally squeaky. He sounds like he's trying to audition for Alvin and the Chipmunks. "Hello? Hello? Wait, I think I got it."

"Who are you? Where is Tim?" The man asks, and Danny almost rolls his eyes. He hates it when someone interrupts him while he's working with tech.

"Wait-there it is! Can you hear me alright? Do I sound normal?"

"....I can hear you."

"Awesome! Are you Batman, and if so, have you considered the importance of mental health activities? Like hugging your kids once a day? That really boosts your serotonin and dopamine levels." Danny asks, attempting to channel Jazz as much as he can. There is muffled sound across the phone line, like someone is attempting to smother a laugh.

"No, this is Bruce Wayne." Mr. Wayne says after a moment pause, "You have my son?"

"Oh," Danny tries not to sound as disappointed as he feels, but he may have failed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne I don't think your son is here. I think they were using him to distract you and the police of the missing models."

There is a strange lake of sound on the other line before Mr. Wayne responds. "Can you tell me who I am speaking to?"

"Danny Fenton. I was one of the models that was taken." Danny says, then he realizes the cops must be listening in because that always happens in movies; he lowers his voice and tries to sound in shock. "I think we're in a warehouse? I'm not sure, but I was in a cage when I woke up. They said they're going to sell us. I escaped, but there were guards everywhere, so I tried hiding in the office and heard the man you were speaking to come in. I hit him with a chair."

"Mr.Fenton," A new man says suddenly, "I know this is a terrifying situation, and I-"

"Are you Batman?"

"....No, son, I'm Commissioner Gordon"

"Oh."

"Do you want to speak to Batman?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask why?"

"I need to tell him to hug his kids."

Danny waits a few seconds for a response, but he hears nothing, not even the wind. They must have muted themselves. He leans on the desk, mindful to give the kidnapper a solid kick to make sure he's still out, and glancing over to the window to make sure there aren't any guards coming his way.

"Mr. Fenton, did they give you anything strange?" Commissioner Gordon asks

Danny thinks for a moment before humming. "They gave all of us something in a needle. I don't know what it was, but it felt funny. My brother has been acting weird since he got it."

"Okay, you're doing good. " Commissioner Gordon sounds like he is frowning but the words cause something in Danny's core to pur."Okay, son, everything is going to be alright. I need you to do something for me. Every Gotham warehouse has a serial number; you can find it in the main office on the power box. Do you see the box?"

Danny glances around until he sees the small little green box. He hurries over to it, throwing the door open. "I found it."

"Good. Can you read me the number?"

Danny reads them off as quickly as he can. Once all ten digits are within the police's hands he asks again. "Do you know if Batman partakes in his kid's interests?"

"I can ask him for you."

"Would you? That would be great. It's important to let people know you care about them by showing an interest in what they are passionate about. My brother Dan really likes making clothes, and even though I don't think I can model, I do it for him, you know?"

"You're a good brother."

"Thank you.....I'm tired Mr. Gordon." Danny says suddenly eyelids becoming heavy. He slides down the wall a lot like Dan did before.

"I'm sorry to hear that but I need you to keep talking to me, Mr. Fenton."

"Batman should tell his kids he loves them. His love language may be an act of service, but Nightwings' is words of affirmation. Nightwing needs to be told he's loved."

"Mr. Fenton! Stay awake for me! Mr.Fenton!" Danny hears someone yelling, but his core is purring even more now, and the sound is luring him to sleep. Suddenly he thinks of his counterpart in the cage waiting for his paper and pen.

"I have to go. I promised Dan I would get him some stuff so he could design some clothes. Bye-Bye."

"No! Don't hang up-!"

Danny drops the cell phone after pressing the end call button and ignores it when it rings again. He hurries over to the desk, looking for paper, but finds the table lacking. Thankfully, an open suitcase has sheets that he borrowed and a few pens.

He takes them all and runs back over the crates to where Dan is. Once he arrives, he notices many models are no longer distressed. All of them are smiling with a dazed look, and a few are even giggling. He waves at a few as he hurries back to his cage.

Dan is there, muttering under his breath and twisting his fingers in the air as if he were drawing in the sky. Danny bends the bars and holds up his prize. "I got the stuff!"

"Thank the ancients! I was never going to finish Mr. Hot scales suit without it!" Dan cheers, turning one of the sheets over to a clean side. He throws his whole body on the ground, using the smooth surface to start his ball gown.

Danny watches him for a moment before his purring core is too much. Dan reaches out to grip his leg, enclosing it in his warm palm and that's all Danny needs before he's fast asleep.

Dan continues to draw for a few more minutes before he, too, is overcome with sleep. Neither notices Red Hood or Robin bursting into the warehouse, guns and swords blazing, just as the buyers arrive. They or any of the models are unaware of the smackdown that happens until everyone involved with the scheme is behind bars.

Robin finds their cage, stepping through the bent bars and pausing at the sheets of paper scattered across the slumbering teenagers. He flips one incredibly designed ballgown only to have his eyes widen at what's written down.

"Robin to Batman," he says, staring at the paper and pressing his communicator. "I have a complete list of everyone who was buying today and past buyers. We can dismantle an entire ring with this."

"Good work, Robin."

"It wasn't I who found it. It was the Fentons."

".....Are they hurt?"

"Drugged but otherwise unharmed."

"Good."

There is a pause before Nightwing speaks up "Tell me you love me B."

"No"

Danny Fenton's eyes briefly open to stare into a surprised Robin's eyes. "Tell him Batman his humanity is at risk. Says the Ghost King."

"They gave him the good shit," Spolior laughs, having heard Fenton through the coms.

Elsewhere, Tim Drake-Wayne stares at Killer Croc aka Waylon Jones who is replaying the video of Dan Fenton catcalling Waylon from his cage right after the fashion designer was dosed with high levels of morphine.

"Hey Papi, why don't you come up here and let me dress you up in the proper wrapping for a walking gift like you?"

"Hey...hey are you from the EverBurning tribe? Cause those are the hotest legs and tail I have ever seen!"

"Mr.Hot Scales, I promise Danny is the only ally of FarFrozen. I'm team EverBurning all the way! Kiss me!"

"What the actual fuck?" Tim asks, and Waylon nods.

"I have no idea, kid. The first time any of my merchandise flirts with me."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Passion for Fashion #Part 3 #tw: human trafficking #tw: drugs #Danny and Dan were somewhat able to fight off the drug #Dan was in his right mind when he was catcalling #Look Dan is more ghost then human and thus finds nonhumans hot #Danny's obsession was hinted. Can you spot it?#The twins got in situation #Bruce is worried about them

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forgetmenotaftg · 4 years

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La Vie En Klosé

Nicky Hemmick huffed as he walked out of the gate at Berlin-Tegel after a rough Christmas at home. He was just ready to get back to his host family. The Stuttgart airport was never this crowded, so he tried his best to look confident and totally not lost as shit, and finally, with the help of the signs and his growing understanding of the German language, he made it out past the passport checks. Peering out over the crowd, Nicky saw a few people waiting around with signs and advertisements for taxis and rent-a-car services, but couldn’t spot either one of his host parents yet.

“Nicky!” he heard someone call. Nicky stood up on his tiptoes and saw who had to have been Erik Klosé standing by a shitty looking Burger King with a bouquet in his hand.

…And promptly tripped over a little girl’s bright pink suitcase.

As soon as he hit the ground, Erik was offering him a hand.

Nicky suddenly realized that he was staring. He’d seen pictures of Erik around the Klosé home, but wow. “Erik?”

“Hello, Nicky. These are for you.”

“Beautiful. I mean. They’re beautiful. The flowers,” Nicky stammered, taking the flowers and hugging them to his chest as Erik helped him up.

Erik grinned.“You’re telling me.”

Nicky and Erik shuffled their feet along the winding stone path ahead of them. The quiet there was almost unsettling–It felt like the only things in existence were the hundreds of lilies in the gardens around them, the two of them, and one word hanging in the air between them.

“So your parents aren’t okay with it?”

“No. In their eyes, I’m an abomination. They’re stuck perceiving the Bible the way they want to,” Nicky shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an effort to keep himself as small and contained as he felt.

“They don’t deserve to claim the title of ‘Christian.’ You do know that, right?” Erik said, stopping mid-step and turning to Nicky.

“I know. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I didn’t say that it should.” Erik placed a finger under Nicky’s chin and directed his gaze upward so they could make eye contact. “But hiding hurts even more, doesn’t it?”

Nicky swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly, reaching up to wrap his hand around Erik’s wrist. Before he could force the words he wanted to say out of his chest, Erik spoke up.

“Me too.”

“You’re— “

When Erik kissed him, those petal-soft lips made Nicky bloom as excitedly as lilies around him, and for the first time in a long time, Nicky felt the sun again.

“Erik?”

“That’s your concerned voice,” Erik said, marking his place in his book and setting it down on the nightstand next to their bed. “What’s wrong, Love?”

“I never talked about him much, but…My cousin Aaron’s mother just died in a car accident. His…You know the long-lost twin thing. Andrew was with her. He survived.”

“Oh, Baby,” Erik whispered, motioning for Nicky to join him in bed. After his boyfriend crawled in next to him, Erik wrapped his arms around Nicky and kissed his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“They don’t have a mother anymore,” Nicky started, then paused. “They’re not old enough to be independent yet, either. That means that they’d go to—“

“Luther and Maria.” Erik knew what that meant, as much he didn’t want to acknowledge it. “You want to go take care of them, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Nicky sniffled, but then his voice broke. “I—”

“You know I will respect whatever decision you make. I will be beside you the entire way, if you’ll have me, Nicky. If you want to go, that is what you’ll do. I want to make this work, and if you do, too—”

“That isn’t fair to you, Erik,” Nicky shook his head.

“Nothing is ever fair. Not wholly. I love you, and I love your heart. I trust it. Right now, it belongs somewhere else. And as long as it can share,” Erik smiled. “I don’t mind. We’ll still make time for one another. We can visit on holidays. You should go. They need you. I can wait. I will.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Says the man who is uprooting his entire life to take care of family he hardly knows. No one deserves someone as selfless and bright as you.” Erik reached over Nicky and plucked a long stem of forget-me-nots from the arrangement beside their bed. He tucked the flowers behind Nicky’s ear and kissed the end of his nose. “You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

“Erik?”

“Any updates?”

“They found him. He’s alive. He…Well, he looks fucked, to be honest. But he’s alive, and he’s dating Andrew.”

“Holy shit.”

“I think Aaron almost had a grand mal seizure,” Nicky shook his head. “I think I actually did. Anyway. They’re with the feds working through everything. They want him to go into witness protection, but God knows we aren’t letting him go anywhere. And Andrew? I think he’d kill the next person that even looked at Neil for too long.”

“So it isn’t just physical? Andrew actually has feelings for someone?”

“Feelings might be an understatement,” Nicky teased. “He choked out Kevin over the fact that Neil was nowhere to be found.”

“That will make my next visit all the more entertaining, won’t it?”

“Speaking of, you’re still coming to the championship, right?”

“I got approved for time off and already booked the flight. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I love you,” Nicky sighed dreamily. He could almost see Erik smiling in the stands, now. “Today just—The way Neil looked at Andrew today, it was…The same way you look at me. It was like the day you first kissed me, when you saw me for the first time. It’s…I miss you, and—Today just made me realize how quickly things can change”

“I miss you too, Nicky. I love you so much.”

“I know. I love you, Erik. Be good. Don’t get into trouble.”

Unbeknownst to Nicky, Erik popped open the small box that held Nicky’s engagement ring in his hand and closed it again. It almost made him laugh to know that Nicky would hear the click when it shut but would have no idea what it was. “I’m always good.”

“One: Bullshit. Two: Bye, Honey. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Love. Be safe.”

“Nicholas Esteban Hemmick, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Renee asked, closing the Bible in her hands with a soft look in her eyes.

“I do.”

“Do you have a ring for the groom?”

Neil smiled and pulled the simple platinum band out of his pocket before handing it to Nicky. Go get ‘em, he mouthed.

“Please repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this ring…” Nicky slid the ring onto Erik’s finger, a single happy tear running down his cheek. “I thee wed.”

“Now for the part you’ve been waiting for. By the power invested in me by the state of South Carolina, I now pronounce you to be married. Erik, you may kiss your husband.”

Only Matt and Dan’s catcalls managed to pull the two of them apart.

“You’re insatiable,” Nicky laughed breathlessly, wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck and pressing their noses together.

“What can I say? Mr. Klosé looks good on you.”

Before Nicky could speak, Erik pulled him in again.

“He’s smaller than I thought he would be.”

“Wyatt is just a baby, Love,” Erik chuckled, leaning over to rest his chin on his husband’s shoulder. “They’re small.”

“He was just born so early. He’s too small.” Nicky pressed his hand to the glass wall of the incubator in which their son was placed with a sigh.

“I think he takes after Andrew,” Neil smirked (despite the look Andrew gave him). “Really though, Nicky. He’s perfect. I know he’ll be alright before you take him home to Germany.”

Andrew crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot. “Katelyn said we—You have nothing to worry about. He’s finally eating well and he’s been gaining weight for the past week.”

“Speaking of babies, we have to go feed ours. Sir is a menace when she’s hungry,” Neil mumbled, whispering something else and receiving a nod before taking his husband’s hand.

“When we were out late for Wyatt’s birth, she tried to escape in retaliation,” Andrew nodded.

“Thank you for stopping by, you two.” Erik gently squeezed Neil’s shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once Neil and Andrew said their goodbyes, Nicky pursed his lips and looked up at Erik. “Do you think we’re ready for this?”

“I know that we are,” Erik nodded, wrapping his arms around Nicky’s waist from behind and kissing his cheek.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Nicky, you’ve already been a parent. You were there for Andrew and Aaron when they had no one else. Because of you, they went to college. Because of you, they grew together instead of uprooting the support system you gave them. Because of you, they have a family outside of blood. You gave them all the love they never had. I have seen you love and care for people for so many years, Nicky. You are going to be an amazing father,” Erik whispered. “After everything you’ve been through and everything we’ve been through together, I think we can handle just about anything.”

Written by @reaching-my-summit, and posted here with permission.

#writing #reaching-my-summit #forgetmenotaftg #nicky hemmick #erik klose #neil josten #andrew minyard

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ducktracy · 4 years

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151. he was her man (1937)

release date: january 2nd, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: n/a

1937, what a year you are! this is the year that the looney tunes become looney to me, when they truly become recognizable as the shorts we love today. the biggest contribution of the year is mel blanc’s debut with porky the wrestler. daffy is born (as is petunia), ub iwerks becomes a director, his unit soon taken over by bob clampett, the merry go round broke down is instated as the looney tunes theme song, porky says his first that’s all folks... we have lots to look forward to! so as not to get too ahead of ourselves, we’ll focus on he was her man: the leave of a mouse’s husband does little to soften the blow of the great depression, and the poor mouse struggles to survive in the harsh world.

for once, berneice hansell isn’t providing the vocals for the poor, freezing mouse unsuccessfully peddling apples in the snowy streets. i’m not sure who it is—if i were forced to guess, i’d say martha wentworth, but that doesn’t seem quite right. regardless, selling apples at five cents a pop isn’t going too well for her as apathetic townspeople trudge by. there’s a rather prolonged and tedious gag of a thermometer dipping in temperature with each temperature. the gag itself is too drawn out to get a good laugh, but the catcall whistle as the temperature reaches WAY WAY BELOW! makes the gag slightly rewarding.

the mouse’s customers aren’t buying, and certainly aren’t in the consumer spirit. one passerby goes as far as to bite the apple straight out of her hand, leaving just the core, refusing to pay. the mouse is just about to pack up when a rather portly gentleman who seems to have his share of money approaches her for one. she thanks him as she ogles at her shiny, silver coin, unable to believe it. for safekeeping, she drops the coin down her shirt, the coin slithering all the way into her shoe.

content with the transaction, she heads home, skipping along gaily as she totes her basket of apples. the walk cycle is rather amusing because of how awkward it is—at first i thought it was because she had an entire COIN in her shoe, but i don’t think that’s the case. amusing regardless. as she gallops along, she thinks of her sweetheart, a rather brute, tough, scrappy looking mouse who doesn’t seem to be very friendly. regardless, she views him as a regular clark gable—literally, as his head turns into that of an amusing clark gable caricature. a very funny way of storytelling, but sad at the same time, as you can imagine her real boyfriend doesn’t treat her too kindly.

approaching her apartment, we get a rather long, stretched out gag that’s amusing at first but becomes stale rather quickly. as the little mouse tinkers up the stairs, a naked pig exits a bathroom, covered only by a towel. he spots the approaching mouse and hides back in the bathroom, doing a pseudo mel blanc giggle (that’s not actually him, but i’ve heard it in mel blanc cartoons. porky in egypt comes to mind when the camel summons porky to the mirage.) the oblivious little mouse heads up to the next floor, and the same exact gag resumes—the naked pig exits another bathroom and hides when the mouse approaches. the gag then repeats for a THIRD and final time as she heads up the next staircase. it’s an amusing gag, but certainly extended its welcome.

next, we hone in on a closeup of an upturned hat being used as a basket for playing cards. a pan out reveals that the mouse’s “clark gable” is perched on his bed, throwing playing cards into the hat, cigar in mouth and beer by his side. his girlfriend pokes her head in—“yoohoo! hello, johnny!” johnny doesn’t answer. the mouse places her shawl and basket of apples by the door, approaching johnny’s chaise lounge. “good evening, johnny.” “well? fork over the dough.” it can’t be mel blanc, but johnny’s voice certainly does sound like it. i believe it’s the same person who voiced the gangster bird in i’m a big shot now.

an amusing closeup of the mouse’s shoe as she presses one of her buttons reading NO SALE. surely enough, the tongue of her shoe serves as a red NO SALE sign while the bottom sole extends like a cash register, its contents just a couple of coins. “i did pretty good today,” she tells johnny, collecting the four coins and placing them in johnny’s outstretched palm. the timing is very nice and heavy in the next scene as johnny counts the coins and freezes. “come on, come on, where’s the dough?” his girl shakes her head and gives a muffled “i don’t know”, but it’s clear she’s hiding something in her mouth. johnny pries her mouth open, and a telltale gold coin is perched right on top of her tongue. “sooo... holding out on me, huh?” johnny threatens to hit her, and she shields herself. she attempts to explain herself, but johnny switches the topic. “how about some dinner?” gladly, the mouse takes her leave.

while the mouse prepares to make dinner, johnny looks out of his window. outside in the snowy streets is a voluptuous mae west caricatured mouse heading into the nearby saloon, and johnny is sold. shifty eyed, johnny appears to take leave as we transition to his innocent girlfriend cooking him bacon and eggs, singing “i’d love to take orders from you” (how appropriate.) the eggs and bacon on the skillet are arranged in a skull and crossbones, bubbling along to the music. good timing as the mouse notices this, squeaks, and turns her sunny side up meal into scrambled eggs as she hurriedly rearranges the eggs on the skillet. “oh johnny, dinner’s ready!”

she goes to retrieve her abusive boyfriend, but with no luck. he isn’t in his usual chaise lounge, but there IS a note in his place: “i’m thru with you — so long! johnny” in a panic, she looks for her boyfriend, calling his name repeatedly. there are a few intriguing angles, such as an up shot as the mouse searches under the bed. the wipe transitions break momentum and urgency, though—no transition is needed. (i guess i’m still thinking of the cuts in porky in the north woods) there IS a rather funny scene as she begins to faint, but catches herself. she skitters a few step backwards, approaching a pillow on the floor, and decides she’s much more comfortable passing out there.

another clever gag as we have a time card that reads “time staggers on!” with that, a drunken, hiccuping alarm clock stumbles across the screen. the gag in itself is very much reminiscent of the gag in the girl at the ironing board, another friz cartoon where a knight literally topples over to the ground.

in the saloon, the heartbroken mouse sings a lovely rendition of “he was her man”, while the gangsters and other bad seeds fight over the free lunch, paying little attention to the song. while she’s singing, none other than johnny himself strolls arm in arm with his mae west mouse into the saloon, patrons tipping their hats out of respect. johnny’s ex-girl spots him and happily declares “JOHNNY!”, leaping off the stage and rushing to meet him. she embraces him, but johnny pushes her off coldly. “beat it! i’m through with you!”

the mouse begs for johnny return, clinging onto him, but he refuses. her incessant clinging turns into a mini dance routine as both try to push each other opposite ends, with johnny hitting her and she smacking him back (good for her! put up a fight!) on the head, pounding him into his own shoes, with just a bowler hat poking out. a similar gag would be reused in another freleng classic, daffy the commando, with the ever cowardly turtle SHUUUUUUULTZ! shultz. johnny waddles around, pulling himself out of his hat, and whacks her repeatedly. the musical timing is excellent, a mini dance routine on its own, but very morbid and disturbing. johnny beats her senseless and propels her across the room, a spittoon decorating her head to contribute to the humiliation.

thankfully, she fights back with a vengeance. the mouse grabs a nearby gun on a table and fires, repeatedly. paul smith animates the outcome as johnny narrowly dodges the bullets. “hey, be careful! you’s gonna hurt someone!” while this doesn’t come off as a joking manner, this is the first time that line has been used, which would often be used as a punchline (like daffy in riff raffy daffy: “just a minute! you’re gonna hurt somebody that way! probably me.”) and he’s right; a bullet pings him right in the chest. johnny staggers around, gasping “ya got me... ya got me...” (another first for a frequently used punchline), eventually collapsing to the ground.

johnny’s “girlfriend” panics, rushing to his side. she begs that he speak to her, crying and shaking him, but to no avail. just as she puts her head in her arms, johnny perks up, totally fine. “aww,” he sneers, “ya just grazed me.” the mouse is not having it, and smashes johnny over the head with a bottle, rendering him unconscious. good!

the next shot we find a mouse freezing out in the snow, bracing against the blustery wind, peddling apples. but it isn’t johnny’s girlfriend. in fact, it’s johnny himself. “nice red apple. apples? apples?” we pan up to see johnny’s girlfriend lounging on the all too familiar chaise, contentedly tossing playing cards into a hat. the mae west mouse from before strolls by, and johnny takes kindly to her, calling her a babe and buttering her up. all we see is a bottle hitting johnny on the head, but we know who the perpetrator is as johnny reverts back to peddling his apples like before. iris out.

an interesting approach for sure. not often you find a looney tunes drama—eventually, all of the dramas would be very clear parodies of themselves (such as tex avery’s dangerous dan mcfoo.) this is a much more somber cartoon for sure, but still has its share of laughs. some scenes dragged on too long for my tastes, primarily in the beginning half, like the thermometer gag or the gag of the naked pig, but the second half picked up the pace rather nicely. this isn’t my favorite friz cartoon (it was certainly hard to watch at times), but i commend him for making such a moody cartoon. it has a VERY good story with good storytelling, and certainly arises interest. his musical timing is superb as always, especially during the confrontation at the saloon between johnny and his girlfriend. i’m neutral on this one: i’d watch it just to check out the storytelling and see such a different, moody approach to a cartoon, but there are better cartoons out there. if you do watch it, view with discretion because it deals with abuse and some scenes are definitely hard to watch. but johnny gets what he deserves in the end, and that’s all that matters to me.

link!

#lt #he was her man #reviews #looney tunes #long post #freleng #abuse tw

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floutua · 5 years

Text

her fight song

This was not a requested but I just wanted to write about Ben. This is AU because Ben Hargreeves is well and alive and he deserves better. Hope you enjoy this, btw!

p/s: catcalling is absolutely disgusting and disrespectful! please stop normalizing this ugly behaviour. thank you!

also another p/s: thank you for the 500 followers! you’re too nice, thank you for supporting! and yes, requests are open and i normally post once a day, occasionally twice.

You look over to the man sitting across you and a smile appears on your face as you continue to watch him devour his favourite, waffles and blueberries. You cannot help the giggle that escape your mouth when Ben accidentally drops his blueberries before the fork actually reaches his mouth and he glances at you, quirking one of his eyebrows.

“What’s so funny?” Ben pouts as he picks up the blueberries that he dropped, and you giggle again. Ben’s cheeks flush slightly but he lifts his fork up towards you. You lean over to eat the blueberries, nodding your head at the very familiar taste. “Thanks for accompanying me here today, babe.”

You shake your head, swallowing the blueberries. “The least I can do after that.” You point to his busted lip, a frown appearing on your face when you recall the incident that happened the night before. The two of you had gone out on a date and had been walking from the movie theatre towards your apartment when some men had decided to do one of the most disgusting things on earth: cat-calling you and in his attempt to stand up for you, he had gotten punched on the face, busting his lips. “I love you, Ben, but I can handle myself.”

Ben sighs and reaches over to hold your hand. You intertwine your fingers with him and Ben gives you a small smile. “I know you can, Y/N, you are one of the strongest ladies I have ever met but I still want to be able to be there for you. What they were saying last night was just disgusting and downright despicable.” Ben grumbles, furrowing his eyebrows together. Honestly, there is nothing Ben would not do for you – even if he gets punched in the face because of his own actions.

You give him a small smile at his sweet words and lean over the table to press a light kiss on his lips. “Love you very much.” You pull back, only to see Ben smiling at you widely and you blush slightly at the amount of adoration and love you seen on his face. “Did your family say anything about your lip?”

Ben chuckles, nodding his head. “Klaus would not stop laughing at me but Allison sort of disapproved and agreed on how I handled the entire situation.” He had gotten an earful from Pogo though when he came back with the busted lips. Thankfully, Pogo only saw the busted lips and not the bruise on his rib. Pogo would probably have made Grace give him the once-over and deem him unfit to leave the house for a while.

“We should just walk away next time. I rather you not get hurt anymore; I don’t like seeing your handsome face all busted up like this.” You wink at him and Ben laughs, wincing slightly at the pain on his rib and he shakes his head. “Let’s go; I want to visit the bookstore before heading home.”

“Anything for you, babe.”

True to his words, the next few times you were catcalled, Ben merely glared at them, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter as he pulled you close, making sure that you are walking on the opposite sight from the men. It sickens him how women are often treated as objects but he did promise you that he would try to down his overprotectiveness and Ben doesn’t go back on any of his words.

That was until that one night.

Allison had come back to town to do some press tour for the new upcoming movie she is starring in and Ben and you had only just left the after-party. You are wearing one of the dresses that Ben absolutely adores on you because not only did it show off your figure, it also highlighted your beautiful eyes and truth be told, Ben has always have a weakness for your eyes. So, it wasn’t really a surprise when Ben stops you from walking just so he can give you a good kiss at the side of the road, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from other passers-by.

You pull back, breathing heavily as you stare at your boyfriend and Ben gives you a knee-wobbling smile as he pushes your hair away from your face. He leans in to give you one more kiss when someone slaps a hand on your ass, causing you to squeal in surprise, bumping in to Ben.

“Nice dress, babe – do you mind sharing?” The man guffaws as he stares at you lewdly. You immediately furrow your eyebrows, frowning at him and the man laughs once more, wetting his lips. “What a feisty one; are you just as feisty in bed?”

Ben’s trembling with anger and he clenches his fists, trying his hardest not to let his grip on his powers loose because that’s just going to be a pain in the ass and he isn’t looking forward to hearing any lectures from Pogo or Sir Reginald himself. “What did you just say?” He growls out in anger and the man laughs right in Ben’s face but before Ben could even lift his hand up, you had moved past him, surprising Ben and he stumbles backward and his jaw drops the moment your hand connects with the man’s nose so hard, Ben hears the crack. “Shit, Y/N!”

The man falls on the ground, groaning as blood spurts out of his nose and his words are mumbled as he shouts something at you incoherently. You are about to kick him again when Ben wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to him and away from the fallen man.

“That was so amazing – where the hell did you learn how to punch like that, babe?” Ben asks incredulously, looking back at the man who is being helped by his buddies. Ben presses a hand on your back, making sure that the both of you are safe from the man. “Your hand alright?”

You nod your head, smiling at Ben who still looks like he is in awe over what you have just done. Normally, you wouldn’t resort to using violence but that man deserved it for slapping your ass like it was his property! You nod your head at his question, letting Ben take a look at your hand. He presses his lips gently on your knuckles, staring up at you. “Well, did I never tell you?”

Ben pulls back, shaking his head. “You’ve told me quite a lot of things and I would normally remember most of them but…” He trails off, racking his mind to see if you ever told him anything else that is important. He shakes his head once more. “No.”

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’ when you realize you hadn’t exactly told your boyfriend. You shrug your shoulders. “I am a 10thDan in Judo.” You tell him cheekily and Ben’s eyes widens. “That’s why I keep telling you that I can handle myself, babe.”

“Damn.” Ben chuckles amused by your revelation. He pulls you into his arms, hugging you very tightly, and you laugh into his chest as you wrap your own arms around his torso. “You’re amazing, Y/N.” He presses his lips on your temple and you grin at him.

“You’re amazing too, Ben.”

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ao3-writer · 7 years

Text

Black & White; Ballroom Bitch

The longer that Amy stood in that room, the further her paranoia messed with her mind. She stood up, throwing open the door that led back into the hallway upstairs. The last she saw on the small TV inside of the room was Dan holding a key, looking between whether he’d save Jack or Signe.

Amy couldn’t bear watching any longer. As she crept through the hallway, Amy instinctively held her breath, afraid that somebody might hear her. The sound of floorboards creaking underneath her heels terrified Amy. She looked around the corner to see another large set of doors, similar to those like the study but with a gold frame instead.

The doors led to a large room that started to nag at Amy’s curiosity. She slowly moved toward the doors and grabbing one of the handle’s, she opened the door and found herself inside an extremely large room. Amy jumped when the lights suddenly turned on. The room ended up being a ballroom. She stared in awe at the decor, completely forgetting how terrified she was merely seconds ago. There were chairs pushed far to the side, a large chandelier hanging from the center. Underneath the chandelier stood a gramophone, with a set of discs right next to it.

“H-hello?” Amy called out, looking around the empty room. There was no response. Amy stood in front of the gramophone and inspected one of the discs. She sighed. She set it it down and decided to play it.

At first, the only thing that she heard was the soft scratch before a majestic melody began to emit from the gramophone. Amy slowly starts to sway, the music making her close her eyes as she decides to just take in the moment.

When she opens her eyes, she has to close them once again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Out of nowhere, hundreds of spirits had appeared and danced in sync all across the ballroom. She backs up, eyes scanning the room for an exit. She passes through the ghosts, most of them catcalling her and shouting at her to watch where she was going. When Amy backed into the doors she came from, the tried to toggle the handles. But they were locked.

She crouched, sliding against the walls as she hoped that the spirits wouldn’t mess with her.

Rosanna waits in the dining room, her head still spinning from recent events. The second that she heard someone’s screams, Rosanna knew that her moment of peace was gone. Everybody that was in the kitchen stormed out and met with Dan who was dragging Jack as he kicked and screamed. Jack slipped out of his grip and began running back down the hall where they came from.

“Jack!” Mark shouted, following him closely. Rosanna sighed and held her head in her hands. Jack’s appearance most likely signified that Signe was left inside of the tank.

When everybody began to follow Mark and Jack, Rosanna thought she heard music coming from upstairs. She decided to follow.

The only door that was left ajar was the one everybody went through. Rosanna pushed through the door and found herself entering a room full of tears and wine. Rosanna, fortunately, did not see Signe’s last moments. All she saw was Signe floating inside the tank and Jack at the foot of the contraption, sobbing.

“Jack...” someone whispered. Stephanie slowly stepped forward and knelt down beside him. She put a hand on his back, slowly rubbing his back.

“There was a clue,” Dan said, raising a tiny scroll for everybody else to see. Dan led them out of the cellar and back through the hall and into the dining room.

“What’s it say?” Ethan asked, trying to look over Mark’s shoulder as everyone else gathered. Rosanna looked behind them to notice Stephanie and Jack were still in the cellar.

“Beware, the cup was spilled and the bread was broken. Our love could only end in an affair. Bury my jewels, bury my treasures, bury me with my scarves and sweaters. Did you enjoy your dance? Swaying to our wedding symphony? With the girl, my pupil, in which you took her purity?” Dan read aloud.

“Wait what?” Ethan asked, snatching the scroll and reading it for himself.

“Wait, wait. Purity? As in... somebody lost their virginity?” Matthew tried to deduce.

“No, it’s obviously about a wife. She’s writing it to her husband,” Phil added.

“What about... jewels? treasure?”

The group of guests began to argue about what the message meant. Voices overlapped one another, reason and opinions clashed in those few minutes. Rosanna, not even bothering, made her way toward the stairs where she sat. Then she heard it again. The music. She heard feet stomping and a giggly laugh. She turned her head, looking up at the staircase to find nothing.

“You guys?” She tried to say, her voice too quiet to be heard. “You guys!” She exclaimed, her shrill voice breaking away their arguments. Everybody’s attention was on Rosanna, Jack and Stephanie coming from the hallway to see the commotion.

The faint music reached their ears, some people perked their heads up as they registered the sound. It definitely came from upstairs, reverberating across the house. Rosanna stood up, making her way up the stairs while others followed close behind her. One hand on the railing and the other on her chest, she slowly lead the guests up the stairs, following the music as it grew louder. Turning a corner, they saw large glass doors with a gold frame. There was a single gramophone playing in the center of what appeared to be a massive ballroom. She opened the doors, swinging them wide with ease so they could enter. But merely seconds after she and two others stepped across the threshold, the doors swung closed and locked themselves. With the music still playing, white spirits suddenly appeared, dancing and swaying to the music.

Rosanna, Matthew, and Mark were all trapped inside the ballroom while everybody else started banging on the glass demanding to be let in. Rosanna, glad that she wasn’t insane, noticed the sudden fear and confusion on their faces through the glass when the spirits appeared.

“Guys! Amy!” Mark exclaimed, pointing to the wall at the far end of the ballroom. Strapped to the wall in fancy ribbons and asleep, was Amy. Mark began to step closer, the music starting to annoy him. When he began to lift the center spindle off of the disc, the ghosts suddenly froze and charged at Mark. In mere seconds, he was dragged away and strapped against the wall next to Amy.

“Holy shit.”

Matthew and Rosanna took their own steps back as the spirits turned their red-eyed gazes upon them, slowly marching towards them. The panicked screams from the other guests on the other side of the door left Rosanna terrified. She did not want to be in this position again.

“Enough!” A female shouted within the crowd. The crowd split in half as a woman in large Victorian-esque attire stepped through the middle and confronted the two guests. “You two, what brings you here?”

“Well you... kinda took our friends,” Matthew mumbled.

“Speak up!” She shouted, Rosanna flinched.

“W-we followed the music and found our friend strapped on the wall. W-we’d like her back, please,” Rosanna whimpered out. The ghostly woman inched her face closer to the brunette, purposefully trying to make her uncomfortable.

“Can you dance?” The woman asked, her voice demanding.

“I-- uh-- a little bit--”

“CAN YOU DANCE OR NOT.”

Matthew stood between the two, acting as a shield for Rosanna.

“Yes, she can dance. Why do you care?”

The woman flared her nostrils at Matthew and began to walk back into her crowd. Before making it to the end, she took a dramatic turn in which her wispy dress spun magnificently around her.

“I ask you... to dance swiftly,” the ghost said, voice much more sweet, “to dance your heart out. If my pupils are pleased with your dance, I will free whoever you wish. Then she will do the same.” The woman pointed a finger at Rosanna. “However, if my pupils are not at all impressed, I will send you and your tied up friends to the roof. To take one... last... spill.” With each final word, she took a step, her heel clacking against the cold tiles and echoing through the ballroom.

“Fine.” Matthew sneered. Stephanie was shouting on the other side of the door.

The wicked woman smiled. “Very well, let’s see what you have to offer.”

One of the spirits laid a disc onto the turn table, centering the spindle in order to begin. The crowd stood apart and formed a circle around Matthew. A single woman, in a simple dress, took a step into the middle and laid her hand out. The tall man took it as he began to waltz gently across the floor.

Matthew was swift, but not forceful. The grace he and the woman left behind seemed to turn heads. After a while of the orchestra’s music, more spirits began to waltz on their own, creating dizzying stampede of white flurries. Rosanna was frozen where she stood. Waltzing was easy. She could handle waltzing. When she looked back at the door, expecting to see their friends, they had left. Now she was nervous.

The longer the music went on, the further Rosanna’s anxiety built. She could see through the white swarms of dancers a single man in a black jacket. Matthew swayed elegantly until the record was cut short. A series of applause announced Matthew’s safety.

“Very well!” The woman exclaimed as she, too, added to the applause, “which one will you take with you?”

Mark, who was conscious, looked at Matthew and nudged his head to save Amy.

“Uh.. Mark.” Matthew knew he’d be angry, but there was something off about how everybody but Amy was downstairs after the whole mess with Jack and Signe.

In an instant, the ribbons let Mark fall to the floor, catching himself in time to glare at Matthew.

“And you!” The woman shouted, pointing to Rosanna, “it is your turn.”

A different disc was on the gramophone this time, and it was typical flapper music from the 20′s. Rosanna didn’t know what to do. As everyone seemingly went wild, she could see Mark and Matthew urging her to move or do something!

Rosanna tried to sway her hips, but it came out as awkward spasms to the left. She moved her arms awkwardly. Mark prayed this would fool the stupid ghost.

The longer the song went on, the worse Rosanna’s movements were. Finally, the record scratched and the crowd surrounded her ominously. There were a series of whispers and mumbles throughout the crowd. The wicked woman stood in front of the crowd and tisked at Rosanna.

“It seems to me... that you’re friend lied. You, in fact, cannot dance,” the woman scolded, walking around Rosanna as she inspected her disdainfully.

“Off to the roof we go.” A man mumbled as he shoved past Rosanna, carrying Amy over his shoulder.

“What?! No wait!” Rosanna shouted as she followed after them. the spirits followed the woman and the brute ghost. She could barely see where she was going. She could hear terrifying chants, demanding they toss Amy off the roof. Mark’s shouts behind Rosanna made her panic even further.

The ghosts just floated upward and into the ceiling. Rosanna caught hold of the string that opened up the stairs that led to the attic. It was filled with terrifying dolls. She tried to look past them and instead at the window that hung above a chair. She stepped onto it, looking for anything that would indicate an opening. Finally, a tiny latch was the trick to opening the small window. Mark, right behind Rosanna, assisted in her lift into the hole she barely squeezed into.

“Save Amy!” Mark shouted after her. Rosanna stood up, the cold night air blowing her way and her dress ruffling even further. She could see the crowd of spirits ahead of her. She made her way through, expecting to push and shove when mere wisps of smoke were all that was left. She saw Amy slowly blinking awake. Her hands were tied behind her back and the wicked woman stood beside her, a hand on Amy’s shoulder.

“You failed a simple task! You simply couldn’t dance! And now,” the woman looked at Amy, the blonde looking around her in confusion as to what was going on. “I will do away with her the same way I did with my husband’s-- m-my husband’s whore!”

“Ro, what’s going on?” Amy asked weakly.

“No, wait!” Rosanna shouted, “throw me away instead!”

The spirits gasped.

At that moment, the guests all gathered outside, stepping down the front steps to take in the scenery high above them.

“Oh my god, what’s going to happen?!” Stephanie exclaimed.

“We have to catch her. Quick, find out where she could land!” Mark shouted as everybody scrambled around to look for any signs of cushioning they could use.

Meanwhile on the roof, the woman laughed a wicked laugh and looked at Rosanna in a devilish manner.

“Oh... you’re too pure. too young.” The woman said, “You won’t understand marriage. Not yet, at least. I do hope you don’t face the... heartbreak... that I had to endure for so long,” the woman said, her face breaking it’s tough facade for a second into a sad one.

Rosanna remembered the scroll that Dan read in the dining room. And it clicked.

“You’re husband cheated on you, didn’t he?” The woman looked at Rosanna, questioned. “With someone younger? O-one of your pupils, you said. Right?”

“Y-yes, how do you know that?”

“A-and you wanted to be buried in your jewels. And scarves and sweaters. Right?”

The ghostly woman stared at Rosanna, her attention off of Amy.

“The music that mat danced to... was it the song that was played a-at your wedding?”

A nod.

“I’m sorry,” Rosanna said, sincerity in her voice, “I’m sorry that your husband did that. And I can see why you’d want to get revenge. Throwing her off the roof because you new it’d hurt him. B-but you don’t have to throw Amy off. Because she’s not a cheater.”

Everybody underneath was positioning themselves where they figured Amy would fall back if she was pushed.

“Y-you can help us. You can redeem yourself. If you could help us find out who brought us here, you can be free from this... this guilt. We could be free from this house!” Rosanna exclaimed, her voice excited. She finally found a way out. This could be their chance.

“Sweet girl, y-you know me so well...” the woman said, clasping her hands and walking towards Rosanna. Rosanna had a smile, hope in her eyes. The woman actually looked sympathetic...

...before her eyes contorted together and her face returned to its rage. The woman grabbed Rosanna’s hair and her shoulder. Rosanna let out a yelp.

“...but nobody will ever understand the pain I’ve felt,” the woman snapped. She pulled Rosanna to the edge of the roof next to Amy. “But you’re dear friends will.”

People began shouting, reassuring them they’d be safe if they fell. The wind flapped against their dresses and Amy looked at Rosanna in terror.

“I’ll leave it up to you, girl. You can volunteer yourself... or throw your friend.”

Rosanna was shocked. She couldn’t do this. She felt like the choice was obvious... but at the same time... it wasn’t.

VOTE: Throw Rosanna or Throw Amy

Voting Polls Close in 32 hours [3 days]

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sound--life · 6 years

Text

I have had this written out for a couple weeks now, but in honor of all of Time’s Persons of the Year, today seems like a good day to post it. Below the cut is the story of my interactions with a certain anime English voice actor, and why he and I really DO NOT get along.

I’m lucky. Unlike most women I know, I have never been sexually assaulted. I can’t recall a specific time when I was catcalled or harassed. I’ve been called nasty names online, which is sadly all too common, but none of it was sexually charged. My own experience isn’t even violent, but it contains elements of manipulation that I, thankfully, was never caught by.

The first weekend in June of 2011, my best friend Sam and I drove to Sandusky, Ohio for Colossalcon. Colossal is an anime convention, and us being huge nerds and having become friends because of anime, and we jumped at the offer to room with some of her casual friends at a hotel down the road. I was particularly excited because a popular English voice actor, let’s call him Dan, was going to be there. He and I had first met at Anime Central in Chicago in 2010, and funnily enough, we were on the same flight to Japan just a week after ACen. I had noticed him as our flight was boarding, and while I was too anxious to say hi, I had been enough of a creep to sneak a picture and text all my friends. By the next day, he’d gotten wind of it via Facebook, and he told me to say hi the next time something funny like that happened.

Flash forward to Colossal 2011. After waiting in the autograph line for Dan for a bit, I finally got up to him. He flashed his usual smile and said hello. After I handed over my item to be signed, I said, “Hey, do you remember about a year ago when some random girl saw you at the airport in San Francisco? And you shared a flight but she didn’t say hi? And she took a picture of you? Yeah, that was me.”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah, I remember. That was you?” He laughed. “Well, hi there.” Then his smile changed a little. “Do you play soccer?”

“Uh, no?” I said, confused. “I mean, I played volleyball in high school, but not anymore. I ran the Illinois Marathon back in April, though?”

“Oh, so you’re a runner then.” He laughed again. “Well you have great legs, my runner.”

I blinked, a little taken aback. “Oh, thanks, haha.” I said, laughing a little. I asked for a picture, and while my friend juggled with the camera and Dan had his arm around my shoulders, I felt almost nervous. Picture taken, I thanked him, and he said, “See you later, runner.”

At this point, Dan had been working to start a fanclub for his work. I’m not entirely sure of how it happened, but somehow Sam and I had ended up roped into it, being one of the 5-6 people who were working to “recruit” people and spread the word about the group. I was a busy college student at the time, though, so while I was interested enough, my actual participation was somewhat lacking. It’s the thought that counts, I guess.

Dan had a panel later that evening, and Sam and I went. After it was done, a small crowd of fans gathered near him to ask for photos and autographs. Sam and I waited near the edge, patient, as we wanted to get a picture with both of us with him. When we walked up to him, he smiled and said, “Hey, there’s my runner!” As we took the picture, Sam said, “You know, Alison and I here are two of the people working with ——- on your fanclub stuff.”

Dan’s interest was piqued. “Really? Hey, hang back a bit when this is done. I wanna chat with you guys.”

At this point, every anime fan alive would be having their “SENPAI NOTICED ME” moment, and we were no different. Giddy, we waited at the edge of the room for him to wrap up, and then he came over to us. He asked if we wanted to go sit in the lobby, and we said sure. He ended up sitting in one chair, and Sam in another. I sat close to them on the floor.

At first we just chatted about his fangroup. He seemed very excited about it, and he told us some of the things he wanted to do with it. We added our own thoughts, and it was great. Then he asked about how we’d enjoyed the convention so far.

“It’s great!” I said. “It’s even better because it’s actually my birthday on Monday, so it’s kind of like a birthday weekend adventure.”

“Your birthday? How old?” Dan asked. I told him I was going to be 20. He smiled and said, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” In a couple minutes, he was back with a small glass from the bar. Pink, fruity-looking, with a little ice. “For the birthday girl,” he said, smiling as he handed it to me.“

"What’s in it?” I asked. I knew it was alcohol, obviously, but I was feeling wary about this. Sam didn’t have a drink, and I knew she was carefully watching this whole thing, but it wasn’t lost on me that a man 8 years older than me had just given me alcohol that I had not seen prepared. I may have been a fangirl, but I wasn’t stupid. This was odd.

Dan just waved his hand and smiled, “Oh, ya know. It’s good, I bet. Nothing crazy.” I was not one to turn down free alcohol, and my defenses were already on alert, so I sipped the drink slowly as we continued to chat. I don’t remember a lot of the specifics, but I do know that Dan mentioned that when he was in college; he had a girlfriend who lived a few hours away, but he would drive there every weekend so they could “read books” together, as he put it, complete with a wink.

After about an hour, we mentioned we had to be getting going, as I had to drive us and part of our group back to our hotel. “Oh, you’re not staying here?” Dan asked, confused.

“No, by the time any of us planned to go, all of the rooms here were long sold out,” Sam said. “We’re staying in a creepy room in which EVERYTHING is covered in teddy bears.” (You guys should see the pictures.)

“Well, if you guys want, I have plenty of room in my room if you guys wanted to stay here instead,” Dan said. And that, dear children, is the exact moment that I really and truly understood everything that had happened up to that point. Yes, a 27-year-old convention guest, a man with rising fame and influence, had made comments about my legs being nice, bought me alcohol knowing I was only 19, and invited me and my friend to sleep in his hotel room, all in the span of about five hours. Senpai was officially a fucking creep.

“Oh, no, thanks,” I said. “Our group has to go in two cars, and I’m the driver of one, so it’s fine. We’re fine, really.”

“Okay, then. Safe drive. But remember, my room is always an option,” Dan told us as he waved goodbye.

Listen, I’m aware that I was an adult, fully capable of giving consent. And Dan was an adult, fully allowed to pursue someone of legal age. I get that. But that’s where it stops. I was a convention attendee, and he was an industry guest. There’s a power imbalance there, magnified by the huge age gap. He bought me alcohol, which anyone knows is the foolproof way to make someone more relaxed and easily persuaded (except me, whose social anxiety comes in handy when it comes to not trusting anyone’s intentions). Worst of all, he invited two young women, two attendees, to sleep in his hotel room. Besides being fucking gross and manipulative, what kind of breach of guest protocol was that? And he knew that I was essentially a volunteer for his fan group – that’s not an appropriate way to act towards someone who is basically a co-worker. From that night on, I knew that I had to keep Dan at a distance. I could manage to be cordial, but there was never going to be a chance for anything other than that.

Dan and I managed to stay relatively friendly over the next couple years, but I always had that day lingering in the back of my mind with every interaction we had, online or in person. We’ve only ever seen each other once since that night – Colossalcon 2012, a year later. He was friendly to us and would acknowledge that he knew us more than an average con attendee, but kept his distance for (what I suspected and pretty much had confirmed later) other reasons, which weren’t malicious. Over the years, though, I witnessed a gradual shift in how he presented himself online. He seemed eager to play the devil’s advocate on sensitive issues, and some of his posts made it clear that his problematic behavior was unlikely to be a one-time lapse in judgement.

We had a somewhat public falling-out in late October 2016. He had shared a comic that basically questioned why a woman was allowed to dress sexy and seen as empowered, but when men drew or designed sexy women for pop culture, they were seen as pigs. In a few comments we made to each other, I expressed my disagreement with that sentiment, and he essentially said that I and other women were being overdramatic. In his last comment, he said that he had more experience in the world than me, and he called me a child. Furious, I addressed each of his outrageous points one by one, particularly his idea that I was somehow a child. I ended my comment with a brief but very clear message: that he was not as innocent as he liked to think, seeing as he knowingly bought me alcohol when I was 19 and invited me to sleep in his hotel room.

I was content to let it rest, but he decided to keep going. Not on Facebook, which made sense –why let the public in on his dirty laundry? Nor did he e-mail, which he easily could have, since he definitely had my information. No, he decided to send me DIRECT MESSAGES ON INSTAGRAM. Which means he had to look me up on there, since I know he hadn’t followed me before. He called me cynical, rude, and “dark.” He said that our interaction back at Colossalcon was strictly friendly and a group setting (I disagree with his idea of “group,” especially when he invited both female parties of said group to his room, but whatever). He also said that he wasn’t in a great place because he was going through things in his personal life. He ended with, “I’m sorry I offended you,” which would have held some weight if he hadn’t spent the rest of the message 1. insulting me and 2. making excuses for his actions, which he admitted did take place.

Obviously, his name isn’t Dan. And a good deal of you probably could figure out who this person is, either by already hearing snippets from me or just knowing general details about Dan’s work. I’m positive most of you know who he actually is. I could use his real name, obviously, and I originally wrote this with his actual name instead of a placeholder. Believe it or not, I’m not looking for a fight. Were his intentions truly just friendly? Perhaps, but that’s not at all how they came across, and he should have known better than to do any of the things he did. I interacted with another voice actor that weekend in casual company, and he was just as friendly without being at all imposing – he was gracious and listened to us and respected us. He’s got a reputation for being a bit overly-touchy, but I never felt creeped out or like I was a target, especially when compared to the encounter with Dan.

Because that’s how Dan had made me feel. Like a target. Like I was some silly teenage girl, starstruck enough and desperate enough for attention that I would give senpai anything he wanted just to feel like I was part of the cool kids. It didn’t make me feel violated – it made me pissed off. I was angry that he had written me off, that he had tested me out to see how easily-manipulated I was, and that there was nothing stopping him from doing this to someone else. Maybe he would find that girl who was desperate enough for validation that she would do anything for him. Maybe he has since then.

It’s only been with the emergence of the #MeToo movement that I’ve been able to properly sort out my feelings about this and word it how I want. I don’t want him to lose bookings or stop being invited to conventions. It’s enough for me that he knows that I’m out there, aware and unafraid. He already knows my feelings on the matter – I made them abundantly clear in that Facebook comment. I just want him to understand that he doesn’t get to do whatever the hell he wants because he’s got this tiny scrap of fame. I want him to understand that people will always remember how you make them feel, and I will never forget that night when I experienced what it truly means to be a woman in this world.

#personal

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