#Seven of Nine could have had a field day studying romance if she had come a little earlier...

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//caution: contents are hot and dangerous. kuroo tetsurou//

Request: Could I request a Vampire!Kuroo x Reader?

Warnings: one (1) swear.  Mentions of blood, but no actual blood-spillage.

Word Count: 2.6K (i’m so sorry. i got carried away ;-;)

Notes: Leave it to my dumbass to turn a vamp au into a coffee shop au smh

(Vampire!Kuroo x Human!reader)

It seemed like something straight out of a coffee shop fanfiction AU.  The dorky barista who now knew your coffee order by heart, always asking about your day as he brewed your latte.  He would write you little notes on your cup, usually some lame science joke that would bring you back up to the counter, asking him to explain it to you.  You would watch his face fill with a smile, eyes shining as you take interest in what he’s saying, the setting sun casting long shadows throughout the quiet cafe. 

Wednesday evenings had become Kuroo’s favorite shifts as it was the one time a week when you would indulge him with your presence.  Once 6:30 would hit, every jingle of the bell above the door would cause his heart to thump a little harder, in hopes to see your bright smile.  Your school bag always sat heavily on your shoulders, tired eyes from a long day at university, but the happiness that spread over your face when you saw him leaning his long form over the counter, that lazy smile plastered on his lips, it made the whole atmosphere feel ten times lighter.

Today was no different.  You pushed open the door, clutching your wallet, looking over the menu as if you were going to try something new, just like you always did.  Standing in line behind the other customers, Kuroo couldn’t help but try to rush through taking orders and making beverages, just wanting to get you to the front of the line, just wanting to see you smile up at him.  

“Vanilla latte with soy milk and an extra half shot of espresso,” Kuroo said, already punching the drink order he knew better than the periodic table into the cash register as you stepped up to the counter.

“$4.26,” you answer, handing him your card to swipe, but rather he pushed it back towards you, that staple lazy smile dancing across his face.

“It’s on the house today.  Consider it a thank you for being such a loyal customer.”

“I can pay, really.  It’s no problem.”  You try to hand him your debit card once more, but he just shakes his head, laughing lightly as he pushes it back once again.

“No, seriously.  Don’t worry about it,” he says, scribbling your name and a little joke onto your cup.  “So, how was class?  It was psych and- hang on, don’t tell me,” he pauses, tapping the pen against his chin in thought.  “French!”

You tilt your head in confusion, but yet a small laugh still escapes you.  “How’d you know?”

“Easy.  You always sit at the table by the window and copy notes from your psychology book and your French book.”

“Very observant of you, but I’m just going to work on French today.  I have a test tomorrow,” you explain, watching him attempt to make a cool design on the top of your drink, but inevitably failing and just creating a blob in the foam.

“I’m going to figure out how to do latte art one of these days, just you wait.”  He smiles teasingly as he places the lid on your cup, handing it to you.  A small pink tinge dusts over his cheeks as his fingers brush over yours in the exchange.  “Careful, it’s- it’s still hot,” Kuroo mutters, moving his eyes down towards the counter, letting his bangs fall into his face in a desperate attempt to hide the heat that had risen to his cheeks.

But, if you did notice, you didn’t say anything, instead you examine the cup, just like always.  This week, under your name was a circle, a few ‘Fe’s scattered around the perimeter.  It appeared to be standing on some stilts, but you could’ve stared at it for hours and still not know what the hell you were looking at.  “Kuroo, these are just getting harder, you know?”  There’s a small hint of laughter in your words, the playfulness evident in every syllable.

“It’s a ferrous wheel!  Get it?”  The look on your face was all the answer he needed.  No. “Okay, so, Fe is the atomic symbol for iron, right?  But, like, why?”  Any ounce of embarrassment or awkwardness that had once clouded the barista’s brain had since flown out the window.  You had him talking chemistry, the one area in which he was completely comfortable.  His thoughts were now so jumbled with the thoughts of atoms that your hypnotizing scent escaped him, even if for only a moment.

You watched him blabber on about science, explaining the joke, taking a million and seven detours to explain something else that was barely related, but you couldn’t just stop him.  He looked so excited, hands flying in every direction as he spoke, practically buzzing as he broke down the history of iron and why it was displayed on the table the way it was.  The dorky barista who had stolen your heart with science jokes and his lazy smile only stopped talking long enough to make orders as they came in, but he would jump back in immediately the minute he was done.  This was always your favorite part about coming here, seeing him get so passionate about this field that he loved so dearly.  

“I’ve probably bored you, haven’t I?”  He interrupts your thoughts with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I just took up some of your precious study time, I’m sorry,” Kuroo apologizes.

“No, don’t worry about it.  I don’t mind, really.”

“Hey!  I could help you, I mean, only if you want, of course.  It’s gotten pretty slow, so I’m sure no one would notice if I stepped away for a little while.”

You smile warmly at him and nod.  “I’d like that, Kuroo.  Thank you.”

It all seemed so innocent.  The awkward barista nestled into a booth with his favorite customer as she tried to teach him the correct pronunciations of the words on the page.  The orange glow had settled into a much deeper purple as the hours ticked by, quiet laughter being exchanged as the foreign words stumbled clumsily off his tongue.  His arm had settled on the back of the booth seat, letting it hang around your shoulders, but at the same time, not overstepping any boundaries.  But, the way that your body was slowly inching closer to his led him to believe that most of the lines had been erased.  To anyone with an outside view, it was a beautiful image of a newly blossoming romance.

But, Kuroo’s head was fogging at the close proximity.  It was one thing when he had a counter separating you from him, but now, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm that had just naturally sank down to rest against your form, it was hard to shake.  You smelled so good.  Your body absolutely dripped that delectable scent that made his skin prickle.  Every time that you entered the shop, he could feel his fangs trying to push through, trying to just get some sort of taste of your blood.  With that counter between the two of you, it was easy for him to shake the desire, but now?  Your neck was so exposed.  It would be so easy.  He found himself absently tracing patterns up your shoulder towards your collarbone, fingers seeking out that soft spot that would feel so nice to simply sink his fangs into.  

“I should probably be getting home.”

His eyes snapped away from the soft curve of your neck to look at the time on your phone.  It was nearly nine, nearly time for him to close.  Kuroo let out a small sigh, pulling his arm away.  “You know, it’s really not smart for you to walk home by yourself at this hour,” he says, sliding out of his seat.

You just shrugged, putting your books back into your bag.  “I’ll be okay.”

“If you want, I could walk you home.  I just have to do some cleaning, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

“I’d like that, Kuroo.  Thank you.”  There’s a smile behind your words as you sit back in your seat.  

It should’ve been as sweet and simple as that.  But, you weren’t living in a fanfiction, were you?  Everything would have been too easy and too beautiful if this was just your typical coffee shop love story.  You should’ve gathered that something wasn’t quite right about the situation from his shift in demeanor.  That lazy smile that always seemed to be evident on his features melted away, settling into a thoughtful expression.  He wasn’t talking as much, preferring to simply hum and nod in agreement with what you were saying.  If he was forced to talk?  Well, his answers were short, nothing like the extensive rambling that you had become used to from the barista.  

It’s not like he wanted to be passive with you, it’s just that the soft poking on the inside of his lip told him that he better keep his mouth shut.  Kuroo was usually so good about keeping his fangs hidden, but for some reason, you ruined his resolve and before the two of you even left the shop, those two sharp teeth had emerged and he just couldn’t seem to will them away.  Especially when you were holding onto his hand, pushing your body up against his side.  You were so tantalizingly close and so naive to what dangers this situation really held.

It wasn’t safe for young ladies to walk home by themselves at this hour, but it wasn’t exactly safe for them to be escorted by one of his kind either.  God, to drain you right then and there- The thought of your mouth falling open in the mixture of shock and discomfort, hands pawing defenselessly at his chest as that sweet red liquid dripped from your neck, the mental image of you being so vulnerable had his amber eyes shifting a few shades darker.  

You were still smiling, so caught up in whatever you were telling him that you didn’t even notice how heavy the mood had become.  You were so caught up in this little fantasy that everything was perfectly normal and that you were just getting to spend a little extra quality time with the man that had caught your eye all those months ago.  But, he couldn’t help himself, really.  This wasn’t how he expected his first long evening with you to go, but it had been awhile since he had had anything to fill his stomach and there was just something about the way your blood smelled that made his resolve collapse and his mouth water.  

Imagine your surprise when the usually sweet barista pushed your back against a wall, standing over you, eyes glazed over in hunger, hooded by desire.  Kuroo’s fingers gripped your chin, tilting it so that your eyes would meet his.  And he smiled.

Except it wasn’t that cool grin that made him seem so laid-back, this one had an air of menace to it,  those white fangs catching the rays of the moonlight.  The little squeak that had left you as your back had hit that hard surface only made a low chuckle rise in his chest.

“What’s the problem, kitten?”  The pet name dripped teasingly from his tongue, the tone only making you sink further into yourself, but his breath fanned so nicely over your skin, that part of you didn’t even care that he was potentially going to kill you.  He tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.  The sharp points of his fangs graced teasingly over the skin as if trying to decide the best place to finally make their mark.  “I bet you never thought that I could be dangerous.  You were always so sweet and innocent, never once thinking that I should be the one that you needed to be afraid of.”

There’s a soft whimper and a shake in your bottom lip.  Kuroo can feel your slight shake and it almost makes him pull away from you, apologizing for saying such things, but this- this was an opportunity that he couldn’t just pass up.  After this night, there would be no guarantees that you would come to see him again and then he would never have the opportunity to just get that little taste that he so desperately craved.  But, even so, the grip on your chin softened and the malice in his smile seemed to disappear.

“If you’re going to kill me, please- please just do it already,” you whimper, the tremble in your voice echoing through his ears as you closed your eyes tightly.

That was all it took for him to fully pull away from you, that fear that had crept up within you brought him back to his senses.  The ominous creature that had loomed over you only moments before, fangs threatening to pierce your skin, had been replaced by the boy from the coffee shop who got overly excited about chemistry and talked feverishly with his hands.  He could feel his fangs shrinking away and Kuroo leaned away from you, sadness being the only emotion on his features.

This wasn’t what he wanted.  He never wanted to scare you, to make you shake beneath his touch, but that’s exactly what he had done.  To be frank, he hated it.  He hated that after months of getting to know you and building a meaningful friendship with you, he let it all waste away as he was driven by an urge of hunger.  Kuroo hadn’t offered to walk you home just so he could get a little late night snack.  He had genuinely been concerned for your safety and yet, here he was, being more of a danger to you than anyone else.

His mouth stuttered absently for anything that could be an explanation or even an apology, but there was nothing.  But when your eyes opened cautiously, surprised that you were still alive, Kuroo could see the soft glisten of tears on your cheeks.  Someone could’ve hit him over the head with a brick and it still wouldn’t have hurt anywhere near as much as the knowledge that those tears had fallen because of him, because he had made you fear for your life and for your well-being.

So, when you flung yourself into his chest, clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt, letting your quiet sniffles dampen the material?  Kuroo was shocked to say the least, but nonetheless, he wrapped his arms tenderly around your form, mumbling soft words of remorse against your scalp, planting sweet kisses on your temple.  

“Please,” you whisper, your words getting caught in your throat in a choked sob.  You tighten your grip, pulling him closer to you as if you were trying to completely disappear from the world.  “I don’t care what you are, just please- please don't do that to me again, Kuroo.  I like you a lot, but I-” You looked up at him, fresh tears shimmering down your cheeks.  “But, you scared me and I-”

He shushed you, petting your hair softly before running his thumb over your face, ridding your skin of any remaining tears.  “I know, and I’m sorry, Y/N.  I guess I just like you too much to pose any real danger to you, huh?”

#i am absolutely not sorry about the title #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #kuroo #tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #vampire au #but also?? #coffee shop au #x reader #imagines #dorky rooster boy could never scare you ;-;

[elven-oracle]

the siren, act ii: tranquility |p.p. / part 8|

[part one] [part two] [part three] [part four] [part five] [part six] [part seven] [part nine]

‘the siren’ trilogy masterlist

moodboard credit goes to @astral-parker

to see other amazing moodboards:

by @starksparker click here

by @harryrholland click here

to listen to the playlist inspired by this series go here

SUMMARY: A month after adapting to human life and being accepted into Midtown School of Science and Technology, Lena “the Siren” Potts starts attending school with Peter Parker. As love and family start to pour into her life, a mysterious force lurks in the background, threatening the wellbeing of both herself and all the people she loves…

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Siren!OC

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

“Good afternoon, Mr. Parker, we apologize for taking you out of class, but as you know, we are doing this with everyone who was absent from classes after the incident,” across from Peter sat his principal, and in the corner stood two men, both in suits. Peter silently replayed the story he and Lena had developed that morning, filling the time with a deep inhale.

“Yeah, of course, Mr. Morita,” he curled in his lips, smiling without his eyes. He had to make a conscious effort to not clench his teeth. It was odd how he could fight crime, but a scenario like this had him more nervous than he cared to admit.

“Were you in the cafeteria during the incident?” Mr. Morita was reading the questions off of a piece of paper sitting in front of him. These questions were not developed by the school, and everyone was being asked the same thing. Peter flicked his eyes back to his Principal’s.

“Mr. Stark needed his niece and me to come back to the Avenger’s compound upstate, he had his driver come pick us up right before our lunch period.”

“Oh!” Mr. Morita looked pleased, “So the two of you were not present?”

“We will need to see the record of them being signed out of school as well as parental confirmation that this is the case,” one of the suited men spoke up.

Peter’s heart rate picked up, but he continued on, “You won’t find it,” their heads snapped to him, and he realized how suspicious that sounded, “Because Mr. Stark said it was urgent, and that he would take care of it later.”

“Is that her father?” the other man spoke up.

“No. Her uncle. Legal guardian. You know...Tony Stark?” Peter was surprised that they hadn’t pieced this together yet. It wasn’t breaking news that Lena went to Midtown.

The men were trying to mask their shock, but Peter saw one of their eyebrows twitch. Whoever these men were, they weren’t keeping their composure very well, but Peter knew how to work those in authority. He interacted with them as Spider-Man almost every time there was crime to fight. They were usually unappreciative of him and Lena’s work, so their exchanges were routinely snarky comments and getting out of their way.

“Lena Potts is Tony Stark’s niece and one of our most distinguished students,” Mr. Morita finally took control of the conversation, “Okay, so yourself and Miss Potts left at approximately…”

“11:45,” Peter finished for him.

“And what do you know of the incident?”

“All I know is what my friend Ned told me and what I’ve seen on the news. The guy that Spider-Man and the Siren fought the other day broke and entered into the school, scared a bunch of kids, and then the two superheroes showed up and led him to the football field. Iron Man then came I think and the guy surrendered,” he kept his language casual, not using the technicalities that he was used to going into detail with.

“That would be correct. Do you have any suspicions as to why he might have targeted the school?”

Peter did. Somehow, whoever this guy worked for had caught wind of where he or Lena went to school. It was no coincidence that less than 24 hours later, the man that had been demanding for them to brawl him had attacked Midtown Tech. Mr. Stark had to be starting an investigation, but he hadn’t heard from him since their argument on the football field. Naturally, he lied to his principal.

“No. I’m not really a...fan of getting involved in all that stuff.”

“Aren’t you Tony Stark’s intern? Wouldn’t that provide some sort of...curiosity?”

Peter inhaled, “I guess it should...but I’m a computer science intern...I just do tech stuff. Not crime fighting,” he smiled halfway again, hoping his lies were buyable. He wasn’t the best actor, and he hated lying, but it came with the job.

“Of course,” Mr. Morita was smiling genuinely, hopefully believing every word Peter said. The men in the corner, while he was avoiding even glancing in their general direction, had negative energy radiating off of them. They were most likely staring Peter down, second guessing it all. Peter exhaled and tried to cover up the anxiety that they were forcing onto him.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Parker, you can head back to class.”

He didn’t leave too quickly. Calmly, he kept his eye on his bag as he picked it up off the floor in front of him and swung it across his shoulders, smiling at both the men and Mr. Morita before making his way to the door. It took a couple paces before he let out a sigh of relief, letting his shoulder collide with a locker to his right.

He sat back down in his math class, Lena sitting diagonally to his right. She was furiously taking notes as Ms. Minor did practice problems on the whiteboard. She excelled at math, so she really had no need for the notes, but the anxiety of potentially getting anything wrong was what drove her to copy everything their teacher was writing. He could slightly feel the intensity of her blood as it pumped through her veins.

How did it go? She asked him inside of his head.

There were two men there that were suspicious of everything I was saying, but that’s their job.

I can try and get a read on them when they ask me to answer questions.

“Could we borrow Lena Potts, please?” Mr. Morita had entered the open door and was smiling politely.

Lena placed her pencil on her notebook and stood, flattening the white linen pants she wore that day. She shrugged her braids off her shoulders so that they rhythmically hit her back as she walked out of the room, and Peter tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy when he noticed that most of everyone’s eyes were following her, some for a little too long. After a few moments, when she had to be a few feet away from the room, he felt Lena silently chuckle at him, and his cheeks turned bright red.

…

Lunch the day after had an entirely different energy. About half of the kids who were at lunch in the cafeteria were there. Lena had quietly told him that the fear that the Arsonist had caused would stay with them for a while, and many of them would never return to the lunchroom. MJ, Ned, Lena, and himself took up their usual four seats, eating almost silently. So much had happened in the recent few days that no one knew where to begin with a conversation.  

“Are you guys planning on going to prom?” Peter brought up a light subject in hopes that it would spark better conversation.

MJ and Ned exchanged looks, Lena kept staring at her food, hardly eating it, just tossing it around the bowl with her fork.

“I think I might ask Betty,” Ned piped up, smiling a little before eating another french fry.

“Betty Brant? To prom?” Peter felt a bit of happiness for his friend grow inside him. “That’s awesome, dude.”

Peter knew that Ned had always had a thing for Betty, but Ned was never the type to make the first move. He talked about it but never followed through. He hoped that this would be a big step for his friend in growing his confidence. It was slightly saddening to see Ned avoid romance because he didn’t feel as if he deserved it.

“Prom sounds lame, but if I know you losers, then I’ll probably be going,” she didn’t look up from the notebook she was sketching in.  Of course, MJ would give off an air of distaste. Peter knew that she wanted to go, but pretended as if it was the opposite of the case.

When he looked over at Lena, she was intensely staring at the other girl, most likely trying to get a read on her. He had no idea what could be so important that she was sifting through MJ’s mind, but Lena had been reacting to the things MJ had been saying interestingly. He made a mental note to ask her about it when they were on patrol later.

“Well Lena and I are going together,” he said it like it was any normal thing, but Ned’s head snapped up and his fist banged on the table.

“Finally!” Ned exclaimed, “I mean, yeah! Yeah, that’s cool guys.”

MJ snickered, “About time.”

…

Patrol was quiet. He looked at Lena on the rooftop of some building, her ponytail wavering slightly in the wind. She was listening to the police’s radio com channel. He had seen her studying them in her free time so that they could get to crime before the police and hopefully solve the situation before it got worse. Lena was still rusty with the codes, but she had told him she enjoyed learning them.

“It is rather quiet,” she said softly, staring off into the distance, “And the crimes that are happening are closer to the police force than they are to us.”

Peter let his mind wander, and sat on the edge of the building, his feet dangling off the edge. Lena joined him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. It was quiet nights like these that had been horribly awkward for them when their relationship was dwindling. Lena would sit and use her AI to do homework, while Peter would eat a sandwich and pretend to keep himself busy. In all actuality, he was wishing he could say something to mend the distance they had created. Now they were closer than they had ever been before.

“How did your interview with Morita go?” Peter inquired, pushing through the silence.

She sighed, “It went smoothly, I stuck to the story. The men were trying to question literally everything I was saying. It was...what is that ‘I’ word?”

Peter shuffled through negative adjectives that started with the letter, “Irritating?”

“Yes. It was irritating. I was lying. But I had a reason to lie. It was not because I had anything to do with the Arsonist.”

“We got an identity to protect.”

“We do. Other than that, I found out they were detectives from the NYPD. They were desperate to find out where Tony is keeping the villain.”

“Mr. Stark will never give that information up.”

They stayed silent for another minute or two when the other topic that Peter had on his mind drifted into his memory. He was hesitant to ask for a moment, and then decided it would be best to keep it inside their heads. Peter had learned that some things, even the simplest of things, were better left unsaid.

Can I ask you something? He felt his heartbeat pick up, oddly. There wasn’t much to be nervous about going into this conversation.

Of course.

Why have you been studying MJ so intensely?

He could feel her clench her teeth on his shoulder, I think she knows about us.

Of course she does, we told her today-

No! No, I mean being Spider-Man and the Siren. I think she knows.

Peter didn’t respond, not knowing how. For a moment he felt that there should be no reason that MJ had found out their secret, but then Peter caught himself. That would be a serious underestimation of his friend’s intelligence. She was smart without effort, and Lena had described her mental stability as comparable to Mr. Stark’s, who was a child prodigy and considered a genius.

Should we tell her? Peter asked.

Not yet. I do not think so. I...I do not know.  There was a deep conflict hanging on her thoughts.

She flinched, sat up, clenching her hands into fists. She had heard something over the radio that had visibly upset her. Standing, she looked across the labyrinth of skyscrapers, searching for something. When Peter tried to look in her head to see what it was, he could feel that it was the equivalent to finding a needle in a haystack. He stood next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

What’s wrong?

She looked at him, We need to get to the Gotham Hotel as soon as possible.

He frowned, Lena, that’s maybe 20 minutes away-

10-56a, attempting suicide. That means someone is standing at the top of a building right now, waiting for a sign. We have to be that sign. She looked troubled and upset, but simultaneously determined. Let’s go.

M A S T E R L IS T

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#allie writes tranquility #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x oc #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #irondad #irondad and spiderson #spiderson #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #spider-man homecoming #spider-man far from home

[bakudekuficlibrary]

hi! do you guys know of any good love triangle fics? maybe with bakugou and todoroki crushing on deku?

Hello! Here’s the link to our One-sided Todo/Deku + Jealous Bakugou mini-list. Below are the rest of the love triangle fics out there. Some aren’t confirmed as to whether or not the endgame is BakuDeku, and so I’ll make a note of which ones those are 😊 There are no repeats of the fics in the other list in this one, and this one is separated based on the one-sided ship. 

-Ellie

24 Works.

Todo/Deku & BakuDeku & Kiri/Baku

The Other Side Of The Door by Dontmindme9 ( G | 130,129+ | 49/? )

Izuku becomes Prince Shouto’s personal servant. Because Izuku has to follow him around every day, they get really close. When Izuku gets lost while on an errand, Shouto does everything he can to find him again. Meanwhile, Izuku is saved by a wild Bakugou. Inside the angry teen, Izuku see’s a side of Bakugou that no one has taken the time to see. Both take a liking to the innocent green haired boy, and refuse to give him up.

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

Whatever It Takes by casschad ( M | 46,458+ | 15/30 )

Shoto and Kacchan are the sons of the Head of the League of Villains, and next in line to succeed when he retires. When they’re assigned a mission to spy on the All Might-led Hero Coalition, they set off with a few other villains to train alongside those with the best quirks in the hero capital undercover.

Enter Izuku Midoriya- a gifted trainer with a passion to find the best heroes to defeat the League of Villains. Meeting two very talented brothers with insanely powerful quirks has been nothing but a chore so far, but the three will come together to change the world as they know it, and maybe make it out alive.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Emotionally Abusive Parent]

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

[Abandoned] "Yeah..." I turned back around and he was waiting for me ( Not Rated | 1,180 | 1/1 )

“Sorry.” I hide my head from his face which was slowly turning into a smile.

“Did you think I’d believe that?” He questioned.

“No.”

“I didn’t, I know you Kacchan.” My heart ached. Was this lie bringing us closer together?

Fuck yeah.

I just nodded, my face red. He’s the only one who can call me that.

{ Curator’s Note: No endgame cause abandoned & orphaned }

Todo/Deku & BakuDeku

Wildfire by Tenkku ( E | 117,868 | 19/19 )

With his family in dire straits, omega nobleman Izuku is sent to marry the strongest alpha warlord, Katsuki Bakugo. But Bakugo wants nothing to do with him, and the marriage is for political and military purposes only. Izuku doesn’t see himself as a weak omega and wants to fight on the battlefield side-by-side with Bakugo. Izuku will find friendly comfort in Shouto Todoroki, the prince of the Western Territory, and Bakugo’s prisoner of war. Todoroki will see the qualities in Izuku that Bakugo refuses to see in a Dom-Omega mate, but Bakugo doesn’t like to share, especially when Izuku belongs to him. Izuku will do whatever he can to ensure that he stands beside his alpha mate on the battlefield and help to bring change to the hierarchy world of alphas. Izuku will have to choose between happiness with one alpha or duty with another; he can’t have both.

Go to Bed, Dumbass by sunsetsundae ( M | 37,128+ | 17/? )

"What the fuck are you doing here at two in the morning?" The blond male asked in a voice that was closer to a growl as he curled the weight he was holding.

"I could ask you the same question," Izuku replied with a small smile as he headed for the bench press.

[Internalized Homophobia]

Dreams Can Become Reality by KingKagura ( T | 140,679+ | 25/? )

Just as a quirkless young girl is about to give up on her dream, her destiny changes with the meeting of her idol, All Might.Midoriya Izuku is able to become a hero. After gaining the One For All quirk from All Might, Izuku embarks on her own action-packed adventure, full of friends, rivals, enemies, and romance.

Full House by Hana ( G | 12,881+ | 6/? )

"Izuku, honey you must endure it. I am sorry your mother is weak, but this is the only way I could support us since your father's death." Midoriya Inko says as she caresses her daughter's tear stained cheeks.-------------------------

It was so many years ago that Izuku and her mother had to work as maids for the Bakugou family. For her mother,she endured endless years of bullying from her master, and loneliness from her distant coworker who she could never confide in. Never in a million years would she think that they would both fall for her. Not only that, who would have thought a butler would have turned out to be an heir to the Todoroki company?

[Abandoned] Artifical Feelings by FujoshiKingdom ( T | 4,199 | 2/? )

Bakugo Katsuki was created for one reason: Protect Izuku Midoriya. Nothing Else.

Katsuki, a stubborn and prideful Demerian would not simply obey a timid human lacking self-preservation, yet he can't help but experience an unknown presence whirling in his stomach when he first laid eyes on the green-haired omega.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

{ Curator’s Note: Endgame unknown }

the green-eyed leviathan by amphitryte ( E | 21,904+ | 7/? )

Izuku Midoriya is a respected pirate who has voyaged the seas for years, creating a life for himself that was both fulfilling and satisfying. The crick in the neck for King Enji, Izuku finds himself with a bounty on his head to be brought back to the unruly tyrant dead or alive. However, another King, much younger and volatile than the one aforementioned, sinks his claws into Izuku first, and he has his reasons to keep the young buccaneer at his side.

Even better is the fact that the Crown Prince, Enji’s son, has also been taken by this hot-tempered King. Thrown into a rowdy mix of politics, drama, and scandal, Izuku will fight to obtain his life again. That won’t be easy, however, when he has two sets of royal stares tracking his every move with interest, curiosity, and lust gleaming in their eyes.

omegaverse | pirate au

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

Gifted with a Curse by JunNoAce ( E | 29,371+ | 5/? )

Updated to Explicit for future chapters. There will be sex and some possible deaths and possible trolling to readers. Main ship is KatsuDeku, some others may be present.

~~~~~~~~19 year old Izuku and his mother moves in a new village in the country side.Izuku has the strange hobby of studying and learning about the mysteries behind magic, curses, and so on.He meets Shoto a traveler who seems to have been on many adventures. Izuku is very curious about what stories the boy may have to tell but feels embarrassed by how nice the other treats him.One day his mother leaves to visit a shop in their old town and doesn't make it back home on time. Izuku worried goes to search for her and comes across an old castle.Here is where he meets him, a cursed Lord Katsuki filled with rage and with the appearance of a beast.

Meteor by kxro_2 ( E | 5,523+ | 2/? )

Midoriya didn't remember the meteor that hit Japan 10 years ago and injured him, nor did he realize his body was changing in complex ways due to it. Worry not! A prestigious school had recently opened up and only accepted the victims of injury of the meteor, due to the blood deformities it caused.

Katsuki realized how toxic he had been towards Midoriya when they were kids, which is why he pushed him away and refused to talk to him. He wanted to make things work out, but he was horrible at it.

Todoroki was just interested in the pleasant smelling boy and wanted to maybe court him. Maybe not, since all he got were death glares from a jealous Katsuki

A/B/O AU No superheroes

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

He’s Mine by TheCommonPerson ( E | 1,364+ | 1/? )

Izuku was a rare nine-tailed fox, one of the last of his kind. His parents were killed when he was only three, and soon after the renown eight-tailed alpha lion, All-Might found him. A few years later when Izuku turned ten, he experienced his first heat and presented as an omega soon after that All-Might was called away and Izuku, was then left in the care of Shoto Aizawa, a four-tailed beta lone wolf. For five years Izuku lived in the central mountains with Aizawa until one harsh winter forced them from their home, they traveled into the eastern territories until they reached the cusp of the thick eastern forests where the beginnings of the eastern plains began.

The Bakugou pack controlled the Eastern forest while the Todoroki pride controlled the Eastern Plains, settled in the disputed land where the plains and the forest meet, Izuku encounters Katsuki the Six tailed Alpha wolf heir to the eastern forests pack and Shoto the Seven tailed Alpha panther heir to the eastern plains pride. Both Shoto and Katsuki view Izuku as their mate to be, and both intend to take him by whatever means necessary.

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

Autumn Leaves by aftermath24 ( T | 28,713+ | 6/? )

It was a comfort that not many people had – to be able to pinpoint the exact moment their brains decided to go insane. For Izuku Midoriya, he'd be able to point at this moment with great confidence - the moment he saw nothing but empty clothes, and, instead of the classmate or even that loud blonde boy that he'd accidentally fallen on, a rat and a cat glaring at each other.

or

The fruits basket AU, where people turn into animals on physical contact

SeriesPart 1 of Nightbird

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

[Abandoned] A Poppy in the Field by Midnight_Solstice ( M | 8,540 | 4/10 )

Shouto gets a glimpse of his future with the help of the future-seeing quirk from one of his father’s sidekicks, and finds out he dies protecting the person he loves the most at the age of eighteen.

He doesn't know what to make of this information, so he simply turns a blind eye towards it.

After all, Todoroki Shouto doesn't... "fall in love".

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

[On Hiatus] Witch's Heart by Xyerose ( M | 5,953+ | 2/? )

Midoriya was fortunate enough to be a survivor of the Witch Hunt, one that wiped nearly the entire population of witches. He lives his life in complete solitude with his mother and his childhood friend, Bakugo Katsuki, encompassed within a world of false security and comfort. Within a flash, it all changes when the humans find him.

Right in front of his very eyes, his mother is burned at the stake.

...Enter Todoroki Shoto, the Witch Hunter with a wish he'd be willing to risk his own life for.

[ TW: Mentions of rape/non-con elements. I don't condone rape in any way nor do I support it. There is no actual rape within the story and there never will be. ]

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Rape/Non-Con | Dehumanization]

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

Dramatic Love by AsakuraHannah ( T | 2,428+ | 2/? )

It’s more than just triangle love. It’s something your heart decides who you should stay with, even through hard time.

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

Summer Breeze by CapersAndPines ( T | 5,293+ | 5/? )

Summer AU! Todoroki and Midoriya were childhood friends separated by distance and time. Summer has come and a mysterious boy has appeared. Is this what they call fate? Where does the summer breeze intend to take them?

{ Curator’s Note: Unclear endgame }

Izu/Ocha & BakuDeku

Of What ifs and time machines by Maru_Chan ( T | 47,765+ | 7/? )

Because the harsh reality was, that Izuku Midoriya was getting married tomorrow afternoon, and that no matter how Katsuki felt about it, there was nothing he could do to change that fact.

Or maybe there was.(Or: in which Bakugou Katsuki gets the bad end, and later gets another shot at rewriting it.)

Not Stated

You get a heart by Nephel_Cloud ( E | 35,486+ | 6/? )

At four years old, Izuku was deemed quirkless and useless for the world, his one close friend that he had trusted left him.His confidence and hope dimnished little by little as the years passed, the bullying adding more damage to him than only the physical scars.On a day, where everything seemed to happen at once, his life suddenly turned around. His hope had dimnished, but not the still colorful and detailed dream of becoming a hero. Unexpectedly, he finds help on his way to his dreams, and a rekindled relationship between two childhood friends ensue. How will the road towards heroism play out, for both of them?

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Underage | Sexism]

{ Curator’s Note: This work has the “Love Triangles” tag, but I can’t find where it states who is involved in the love triangle. }

His Kingdom by ElopeToTheSea ( M | 15,462+ | 4/15 )

"The kingdom or him?" Ochako asked. Her voice was low, full of disdain. "What will you chose?"

Izuku smiled, there was no fear in him. There was nothing he could ever regret in that second.

"My answer hasn't changed, princess," he responded. "And it never will."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Pitiful."

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

{ Curator’s Note: Same thing. Love Triangles tag, but unclear who is involved. }

The Dragon King's mate by twilightwings ( E | 23,424+ | 7/? )

Izuku decides to go after a rare flower that only grows, on a mountain in the Dragon King's territory. She discovers someone from her past living with the dragon, she is plunged into his world where she fell in love with him all over again. however there a noble knight who wants her hand in marriage. But However, there something sinister in the wake, when is a threaten force from the past is threating to return.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

{ Curator’s Note: Same thing. }

HypoThalamus [Hiatus] by ToxicPooPoo ( Not Rated | 41,131+ | 7/? )

Coming across old friends wouldn't cause you to discover more about the global mass murderers, an unusual dreaming ability, and the problem of seeing too much, yet Izuku Midoriya found himself in these conditions. The boy is driven by his concealed passion to rescue the innocent despite how illegal it is. With four hours of sleep every night and a hidden power that no one has acknowledged, he manages to complete vigilante duties at midnight. Izuku soon realizes that secrets aren't permanent, tragedies are the future's best friend, and that you should never ever play with fire.

Going on a hiatus, I'm not really motivated to continue this at the moment. I have another fanfic idea involving cool lookin' creatures and I wanna do that first since I'm more into that. When I get ahold of that fic, I'll also try to write these chapters and then post them every week when I feel it's where I want it to be.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Major Character Death | Self-Hatred | Suicide Attempt | Panic Attacks | Dissociation | Addiction | Child Abuse]

{ Curator’s Note: You already know it babey. Read the notes above. }

Todo/Deku & BakuDeku & Shin/Deku

Why Me by Nonstopshipper ( T | 1,196 | 1/1 )

“Will you go out with me!!!”Izuku found himself surrounded by 3 people all asking for the same thing.

{ Curator’s Note: No endgame }

Todo/Deku & BakuDeku & Kiri/Deku

[Abandoned] We Found Love in a Hopeless Place by rap_cinna_mon ( G | 1,698 | 2/2 )

This is an AU where myths and legends exist.Forbidden forests, magical creatures, special abilities, curses and cure.

Adventure, fantasy, and romantic comedy.

This story is really slow paced.

{ Curator’s Note: No endgame because it was abandoned }

#BakuDeku #KatsuDeku #BNHA #bkdkfl ask #w:violence #w:mcd #w:underage #t:s #t:panic #t:dissociation #t:addiction #t:abuse #t:sexism #t:homophobia #w:rape #g:lt #ex:TodoDeku #ex:kiribaku #ex:izuocha #ex:shindeku #curator ellie

[lirlovesfic]

The Choice

A Doctor Who fanfic

Summary: After GitF, the TARDIS brings the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey back to the estate to solve a problem involving the TARDIS herself. But when they see a familiar face, the face of someone who should not exist, they realize the problem is deeper than they thought and could endanger the Doctor’s very existence. Primary characters: Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler. Genres: Romance, mystery, adventure, drama, character study, HN AU, fobbed!Nine, sick TARDIS. Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose Rating: Adult

Warning: brief, non-explicit depiction of domestic abuse

a/n: I am currently working on editing this chapter-by-chapter, with the hopes of completing a chapter a day until I catch up with myself. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m doing it to try to get back into the swing of writing and to build some momentum in order to finish this. Also, there have been some tiny things nagging at me for a while (grammar, punctuation, etc.) so I’ll be correcting as many of them as I can find as I go. The story will not change. In fact, most of the changes are going to be so minor that I doubt anyone (besides myself) will notice. But to keep me on target, I’ll be posting it all here as I go, with links to the other websites it’s on. I hope you enjoy it.

Catch up: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

This chapter: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

Chapter Thirteen—London, 15 July 2007

The night sky glowed red and gold, reflecting the fire on the ground. Fire was everywhere, burning everything in its path. Golden sand to fields of red, trees of silver to towns and cities, everything was ablaze.

Screams filled the night…

John sat up in bed. As the sounds of a woman screaming continued, his sleep-fogged brain realized the cries existed in reality, not just his nightmares.

Rose, he thought.

Convinced that Jimmy had returned and she was in danger, he was on his feet, pulling on his jeans, and out the door within seconds.

Once outside however, it was apparent that the screams were coming from the floor below rather than from Rose's flat across the courtyard. It was Rita and Chuck again. But this time, instead of being angry, Rita was clearly frightened.

John ran down the walkway and headed down the stairwell. Behind him, doors opened as the residents of the Estate again turned out to witness the spectacle, drawn by the same urge that drove people to slow down to witness an auto accident.

When he got to their floor, he found Chuck grasping Rita by the shoulders and shaking her. No one was moving to aid her. A second later, Chuck was on his knees, one arm behind his head, held in place by the pressure John was placing with his thumb and middle finger on his palm and the back of his hand.

"That's enough!" John ordered. Chuck struggled to get away, and John increased the pressure on his hand. "No more! How many stupid apes do I have to deal with in one day?" His voice was laden with disgust. He turned his head and scowled at the crowd. "And what's wrong with the rest of you? Why is it that I'm the only one helping her? No, you're all satisfied to stand around gawking while a woman gets hurt. Useless, the lot of you!"

On the other side of the courtyard, Rose woke to the sounds of screaming. Her first instinct was to go back to sleep. When she was growing up, screaming in the middle of the night wasn't uncommon on the Estate. Her mother had always forbidden her from leaving the flat to witness that dark side of the neighborhood, and as a young child there had been nothing she could do about it anyway.

But she was no longer a young child. She had faced Slitheen and werewolves, Sycorax and Daleks; humans didn't hold the same fears for her as they once had. She slipped on her shoes and headed out of the flat.

The commotion was emanating from the building across the way. She crossed to the railing, but despite the streetlights, she wasn't able to identify who was involved in the fight. It was just too dark.

A commanding voice carried across the courtyard. "I said no more, so knock it off!"

John, she thought.

"Knock it off!" he shouted again.

Rose pushed her way through the gathering crowd and ran flat out down the stairs and across to the other building. Even though she was in the best shape she had been in since she was seven, she was still out of breath by the time she reached the floor where John was.

The Estate was fairly small, and when she had lived there she had known most of the people who lived on it, but she was still surprised when she recognized the rowing couple. Her friend Rita was standing with her back against the wall of the building, one hand cupping her cheek. Even in the dim light coming from the courtyard and from the open doors of the nearby flats, Rose could see she was crying.

John stood in the middle of the walkway behind Rita's longtime boyfriend, Chuck, who was currently kneeling in front of him and whimpering, Chuck's right hand held high behind his head between two of John's strong fingers.

At her appearance, both Rita and Chuck froze, as if the shock at seeing her had made them forget the row that had brought her there.

"Rose?" Rita asked incredulously.

"I thought your boyfriend killed you," Chuck said.

John, however, didn't seem surprised at all to see her. He jerked his head towards the flat.

"Rose, take Rita inside while I finish dealing with this stupid ape here," he ordered.

Rose wrapped her arm around Rita's shoulders and led her into the flat. She shut the door behind them.

The flat was smaller than the one Rose had grown up in, a twin in layout and size to Mickey's only far cleaner. The front door opened up to a small living room, barely large enough for the chair, sofa and television that were in it. On one side of the room were doors that led to the kitchen and bathroom. The single bedroom was in the back.

Rose led Rita to the sofa, and they both sat down. Rose spotted a box of tissues nearby and handed Rita a couple.

"So, when did you get back? I thought you were still travelin'," Rita said. She wiped her face with the tissue and blew her nose loudly.

"I've been back about a week," Rose told her. "But that's not important right now. What happened?"

"Oh, you know Chuck. Same ol', same ol'."

Rose sighed. "What did he do this time?"

"He's been shaggin' everythin' in a skirt," Rita told her. "We've been rowin' 'bout it, and this time, well…"

It was obvious what she meant. There was a large bruise forming on her left cheek and jaw, and her left eye was beginning to swell.

"Rita, how long are you gonna let him do this to you?" Rose asked. "You need to kick him out. For good this time."

"I want to," Rita said. Rose raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "No. Seriously. After this I'm done. But I can't kick him out. Flat's in his name."

Raised voices carried through the thin door to the flat. Chuck was cursing at John. They couldn't hear what John said in response, but his tone was even and firm.

"You must have somewhere to go," Rose said. "I know you have some family somewhere. What about your mum?"

As the cursing outside continued, Rita shook her head. "Can't go there. Mum's new boyfriend is creepy, yeah? Stares at me all the time."

Rose sighed. "Been there. What about Marie? Or Joe?" she asked, naming Rita's siblings. Both lived only minutes away.

"Marie and her husband have three kids now, and his brother is livin' with them too. And Joe's in a bedsit. You know how they are. There's barely enough room for him, let alone me." She paused thoughtfully. "Might be able to stay wi' Dad for a bit. He's always hated Chuck. His flat's pretty small and he's got his girlfriend and her kids there, but I could probably sleep on the sofa for a couple weeks."

"Sounds like a plan," Rose said. "Next step we call him, let him know you're comin'. Where's your phone?"

Rita pointed at the small table crammed between the sofa and the chair. Rose handed it to her and then headed back outside to give her some privacy.

Across from the door, John was leaning against a concrete support beam, arms crossed in front of his chest. He was alone.

"Where's Chuck?" she asked.

"Gone," he told her. "For now. But he'll be back." He jerked his head in the direction of the flat. "Is she okay?"

Rose shrugged. "She will be, if she doesn't take him back again." She crossed the walkway and rested her arms on the railing. The crowd that had formed in the courtyard and the balconies of the other buildings was dwindling as people returned to their homes. John joined her at the railing.

"Everyone's going home," she said.

"Stands to reason. Show's over."

At the sound of the door opening behind them, they both turned. Rita stood silhouetted in the doorway, the light from the flat shining out from behind her, illuminating the walkway.

"Joe's comin' to stay tonight. That's my brother," Rita said, explaining who Joe was for John's benefit. "We'll figure out everythin' else in the morning."

"I'll stay until he comes," Rose told her. As Rita reentered the flat, Rose turned to John. "You wanna come in too?"

"Nah. I'm fine here."

Rose nodded and began to head back into the flat, but before she crossed the threshold she turned back. He had returned to leaning on the post with his arms crossed in front of him. He looked like a security guard or a bouncer at a club.

Or simply just her first Doctor.

He gave her a small smile, and she smiled back before rejoining Rita.

~oOo~

Less than half an hour later, Rita's brother arrived. He and Rita both thanked Rose and John for their help in dealing with Chuck. After the door to the flat had closed behind them, John and Rose remained in the walkway. When neither moved to leave, an awkward silence descended between them.

"What time d'you think it is?" Rose asked after a moment.

"About half three, I imagine," John told her.

"Well, I guess I should get home," she said.

"Yeah, you probably want to get back to bed."

"Not really. Actually, I'm wide awake."

"That'll be the adrenaline in your system," he said. "Fight or flight response. Normal reaction to a row, even if you aren't directly involved in it." He let out an irritated huff. "I'm just glad her brother's here to sort it. I'm tired of doin' it. This whole thing's a bit too domestic for me."

She grinned. "She was lucky to have you here to help her."

He grunted noncommittally. "Nothin' anyone else wouldn't do."

"Liar," she said, and she grinned at him affectionately for a moment before turning serious again. "No one else was helpin' her. Only you."

"And you," he said pointedly.

"We make a good team," she said.

"That we do," he agreed.

A light breeze blew through the walkway. Rose wrapped her arms tightly around herself and shivered. "Might be July, but it's still cold at 3 in the morning."

"I'd offer you my jumper, but I didn't put it on before I left my flat. All I've got is my T-shirt."

She grinned at him again. "Yeah, I noticed," she said cheekily.

John raised his eyebrows at the overt flirt. Before he could reply, she shivered again. He frowned. "You need to get inside." He paused for a moment and then continued hesitantly, "I don't suppose you wanna go have a cup of tea with me."

"What, now?" she asked. "Dunno if anything's open, and I'm not exactly dressed for it." She was still wearing what she had worn to bed, an oversized sleep shirt, bright pink and patterned with something that wasn't clear in the dim light. Underneath she was wearing exercise shorts, and on her feet were her trainers, but no socks.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I noticed," he said. "What's that on your shirt? Looks like… little moons wearing nightcaps?"

Her eyes widened, and she quickly glanced down at herself. She laughed nervously. "Uh, no, actually. Actually they're… bananas in nightcaps."

He grinned. "Bananas are good. Full of potassium. Just never thought of 'em as sleepwear."

"It was a gift," she explained.

He nodded. "Actually… about the tea… I meant in my flat. I don't have much in, but I've got that. So, wanna come up?"

She bit her lip and smiled shyly. "Yeah, okay. I'd like that."

"Fantastic."

~oOo~

As John led them into his flat, Rose looked around the main room. It was Spartan in appearance: nothing was out of place, not a cup, not old takeaway containers, not even a piece of cast off clothing. In some ways it was exactly what she would have expected, stark, with no nonsense furnishings and nothing beyond the bare essentials, exactly the opposite of her mother's flat. There were no pictures on the wall, no photos of family, no stray paperbacks or magazines or tabloids spread out over the table and floor. Even the rundown condition of the worn furniture and the threadbare carpet—worn down to the floorboards in spots—in the room seemed right. They reminded her of the metal grating and the tears on the jump seat in the console room of the TARDIS.

But it still seemed wrong that the Doctor, even a human version of the Doctor who didn't remember he was the Doctor, should live in a tiny, rundown flat on the Estate and not a bigger-on-the-inside Time and Space ship that traveled among the stars.

"You go sit down while I make the tea," he said. "You take milk or sugar?"

"Both," she told him, still shivering.

John frowned. "Hang on one minute." He disappeared into an adjoining room and returned with a blanket—and his leather jacket. After dropping the blanket on the sofa, he handed the jacket to her. "Put this on," he ordered. "I'll be right back."

As he left the room, she slipped on his jacket. She had worn it before, and it was just as warm as she remembered. As she wrapped herself in it, she clutched the collar tightly closed and buried her nose into the deceptively soft leather. Wearing it felt like being enveloped in a big hug from the Doctor, something she hadn't had since he had left a week earlier. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of the leather and his aftershave and him. Her mouth curved into a small smile, a smile that slowly faded. Even though he was here, she missed him, missed how well he had known her, missed their shared history—a history that hadn't happened for him yet.

And she missed his next self, his thick brown hair and sideburns, his brown pinstriped suit, his deep, chocolate brown eyes that could see into her soul…

Whether blue eyes or brown, whether leather or pinstripes, she missed the Doctor. John might be the Doctor, but with his memory gone he was missing an enormous part of who he was, and she missed that part of him.

Still shivering a little, she sat down on the sofa and pulled the blanket over herself. I just hope the Doctor and Mickey sort this soon, she thought.

~oOo~

A few minutes later, John carried two mugs into the room. He stopped just inside the doorway. Rose was on the sofa, buried under the blanket he had left for her. Peeking out from under the blanket was the collar of his leather coat.

She was staring off into space, lost in thought and frowning slightly. When she caught sight of him she gave him a bright smile.

"Warmer?" he asked as he crossed over to her.

She nodded. "Loads."

"Good." He handed her one of the mugs and joined her on the sofa.

"Ta," she said. She took a sip. "Mmm, good."

"So how do you know Rita and Chuck?" he asked.

"Rita and I were in school together. Chuck was in the same band as Jimmy. We used to all hang out together." She paused for a moment. "Y'know, I used to be so jealous of the two of them after Jimmy took off, but it didn't take me long to realize I was the lucky one, yeah? If Jimmy hadn't left, that could have been me in there."

John shook his head. "You're too smart for that. It may have taken you a bit, but you would have eventually wised up and dumped him."

"I'd like to think that was true, but I dunno," she said. "I was really messed up back then. Would have done almost anything to keep him."

"You seemed a little down before, when I came back with the tea," he said. "Is that what you were thinking about?"

"No," she said. "Was actually thinking about something else." She paused, as if she was wondering what to say, or if she should say anything at all. He waited her out, hoping she would open up to him. It must have worked, because after a moment she began to talk again. "'S just, I needed to talk to someone, but when I rang him I couldn't get through."

His stomach tightened into a knot. For days he had forgotten, or intentionally ignored, the fact that she had spent the last two years traveling with someone. An older man, according to the newspaper.

"The person you'd been traveling with?" he asked. He forced himself to use a light tone, rather than the jealous growl that threatened to come out.

She looked taken aback at the question. "Yes, actually. He was supposed to be back by now, and when I tried to call him I couldn't get through."

"So you're worried."

"Yeah."

"Is there anything I can do?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"Why don't you tell me about him," he said.

Her brow furrowed, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip, an unconscious habit that John had discovered usually meant she was nervous.

"Uh… I don't know what to say," she said. "What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you want to tell me. Why don't you start with his name?" he suggested. "How you started traveling with him. Where you went."

"Well, his name's the Do—I mean, his name's… James McCrimmon, but everyone calls him the Doctor," she said. "And he travels, all over. Like, everywhere. We've been to Scotland, Anc—Rome, New… uh, New York, Utah, France." That last location was accompanied by a tiny frown, but then her face cleared. "Once we were headed to Naples, but we ended up going to Cardiff instead. He said he was gonna take me to Barcelona, but we haven't gone yet."

"He doesn't have a job? He just travels around? What, like on holiday?"

" 'S more than that. Wherever he goes, he helps people."

"You said he's a doctor. Is he part of a group… like Doctors Without Borders?"

She shook her head. "He doesn't help like that. Well, sometimes I s'pose, but mostly not. He just helps people with whatever they need. He's… brilliant. Can do most anything he sets his mind to. And I help him."

"Like an assistant?"

"No," she said. "Not an assistant. More like… a friend, yeah?" She met his eyes. "I try to help him, as much as I can, but I don't think he really needs my help." She paused, just for a moment, before she continued in a softer tone. "See, he's all alone. His family's all gone. Mostly I think I'm just someone to keep him company."

He searched her face. The look of melancholy she had worn earlier had rapidly changed to merriment while she was talking about her travels with the Doctor. Now it had just as quickly turned into sadness.

"Rose, were you…"

"Was I what?"

"Never mind. None of my business."

"No, what?"

He hesitated, just for a second, before asking what he really wanted to know. "Were you and he…"

Her mouth twisted into a small smile. "No," she said. "No, we weren't. Aren't. We're just friends."

Without conscious thought he took her hand and squeezed it. "You wanna know what I think? I think, wherever he is, he's probably fine," he told her. "He probably just got held up somewhere. And Rose Tyler, I think you're absolutely fantastic. If he thinks of you as just someone to keep him company… then I don't care how brilliant he is, he's a complete idiot."

She burst out laughing. "If you knew, if you had any idea…"

He gave her a wide grin. "And you can tell him I said that."

"Oh, I will. Believe me, I will."

Still chuckling, she stretched and then winced.

John frowned. "Is your back bothering you again?"

"A little bit," she answered.

"Did you have a hot soak before bed?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, and took some paracetamol. It helped a bit, but what really helped was that thing you did back at the garage. What was it called?"

"It's a form of acupressure. Take off the jacket and turn around."

She slowly slipped off the jacket and set it on the edge of the sofa before turning and facing the opposite direction.

Now that she had taken his jacket off, it became obvious that the sleep shirt she wore was thinner than the shirt she had worn to work, and in the light of the room it was also obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. That in addition to being in his flat in the middle of the night made the situation far more intimate than it had been in the shop in late afternoon. His heart pounded in his chest, and it felt like butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach. He took a deep, steadying breath.

Although his hands weren't cold, he vigorously rubbed them together and then cupped them over his mouth and breathed on them, warming them before lowering them to her shoulders. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked in a low voice.

"No," she said softly.

He swallowed hard before beginning to gently massage her shoulders and back. "Take deep, slow breaths," he said.

He worked his hands from a spot between her shoulder blades upwards to the back of her neck. Her skin was so warm, so soft. She sighed, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from turning the gentle massage into a lover's caress, prevent himself from dipping his head and placing kisses on the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. He moved closer, close enough to smell a trace of her shampoo. It was intoxicating. He closed his eyes and took in the scent as his thumbs moved in circles over the pressure points on the base of her skull. With a quiet hum, she relaxed against his fingertips.

Finally, after several minutes he had to stop as any more would have done more harm than good. He moved his hands back to her shoulders, reluctant to completely pull his hands away from her.

She turned to face him. Her eyes were wide and dark.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're very wel—" he began.

"Not just for the massage," she said. "Thank you for everything. Thank you for helping Rita, and for dealing with Jimmy, and for listening to me talk. Thank you for just being here with me." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, and then rubbed the spot with her fingertips. Impulsively he pulled her into his arms and leaned back against the back of the sofa. She rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled against him, bonelessly molding her body to his. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Rose Tyler, I'm so glad I met you," he said.

"Me too."

#the choice #nine x rose #ten x rose #ficandchips #fobbed!Nine #revised #this one took so long #a lot longer than I expected it would #I might be able to do another today #but I'm just not sure

[ahumanfemale]

Professional Distance - I

So AU it’s an alternate galaxy.

Summary:  Dean Winchester is an editor known for his critical eye and keen insight, finding himself a famed name in the world of romance novels. No matter the material that crosses his desk Dean has always been able to maintain his professional distance. Until Donna Hanscum. As if his crush on the effervescent blonde weren't incapacitating enough, now she's introduced a love interest to her latest novel that seems suspiciously like... him.

Author:  (A)HumanFemale

Pairing:  Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

I

Dean Winchester had been an editor for going on twelve years, since graduating college with his degree in literature. A quick study with a critical eye, he’d come with a slew of recommendations from professors and the assurance he’d have a bestseller in his first year. He’d gone into the field hoping to land a position in fantasy or science fiction - dragons and space battles. You want to know where he’d ended up instead?

Romance.

Sweet inspirational love stories and depraved erotica all came across his desk, demanding his careful eye and effortless marketing. It turned out that selling romances was a lot easier when the man selling it was quick with a smile and easy on the eyes. So they told him, anyway. In just over a decade he’d climbed from untested newbie to a big name - someone in demand, who got to be picky about what he took on. There were a few people who had balked at a man editing chick lit but he brushed them off. Oddly enough, he enjoyed it. Romance wasn’t something he’d normally read and that gave him the ability to distance himself enough from the work to be critical of it. To find errors and plot holes that needed to be addressed. The racier stuff didn’t bother him - he was able to maintain his professional distance. It didn’t hurt that all the authors to take the chair across from his desk tended to look and sound like his mother.

Until Donna Hanscum.

That wasn’t the name on her book covers - no, for that she’d chosen something so obviously fake it made him cringe - but it was the one he’d written in his calendar for that afternoon at three o’clock. Donna reminded him exactly nothing of his mother. Where Mary Winchester was sharp lines and wry grins, Donna was all curves and boisterous laughter. She had an accent that constantly made his mouth twitch up in a smile that stayed with him for the rest of the day. She also wrote things that made him loosen his tie and clear his throat when he edited late at night, in bed with his laptop and a beer.

Donna wrote paranormal romance. More specifically, she wrote about a voluptuous blonde whose job was to hunt down and kill the paranormal. Usually with a male partner who was different in every installment, all of whom found themselves enamored with her by the end of the book. After a long hunt and a bloody kill she took her fill of the guy, typically on the hood of her muscle car before driving off into the sunset with a wink and a smile. Unless, of course, they died.

Her work fit the market trend toward this kind of thing perfectly and she wrote it well, keeping her heroine just this side of relatable and worthy of cheering on. Readers ate it up and she was writing full time now, having quit her job as a small town sheriff back in Minnesota.

Which was why they had this meeting set up, discussing the sixth installment of her series. Her first ten chapters were due today and she’d insisted on bringing them in on paper, as she was running behind and hadn’t had a chance to transcribe them to a word document. Fine with him. He thought better when he could scribble notes and refer back to them later.

He checked his clock.

3:12.

“I’m here!” she crowed as though reading his mind, throwing open the door to his office so that the potted plant next to it shook and threatened to topple over. “Sorry! So sorry, Dean, I’m here.”

“I can see that,” he smirked, waiting for her to orient herself as she shut the door and smoothed her wavy hair away from her face. “Make it into the city okay?”

“Oh, yah, always,” she said, facing him with a bright smile as she sashayed her way to him. He did his best to avoid following the sway of her hips as she walked. “How are ya doing, handsome? Working hard?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, always.” She threw herself down into the chair opposite his desk and exhaled loudly. She was dressed in leggings the color of cotton candy with lipstick to match, covered in a bright white poncho with what looked like owls patterned across it. Why in God’s name did this drive him crazy? It wasn’t exactly leather and lace. Still, the thought of peeling it off gave him just as much of a thrill.

He needed to put a lid on it.

“So, uh… you got something for me?”

“Anytime ya want it, sugar,” she said with a lascivious wink that she followed up with a full laugh. Just in case his blood pressure wasn’t high enough. “Just kidding. Yeah, I’ve got it here. Hold on.”

She handed him a leaf of wide-ruled notebook paper, bent and tattered and covered with the flamboyant whirls and loops of her now-familiar handwriting. There were more than a few coffee stains and doodles on the margins, the most common theme being what looked like a unicorn chasing a robber. It was held together with a thick clamp at the top, making it almost impossible to flip through the pages.

“That’s… um. That’s original,” he said lamely, looking over it.

“I know! I’m so sorry. If ya don’t mind waiting a few days I’ll transcribe it but I know they’re holding us to a pretty strict deadline so I didn’t want them to come for your head.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, nodding before gently placing her manuscript to the side. “So, who is Chloe Ransom killing these days? Shapeshifters or ghosts?”

“Tracking a wendigo through the deep dark woods, actually,” she said, beaming. “With a sweet hunk of forest ranger to keep her company, of course.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Well, I have some cover art to go over with you and there have been a few changes in your contract for the next three books…”

-- X --

It was after seven before Dean made it back to his townhouse, yawning and swinging a big bag of takeout along with his briefcase. Donna’s manuscript - such as it was - was like a lead weight on his arm, begging to be hauled up and read to death. He’d told himself that if he got through the other chapters vying for his attention he could read all of Donna’s tonight over dinner. He’d chosen a greasy burger and fries - Chloe Random’s main staple as she flitted from bar to bar, looking for cases and any excuse to pull out the armory in her trunk.

Dean tossed his jacket and tie as he situated himself on one end of his couch, turning to stretch his legs over the cushions. He’d placed a cold beer on the coffee table next to him and kicked his shoes off. Burger in one hand and Donna’s manuscript in the other, he dug in. The handwriting baffled him occasionally but he was able to decipher it if he tilted it far enough to the side.

The first few chapters were easy to fly through. Chloe was back in the saddle after a nest of vampires tried to turn her into lunch in the last book - they’d succeeded with her partner. Poor Sam. But now she was coming out of mourning and out of her recovery, looking to kick some ass. He scribbled a few notes on the sides but Dean didn’t slow down until close to chapter nine, when something like suspicion prickled over his skin.

Chloe stepped into the office, grateful for the air conditioning after the sauna that was the inside her car. Appalachia in the dead heat of summer wasn’t a picnic. She could only hope her deodorant was up to the job, because the man behind the desk ahead of her was more likely to have her sweating than the blazing sun outside.

Dark blond hair cut short and tousled to look like he’d just run his fingers through it, a sharp jaw, and lethally green eyes. A few shallow crow’s feet that turned his face from pretty to something closer to devastating. It was the eyes that held her attention the longest, at least until he smiled. Then her eyes snapped to the ever so slightly elongated canines nestled into his otherwise straight white teeth. A hint of the primal, hidden among the mundane. She couldn’t help her mind wandering to which part of her anatomy he’d sink those teeth into first.

Dean paused, looking up and away from the words on the page.

He fought the urge to run for a mirror, checking his own reflection against the description in the story. Unconsciously his tongue drew up to rub against his top teeth, the ever so slight edge on his canines now roaring to the forefront of his attention. Were they longer? Certainly not longer than average. No one had ever called them out to him, anyway, but there it was... a bare millimeter jutting out from the line of the rest of his teeth.  

His attention went back to the story.

“You must be Detective Ransom,” the supermodel-turned-park ranger said, standing from his chair to offer his hand. Cripes, he was even tall. Just tall enough to make her look up at him through her lashes like the hussy she was.

“That’s me,” she affirmed, taking his hand in her own. Calluses, she noticed. The man did real work. “Sorry, they didn’t give me your name when I left the precinct. I was out the door like a flash.”

“Daniel,” he told her, “Daniel Wesson. But just Dan is fine.”

Son of a bitch.

Dean put the manuscript down to run his hand over his face. Was he crazy? Was he imagining all this? He wasn’t any more or less self-absorbed than the next guy, but come on. There’s seeing yourself in everything and then there’s seeing yourself when someone has obviously written about you.

He finished the remainder of the portion in record time, not even bothering to pick up his pen to make notes. Dan and Chloe sat and talked about the case - a slew of missing hikers, remains never found. Chloe didn’t mention her added knowledge of a pattern just like this one going back forty years, and then another set of disappearances forty years before that. Dan was forthcoming and Chloe was invested, eager to put down the monster and get back to her hometown in Minnesota with enough time for her sister’s wedding. Chapter ten finished with Chloe packing her gear and heading to the mouth of the forest, a flask on her hip and Dan at her side.

His burger had grown cold and his beer had fallen flat at some point but it didn’t matter. The pages in his hand had captivated him to such an extent that he doubted he’d notice if someone kicked in his front door. Before he knew what he was doing he had grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table and flipped to Donna’s number. It was there… inviting him to press on it. A text, even. She was probably still in the city.

Dean closed the application and set the phone back down.

He was getting a little worked up. Overreacting because of his… preoccupation with her. Authors were known to take people and places from their real lives and put them into their fictional ones. That wasn’t so unusual, although he’d never seen a suspiciously similar version of himself in anyone else’s work. The only way to solve this, of course, was more data.

He needed more chapters.

#dean winchester #donna hanscum #dean x donna #supernatural #supernatural au #spn au fanfic #dean winchester au #deonna #editor!dean au

[nievefergie]

Is Disney an Auteur Through Genre Theory?

Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson says to Moana, “If you wear a dress and have an animal sidekick, you’re a princess”. Disney’s most recent iteration of the animated princess genre appeared in 2016 and featured a number of updates to what is often considered to be an outdated and/or old- fashioned storyline. Even though it departs from the formula by doing away with one of the major elements—the prince and the love story between the prince and the princess — the film nonetheless adheres to the central formula of the princess genre of wanting more than the sheltered life they live. This can be seen in every Disney princess movie where the protagonist sings about wanting something of a future they look forward to. At the same time, this film offers a convenient vantage point to ask a different question: who is the author of the film, and why does it matter? Is Disney as a brand the auteur of this film because they created the Disney genre, or are Ron Clements and John Musker the auteurs of this film inside of the Disney Princess genre? This paper will explore Moana from these two particular theoretical perspectives in order to elucidate that Ron Clements and John Musker are the auteurs of Moana due to the fact that they created the highly intertwined Disney Princess genre.

In 1951, the French film magazine Cahiers du Cinéma published an article by André Bazin called, ‘On the Politique des Auteurs’. Bazin argued that in cinema, the author of the film was the director and they are the singular creative force guiding the film through stylistic motifs and thematic preoccupations. Bazin referred to it as auteurism, and the theory took off all over the world. Auteurism remains a preferred theory of film authorship due to the value of originality in Hollywood and the entertainment industry. American film critics like Andrew Sarris argue that auteurism is made up of three parts: technique, personal style, and interior meaning. British film scholars argue that auteurism is more structural, with the director achieving high-quality work through anthropology and literary studies and their principle of methods (Chris). Most popularly known, auteurism is the simple theory that the director of a film is the mastermind behind the creative piece as its true author.

Though, in a time where cinema was being spoken about as original and how to tell apart true masters and authors during the French New Wave, nowadays the argument has little bearings. A large part of filmmaking is collaboration and all of the various jobs and hours going into it. There are writers, producers, directors, executives, actors, set designers, etc., that all contribute to the final product. It might almost seem expeditious to label one of these artists as an individual visionary. This opens up the debate for the auteur theory to enter the idea of the corporate author. Thomas Schatz developed the concept of the model from Bazin’s remark about Hollywood individuals being less interested in the system of cinema as a whole. Schatz argues that even from early Hollywood, certain studios were easily distinguishable from the other studios. You knew if you were watching an MGM film or a Warner Brothers film — they each had their own distinct brands as an effect of the overseeing producers. Each studio used synergistic mechanisms of industrialized production to create their own brand (Chris). This begs the question — in terms of big studio movies, who is the true author? The directors or the studio producing the film?

John Lasseter once noted in his forward to The Walt Disney Film Archives: The Animated Movies 1921-1968, that, ‘‘people sometimes describe something as ‘Disney’ as if it were a single look and style, when in truth the look of the studio’s work was continuously evolving. Films were influenced by new artists joining the studio or coming into their own, new technologies being developed, and new styles arising in the culture of the day” (Mason, 3). From as early as 1921, audience members could tell the difference between something like an MGM film and a Disney film. Even as directors and technology changed, the brand was still aware of its market. Walt Disney wanted to make films for everyone, for both children and adults in the same medium. It would be highly unusual to see an ‘adult’ movie under the Disney brand. Their family-friendly brand is without competition as noted by Joel Best and Kathleen S. Lowney, who claim, “‘Disney’s rivals have clear moral reputations, [...] in contrast, the name Disney has become closely linked in the public mind with decent, family-oriented entertainment” (Mason, 4). With a set brand in mind, Walt Disney created the Walt Disney Company, and in that, he became an auteur of the work he was distributing. When he passed away, the company became the auteur of Walt Disney’s work.

When Moana was announced by the Walt Disney Company in 2014 and slated to premiere late 2016, it was marketed to be the next Disney Princess movie. It was to be directed by Ron Clements and John Musker, who had just previously directed The Princess and the Frog in 2009. The two directors joined the Walt Disney Company over 40 years ago while they were in their twenties, being trained by one of the original Nine Old Men. Throughout their time at Disney, the two together have directed seven films: The Great Mouse Detective (1986), The Little Mermaid (1989), Aladdin (1992), Hercules (1997), Treasure Planet (2002), The Princess and the Frog (2009), and Moana (2016). It stands to reason that their directing of The Little Mermaid is what resurrected Disney’s feature animation business and began what fans and historians refer to as ‘The Disney Renaissance’. After The Little Mermaid’s success, Disney green-lighted Musker and Clements’s next project — a comedy called Aladdin. Aladdin was to also feature a princess, and prince, their love story, a faithful and lovable sidekick, and an evil villain (Miller). Even though Disney already had three successful princess movies before the Disney Renaissance during the Golden and Silver Ages in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (1937), Cinderella (1950), and Sleeping Beauty (1959), Disney had not done another fairy tale since. It seemed as if Musker and Clements had created a new form of Disney Princess, and their Disney Princess was modernized for this time period’s new genres.

John Musker and Ron Clements’s Disney Princesses stood different than the princesses of before. Not only were they bringing in a substantial amount of money through things like tickets, but also through merchandise and consumerism. Little girls wanted to be these princesses. These new princesses inspired them to be strong. After the success of four Disney Princess films in the Disney Renaissance, The Disney Princess line was created in 2001 as an advertising and marketing campaign to encourage children to identify with the characters so they would buy associated products by contributing to a new ‘girlhood’ (England et al.). Disney had officially taken the work that John Musker and Ron Clements achieved through Aladdin and The Little Mermaid, and made it more than just individual markets under Disney Animation’s properties, but into a whole brand of itself, the genre, under ‘the Disney Princess’.

The term ‘genre’ is French for type or kind, but when used to describe works of literature, films, or television programs, genre theory implies that these works of art can be categorized into a class of related works. Film and television genre categories are very limited and culturally specific. Rather than using the genre ‘comedy’, the specific genre like ‘screwball comedy’ and ‘romantic comedy’ are used to measure comic forms of mass media. Due to the industrialization of mass media, the genre became a way to standardize similarity and differences in the production of a product (Feurer). Audience members know that if they go into a film labeled as a romantic comedy, they know to expect tropes such as a heterosexual romance, a quirky best friend, enemies turned to lovers, and the ultimate happy ending.

Because critics argued that these genre films lacked originality, they decided they weren’t art or original because they were not authored works. Auteur theory attempted to take back the artistic merit in films from the Hollywood assembly line of studios and celebrate individual artists as the author of the films rather than following the categories already produced. Yet Jane Feuer, a film theorist, argues against the auteur theory destroying genre by stating,

However, it was discovered that certain authors expressed themselves most fully within a particular genre—John Ford in the western or Vincente Minnelli in the musical. In some sense, then, genre provided a field in which the force of individual creativity could play itself out. Some viewed the genre as a constraint on complete originality and self- expression, but others, following a more classical or mimetic theory of art, felt that these constraints were in fact productive to the creative expression of the author (Feuer, 107).

Thus, even though auteur theory evolved from the need to distinguish itself from what they considered was a lack of originality, they only further introduced genre and genre theory into the romantic bias of auteur criticism.

Audiences know what a Disney princess is. They know she wears a dress, her family is important to her, she always has a ‘want’ and she’s going to have a song where she declares it, and she has a love interest. The first Disney Princess movie to drift away from this was the Pixar film, Brave (2012). For the first time, there is no love interest. The movie is about familial bonds rather than the love between a man and a woman. But this movie, although under Disney, is still Pixar. This means that it is a weird combo of the Disney Princess genre and the Pixar genre that Disney bought. This set the standards for the new Disney Princess genre — rules can be broken. Which is where Moana comes in. Moana is a princess of an island called Motunui who wishes to see the world, or more specifically, the sea. She desires to explore and goes on a quest to save her island and family. Along the way, she does meet a man, but he is not her love interest. The demigod Maui remains a friend and guide along the whole film, never breaking or abusing the barrier between that romantic and mentor relationship.

So then, one may question: is Moana really a Disney Princess movie? Does it fit inside the genre that the Walt Disney Company created? And in turn, does it fit inside of the genre that Ron Clements and John Musker helped solidify during the Disney Renaissance? And finally, does that mean the Walt Disney Company are the auteurs of Moana, or does that mean Ron Clements and John Musker are? John Musker and Ron Clements changed Disney Princesses forever in 1989. They made the Disney Princess genre typically a musical fairytale, with a song about wanting something. In Moana, the song is called ‘How Far I’ll Go’ and is written by Lin-Manuel Miranda. The song describes the need to be out in the sea and how she plans to do that. Similarly to other Disney Princess ‘ I want’ songs like ‘Almost There’ and ‘Part of Your World’ from Clements and Musker’s The Princess and the Frog and The Little Mermaid respectively, the main protagonist sings about what she wants. These songs are clear indications of what the princess desires. The characters from Clement and Musker’s Disney Princess movies always sing these songs, and Moana adheres to this model they’ve created. Moana also fits inside the Disney Princess genre of having an animal best friend and sidekick. Jasmine has Raja, Ariel has Flounder, and Moana has Pua and Hei-Hei. Once again, Moana adheres to the Disney Princess genre. So even though Moana is newly different without having a prince or a love story, the base of the personality of the princess is still there and she still holds the crown, so she is a princess.

With Moana being apart of the Disney Princess genre, one could argue the Walt Disney Company is the auteur of the hit 2016 movie. Yet more important to make the distinction of who the auteur is, we have to look back at who created the genre inside of the company. The modern Disney Princess genre created during the Disney Renaissance was formed from Ron Clements and John Musker, therefore, they must be the auteurs of Moana, simply because they are the auteurs of the genre. Both genre theory and auteur theory give the audience expectations about what they are about to see. Going into a Disney film, you can expect family-friendly content with good morals. When going into a Ron Clements and John Musker Disney film, you know you’re going to get a classic modern Disney film. The audience knows this because Ron Clements and John Musker were hired by the brand that Walt Disney Company created to design a new and better genre for their animated fairytale adaptations, and that made the Disney Princess genre that Moana falls into. They created the genre, so they are the auteurs.


Bibliography

Kackman, Michael, and Mary Celeste Kearney. The Craft of Criticism: Critical Media Studies in Practice. Routledge, 2018.

Mittell, Jason. “A Cultural Approach to Television Genre Theory.” Cinema Journal, vol. 40, no. 3, 2001, pp. 3–24.

Brookey, Robert Alan, and Robert Westerfelhaus. “The Digital Auteur: Branding Identity on the Monsters, Inc. DVD.” Western Journal of Communication, vol. 69, no. 2, Apr. 2005, pp. 109–128. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1080/10570310500076734.

Íris Alda Ísleifsdóttir 1988. From Snow White to Tangled: Gender and Genre Fiction in Disney’s “Princess” Animations. 2013.

Mason, James Robert. Disney Film Genres and Adult Audiences : A Tale of Renegotiated Relationships. 2017.

England, Dawn Elizabeth, Lara Descartes, and Melissa A. Collier-Meek. "Gender role portrayal and the Disney princesses." Sex roles 64.7-8 (2011): 555-567.

Miller, Bruce. “Disney's Ron Clements Still Looks to Do More, Post-'Moana'.” Sioux City Journal, 12 Sept. 2018.

#moana #media crit final