#the story of frozen making a disney animated classic

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 4

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 32.3k+ (dear lord)

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering. MDNI 18+ ONLY struggles with body dysmorphia/eating (including food restriction & calorie counting), strong feelings of inadequacy, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, a parent in the hospital, mentions of sexually explicit scene being shot on film, anxiety/stress/depression, jealousy

SMUT-18+ ONLY: fingering & oral (f receiving), nipple stimulation, heavy petting (m receiving), possessiveness, a lot of hickeys(lol), a little praise (please let me know if i’ve missed anything)

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me. this story is personal to me for so many reasons, & parts of it have been a little hard to write. but, they’ve begged to be written. i hope you all love it. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist, Series Playlist

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Christmas Eve: Cherry Tree, OK

The ground was buried under mounds of snow. A fluffy, warm blanket of the softest white, yet it froze your little fingers when you buried your hands into its inviting, bright allure. 

You were bundled so tightly in your winter ensemble that you could hardly move. Your arms were stiff as boards, impossible to lay at your sides. You begged your mom to not make you wear it outside, but she and your dad wouldn’t budge. 

“You’ll get sick.” They warned you. But you didn’t heed them. 

As soon as you were outside and safely out of their sight, you shed your pink puffer and matching mittens, throwing them in a deep bank covering the once vibrant flower beds on the side of your house and freeing yourself of their restrictions.

You’d spent what felt like hours outside in the below freezing temperatures. Intricately rounding out perfect snowballs, building the tallest snowman your six year old body could manage, creating the most heavenly snow angels. 

You hadn’t even noticed the sudden pain and tightness that had developed in your small chest, or the dry cough that accompanied it. You were too busy warding off evil snow monsters from your fort made of icey wonder.

Until you heard your first, middle and last name erupting from the opened back door. 

Your mom and dad were there, their faces as white as the snow your body plummeted towards when your small lungs became too tired to allow for another breath of air. 

You spent Christmas in the hospital that year. The whole week, actually. A collapsed lung due to pneumonia, you were told. It was the most painful thing you had yet to experience in your young life. 

But to this very day, you consider it the best Christmas you’ve ever celebrated.

Nurses and doctors showered you with all the toys your heart could ever long for. You opened gifts from your bed and enjoyed the most wonderfully terrible Christmas dinner the hospital cafeteria could offer. 

You ate more ice cream than what was truly necessary. But no one denied your incessant requests for the frozen treat.

You watched Oliver and Company countless times that week, a favorite of yours and your dads. He hated Disney movies, but he loved this one, only because of Billy Joel’s character and the classic song he featured in the film.

He loved Billy Joel. Loved him enough to sit through hours upon hours of the animated film with you. 

Neither him or your mom left your side that whole week. They didn’t even go home to sleep. They just stayed with you. 

There were no fights between your mom and dad that week. Not even one. It was the closest your little family had ever been, and would ever be again. The love you felt from your parents that week has yet to find a comparison.

Crazy as it sounds, you miss that week. You began missing it as soon as you were cleared to go home. 

Their bickering resumed almost as soon as they put you in your special, tiny wheelchair to take you to the car. Whatever magic that hospital held that forced your family to love each other in a way that was brand new to you, was lost altogether once you were wheeled out of the automatic glass doors. 

You knew, once they situated you in the back of your dads double cab, that you’d never see them love each other that way ever again. 

As the Winter thawed to a bright Spring that year, when the snow melted and ran away to the Deer in Water creek that your home stood proudly beside, so did your hopes of ever seeing your parents love you and each other the same as they had that Christmas. 

That was a time in your life when you viewed your mom and dad in the same light. A time when you didn’t hate your dad, a time when he made you believe a man could love you.

When it wasn’t just your dad that caused problems, and it wasn’t just your mom that showed you love. They both did those things.

It’s strange to think back on it all now, to think about how he’s the one that left, and she’s the one dying. (Or already dead.)

You can’t bring yourself to understand why, but that Christmas you spent in the hospital all those years ago is all that's playing in your mind as Jake is speeding to the hospital. 

He’s asked you a few times how you’re holding up, but you can’t begin to try and answer him. 

You’re unable to communicate more than a quiet nod of your head as you're staring through the tinted passengers window. 

There aren’t any tears. No lump in your throat. 

You want to cry, but you can’t. 

Your mind pleads with you to acknowledge the emotions swirling about, desperate to manifest outwardly. But despite the inner turmoil, your body refuses to show it.

You just can’t.

Everything feels numb. 

You’re not even sure if you’re breathing properly.

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You hadn’t even realized how tightly you’d been clutching the necklace your dad gifted you  all those years  ago. It’s somehow serving as a comfort for you as you’re being driven to the hospital, even after everything he’s put you through. You find yourself running your thumb over the engraved initial, just  as you always had before he left.

As much as you’ve grown to hate him over the last year, you can’t help but wish he were here. Not being able to rely on anyone right now is…it’s fucking terrible.

Well, aside from Jake. 

He’s the last person you’d expect to be leaning on.

But it was purely an accident. Him driving you to the hospital is just a happenstance. He wouldn’t have if your stupid car hadn’t broken down (thanks, dad) and if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have had to get a ride from Jake in the first place.

But, you’re grateful to him right now. Grateful that he stuck around at your apartment long enough to know he needed to take you to her. 

If it weren’t for him, you’d still be stuck there desperately searching for someone to take you.

Finally, the brakes come to a screeching halt at the emergency room entrance. You absently thank him as you practically jump out of the car. 

You don’t look back, but you hear the thrumming motor of his range rover become more distant as he drives away.

You can’t bring yourself to care at this point as you’re sprinting to the front desk in search of where they’ve taken your mom. 

The young, redheaded man behind the counter with bright green eyes shielded by thick eyeglass frames looks rather shocked at your frenzied state. He’s watching you with his mouth agape, hands frozen on the keyboard of his desktop as he prepares for your inevitable arrival.

“I–I need to f– find my mom. She was just broug–” You take a second to catch your breath, still clutching your necklace for some sort of grounding. “...she was brought here by ambulance and I—” He stops you with a hand held high, asking you to slow down because he can’t comprehend your rushed words.

You can hardly even understand yourself, your voice breathy and stuttering as you’re gasping for air. But there’s no time to wait to catch it in your heaving lungs. 

“I need my mom and you need to tell me where the hell they’ve taken her. Her name is–”

“Miss,” he interupts, standing up as if to intimidate you with his much taller stature in comparison to yours. “If you can’t calm down I’ll have to ask you to leave.” His voice (that he’s clearly manipulated to sound much more threatening) echoes throughout the entire lobby as he’s looking at you as if you’re the crazy one.

This man has started copping an attitude with you that you’re in no place to put up with. You’ve backed down to people you’re entire fucking life, but right now isn’t the goddamn time.

You’ve decided to challenge him. If he wants to be loud, you can be loud right back.

Your fist pounds the counter with a force that causes everyone in the lobby of the emergency room to gasp and silence their voices. The metal container holding pens is jolted over the edge, the clipboard holding the blank paperwork for patients to fill out tumbles to the floor from the sheer amount of power behind your hand. 

There’s a stinging pain running rapidly up your arm, all the way to your shoulder, ringing through your teeth and  vibrating in your skull. 

You don’t even so much as wince from the pain.

A potential broken hand is the very least of your troubles right now.  

“She may be dying,” you scream, your first still held firm atop the white marble. “And if you don’t tell me where the fuck she is, you may have ruined the last time I’ll ever see her.”

The tears you’ve held in thus far begin flooding your face, falling like a heavy rain shower on the granite where your sore hand lies. 

Before the receptionist can start the process of having you escorted out, a tall woman dressed in a light blue set of scrubs stops him before he can make a single move. 

“Tell me her name, sweetie.” Her voice is quiet and her demeanor is calm, her wavy brown locks tied in a sleek ponytail at the bottom of her neck reminds you so much of the way your mom used to wear her hair before she got sick. 

You tell her your moms name through a shaky voice, attempting to make yourself sound more composed so you don’t get yourself kicked out of here. 

She gently moves the receptionist aside (Eric, according to the name badge clipped to the pocket of his shirt) and begins clicking the mouse around, scrunching her eyebrows in focus. 

“Here she is,” she confirms, the printer behind her humming with the physical version of what she can see on the screen. “She doesn’t have a room just yet, hun.” 

You feel defeated and useless. You’re her primary caregiver, and you can’t do your job from behind this stiff counter— not knowing where she is, how she is, what happened. So many unknowns, so much that’s completely out of your control.

You suddenly feel the intense pain radiating from your fist and you instinctively pull it close to you, clutching it tightly against your chest in hopes that pressure will alleviate just how bad it hurts.

“I’ll let you know when she gets a room. Until then, you’re welcome to wait in the lobby.” The tall nurse tells you. 

You nod your head in agreement, knowing there’s nothing you can say or do to make them move quicker. Still clutching your fist, you slowly walk away towards the stained lobby chairs and plant yourself in the one that’s closest to the counter.

You pull your phone out of your jacket pocket in search of something to distract you, but you're mortified to be met with the dead battery symbol upon trying to unlock it.

Great. Nothing to divert you from your thoughts (or the searing pain) for god knows how long. You feel the tears start to well in your sleepy eyes again, and you just decide to let them fucking fall. There’s no sense in trying to keep them in, you need to feel right now so you don’t explode again with your pent up aggression. 

Crying feels like the safest thing to do right now, and the best way to relieve some of the mental (and physical) pain. 

You let your chin fall down towards your chest, watching as the tears land on your sheer tights. You can’t help but giggle a little at how much thought you put into this outfit, only for the night to end like this. You had no way of knowing. No signs that she was doing so poorly on the night you decided to fucking leave her.

But before you have the chance to become too deep in your pity party, you hear the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet walking in your direction. You don’t bother looking up; you figure if you ignore whoever it is, they’ll also ignore you, which is exactly what you want right now. 

But ignoring them isn’t quite doing the trick. You see a pair of black sweats out of your peripheral standing near you, and as you lift your eyes a little more, you see a hand offering you a tissue. 

When you shift your watering eyes up a bit more, you realize it’s Jake.

“Wha-what are you still doing here?” You ask, the crying making your voice meak and raspy. You clear your throat as you thank him and accept his small (but rather meaningful) token. A sweet gesture that you can’t ignore. 

“I just wanted to make sure you found her okay,” he says while settling down in the seat on your left. “And I couldn’t leave knowing you don’t have a way home tonight. This hospital won’t let people stay overnight anymore since the pandemic. Didn’t want to leave you stranded.”

You hadn’t even thought of any of that. Aside from getting to your mom, you had no plan of action. Anything to come after that just hadn’t crossed your mind yet. You're glad someone thought of all those things, because your mind clearly isn’t capable of considering much at the moment. 

“Well, thank you. But I can just call Nat so you don’t have to stay with me.” Your voice sounds a little colder than you’d like it to. But with the way your emotions are surfacing, it can’t be helped right now. 

“Your phone’s dead,” he challenges, pointing to the quiet device sitting in your lap . “So, I’m staying.” 

You snap your head towards him, wide eyes and scrunched brows in question. “How do you know that?” 

“Been trying to call you for the last twenty minutes,” he explains, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his call log to prove it to you. “It was going straight to voicemail. I knew there was a chance you could’ve been ignoring me, but I had a feeling your battery had just died.”

You can’t deny the grin that’s threatening to consume your tired features. You’re flattered, to say the least. While you didn’t fully expect him to stay to be sure you were okay, you’re not entirely surprised. (It crossed your mind briefly that he could just let you use his phone to call Nat, be he hasn’t offered. And you’re not going to ask. You kind of like that he’s here.)

“She doesn’t have a room yet. They told me they’d let me know when she does.” You adjust yourself in the stiff, plastic chair to face him while he nods his head.

His eyes are heavier than usual. His drooping lids tell you he’s just as tired. Though he’s probably had a much happier evening than you have had. 

Before you let your mind wander too deeply into the fact that he most likely slept with Stacy tonight, you search for anything to talk about with him.

“So, that spookhouse tonight was–” you begin, but he interrupts your thought before you can continue. 

“Shitty.” He states, putting his phone back in the pocket of his hoodie and letting both hands rest inside the fabric.  “Shitty and not scary in the least.” 

“Yeah.” You huff through a chuckle, grateful for the tiny smile it forced out of you. “Stacy was pretty scared, though.”

The look Jake gives you is one you can’t quite place. He looks…uncomfortable? 

You half expected him to giggle along with you, but he didn’t. Not even close. His eyes shift away from you, gazing across the waiting room. 

Fuck. Why did you have to bring her up?

You pull your eyes away from him as you awkwardly set your sights back on your lap. You’re not sure how, but it’s clear you’ve struck some kind of nerve with him.

It’s probably for the best that you keep your mouth shut. And that’s exactly what you do for the next several minutes. 

Without as much as a single word uttered between the two of you, you’re suddenly longing for the moments prior to his arrival in the lobby. The ones you spent pathetically crying in defeat and helplessness. Alone.

But just as it seems that all hope of having a normal conversation with him is lost, he breaks the silence. 

“Is that what they’re called, where you’re from?” 

As you lift your head, you’re met with his drowsy eyes once again set on you, his right eyebrow cocked slightly as he awaits your response. 

“Is what called…?” you absently ask. Your mind became so filled with the painful lull in conversation that you’d all but forgotten what you were talking about before you mentioned her name. 

“The haunted house,” he says. “You called it a spook house. I was just wondering if that’s because you’re not from here.”

It’s funny, because you hadn’t even noticed that you called it that. Didn’t even think twice about it. 

The memory of Sam pointing out the very same thing pops in your mind. You’re then reminded of how you left him tonight. The guilt is weighing horribly on you, but, sadly, it’s a welcome distraction against the worry (and far greater guilt) you’re feeling  for your mom. 

“Oh, yeah.” You fix your posture a bit, facing him once again as he clearly wants to keep some sort of conversation going. “That’s what we call them back home. It’s so funny how we have different names for things just based on what part of the country we’re from.” 

“It’s pretty interesting,” he mutters, a tiny grin peaking through his sleepy exterior.

You just hum in response, not really sure what to say next. The silence was awkward, but this sad attempt at a casual exchange is almost worse. 

You look over to the counter to see if the nurse who helped calm you down is standing there, but all you’re met with is Eric’s creeping eyes on you from behind the marble that may have broken your hand. 

Your hand suddenly begins to ache once more at the thought, and you instinctively bring it up to your chest again to dull the pain. 

“Is your hand okay?” Jake asks, taking note of your wincing expression after moving your sore extremity. 

You’re not sure you want to tell him about your little meltdown from earlier, so you come up with a quick excuse that sounds slightly better than the full truth.

“I knocked it against the counter when I got here, just by accident.” It’s not a complete lie. The accident addition is a bit of a stretch, but it kind of was an accident that your fist met the granite in a fit of rage. (However justified it may be, it’s still a tad embarrassing.) 

He leans closer to you, attempting to look at your hand that you’re still holding against your chest. With a tender touch, he attempts to pry it away from you. You’re so stunned by this that out of instinct, you hold it even tighter.

“Let me see,” he softly demands. 

After some hesitation on your part, (why does he care so much?) you pull it away from your chest, holding it out in front of you and Jake to get a clearer look.

The outer blade of your palm is swollen and already beginning to bruise. It hurts like hell. (And you’re wondering where on earth that physical strength came from.) 

Jake runs his index finger so gently over the inflammation. Amidst everything happening, your body can’t deny the fire that’s blooming under your skin from his feather light touch. 

Your tired eyes flit up to his face, his features wearing stark concern. When his eyes meet yours, you can’t look away. And he doesn’t, either, his finger still tracing a light pattern around the impact point on your fist. 

…and then he stops. He looks away and jumps up out of his seat without as much as a single word. 

He rounds the corner of the hallway and is out of your sight within seconds. Gone. Leaving you sitting here alone and feeling like you’ve suddenly done something wrong. 

Before you have the chance to worry about that for much longer, you notice the tall nurse out of your peripheral walking in your direction.

Your mom.

You stand up to meet the nurse halfway, ready to finally be taken back to see your mom. 

“Hold on,” she says, stopping you before you take a step. “You can’t go back right now, hun.”

Why won’t they let you go back? What don’t they want you to see?

Is it because she’s dead?

The nurse grabs your arm to keep you stable, your legs almost giving out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes down through your chest. The dizzying feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.  

Your legs threaten to give out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes  down  through your chest. The dizzy feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.

Your body begins swaying back and forth, threatening to collapse from shock, exhaustion…

She grabs your arm to help stabilize you.

“Hey, hey.” She puts her other hand on your shoulder to hold you still. “Everything’s okay. Just sit down for me, sweetheart.” 

She leads you back down to the chair, helping you lower yourself to sit back down. 

“I need you to know that she’s fine, sweetie. She’s asleep, but she’s stable.” 

The tension leaves your body instantly, like a two ton weight has been lifted off your tight chest. 

She’s alive. 

“Can I go back? Can I see her?” You’re nearly begging. 

“Not right now, honey. I tried to bend the visiting hour rules for you, but the big wigs won’t budge. I just wanted you to know that she’s okay, but she’ll need to stay overnight for some extra testing.”

“Everything okay?” Jake sits back down next to you, taking your hand and gently placing ice wrapped in a paper towel on your swollen fist. The cold nearly shocks your system, but it feels so good against the pain.

That’s where he went. He cared enough to get you ice for your ridiculously obtained injury. 

You turn your head to face him, his sweet eyes locked with yours while he holds the ice steady on your hand. 

This isn’t the Jake you’ve grown accustomed to over the months of knowing him. But this is the Jake you’ve wanted.

“She’s okay,” you say, looking down the makeshift pack of ice he brought you. “She’ll just have to stay overnight.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he responds, dabbing the frozen compress delicately across the bruise.  

“We’re still not certain what happened to her. She fainted; that’s all we know for sure. We’ll run some tests to get to the root of it.” The nurse draws your attention from Jake back to your mom. You distractedly nod, your mind still consumed with Jake holding your hand the way he is. “You’re welcome to come back first thing in the morning, okay? We’ll take good care of her tonight.” 

A small breath of relief washes over you. At least she’s alive. And she’s stable. But fuck…you just wish you could be back there with her. The immense guilt of not being there when it happened is eating away at you. You want to apologize to her, tell her you’ll never fucking leave her again. But, that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. You’ll just be stuck sitting in your guilt until then. 

The nurse begins wishing you a good night, but before she leaves, she glances at your hand that Jake is still holding in his grip. 

“Is your hand okay, sweetie? Do you need someone to take a look at it?” She asks you, concerned. 

“I think I’m okay,” you tell her, looking to Jake who probably has a better idea about your condition than you do. It’s the least of your worries at the moment, you just don’t really care about it in comparison to everything else. This feels insignificant, you feel insignificant. It just doesn’t matter. 

Jake nods, looking at you and then averting his gaze to the nurse. “A little swollen and beginning to bruise, but it’s not broken.” He lifts the ice to inspect it a little further, running his finger over the swelling. “It’s already gone down some. I suppose just keeping ice on it will do the trick.”

You give him a look that says a silent ‘thank you’ for taking care of this for you. If he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t think twice about it.

The nurse smiles in response, then looks to you again. “I’d say you’re in good hands, then. Better not let that one get away.” 

She once again bids you a good night, reminding you that you can come back first thing in the morning. 

Neither one of you seems to react to what she just said. Not aloud, at least. You both just ignore it as you walk through the automatic doors. 

“I’ll go get the car,” Jake tells you, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his hoodie. “Had to park kind of far away. Be right back.” 

As you watch him walk away, you can’t stop replaying what the nurse said over and over in your mind.

“Better not let that one get away.”

If only she knew.

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The ice is melting all over you and Jake’s floorboard. You’re desperately trying to catch every drop in your lap, but it’s proving difficult. You were freezing when you first got into the car, so Jake cranked the heat all the way up for you, but it’s causing you to make a huge mess. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you utter, fighting back a few tears brimming your eyes. It’s not the dripping water that’s threatening to make you cry, it’s the fact that you feel like such a burden. And here you are, being even more of one by dripping water all over his nice car. 

“What are you sorry for?” He asks, peering over to you. You sniff the tears away, not wanting him to see you crying over something so fucking ridiculous. 

“The ice,” you answer through a cracking voice. “It’s melting all over.”

His brows crinkle, looking over at you to assess the situation. His eyes lock on your soaking wet lap for a spell, taking a deep breath before his eyes are back on the road.

“It’s just water, y/n. I’m not worried about it.” He takes the final left turn onto your street that’s now much more quiet than it was the last time he turned here. He pulls into the parking lot, parking in what would normally be your spot if your car wasn’t sitting worthlessly at his place. 

He keeps the car on drive, just letting his foot rest on the brake as he unlocks the door for you. 

“Just keep ice on it intermittently throughout the night,” he reminds you. “The swelling should be mostly gone by the morning.” 

Staring at the darkened apartment building, you slowly nod your head as you’re suddenly hesitant to leave his car for some reason. Your seatbelt is still buckled, your body feeling almost too numb to even manage that.

The thought of going into the empty apartment isn’t by any means a pleasant one. You hadn’t even thought of the fact that you’ll be all alone tonight. No one to take care of besides yourself. (And that’s not something you're well versed in.)

You’ve gotten so used taking care of her since it’s just been the two of you. Being in the apartment without her just feels…wrong. On every level. And being alone in your guilt feels even worse. 

At this moment, you’re not sure you can do it. But you haven’t a choice. 

“Y/n?” Jake’s calm voice pulls you back to reality, to the fact that you’re still sitting in his car, quietly contemplating. He’s probably ready to get you out of here so he can go home. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you lie, not wanting to delve into the turning wheels of your brain. 

Then, he puts the car in park, leaning back in his seat as he looks at you with inquisitive eyes. “Are you sure?” He questions. “Because you’ve hardly said a word since we left the hospital, and you’re not exactly in any hurry to get inside.”

Embarrassed, you force yourself to remove your seatbelt. “I’m fine, just a little tired is all. Thank you for taking me tonight, I really appreciate it.” You begin opening the door to let him leave, gathering the mental strength to prepare yourself to walk into an eerie, empty apartment.

“You know, it’s pretty late,” he says as you're one foot out of the door. “And it’s a long drive back to my place. I could stay here, sleep on the couch. That way you’d have someone to take you tomorrow morning.” 

It’s almost like he could hear the thoughts in your head. He knows, somehow, that you can’t handle being alone tonight. Like there’s something within him that understands. 

“Jake I–I can’t ask you to—” 

But before you can finish, he shuts off the ignition.

“You’re not asking if I’m offering,” he protests. And he’s right. You didn’t ask, but you still feel bad. Because you would love to have him stay. “It’s actually easier for me if I do. Saves on gas.” 

Instantly, the thought of having his company makes you feel worlds better. Even if he’ll just be on the couch. Just knowing he’s there will make things a little more bearable for you.

“Are you sure?” You ask, timidly. 

“If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I can just—” he starts.

“No, no. I’d love it if you did. Thank you, seriously.” 

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You’ve been lying wide awake in your bed for what’s felt like hours. Flipping and tossing about in search of a comfortable spot that you just can‘t seem to find. 

It’s not really the bed that’s the problem. It’s your unabating mind that won’t turn off its wandering thoughts. You’ve tried scrolling on your phone, using every app you can think of to distract you. But the thoughts are domineering your every attempt to silence them. 

Did they give her the right medications? Are they keeping her oxygen on her? Is someone staying with her all night to make sure she doesn’t stop breathing? Who called 911? 

Or, the worst one…the loudest one.

Is she dead and they just haven’t called me yet?

You’re so accustomed to her being here, hearing the humming of her oxygen machine, being able to check on her to be sure she’s okay. At least when she’s here, you know. With her gone, it leaves the floor open for your mind to wander to every terrible scenario that you can’t do anything about. You just don’t know what’s going on. And the unknowing is the worst part.

Your grumbling tummy is just about as loud as your mind, reminding you that you’ve not eaten anything in almost twenty four hours. 

There’s nothing else to do, so you pull yourself out of your unwelcoming bed t o go find a midnight (actually, closer to two in the morning) snack. 

Eating is a little terrifying to you right now, but you figure some popcorn won’t do much harm. 

You slowly open the creaking door of your room, holding your breath as it seems to be louder than normal in the dead quiet apartment. The last thing you want to do is wake Jake up, so it’s vital that you’re as silent as possible as you make the journey to the kitchen.

You tiptoe as gracefully as your tired body will allow across the living room, avoiding coming too close to the couch where Jake sleeps as you walk as far away from him as you can, not even looking in his direction.

A sigh of relief passes your lips as you reach the kitchen successfully.

You know that there’s one more bag of Pop Secret sitting on the second shelf of the cabinet right next to the microwave. Relying only on the soft light above the stove, you shuffle through the various items in search of it until you at last feel the familiar plastic cover. 

Instantly upon finding it, you start looking for the nutrition facts to know just how much you’re putting in your body. An old trait of yours that you’ve not done in years, yet suddenly, as if it’s purely muscle memory you flip the bag over to the side to note the amount of calories you’ll be taking. 

I’m not reverting back. I’m just curious about what popcorn is made of, that’s all, you try telling yourself. (Although, you know yourself in situations like these. When you’re stressed, you seek comfort in old habits. One old habit of choice just happens to be food restriction and calorie counting.)

It won‘t last long. I won’t let it. I just need something familiar.

130 calories, 6 g fat, 14 g carbs, 2 g protein per 4 cups is printed on the back in dark blue ink.

Could be worse. And there’s nothing saying you have to eat the whole thing. Maybe you can split the bag in half, that way you’re only getting half the fat and carbs. That’ll still be enough to quiet your empty tummy. 

You toss the bag in the microwave and set the timer to three minutes, pressing start and cringing at the loud humming from the appliance. You’ve also forgotten just how noisy preparing this little snack can be. 

Each pop of the buttered kernels echoes throughout the open kitchen and you’re praying to every star that this won’t wake him up. 

With two seconds left on the timer, you quickly open the door to avoid the unpleasant ding that’s sure to wake him up if you didn’t catch it in time.

You pour the contents of  the bag into your favorite blue bowl, designated long ago as the official “popcorn bowl.” You can’t go without a little extra salt, so you dump a good amount over top and sift it around so it’s all coated. 

You’ve realized that you instinctively poured the entire bag, even though you decided to only eat half. You’re not happy about the extra temptation, but you’re mentally telling yourself that there’s no need to eat this whole bowl. 

Shutting the door to the microwave as quietly as you can, you begin to tip toe back to your room to safety.

Only now, you’re met with a slightly horrifying discovery.

He’s laying on his back, sans hoodie that's draped over the arm of the couch and the blanket you gave him sitting just below chest. (God he looks good.) The light from his phone illuminates his face as he’s holding it sideways, seemingly watching a video of some kind. But his drowsy eyes flick to you as you begin the walk back to your room.

As you awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, blue popcorn bowl in hand, he pulls out an earbud and sets his phone down. “Trouble sleeping?” His groggy voice asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer, a little embarrassed that he’s caught you in such a state. “I just can’t seem to relax…but what are you still doing awake? I hope I wasn’t being too loud.”

“I’m a bit of an insomniac, I suppose,” he answers. “Popcorn, huh?” 

He swings his legs over the side and sits himself up on the end of the couch, a silent request to have you come sit next to him. You take the hint. The company would do you a little good right now, anyway. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” You still can’t help yourself from asking if it’s okay, given your less than welcomed history with him. 

“Under one condition,” he remarks, full smirk across his lips. 

You stop before you take a seat, slightly terrified of what his ‘condition’ could possibly be.

“And what is that?” you timidly ask. 

He flashes you a warm grin that looks all the more inviting under the very dimly lit living room, chuckling lazily under his breath. 

“You have to share your snack.” 

You nervously laugh as you situate yourself on the opposite side of the couch, taking a few pieces of your snack of choice and passing the bowl over towards his direction. 

You catch a glimpse of his phone that’s still unlocked and sitting upright, paused on what looks like some professional chef working away on some fancy meal.

Perfect opportunity for an ice breaker. 

“You like cooking?” you ask while tossing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. (You’re really hoping you just got a bad piece, because it tastes burnt to hell and way too salty.)

“I dabble here and there,” he answers through loud crunches.

“I’m the one who needs to watch those videos,” you say, wincing at the second piece you’ve now eaten that tastes just as bad as the last one. “I’m probably the worst cook I know.” 

“I’d say so,” he acknowledges through a soft giggle, wincing as he tries more of your snack. “You’ve burnt the shit out of this popcorn and you didn’t need to add so much salt.” 

Of course, he noticed. 

You’re thankful for the mostly dark room as you can feel the blood rushing to your face over ruining something as simple as popcorn. 

But, it’s making him laugh. And you’ve come to really appreciate the moments that you do get to hear him laugh, because it isn’t often. Even though it’s at your own expense, you’ll take it. 

It’s surely been a great way to combat any awkward silence between the two of you. 

You chuckle to yourself as you set the popcorn bowl on the couch, centering it so you and Jake can both grab some as you please. 

“So,” he begins as he brings his feet up to rest on the coffee table in front of you. “I know you’re from somewhere where haunted houses are called spook houses. Where might that be? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oklahoma,” you answer, a little embarrassed. You’ve learned that your home state isn’t much of a popular one amongst people. Although you do understand why, you can’t help but find yourself missing it every now and again. It has its charm, however hard it may be to find. You know it’s there. Parts of it still remain lovingly in your heart. “A very, very small town in Oklahoma called Cherry Tree.”k,

With a soft nod of his head, his hair falls around his face and even in the dark, you can see how shiny it is. You can even see the soft smile over his lips. “I hear it in your voice,” he softly says. You look to him with question, silently asking him to elaborate. With a snicker, he continues. “Your little southern drawl. It’s not very strong, but it definitely stands out around here. A far cry from a Michigan accent.” 

Your whole life, you’d tried to mask your naturally derived, southern accent. You hated it. And you hated when people told you that you had one. It just made you want to unlearn it even more. 

Especially when you knew you would move to Michigan. The last thing you wanted was to stand out as if you’re not from here. 

Clearly, your efforts were useless. And as much as you’ve cringed when people have brought up the way you talk in the past, there’s something about hearing Jake point it out that actually makes you a little fond of it. 

Maybe it truly isn’t something to feel any shame over. It makes you unique, sets you apart, and perhaps that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Time feels mute, like it doesn’t exist in this realm you and Jake are together in. 

The early dawn is creeping through the window blinds, and when you glance at your phone, you come to realize that you’ve been talking with him for nearly three hours, and that’s shocking  to you—it’s shocking because it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. 

The conversations have been flowing so naturally, so authentically. He’s easy to talk to. So easy. You would've never guessed how seamless keeping a conversation going with him could be. 

And, to your astonishment, he’s done most of the talking. You’re witnessing a brand new side of him, one that you could’ve sworn wasn’t there. It seems as though he’s finally comfortable with you. Which is a really good thing, considering he’s spending the night in your place. 

He’s been the best distraction for you amidst everything. If he weren’t here, you’d be lying in your bed, probably crying your eyes out and dealing with the anxiety all alone. 

He’s the very last person you’d suspect would be here for you in a time like this. But, fuck, if you aren’t so happy that it is him.

And as time has gone on, you’ve both moved closer and closer to each other. His legs are spread out on the expanse of his cushion and yours, while your legs are slowly coming to rest on top of his, your body facing him. 

Every so often, his hand will find your calf as if he’s done it a thousand times before. An innate gesture that he hardly seems to notice he’s doing.

But you certainly notice, every single time it happens. Each brush of his hand against your skin causes your heart to flutter. It’s innocent, of course. But it’s the fact that he’s finally revealing himself to you, that he’s trusting you. 

It feels good. It feels really good. 

You’re listening intently as he’s telling you more about the music that has shaped his life up until now. You’ve never noticed all of his little mannerisms, like the way he brushes the tip of his nose after he laughs, or how his hands struggle to stay still when he talks. 

And his eyes, the way they beautifully catch the early light. Their color like a glass of honeyed whiskey over ice, glowing against the rays of the young sun. 

“...and that’s when I discovered the versatility of the SG. My dad searched the entire midwest until he finally found one for me.” The palm of his hand comes to rest on your leg again, only this time, it’s a little higher. His fingertips dare to brush the inside of your upper thigh, his thumb tracing delicate circles across your now trembling skin. The fire within you is growing, felt from the pit of your stomach to your swimming head. “That guitar taught me how to challenge myself. My dad encouraged me every day to keep playing and I’ll never be able to thank–” 

Something changes in his eyes, his expression faltering as he falls silent. There’s a sudden difference in him, one you can’t quite grasp.

And then he looks down at his hand still placed upon you, and with a thousand silent words, he removes it. Quickly. Like he didn’t realize it was there in the first place. Or, worse; like he was suddenly repulsed by the fact that he was touching you. 

The room changes abruptly, the air feels heavier, denser. You notice he avoids meeting your gaze, his thought left unfinished.

What have I done wrong?

“Jake?” 

He moves so he’s now sitting upright, as close to the other end of the couch as he can be. Furthest away from you.

“I should…I should probably get some sleep,” he says, the words sounding ever unsure. “And you should, too. We’ve only got…” He takes his phone to look at the time, breathing deeply from his lungs when he sees that it’s nearly six in the morning. “Jesus.” He runs a hand over his face in…frustration? Exhaustion? You can’t be sure. “We’ve only got about two hours until they allow visitors, and I’ve got to go to work right after.” 

You take the hint that he wants you away from him. 

But for what reason? Well, you’ll be left to wonder that for the next few hours, alone. 

You don’t say anything as you stand up, only nodding your head and shielding your face the best you can.

You don’t want him to see the new tears that have begun to surface. 

“Sorry,” is all you can muster as you open the door to your room. He doesn't respond, only pure silence comes from the living room. 

Whatever you did, it was enough to force him to realize he doesn't want to be close to you, emotionally or physically.

It was going so well. But, you ruined it. Just like you ruin everything else in your life. 

You’ve no doubt that you won’t be getting any sleep for the next few hours. Your thoughts are too loud, screaming everything you’ve ever done wrong in your ear. 

And you can’t get the look in his eyes out of your head, how they appeared uncomfortable being in your presence. How he suddenly decided he didn’t want to be around you. 

But, then again, you can’t blame him. Because who in their right mind would want to be around you?

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The alarm on your phone is blaring. You’ve been  counting down the minutes until it was set to go off, laying in complete silence and watching nothing but the clock. Every second felt like twenty minutes in your brain.

When you walk out into the living room, you’re met with an empty space. No Jake. 

Did he leave…? 

The couch is back to normal, the blankets you gave him folded and sitting on the cushion under the pillow you let him use. (Your favorite pillow, but you’ll never tell him that you sacrificed it for him.)

Great. He’s gone. 

And you have no way of getting to the hospital without him. 

Natalia.

You’ll call her, see if she can take you. 

Which you shouldn’t have to do. He said he would take you, and he just fucking left. 

It’s safe to assume that whatever relationship you were building with him last night, has all but left the apartment with him. 

Deciding it’s not worth your time at this point, you grab your phone, unlocking it and tapping on Nat’s contact to call her. 

It’s ringing. And ringing. And ringing. 

Fuck. If she doesn’t answer, you don’t know what you’ll–

“What are you calling me so early on a Saturday for?” She finally answers, her raspy voice a clear indication that she’s just woken up.

“I need your help, Nat. Can you come get me and take me to the hospital?” 

You hear her gasp on the other end of the phone. 

“What? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, her questions coming in quick succession. 

“To make a long story short, my car broke down at the Kiszka’s last night, so Jake had to bring me home. There was an ambulance when we got here, and it were here for my mom. They took her to the hospital, but I had to come separately. So, since I didn’t have my car, Jake took me. I couldn’t stay the night with her and when he brought me back home, he stayed the night to be here in the morning to take me back to her, but he left a while ago and I was hoping you could come get me.”

Even you can’t believe the words out of your mouth. A convoluted mess that you hope she’s comprehending at such an early hour. 

“Holy shit, y/n. Yeah, of course. Is your mom okay?” she questions after a brief moment of silence, probably in an attempt to understand the shit show you’re currently dealing with. “And where the hell did Jake go?”

“Wish I knew,” you say with a cynical tone. “And I don’t really know. They told me she was stable last night but they still needed to keep her. Since I was gone, I have next to no idea of what happened.”

Just as she begins to respond to you, you feel your phone vibrate against your cheek. 

“One sec, Nat. I think I just got a text.”

Jake: I’m outside in the car. Ready whenever you are.

“What the fuck, Jake,” you mutter softly, but loud enough that Nat heard you on the other end of the phone call you’re still on. He couldn’t have communicated this to you? 

No. Instead, he just made you believe he left. 

Either way, you’re glad he’s still here. He’s not that cold towards you. (Although you’re not exactly shocked at the fact that you didn’t question it when you thought he left.)

“What did he do?” You hear her say at a low volume. 

Bringing the phone back up to your ear, you say, “He’s still here, apparently. Just in the car waiting for me. I’ve got to go, I’ll keep you updated.”

With that, you hang up the phone and quickly begin to get ready. 

You take the first pair of leggings you see sitting in your dresser, then decide to throw on your vintage, oversized Billy Joel sweatshirt that you'd completely forgoton you owned. 

The state of your hair is one that you can’t do much with at the moment, you figure a messy claw-clip bun will have to suffice. You put a little moisturizer on your face, grab your belt bag and keys, and run out the door. As much as Jake has upset you in the last few hours, you still don’t want to keep him waiting any longer than he already has. 

He’s sitting in his car, just like he said. Wearing the infamous John Lennon frames that remind you of when you first encountered him. You had no idea at that moment, when he brushed up against you in the hall, when he tried to make you look like an idiot in class, that you’d be here with him. And if you’re honest, given the way he reacted to your closeness last night, you’re not sure this is much better. 

It’s like he wants to be closer to you, but when the time actually comes, he realizes it’s you he’s getting closer to, and backs off. And that effectively makes you feel about a hundred times worse than you did a few months ago. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were out here already,” you tell him as you open the passenger door and take a seat. 

“No problem.” He waits until you’re buckled and settled before he starts backing out of the spot, his right hand grabbing the head rest of your seat while he turns his body to have a better view of the back window. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The drive has been quiet, (shocker) save for his music. Something you can’t deny him is his impeccable taste, his taste that is so similar to yours. 

He must’ve taken notice of your Billy Joel sweatshirt, because, ironically, Vienna begins playing over the speakers. One of your favorites. And one that, without fail, makes you cry every single time. He probably queued it up because of your shirt, but little does he know of the deep, deep history you have with this song. 

He doesn’t know that your dad used to play this song while you were getting ready for school in the mornings, how he told you one time that he wanted to name you the title of this track, but your mom wouldn’t agree to it. But, that didn’t stop him from associating the tune with you. 

He called you his little Vienna for a good chunk of your childhood, up until you got to high school and asked him to stop out of embarrassment. You didn’t want everyone privy to your dads nickname for you. Just a normal, teenage thing. 

Then you remember…This was your dad’s sweatshirt that he gave to you a long, long time ago when he left for a work trip. You were devastated that he was going to be gone. He gave it to you for comfort, to keep a piece of him with you while he was away. 

And you chose to wear it today, of all days. When you need the extra comfort. When you know, deep down, that you need him. Your subconscious knew it. That’s why you gravitated towards this shirt without even realizing that you were. 

You’ve not heard this song since he left. Not even so much as thought about Billy Joel’s music, let alone this sweatshirt that somehow made the move to Michigan when you thought you got rid of everything from your dad. 

A single tear falls from your eye, landing on the top of your lip. You taste its salty presence before you wipe it away with the cuff of your (his) shirt. 

The lyrics feel heavier than they ever have. 

Why don’t you realize…Vienna waits for you?

When will you realize…

As the song comes to an end, as Billy plays the final note on his piano, you arrive at the hospital. (Something about it feels poetic.)

He stops at the main entrance of the hospital this time, instead of the emergency room one.

“I have to go into work,” he says while you’re unbuckling your belt. “So just text me and let me know when you’re ready to leave and I’ll come get you.”

“If it’s too much trouble for you, I can just ask Natalia.” You say as you get out of his car. “ I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She doesn’t work today, so it’d be easier for her.” 

Your tone is awfully cold. Distant. 

You feel like you’ve bothered him enough. So, you want to give him an out. He probably regrets ever helping you in the first place. 

His eyebrows become wrinkled underneath his sunglasses as he’s looking at you. Before you go to close the door, you hear him speak up.

“Well, that–that’s up to you, I suppose. But I don’t mind, y/n.” 

“I’ll let you know,” you say, staring down at your feet as you’re finding it difficult to make eye contact with him right now. “Thank you again.” 

And after that, you shut the door and walk towards the front door, hearing him drive away behind you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“She’s in room 430. Just take the elevator to the fourth floor and follow the signs. You’ll come up to locked doors, so you’ll have to buzz in with the phone on the wall. Just tell them your name and who you’re here to see, and they’ll let you in.” This receptionist is worlds kinder than the one you encountered last night. She’s got kindness inscribed in her dark eyes, and a smile that tells you she truly cares about her job. Her long curly locks are beautiful and charming, the color a lovely shade of auburn. Perhaps not natural, as her roots are nearly black. But this shade suits her skin tone perfectly. 

“Are there stairs I could take instead?” You ask the curly headed receptionist. Elevators are not your thing. You’ve had a lifelong fear of becoming trapped in one, and with your anxiety levels higher than usual today, it’s probably best if you avoid them altogether. 

She shows you a warm smile as she guides your sight in the direction of the staircase. Thanking her, you quickly head that way.

The climb up the stairs is grueling and as you finally reach the last step, you’re struggling to catch your breath. It seems you didn’t realize just how many steps there are in four flights. It’s a lot of steps. But, still much better than the chance of becoming trapped in a tiny ass elevator. 

After catching your breath, you take heed of the receptionist's directions and follow the signs that lead you in the direction of her room. And just like she said, there’s a set of locked doors with a phone hanging on the wall. 

As soon as you lift it from the receiver, someone answers instantly. You tell them your name and your moms. They verify her birthday with you and once you tell them the correct date, you hear the doors unlock. You thank them before hanging up the phone and heading down the long, somewhat eerie hallway. 

You’ve always wondered why hospitals look like this. The cold, stark white walls and matching laminate flooring, the harsh fluorescents that are painful to look at. Nothing about it is inviting or comforting in the least, and you’ve always thought they should be. Especially for long term patients that are stuck here for god knows how long. 

It just doesn’t make sense to you. In your mind, hospitals should strive to have a warmer environment, for nothing else other than to make people feel more at ease when they’re in hard situations. 

As you’re nearing the end of the hallway, you see room 428 on your left, 429 a little ways further on your right, meaning 430 is the very last one on the end to your left.

The door is open, and just as you’re approaching it, a nurse is leaving the room with her rolling cart that’s carrying a slew of things to check, what you’re assuming, are vitals. 

She smiles as she walks past you, her squealing cart still audible as she rounds the corner to the unit secretary desk. 

You’re still for a moment, standing just a mere feet from her. Out of her sight, of course. And she out of yours as you’re not standing in the view of the doorway. 

There’s a rush of hesitancy forcing you to stay where you are. You’re not sure where it’s derived from, perhaps it’s from the fear of seeing her in such a state. 

Perhaps it’s something else. But you don’t know what.

Finally deciding that just standing here isn’t doing you or her any bit of good, you put one shaky foot in front of the other and walk towards the open door. 

And then, you see her.

Looking the smallest she’s ever looked in your eyes. She looks too small for all of the devices she’s hooked up to. 

Tangled wires. A mess of tangled wires and tubes and IV bags…

As you walk in a little further, she hears you. Her eyes, ever slow in their movement, blink open and shift to you. 

They’re heavy, almost drooping down her pale cheeks. They look tired. So, so tired.

“Hi, honey.” Her words come through in a sad attempt of vocalization. You hardly understood her, more so relying on reading the movement of her lips than anything. Her hand, complete with an IV needle, raises to motion a weak wave at you. 

I wasn’t there. I wasn’t fucking there when she needed me. I can’t leave her…I can’t leave ever again. It’s all my fault.

“Mom I’m–I’m so sorr–”

“You must be y/n!” You hear a booming voice from behind you, interrupting entirely. When you turn around, you see an incredibly tall man wearing a set of blue scrubs with a white lab coat on top. “Your mom has told us a lot about you. I feel like I know you already.” 

As he reaches out his hand for you to shake, he smiles widely when you take it in yours. “I’m Doctor Roth. It’s nice to meet you.” 

He seems positive. The smile he’s wearing makes you believe that everything just might be okay. “It’s really nice to meet you, too,” you say, a little timid. 

You look back to your mom, who seems to have fallen back to sleep. Rest is probably the best thing for her right now, so you don’t want to wake her. Even though all you want is to talk to her, tell her how terrible you feel that you  weren’t there. But it can wait. As long as she’s resting. 

“Hey, y/n.” Doctor Roth pulls your attention away from her with his James Earl Jones-esque voice. “Would you mind coming to speak with me for a moment?” 

While his bearings have changed a bit, he’s still smiling. But, something is a little off in his tone with the question he asked you. 

“Um, yeah. Of course.” You tell him, although you’re not sure you want to have this conversation. 

Will he tell you that she’s progressed much further than you initially thought? That she’ll never leave this hospital again? She’s dying and will be dead soon? 

As he leads you down the hall, stopping at a little room near the restroom, your heart is thumping rampantly in your tightening chest. 

“Before we begin,” he says while pulling a wooden chair out for you to have a seat. “Is there anything I can get you? Water? Coffee? I believe we have herbal tea, if you’d prefer.” 

Herbal tea always sounds wonderful to you, but you’re not sure you could even stomach a simple cup of water right now, so you politely decline his kind offer. 

“I would just like to ask you a few questions about your mom, if that’s okay.” He takes a seat directly across from you at the round table centered in the middle of the conference room. 

You nod your head, letting him know you’re okay with it. 

“I understand she is prescribed a series of medications for her pulmonary fibrosis. If my memory serves me correctly, she’s on Ofev, Pirfenidone and an anti-inflammatory. Is that everything?” He asks you, taking his rectangle frames off and placing them on top of his head.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You give her those pills every single night. You know their strange names by heart at this point.  “She also uses a few different inhalers to help airflow from her lungs. And she wears her oxygen about eighty percent of the time, of course.” 

“Right,” he says, blowing out a long sigh as he sits back in his chair. “Well, let me ask you this. When was the last time she took those medications? That you know of, of course.” 

“She took them last night before I left.” You answer, confidently. 

“Are you sure she did, y/n?” 

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” you say with a little offense. “I watched her take them before I left—” 

Then, you suddenly remember that you didn’t actually see her take them. You left them out for her and reminded her to take them before bed, but you didn’t see her take them. 

“I guess…I guess she didn’t take them before I left. But, I’m sure she took them before bed. She always does.” There’s a terrible feeling present within you, making your already turning tummy feel a lot worse. “Doctor Roth, why are you asking me this?” 

“There wasn’t any indication of them in her system when she came in. Usually, those drugs can be detected for a few days after they’ve been taken, but there was no sign of them in her bloodstream. Meaning, she hasn’t taken them in at least two to three days.” 

No. He’s wrong.

“That’s not possible. I give them to her every night. With the exception of last night, I always watch her take them. I make sure she takes them. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be mistaken.” Your offense has now shifted to full on defense. 

He’s questioning your ability to take care of her, and that is not something you will take lying down. There’s a whole list of things you’re terrible at, but taking care of your mom is not part of that list. You know that for a damn fact. 

You’re not going to sit here and take this, so you decide enough is enough and stand up from your chair to leave. 

“Y/n, please. I need you to listen to me. The progression of her disease, it’s…” That word. Progression. It stops you dead in your tracks. You hate that word. “...it’s the quickest I’ve ever seen in my fifteen years of practicing. If she were taking her medication as she’s supposed to, her lungs wouldn’t look as bad as they do. They would still look bad, but those medications help to slow the stiffening of her lungs. But with the state they’re in, it’s clear that she’s taken very little to no medications.”  

You’re not sure what to make of this…what is he saying? 

Well, clearly he’s saying that she’s not taking her medications…but how? 

You give them to her, you see her take them…right?

“Is—is there a chance her disease is just progressing more rapidly than what’s normally expected?” You hate saying those words. They feel like poison coming out of your mouth. But they sound better than “she’s not taking her medication.”  

He stands up from his chair to stand closer to you, taking his glasses off his head and placing an end piece on his bottom lip. “That is a possibility, although that doesn’t explain why we saw no signs of her medications in her bloodstream.” 

“Is she on them now? Is that why she’s so groggy?” You ask him, remembering how she was hardly able to speak or move when you saw her just moments ago. 

“Yes, she is. And that is another sign that she’s not been taking them as prescribed. Her body should be adjusted to the severe lethargy that these are known to cause, and it’s clear she’s not.” 

While you know Doctor Roth has no reason to lie to you, you still can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely. It’s not like your mom to do this, to not take care of herself. 

But there’s no sense in arguing with him anymore. It’s not worth it. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s here. 

And as that terrible thought resurfaces, you’re reminded of a question you need to ask him. 

“How much longer will she need to stay here?”

“I can’t be certain,” he answers. “But we’ll need to monitor her a bit longer, run a few more tests. At least another three days or so, but we’ll let you know when we believe she’s ready.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

She’s still fast asleep, having been for a few hours while you sit quietly on the stiff couch in the corner of her room. The room is small, stuffy. Her only source of entertainment is a tiny television mounted high on the wall. 

You know she hates it here. You hate it for her. 

But the one redeeming thing about this room is her giant window that offers a beautiful view of the city skyline. Detroit is always busy, always bustling. 

But it’s lovely, especially from this fourth story view. 

And it's a nice distraction from the beeping monitors and noisy machines. 

Nurses have been in and out every hour to check her vitals, making small talk with you while they record every result. They’ve all been so friendly, each one of them asking if they can bring you anything to eat. You’ve turned them down each time. 

Food hasn’t been your concern today. Wasn’t your concern yesterday, either. 

You’re hungry, that much you can tell. But you can think of a million things you’d rather do right now than eat. Eating would only increase your anxious thoughts, and that wouldn’t do you a bit of good at the moment.

You can just eat when you get home. You’ll last until then. (You’ve lasted a hell of a lot longer than this before.)

You suddenly feel the vibration of your phone still tucked away in the waistband of your leggings. 

To your astonishment, it's a text from Jake. 

You didn’t expect to hear from him, but seeing his name on the screen of your phone does feel nice. It feels really nice, actually. 

Jake: I meant to ask but it slipped my mind. How's your hand?

You’d completely forgotten about your hand. But Jake didn’t.

And it warms your heart that he thought to ask about something so meaningless to you. 

You look down to examine your fist to give him a proper answer. Aside from a slight purple tint on the skin, you wouldn’t be able to guess it was injured at all.

You: It’s much better. Some bruising but no more swelling and I can hardly feel it. The ice really helped!

He responds almost instantly, meaning he probably still had your messages still pulled up on his end. 

Jake: Good. : )

Jake, although he has his moments, is great at forcing a smile out of you when it feels impossible to do so. 

His message is reassuring, especially with how last night (early this morning, actually) ended. 

Before you can type out a response, you notice she’s beginning to stir just a bit. She’s done this periodically throughout the day, but this is the first time you’ve seen her open her eyes since this morning when you first arrived.

She turns her head a bit towards you, so you get up and move closer to her. 

“Hi, mom.” You say softly.

She smiles at you, the best she can despite every obstruction on her face. 

Just then, a nurse walks in for her hourly check. “She’s awake!” He excitedly exclaims. 

He’s young, probably a fresh graduate. You’ve seen him in here once before a few hours ago. He’s very sweet, the kindness you’d expect every nurse to have. 

He runs through her vitals quickly, telling you he wants to give you two plenty of alone time. 

You thank him as he leaves, and he flashes a sincere smile while he turns the corner of the hallway. 

Her eyes are suddenly glued to you, but not just you. Your sweatshirt. 

“Where’d you find that, honey?” She questions. 

“Oh, I don’t know I just— I’m not worried about it. I am worried about you. What happened last night, mom?”

You’re sure she recognizes that it’s your dads…and you feel terrible for wearing it around her right now for that very reason. You just didn’t consider it. So, it’s probably best to change the subject. 

She sits up a bit and you reach out to help her. You place her pillows in a way that keeps her upright without her needing to use much strength to do so. Once she’s comfortable, you sit down in the recliner next to her bed. 

“They’re telling me all kinds of crazy things,” she says. “I’m just fine, I know I am.” 

They’ve more than likely asked her about her medications, how they didn’t find any in her system. You want so badly to ask her about that. But, it’s not the time. Not yet. 

“I feel so bad, mom. I shouldn't have been out that late. I should’ve been there, I could’ve done something, I…” Your throat becomes tight with a lump, your eyes brimming with a hundred unshed tears. It’s just all too much. And you feel like you’re to blame. You just can’t shake that feeling. 

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl.” Her weak hand reaches out for yours. As you take it, you notice just how clammy she feels. “It would’ve happened whether or not you were there. I think it was bound to happen sooner or later.” 

She’s probably right. But, had you been there, maybe the ambulance would’ve been called sooner.

The ambulance. How did they…? “Mom, I have to know who to thank for saving your life.” The tears are streaming down your hot cheeks at this point. “Do you know who called?”

“Mrs. Sweeney,” she answers right away, as if it didn’t require any thought. “Bless her soul. She’s the sweetest lady. She heard me cry out just as I fainted, and called 911 for me.”

Mrs. Sweeney is your next door neighbor in your complex. She’s been the most wonderful neighbor to your and your mom since you moved in. It makes perfect sense that she’d be the one to call. 

“I’ll have to thank her,” you say, wiping away the tears. “She did what I should’ve been there to do.”

Her eyes suddenly widen, a stark contrast in how they’ve looked all day. “There’s…there’s no need, honey. I already thanked her. Called her last night, she’s been thanked plenty.” 

She could call Mrs. Sweeney…but not me?

“Oh. Well, okay," you say, confused. “I guess it would be beating a dead horse at this point to thank her again.” And with that, her eyes go back to their groggy state, closing slowly as she falls back to sleep.

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“How is she?” Jake asks as you climb in the passenger's seat. He insisted on coming to get you as soon as visitings hours ended. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He told you he was already on that side of town anyways, so he didn’t see the point in you asking Natalia to make the trip. 

“She’s…I don’t really know, to be honest.” It’s true. You don’t know how she is. You’re leaving the hospital with more questions than you had coming in.

His question…there’s just no easy way to answer it. “She’s okay, for now. But she…she may not be much longer. It’s…complicated.” 

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to. I’m glad she’s okay at the moment.” He tells you.

You smile at him, then relish in the silence the rest of the way home. 

You’re grateful that he’s not prying. It’s too much to talk about right now, and it seems he’s picked up on that. 

You breathe a deep sigh of relief when you arrive at your apartment, ready to climb in bed and try to get some much needed sleep. 

You thank Jake before he leaves, fishing for your keys out of your belt bag as you head up the stairs to the third floor. 

Once you make it to your door, you see Mrs. Sweeney leaving as you’re about to walk into your place. Your mom told you not to thank her again, but you can’t help it. You still haven’t thanked her, and it’s just not in your character to ignore a good deed from someone.

“Mrs. Sweeney?” You say as she’s locking her door. 

“Hi, dear! How's your mom today? I’m sure you two have had quite the night.”  

“She’s okay,” you say, the words feeling like a lie. “All thanks to you. I can’t thank you enough for calling the ambulance last night. Seriously, you saved her life when I wasn’t here–”

You stop talking once you see her expression change. She looks befuddled, almost disoriented. “Oh honey, I’m not the one who called last night. I thought you did, dear.” 

…she didn’t call? 

“But my mom said— you didn’t hear her call out for help?”

With a contemplative look, she puts her keys in her purse and faces you. “I didn’t hear anything. And I was home all night. This is the first I’ve left since yesterday morning. I’m sorry I didn’t hear her, dear. Were you not home?” 

As if it were even possible, there are more questions filling your head. 

“I wasn’t, but I’m sure one of the other neighbors called. Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Sweeney. I hope you have a good day!”

“Not a bother at all, love.” 

You walk into your empty apartment, in a near state of shock. 

Why did your mom lie to you? And so blatantly, at that? It’s not something you want to let yourself believe. Maybe it was because of her state, she was just confused after everything. But…she didn’t look confused. 

And she told you she talked to Mrs. Sweeney herself, which clearly didn’t happen. 

As much as you want to figure all of this out, you’re far too exhausted to give it much more thought. You need sleep. Sleep first, then you can get to the bottom of it. But for now, the only thing you’re craving is your bed. 

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A pounding on the door  wakes you from the depths of your slumber, nearly startling you off the bed in the process. The post nap disorientation is in full effect. The sun was still up when you laid down, and now your room is in almost complete darkness. 

The pounding on the door persists, forcing you to wake up all the way. Who in the world…?

Hesitant to answer with it being so late and being all by yourself, you reach for your phone in case you need to call someone.

And right as you go to grab, you realize you have four text messages from Nat. 

Nat: Are you home yet??

Nat: If you are, be ready to come outside in about 20.

Nat: Hello?

Nat: COME OUTSIDE! We have a surprise for you. 

Based on the messages, you’re realizing that Nat is the persistent knocker. You love this girl so much, and you’re hoping that whatever her surprise is was worth waking you up for. 

Also, you’re not sure what she meant  by “we,” though you’ve got a hunch it could be her new suitor. 

You: Sorry, just woke up. On my way

Summoning what little strength you have left, you force yourself to get out of bed and head towards the front door. Your feet are literally dragging as you walk across the dark apartment. Turning on the outside light, you swing open the door to Nat’s beaming, beautiful face adorned with a full toothed smile. 

“Hey there, sleepy head!” 

Bringing your hand up, you rub what’s left of your (very little) sleep from your eyes. 

“What’s your surprise?” You ask with a tired voice. 

“Hold out your hand,” she says, an enormous grin still across her face. “And close your eyes.”

With as heavy as your eyes still are, closing them isn’t an issue. (You just wish you were still in bed while doing it.)

You do as she says, and as soon as your eyelids are shut and your hands are outreached, she places something peculiar in your flattened palms. 

“What is thi–'' you begin to ask, interrupted by her as she practically yells for you to open your eyes. 

And when you do, you see a single key. 

But, not just any key. It’s the key to your shitty ass Firebird.

“What the hell? Natalia Delores, what did you do?” You ask her, having a good idea of what this is all about.

And then you hear a honking coming from the parking lot. As you look over the edge of the stairs, you see Danny’s curly brown locks hanging out of the driver's side window of your car. 

“Surprise!” She exclaims. “Dan the handyman fixed your car!” 

Cringing at the ridiculous nickname, you give her a huge hug before sprinting down the stairs to do the same to handyman Dan. 

“Did you realize you were missing your key?” He asks as he wraps you in a long embrace. 

“I had no idea,” you say, still held tightly in Danny’s muscular arms. “How did you guys manage to get it without me noticing?” 

“Jake,” Nat tells you. “He took it off your keyring this morning.” 

You’ve a good feeling that happened before you got up this morning, probably before he went out to wait in his car. 

Danny is the first to break the hug, leaving you on your own against the chilly night air. 

“Can I pay you for this?” You ask him, crossing your arms over your chest to act as a barrier from the cold. 

“Absolutely not. I won’t accept a single dime from you.” He insists, brushing a curl out of his face. 

“Danny, I know this was probably really expens–”

“Nope.” He interrupts. “Not a dime.”

With a fake grunt of irritation, you give in. (Partly so you can get inside and out of the cold.)

“Thank you. Thank you both, seriously. This is such a huge burden lifted.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Despite how things transpired with you and Sam, he’s still treated you the very same. You were terrified that there would be some awkward air with you two after the way you left him the other night, but it’s as if he’s all but forgotten about it. He still fawned over you when you arrived for filming tonight, him and Josh referring to you as “the queen” when you walked in, as usual. 

You haven’t told him about your mom. In fact, the only people who know are Jake and Natalia. You asked them both to not say anything. It’s not because you don’t trust everyone—they’ve all become some of the best friends you’ve ever had in your life, better than any friend you had back in Oklahoma. You just don’t want the attention that would inevitably bring. You don’t need them feeling sorry for you, and you don’t need them asking questions that you don’t want to answer, to questions you can’t answer. And you know it would lead to the fact that your dad doesn’t have shit to do with you. 

It’s just not something that needs to be advertised, not yet. You don’t want it to be the only thing everyone associates you with. You want them to still like you for you. Everything else can be addressed later. 

Of course, that did raise some other questions. Mostly about why Jake didn’t come home that night when your car broke down. His response to his brothers was simple; he just didn’t feel like driving back home that late, so he crashed on your couch. That wasn’t too far from the truth.

They didn’t even bat an eye at it. Just accepted it as fact and moved right on, not giving it a second thought. Jake is a bit distant from his brothers at times, so it’s probably not entirely out of the norm for him to not come home some nights. 

You’re glad that things have been pretty much normal for you and your filming crew.

While you’re not acting tonight, you decided to come over to the Kiszka place anyway, just to get away from your own mess for a little while. The apartment feels much bigger when it’s just you living in it. You love to have your alone time, but it’s been so much lately that your mind is going to some dark places, places that you’re forced to revisit when there’s no one else around to distract you.

So, suffice to say, you jumped at the opportunity when Josh asked you to come over tonight. He often invites you over on filming nights when your scenes aren’t being shot, says he enjoys your company and input on accuracies pertaining to the lore. You normally turn him down on those instances, feeling far too guilty for leaving your mom when you are filming. But with her still being in the hospital, you didn’t see the harm in taking him up on it this time.

Tonight's scene is between Arthur and Camille. Between Jake and Stacy. The first time you’ll see Jake as Arthur, and you’ll finally get to see for yourself what their on-camera chemistry is like. You’ve been told more than once that they’re great together, but now you have the chance to see it instead of just being told about it.

Although, you’re not exactly excited  to see them interact this way. And a huge part of you is hoping that they’ll royally suck together. You’ve been so busy that you haven’t had time to come watch their scenes, not that you’ve really tried that hard to do so. You could’ve if you actually wanted to.

But, you figured you’d rather see it in person than wait until the film is finished. And your imagination has run rampant with what they’re like together and the ‘not knowing’ has been painful. At least after tonight, you’ll know. You won’t have to wonder anymore, and it won’t be a surprise when you get to see the film in its entirety. 

Something you’re a little (more than a little, honestly) happy about is the fact that Stacy doesn’t have her “own” dressing room like you do. Granted, it’s Jake's room that has been designated as your changing space. But, still. She’s stuck using the guest bathroom to change in, and you can’t help the curling of your lips when you see her struggle to carry her costumes in there. 

Nat nudges your shoulder with hers when she catches your grin, letting you know that she saw that. You can tell by her features that she’s thinking the exact same thing.

“You know I need more details.” She says, hushed. 

You know exactly what she’s talking about, but you’ll play dumb anyway.

“Details?” You question with a look of false confusion. “Details about what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, y/n. Tell me more about Jake spending the night with you.”

You shush her as you lead her over to the dining table for a little more seclusion, both sitting in the chairs furthest away from the commotion in the living room where Josh and Malachi are busy adding the final touches to tonight's set.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re wondering. Neither one of us could sleep very well, so we sat on the couch and talked for a bit, but that’s all.” You stare down at your thumbs as you twiddle them. You don’t really feel like mentioning him physically brushing you off when you both got a little too close for his comfort. You don’t even like thinking about it, let alone talking about it. 

Attempting to come up with something to change the subject, you feel terrible when you realize you’ve not even asked Nat anything about her and Danny. You perk up when at the opportunity to talk about something that isn’t the awkwardness between you and Jake.

“Speaking of details,” you say, sitting both your elbows on the table and resting your face in your hands, giving her your full attention. “I need you to tell me everything about you and Daniel this very minute. And don’t you dare leave out a single thing.”

A beautifully shy smile stretches her plump lips as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear. 

“Well, what would you like to talk about first?” She asks, her eyes lighting up. “The fact that we’ve seen each other everyday since our first date, or the fact that he’s the best I’ve ever had in bed?”

Your hands drop to the table, a stupidly massive smile plastered to your face. 

“Natalia!” You exclaim, scooting closer to her. “I can’t believe it, dude! So, are you, like, official? Or just fucking?” 

“Official,” she says, your mouth dropping from pure excitement for them. You can’t get over it. They make such a stunning couple. And she’s clearly so damn happy. That’s the most important thing. “And fucking,” she continues as you throw a hand over your mouth to muffle the laughter. “ A lot of it, too.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

She looks breathtaking. Gorgeous. The pale shade of purple they have her in accentuates the emerald tones in her round eyes, the matching flowers in her braided hair look like a halo casted over her shiny, sunshine-yellow locks. 

Stacy’s appearance serves as a stark contrast to Guinevere’s. Her look embodies sweetness, innocence. While your character exudes sensuality as an adulteress with her black and red color palette, Stacy’s is meant to radiate charm and a sense of purity. Purity in the sense that, while she’s cheating with Arthur, she isn’t cheating on Arthur. 

Josh did this on purpose, to make Camille look innocent and unassuming, but in reality, she will be a catalyst in King Arthur's inevitable downfall. The fact that she’s an evil enchantress is hidden beneath her flowery looks. With everyone believing Guinevere to be the horrid seductress, no one would suspect that the true horror lies in the guise of Camille, who’s ever cunning under her false veil. 

Though you’re not surprised, she looks the epitome of sheer beauty. Walking perfection. And it’s a bit painful to see. She’s everything you wish you could be. 

You’re suddenly not sure you’re ready to see her interact with Jake in this scene. But, better now than later. Get it over with so you won’t have to wonder. You can sulk about it later when you have time to really feel your insecurities.

And now, here comes Jake. As if it weren’t hard enough to witness the utter beauty that Stacy carries, it’s an entirely different feeling with Jake’s. 

He looks…just so damn good. 

Tonight, instead of just the usual chainmail top and black trousers, he’s added a touch of regality with black velvet cloak over top, the very same one Josh promised him months ago. He looks like true royalty, exuding an aura of majesty, complete with a sword sheathed at his side. 

They both get settled in their respective places on set, and as soon as Josh yells “action,” a surge of unease radiates within you as you feel your whole body tense up.

As soon as they slip effortlessly into their characters, their obvious chemistry is instantly ignited before the camera. Every touch, every glance they share is loaded with an undeniable intensity. 

The way Jake's hand lingers on Stacy's waist, the way they lock eyes with such intensity…you can’t deny the fact that they’re wonderful together. Aesthetically, they just fit. Much better than you and Jake would, you’ve no doubt. 

When Jake speaks his first line, you’re shocked to hear him use a British accent. A horrible one, at that. 

You have to cover your face to hide the fact that you’re trying not to burst at the seams. But you’re not the only one. Nat has turned her head entirely in the direction opposite of you, which is probably a good thing. One glance at each other and you’d both break with boisterous laughter. 

Sam, however, makes no attempt to hide his true feelings. Standing right behind you, he loudly chuckles his classic, Sam laugh that makes it even harder for you to maintain composure.

Then, you hear a very audible groan from Josh, followed by yelling “CUT!” at the top of his lungs.

“Why did you stop us?” Jake blurts out, his arms flailing in obvious frustration. 

“I told you to use whatever creative liberty you deemed necessary for the character,” Josh confirms, both hands resting on his hips. “But I’ve asked, more than once, mind you, to not use that ridiculous fucking accent.”

Here we go. It just wouldn’t be a normal night of filming without at least several fights from the twins.

“It’s essential to the character, Josh. He is the legendary King of Britain, is he not?” His question is more like a statement, adding extra emphasis on the word “Britain” to secure his point.

“I told you, Sir Jacob.” 

Sir Jacob…?

“It doesn’t make sense if no one else is following suit with your shitty accent.” Josh continues. Jake flips a rather dramatic middle finger towards his twin, with Josh generously showing him the very same affection. 

“Alright. Take two of scene number 67,” Josh pauses a moment, waiting until they’re ready. “And…action.”

Thanks to Jake's “creative liberty,” you have to sit through the scene again, watching them and their perfect chemistry—again. 

And then…

…they kiss. The very moment you were not waiting for.

With the way his lips so passionately intertwine with hers, it’s clear they’ve done this more than a couple of times. And not only for the sake of the film. This kind of intimacy transcends the limits of film.

You and Sam had natural chemistry, but their chemistry goes miles beyond what you instinctively had with Sam. Theirs feels experienced. Experienced with each other. 

If there was any doubt lingering that they slept together that night after the haunted house, it’s all but confirmed for you now. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“When will your mom be ready to come home?” Nat asks you as the two of you are packing up the set.  

You quickly look around to be sure no one’s close enough to hear, the hesitancy to let everyone know is still hanging onto you tightly.

“Actually, she’ll get to come home tomorrow," you share with her. “She was good as new when I visited her today, and the doctor said she’s making huge strides.”

Your words carry a little unsureness. It’s not that you’re not happy to have her home, the apartment has been terribly lonely and you’re ready to get things somewhat back to normal. But, you can’t get rid of this feeling that something’s just not right with the whole situation. 

From the Doctor telling you there were no medications in her system to her telling you that she personally spoke with Mrs. Sweeney, thanking her for calling the ambulance, despite Mrs. Sweeney having no recollection of it and having not made the call to 911…There’s a web of uncertainty weaving in your brain. You know Nat can sense your apprehension based on the look she’s giving you as she places all the silk flowers neatly in their box. 

“You don’t sound too excited,” she observes. “Are you still thinking about what the doctor told you?” 

“I just can’t force myself to believe it. I know the evidence is there,” you remark, brows furrowed in confusion as you help her shove the ivy vines in the box with the flowers. “But it just…it doesn’t feel right, you know? Why would she do something like that?” 

Her eyes mirror the same questions plaguing your mind, the empathy ever present in them. You know she understands your confusion, her support has been a comfort during these last few maddening  days. (Though you still haven’t told her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You suppose that can wait until you’ve had enough time to process it.)

“But, I am happy that she’ll be home. It’s been so weird not having her there.” Once you get the last of the silk plants packed up, Nat takes the packing tape and adds a few pieces along the center to secure it for safekeeping. 

“I’m just worried about getting her up the three flights of stairs to our place,” you continue. “The elevator went out again and she can’t really climb them on her own. And I’m not strong enough to get her up myself.” You look to her with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll pick up on your silent request for help. 

“You know I would help if I could, y/n. But I’ll be out of town all day tomorrow with Danny visiting his family.” She tells you. You can tell by her tone that she feels bad, but it’s not her fault. 

“Well,” she says, contemplating her options. “Maybe I could just drive myself, so that way I could leave and come help you with your mom and then go back when she’s all settled.” Her offer is undeniably kind, but you can’t bring yourself to allow her to do that. You don’t want to be the reason her whole day is disrupted. 

“No, no. It’s totally okay, babe,” you acknowledge, grateful that she’d even consider such a thing. “We’ll manage. Thank you, though. I appreciate you a lot.” 

Just as you’re finishing up, you hear someone shuffling around in the kitchen. Looking in that direction, you see Jake gathering a few things to prepare dinner. 

“I can help you tomorrow, y/n.” He says, back turned to you and Nat. “Just let me know when.” 

You and Nat share a knowing glance that says what you’re both collectively thinking. 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s offering, given how much he helped you that night and the next day. But, you still can’t help feeling shocked at his proposition.  

“S-sure, Jake.” You say. “I’ll text you the time.” 

But as you accept his offer, gratitude mixed with trepidation floods your thoughts. You’re suddenly mortified at what he may have heard you and Nat talking about, surrounding your unease with your mom’s situation. 

How long had he been standing there?

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“So this is the famous Jake,” she remarks as you wheel her through the automatic doors to Jake, who’s standing outside his Range Rover ready to help her into the passenger’s seat. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as she makes it obvious that you’ve talked about him to her before. 

Meanwhile, Jake’s lips curl in a playful grin at her statement. “Nice to finally meet you,” he says, extending a helping hand as you begin helping her out of the wheelchair and onto her feet. You try to avoid making eye contact with him as you and he position yourselves on either side of her, helping to stabilize her as she walks towards the car. But he isn’t trying to avoid it. Each accidental glance his way is met with his mischievous eyes fixed on you, his grin remaining ever present. Together, combined with what little strength she has, the three of you successfully settle her into the car without any issues. 

Taking the middle seat in the second row, you buckle up as Jake starts the engine and begins the drive to your place.

You didn’t consider the fact that she would probably bombard him with personal questions, and that’s just what she does the entire way home. She asks him all the basics, probing into his background and interests with relentless questions. His answers are pretty short for the most part, not getting very personal with her curiosity. (Sounds familiar.) But it’s her next question that has you wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Are you single?” She inquires innocently. (Although it’s perhaps not very innocent, given what you’ve told her about him.)

In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you see Jake’s eyes widen, mirroring pure shock. You bring your palm up to rest against your forehead, silently wishing to teleport to your apartment and end this agonizing drive once and for all.

But when he answers, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. 

“I, uh, guess you could say I’m single. I’ve been dating casually, nothing serious though.”

At his mention of “casual dating,” your mind instantly begins reeling and going straight to Stacy and the possibility (likelihood) that he’s been dating her. It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you’re nothing to him, after all—but the sting of his words still linger in the air, leaving you feeling so small. Perhaps if you looked like Stacy, he’d be just as interested in “casually” dating you. 

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“Would you like to stay for dinner?” She offers once the three of you make it up to the third floor of your complex. “I’m sure y/n could whip up something quick for us.” A bit of annoyance washes over you with her offering for you to make dinner for everyone. She obviously can’t, but the fact that she just decided you didn’t have anything else to do besides making dinner for three people? Maybe you’re overthinking it, but it’s not sitting right with you at the moment. 

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation finally catching up with you. Or it’s your mind swirling with a million things at once. The doctor's words, Jake dating Stacy, the burgeoning voice insisting that you don’t eat. (And eating around other people right now is just far too much.)

“Thanks for asking, but I have to get back to work,” he tells her as he’s helping her in the door.

“What do you do for work, Jake?” She asks. But before he gives himself the chance to answer, he’s telling you both goodbye as he quickly heads out the door.

…okay? It’s such a simple question, why couldn’t he answer it?

While you’re standing here, confused and baffled by his actions, your mom seems to have not even noticed it as she’s now seated on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels to find one of her shows. 

“When will you be ready for dinner?” She asks you, not even looking your way as you're standing dumbfounded in the middle of the living room. Trying to shove down your frustration, you take her hint that she’s ready to eat and head into the kitchen to prepare tonight's meal. 

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You greet Jake with a sincere smile as you take your seat in Movacks class, only to be met with a simple nod as he looks away from you. 

“Mornin, Jake!” You chirp, summoning your best “Oklahoma” intonation like he brought up the other night, hoping to coax a smile from him. But you're left feeling utterly humiliated as he doesn't even acknowledge you, opting instead to focus on his phone. It's as if you didn't say a single word, leaving you feeling like an actual imbecile for the obnoxious display you've just made. It’s rather clear he wants nothing to do with you today, his pissy mood a good indication that you should probably just keep to yourself. No need in furthering his frustrations with the annoyance that is you.

You’ve tried to ignore the fact that he’s become considerably more distant with you since he helped you bring your mom home the other day. You’ve not even heard from him since then, and given how invested he seemed to be with the whole thing, it’s almost like he’s completely left in the past at this point. 

“I trust you all read the poems you were assigned with your project partner last time we met,” proclaims Dr. Movack as he walks into the room just as class is set to begin.

You and Jake were assigned Sir Lancelot and Guinevere by Alfred Tennyson, a poem that delves deeply into the forbidden affair. A bit of an unwitting irony when considering the depths of your project. He seemed out of sorts about it when you were given the poem to analyze last class period, acting as though it was a chore to have to read it. But you were excited about it, for very obvious reasons as it’s yet another layer added to your research on the character you’ve been playing. 

"Alright, everyone," Dr. Movack announces, starting the timer on his phone. "For the first twenty minutes of class, I want you to pair up with your partners and discuss your individual analyses of the piece you were assigned."

With a hefty sigh, Jake pivots his upper body towards you. “Thoughts?” He asks as his hands gesture for you to begin the conversation, clearly annoyed at this whole thing. (As if it’s your fucking fault you’re his partner.)

“Well,” you start, still taken aback but his brash behavior towards you for, as far as you can tell, no logical reason. “It compares their love to that of nature, while also equating Guin’s beauty to the same thing, making it seem as tho–”

“Kay.” He abruptly cuts you off, turning himself around so he’s no longer facing you, arms crossed and a vexed look about his pretty face. Clad with his John Lennon glasses, reminding you way too much of your initial interactions with him.

“I…I wasn’t done, Jake,” you state, sternly. 

“What else do you need to say?” He implores, his tone making sound more like a harsh statement than a question.

“I also need to say that its theme is a balance of pain and joy, of knowing that they can never truly have each other the way they desire, but celebrating the profound joy they do experience in their shared moments,” 

“The poem constructs the idea of Lancelot tending to the needs of Guin much more tenderly and passionately than Arthur could have ever done for her,” you suggest, pushing him to give you more than what he’s been giving you thus far. (Which has been absolutely nothing.)

But… it didn’t work. You lost him. It was as if the last word out of your mouth shut him completely down. You see through the wire earpiece of his staple Ray-Bans as his eyes close. A hand slowly goes up to rub his temple. 

One more shot. 

“What do you think about—?”

“What the fuck did they teach you in Oklahoma?” He fumes, suddenly and unexpectedly, his head snapping in your direction.

“What?” You blink a few times, surely hearing him wrong. 

“This stupid ass shit you’re spewing,” he growls, turning away from you once again. “Just shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?” Okay, you were nearly certain you had heard him correctly. And the way his mouth was set in a straight, unchanging line of ire told you as much.

“I’m so tired of this back and forth game where you think your little hick town brain can get you anywhere in a place like this,” he mumbles angrily, ripping open his journal and book to take his own notes. “It’s not cute to use what little knowledge you came here with as a point of intellect. It doesn’t work to prove anything. We all know the backwoods girl who is hiding underneath this fucking charade you’re displaying for everyone.” 

Your throat constricts, growing tighter and tighter as tears wet your eyes, threatening to fall. He rakes his fingers haphazardly through his shoulder-length, waving locks. With fists clenched, nails pinching your skin where they dig into your palms, you want to grab him by his hair and force him to fully face you again. 

He needs to not be a coward when he says shit that makes your heart quite actually break, crookedly down the middle. Your heart that can only take so fucking much.

He turns, just slightly. His jaw is tight, flexing beneath his frustratingly beautiful skin. How could one man encapsulate so much? One second, he’s driving you here, there, and everywhere—making you feel at ease in a time of desolation. And the next, he’s mocking you for your heritage—calling you out and chiding you for something you can’t help or control. 

A state that, in this moment, you realize you’re proud to represent in some way (you grew up there, the place raised you). You’re feeling some strange, burning need to defend it. 

His body is swiveled back around to fully face you when he rips his glasses off of his face. You fear momentarily of him breaking the delicate metal, but you soon forget the thought when you notice his expression. 

His eyes are flaming, indignant — pure fire in the sweet honeyed bourbon hue of his irises. A fire that infiltrates something so sweet and almost pure… almost. It’s Jake, for God’s sake; he can only get so pure. The word doesn’t even come close to fitting his demeanor at this moment.

The way he looks at you, making you want to crawl completely out of your skin.

“I don’t want you to insert an opinion on this material that is founded on the bullshit they teach you in tiny towns like Cherry-fucking-Tree,” he spit. “It’s a waste of my time and energy to even entertain the ideas that circulate in your mind full of, at best, average thought processes.”

Average. Just an average, hick girl. From the shitass town of Cherry-fucking-Tree. 

Average—Worthless. Just like the town you come from. How could you ever be anything coming from a place like that?

The tears begin cascading down your cheeks before you can even think to challenge them. There is no point in stopping the pools that are leaving your eyes in steady tracks down your hot cheeks. You’re shaking—shivering with equal parts twinging sadness and unkempt rage.

You let them fall momentarily, in shock as his eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering and loathsome of you. In his eyes, you watch every negative emotion he feels for you pass through them. 

“Fuck you, Jake.” Your words are stern, louder than you expected. Yet, you don’t care–because your voice conveys all of the hurt you’re encompassed with. 

And as you utter the cold words, you notice that the rest of the classroom is dead silent. A quick glance out of your peripheral vision confirms that all their heads are turned towards you and Jake.

But the eye contact with him doesn’t break. As much as you hate when people see you cry, you need him to see the hurt he’s caused you. 

“I have heard quite enough out of the two of  you!” Shouts Dr. Movack from his place at the podium. Still yet, neither one of you looks away from the other. “You both need to leave my classroom, immediately!”

“Gladly,” you shout, tossing your things in your bag with such a force that causes Jake to wince with each thing you throw in. 

He begins doing the same, matching your frustration with heavy hands. 

You don’t want to walk out with him, so before he can finish, you begin stomping through the classroom, brushing past Dr. Movack once you make it to the door. 

“Expect zeros for today's participation!” He proclaims, but you’re already halfway down the hall. 

Heavy streams of tears drench your face as you pick up the pace to get the fuck out of this godforsaken building before Jake can catch up to you. 

You can’t stand the sight of him right now, you can’t even fathom ever speaking to him again. His words cut deeper than any knife ever could, of that you’re certain. 

It hurts, it really fucking hurts. 

“Y/n, please wait, I–I’m sorry,” you hear in the distance as you’re crossing the street to the parking lot where your car sits. “I didn’t mean—fuck.”

The sound of the voice is unmistakable.

It’s Jake’s. You can discern it from the one he wielded like a weapon, his tool of choice to dismantle and destroy you, word by hateful word.

He calls for you again, but you choose to ignore his pathetic attempt at an “apology,” jumping in your car and starting the engine, wiping the excess tears away that are constricting your vision.

You briefly look up as you shift the gear into drive, catching sight of Jake’s defeated form standing on the last concrete step of the stairway leading to the doors of Angell Hall. 

And as you’re backing out of your spot, he rips his glasses off, tossing them to the ground with a force that very obviously shatters them. 

You know he was probably just speaking out of pure anger, but where that anger is derived from is what you don’t understand. You’ve not done anything so bad to him to deserve any of what he just threw at you.

But no matter where it came from, he had no fucking right to speak to you the way he did. 

Not finding the strength within you to turn back and go to him to hear his apology, you drive away and leave him there to deal with what he’s done alone. 

While there’s a part of you that wants to hear his explanation, you don’t owe it to him to give him the chance. It’s not worth your time at this point. He’s made it known that you’re nothing but a massive pill in his life, that he would probably be much happier without you in it, ruining it with every backwoods word you speak.

He watches you as you drive away, his features as cold as if they were carved in the very stone he’s standing on, unreadable even from a distance.

Tears begin brimming in your ducts yet again as you turn onto the street to head home, him now fully out of your sight. 

It's unfathomable how someone could harbor such hatred towards you, and yet, despite it all, you can't shake the intense desire you still feel for him. 

It just doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t make sense.

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The squeaky wheels of the wooden library cart echo throughout the entire building with each push. The screeching metal wheels send a chill up your spine each time you move, and you’re silently apologizing to everyone in here for the obtrusive noise. With midterms officially over as of last week, everyone has been dropping their books off in piles the past few days. After sorting through them all, making sure to note who returned their books on their account, it’s finally time to put them back on the shelf. 

As much as you hate the squeaky cart, this is your favorite part of the job. It gives you the chance to conduct a very detailed tour of the library on your own terms, truly allowing you to see it all. There’s no lack of discovering something new each time. You love this old building, and you love the smell of the books. The scent was the first thing you noticed when you walked in here for the first time all those months ago, and it still remains your favorite smell in the world.

As you look towards the end of the long Political Science aisle you’re standing in, you suddenly catch Nat peeking her head around the corner, waving at you while her clunky brown boots click as she walks your direction. 

“Need any help? It’s dead as a doornail up there and I’m bored as hell.”

“Sure, Mr. Dickens,” you joke at her nod to a literary classic. “I’ll gladly accept your help.”

She begins helping with your task, finding a certain peace in her company amidst the quiet library.

“I can’t find where this goes, any clue?” You ask, holding up the book on the tools of presenting a good argument. She takes it from you and examines it a bit, reading the faded numbers on the spine. 

“Well, I see why you’re having trouble,” she says, full smirk across her blush pink, glossy lips. “It’s marked wrong. This goes in General Law.”

With a playful wink, she gestures toward the correct section to guide you to its proper place on the shelf.

“How’s your momma?” She asks. “Is she feeling better?”

“She’s okay. She’s home, and she’s alive…it’s all just so strange.” You shelve the last of the political science books stacked on your cart, wheeling it around the corner to the General Law section as Nat follows close behind. “There’s still so many unanswered questions. I just can’t figure out who called the ambulance.”

“Wasn’t it your neighbor?” She asks, helping you maneuver the heavy cart around the tight corner. 

“That’s what I thought,” you answer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you remember the strange conversation you had just days ago with Mrs. Sweeney. “But she told me she didn’t make the call. She said the ambulance just showed up. I asked her if she heard my mom calling out for help, or anything from our apartment that sounded concerning, something that would prompt an emergency call…and she said no.”

Nat matches your confused state, stopping to take in everything you’d just told her. “That just doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “Is it possible that she called for the ambulance?”

“My mom?” You hadn’t even considered the possibility. And, she would’ve told you…right? You don’t know why you’re so desperate to know, why it’s keeping you up at night that Mrs. Sweeney told you she didn’t call, that your mom had basically lied to you about the whole thing. “I–I don’t think so, Nat. She was completely unresponsive when they found her.” 

Now the wheels are turning. Maybe it was her, and perhaps she just…didn’t tell you? Is she trying to hide something? It just doesn’t feel likely but…possible, you guess. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her. Putting this whole thing to rest would make it so you can finally rest.

“Well, like you said,” Nat utters, breaking you free of your relentless, turning mind. “She’s alive. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Of course that’s all that matters. But, you can’t help the feeling that there’s more to this than what you’re able to see, more that’s being hidden beneath the seemingly cracked surface. It could just be your anxious tendencies, telling you to worry when there’s truly nothing to be worried about.

Or, your gut feeling is correct. There’s something you’re not aware of that feels big.

You begin wheeling the now empty cart back to the circulation counter to grab another lot of books, Nat leading the way ahead of the obnoxious wheels. 

“Right,” you answer, deciding to push aside that worry for the time being.

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“Do you have any idea why Jake despises me? Like, has he ever said anything to you or Josh? Or Malachi?” You ask as you fill the cart with the next bundle of books to be put up.

“He doesn’t despise you, y/n. I know his exterior is rough, but there’s not an ounce of hate in that boy's heart. Just give him more time. You’ve seen it, you know he’s a good one.” 

You know deep down that he is, that he’s got a good heart with good intentions. But, there’s something about when he starts to become close to you that forces him to back away, to treat you like you’re a nuisance. He can shove his hatred for you down long enough, until he can’t and it comes out of him like he was accidentally hiding it.

“He does hate me, Nat. You can’t deny the way he acts when I’m around, like I’m the biggest burden that could’ve possibly been placed upon him.” You roughly toss the final book on the cart, wincing at the loud noise it made that you didn’t quite mean to happen. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke to me the other day, Nat. He belittled me in class. I have never been so humiliated and disrespected before in my life. Pretty sure I’m nothing more than walking garbage to him.”

“I hate to interrupt your little drama fest, but you are not the biggest burden in his life. There’s a lot you don’t know about him.” She says, frustration in her tone as she intervenes, slamming a book down on the cart just like you did. “I will stick up for you, y/n. But I also know things about him that you don’t.”

“That’s the problem. I know nothing about him. He doesn’t want me to know him. He’s built this wall around himself and refuses to let me in. He almost did the other night at my apartment, but when he realized he was getting a smidge too close to me, he shut down again. He’s the never ending enigma, one that just so happens to hate my guts.” Your words hang heavy in the air, a tense silence grappling them as you’re left with the realization of just how complex your relationship with Jake is, and it’s not by your choice. 

“I know he can be closed off, and I know he can be an asshole sometimes. Trust me. But you need to know a few things. He’s been through the ringer, multiple times.” She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, stopping you as you begin to walk away to put the books up, silently urging you to consider another perspective. 

“He and his brothers were adopted by their grandparents after their mom and dad were killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. It left all of Frankenmuth completely devastated.”  

His parents.

You’d never even once thought about where they were, or who they were. Being so caught up in your own shit, you hadn’t even considered…

Fuck.

“Their dad was in a local band,” she continues, taking a seat in the rolling chair behind the counter. “They never made it big beyond the area, but god, everyone in town loved them. And when Jake was about ten, he started playing with them. Playing the guitar his dad bought him, the one sitting in his room. He worked his ass off to buy that for Jake. They were killed only a few months after the first time he joined them on stage.”

When she mentioned his guitar, it all of a sudden reminded you of the night at your apartment. The night he became so disgusted by you right before he could finish talking about…

…about his dad. And the guitar he bought him, the very same one Nat is telling you about right now. You know this because you instantly took note of the SG sitting in his room the first night you stepped foot in there, and that’s the exact model he was talking about that night…the one he said defined him as a player, the one his dad searched high and low for. 

Oh my god.

“When they died, they moved in with their grandparents. But they owned an apartment complex in Detroit, so they had to move here with them. That’s when I met them, when they started school at Central High.”

You just nod in response, needing a second to fully absorb her words that are beginning to paint a much clearer picture of Jake. 

“Then, their grandma suddenly died. They were devastated, didn't come to school for weeks.” Her voice softens, her expression reflecting the weight of all the loss they had endured at such young ages. “They had to help their grandpa with the complex, learn how to run the business. Which turned out to be a good thing, because he got sick a few years later. Pancreatic cancer. The boys ended up dropping out of college for a bit to take care of him, to essentially take over acting landlords.” 

“Nat I can’t…I can’t believe it. I had no idea…” Your brain is struggling to process it all. And if it’s that hard for you to imagine, it must have been hell for Jake and his brothers to live it. It was their reality. But to you, it’s utterly heartbreaking. Unfathomable. 

 “They never left his side, especially Jake. He was with him twenty four seven, and when he died, Jake kind of became a recluse.”

The compassion you’re feeling for Jake and his family swells your heart as you’re realizing the depths of his burdens. His guarded nature suddenly makes a lot more sense as everything she’s telling you is fully sinking in. The old saying is true; you truly never know what someone is going through, what someone has been through. 

Regardless of how he’s acted towards you, you’re feeling a lot of guilt for being so quick to judge him. 

“Jake was the only one with him when he died. Matter of fact, he died in the exact same hospital your mom stayed in. I bet it was kind of hard for him to be there, but he stayed for you, y/n. That is the real Jake.”

Jake was committed to you that night. Stayed with you in the hospital that holds so much weight for him. Even in the midst of his own pain, he stayed with you. It explains so much.

“What happened to the complex? After their grandpa died?” 

“They live in it,” she answers with a grin. “They’re landlords. It was their inheritance. And as hard as it was for them to take over ownership as college students, they made it work. The three of them make one hell of a team.” 

You didn’t know what Jake did for work, but owning an apartment complex with his brothers was not on your list of possibilities. An extremely nice complex, at that. 

“Why didn’t any of them mention this to me? I get Jake but, Sam? Josh?” You can’t help the mix of surprise and confusion, wondering why they hadn’t shared such a big part of themselves with you. It’s their job. And you’ve never known anyone to keep something like that from you. 

Although it does make sense if they didn’t want it to lead to a deeper conversation about their losses. Maybe they’re the same as Jake in that aspect. They just don’t like to talk about hard things.  

Then, you remember how you’ve kept your life a secret from them, too. The only reason Jake knows about your mom is because he just happened to be there. But he knows nothing else. Your dad… he hasn’t and will probably never be mentioned with him. With any of them. And it’s not because you’re ashamed; it’s just not something you want broadcasted. 

“They don’t care for the attention it garners,” she explains. “And they probably didn’t want you to treat them any different. The only reason I know about it is because of my brother, and he’s the one that told me everything else about what they’ve been through. They really don’t like to talk about any of this stuff,” she adds, her voice heavy with sympathy. “They don’t want it to define them.”

“I can definitely understand that.” You say with deeply rooted empathy. Your heart aches, for all of them. But, you can deny the extra twinge of softness you feel for Jake. For him to have shoved all of this down the way he has, it’s no wonder he acts the way he does. It doesn’t completely excuse it, but it sure as hell makes a lot of fucking sense. 

The amount of pain they’ve experienced in their lives, losing practically everyone important in their lives. They’re not only bonded by brotherhood, they’re bonded even tighter because of everyone they’ve lost. All of them being so close to them, raising them. They’ve lost almost everyone who was ever important to them, being left with just each other to lean on. It all makes sense, and as much as he’s hurt you, you just can’t bring yourself to keep holding it against him. 

He’s hurting, too. 

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Carrying the third laundry basket up the stairs from the in-building laundry, you’re wondering just how two people have managed to collect so much clothing. You try to designate time each week specifically for laundry, but you’ve gotten so far behind on it that it’s become a little overwhelming. Each basket of clothes you’ve washed and brought back up to the apartment has been overflowing. You’re sure you’ll discover a missing sock or a pair of underwear or two that fell during the journey back to your place, but you’re not about to go back and find out.

You’re finally done washing everything. Now, the worst part: putting it all up. You decide to put that part off for a little while to get caught up on the rest of the chores that need to be done tonight. 

The dishes are next on the list. You usually don’t mind doing them, but your dishwasher decided to quit on you and the landlord is in no hurry to come and fix it. So, you’re stuck hand washing the pile that has somehow accumulated significantly over the last few days. 

With a resigned sigh, you roll up your sleeves and begin scrubbing away at the stack of plates and utensils. The warm water soothes your hands, and you find a sense of rhythm in the repetitive task. 

Your mind starts to drift to the other tasks that still need to be taken care of. The vacuuming, tidying up the living room, perhaps taking out the trash if you can muster up the energy.

But for now, you decide to focus on the task at hand, finding a strange sort of comfort in the motion of washing and rinsing each dish.

Despite the annoyance of hand washing dishes, there's a strange comfort in the routine of it all. With each plate cleaned and set aside to dry, you feel a small sense of accomplishment. 

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You peek around the door frame to see her lying in the same spot she has been for the last few hours, still grazing her plate of food you gave her and watching something mindless on the television. She hasn’t noticed you standing there yet, and just as you’re about to say something, you notice she’s not wearing her oxygen. 

“Mom,” you assert as you storm inside of her room, the frustration in your voice apparent. You grab her nasal cannula sitting on her nightstand and help her put it on. “How long have you not been wearing it?” 

She takes a deep breath as she further adjusts the tube to her face, letting out a dry cough from deep in her chest. “I’m fine, sweetie. I won’t keel over  if I go without it for a little bit. It’s just so invasive, I hate wearing that damn thing.”

“That is not what the doctor said.” You check her tank to be sure she’s getting enough to compensate for however long she’s kept it off. “And based on how horrible your cough sounds, you need it right now. Please, mom. You have to follow their orders. You don’t want a repeat of the other night, do you?”

She sits herself up a bit, as well as she can. Smiling at you and nodding, she says, “I know, I know. Your momma is just a little stubborn sometimes. What would I do without my sweet daughter to take care of me?” You smile back at her, but it quickly fades as you're reminded yet again of the other night and the questionable events that transpired. 

She picks up on your sudden change in expression. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She asks with wary concern. 

You decide that right now is as good a time as any to ask her your burning question. With a heavy breath, you take a seat on the edge of her bed beside her. Clearing your dry throat, you say “I have to ask you something.” 

“Of course, honey. What’s on your mind?” Her eyes watch you with a gentle kindness about them that you’ve always loved about her, but right now, along with the kindness there are a thousand secrets as dark as her pupils. It casts an unease in your spirit that is brand new to you, yet feels oddly familiar all at once. Has it always been there and you’ve just never noticed? Have you just denied it?

You can’t decipher why you’re so nervous to ask her. You shouldn’t be; it’s a simple question. But you feel this heaviness deep within your body that you can’t explain. An intuition that something is awry, perhaps? 

You’ve never once doubted your mom. You’ve always trusted her with everything for the simple fact that she’s never given you cause not to. But you can’t deny that something feels…off. And as she’s looking at you right now, you’re suddenly not sure you recognize the woman sitting before you anymore. Something is different. Everything is different. 

And you don’t know why you feel this way. But you do. And denying it further will only cause you to descend into a maddening cycle of endless wandering.

Her eyes are flicking back and forth between yours, her eyebrows are scrunched and her thin lips are slightly agape. With a curious nod of her head, she quietly signals you to just ask your damn question. 

“Did…” Your tight voice cracks and as she grabs your hand to try and comfort you, you find your voice to continue. “Did you call 911 that night?” The words flow out of your mouth like a river with no end, a strong current that knocks you into the depths of the raging waters. 

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls the rest of the way open. Her hand slowly moves away from yours as her eyes stay steady on you. A look of pure shock washes over her face as she’s quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. 

“I thought we agreed on Mrs. Sweeney calling.” She finally asserts, her voice suddenly much more strong and clear than it has been in a long time, startling you. “I’m not sure why you’re still on this, y/n.” Her tone is sharp as a blade, penetrating you each time she utters a word. She’s almost defensive, angry. Her eyes are narrowed on yours, unblinking and stilled. 

“I just…you’re right. I’m sorry, I must've forgotten.” You manipulate your tone to sound more sure, more accepting than you truly feel. You decided against telling her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You’ve a solid feeling it may not go over well if you tell her what was said. There’s a queasy feeling in the pit of your belly telling you to just shut up. A feeling you’ve never felt with your mom before. You’ve always known you could go to her for anything. Right now, you feel like shutting down completely. 

Her gruff features soften back to the way you’re most used to them, her smile taking over her thin scowl. However, the kindness in her eyes that was mixed with secrets earlier, has shifted to the secrets taking command. You don’t know who she is right now. And you’re wondering if you’ve ever truly known.

“It’s okay, honey. I know you’re awfully busy these days. I’m so proud of you.” Her tone has gone back to its weak, hushed quality. What was once a comfort to you, now feels quite the opposite. And something about her compliment felt…forced. Like she only said it as a distraction. And her voice changing on command, like that was forced, too. As if you weren’t feeling off about this whole thing enough, this has made it ten times worse.

Before you can figure out what to say, you catch the time from her nightstand clock out of the corner of your eye. Realizing it’s well after ten o’clock, you immediately step back in your caregiver shoes. It’s over an hour past time for her to take her evening medications. You grab the three bottles sitting next to the clock, dumping one pill out of each in your hand and setting them back down, taking the half-full glass of water in your hand next.

“Take these really quick.” You say as you hand her the pills and the glass. “I’ll get you more water once you’re done.” 

She nods, tossing all three pills in her mouth and downing the rest of her water before handing the glass back to you. 

Standing from the edge of her bed to head to the kitchen, you tell her you’ll be right back with her water. Without a word, she just smiles your way as you walk through the door.

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It’s nearly three in the morning and you’ve still not gone to bed. With as much time as you’ve had to dedicate to your mom, the apartment upkeep, work, and filming all while attempting to maintain a rather poor excuse for a social life, school and homework have been on the very bottom of your priority list. And that is very much not like you. Your grades have suffered the last few weeks. You’re falling behind, nearing the point of no return. So, sleep isn’t much of an option right now. Hasn’t been for several nights. It’s the only time you’ve got to do something for yourself. Even something as grueling as English homework. 

Tonight's task is to complete your paper on Carmilla for your Classic Horror course, but the words aren’t flowing as seamlessly as they should. As much as you want to be able to focus, you just can’t. You can only manage to get out a few sentences at a time before you have to stop and regather your train of thought. You keep checking your phone, scrolling through mindless social media, getting up to get a drink, anything that might keep you from this rather daunting task.

Your frustration with yourself is growing by the minute. You have to get this done by Monday, and you’re nowhere near finished. There’s hardly a conceivable thought typed on your word document and you don’t see yourself being able to form one anytime soon.

The ever burdening worry is all the more present after your talk with your mom. The way she acted when you asked your question, how her entire demeanor changed to one that made her unrecognizable to you…The questions are persistent, their relevance feeling more palpable than before.

As you start typing out your second paragraph, you’ve suddenly come to a realization that keeps you from continuing…

If she’s hiding that she did call for the ambulance, she would’ve had to use her cell phone. That call would still show up in her log, and although you don’t believe in invading someone's personal space, you just need to know. Odds are, she’s right. She didn’t call, and you’ll probably find absolutely nothing in her phone to indicate that she did. But at least you’ll know. And you can check it off your list of possibilities. You’ll be able to confirm that she wasn’t lying to you. (Because she wouldn’t do that…right?)

You’ve decided that checking her phone is the only way you’ll be able to put this whole thing to rest. Is it the right thing to do? Absolutely not. But you can’t focus until you know. 

Her door is always left open just in case something happens, you can hear her easier. So, with a light step, you walk inside her mostly dark room. Her television is quietly playing some old Western film you know you’ve seen a dozen times, but you can’t decipher which one it is. Some desert battle with horses and weapons flashes on the screen, the light illuminating the room in eerie beams. 

She’s fast asleep. Her oxygen tank is a steady hum against the low volume of the film, her breathing heavy but not labored.

Her phone rests on the nightstand closest to the wall, plugged into the charging cord. As you lift and touch the screen, you’re reminded of the fact that she keeps a six digit code to keep it locked. A code that you don’t know.

Although, you’ve got a hunch. With shaky thumbs, you type out the month, day and year of your birthday.

It worked. You’re in. 

Your eyes quickly shift to her sleeping form to be sure that she is still asleep. She’s situated on her back, her head rolled over on the pillow facing you. Her eyes aren’t open, and she’s not moved since you’ve been in here. You make haste in locating her call log and scrolling all the way to the date she landed herself in the emergency room. 

…and she was right. 

There are no 911 calls anywhere on her log. Not even a call made to the hospital…nothing. But as you take a closer look, there is something amiss. 

It was just after 1:30 in the morning when you and Jake arrived at your apartment to the chaotic scene. There’s an outgoing call that was made at 1:16…just minutes before the ambulance must have arrived. She was completely unresponsive when they found her, so how did she…? And why didn’t she call you?

The contact name is only adding to your questions. It’s a name you can’t place, and it’s an odd one.

Dodger.

Who the fuck is Dodger?

You don’t know a single person with that name…not that you can think of right away, at least. 

Whoever this Dodger is, might be the person responsible for the ambulance call. If not them, then who else? And the fact that she was on the phone with them right before…

Finding out the area code might give you some clue as to who this is. If nothing else, you’ll at least have an idea of where they live. After tapping the information icon to the right, you’re shocked when you see the three digits that tell you this is an Oklahoma number. 

There’s no one back home that she’s kept in touch with since the move. At least, not that you know of. She didn’t have many friends. None, actually. She spent all of her either time at home or, when your dad left, with you. Your mind is empty at trying to conjure up a single person she’d need to call from back home. You stare at the screen for a moment, trying your best to make sense of what you see before you. But you just can’t.

You need to call this number. But not with her phone, so you text yourself the contact information and delete the text from her phone so she won’t know. 

And as you’re in her text messages, you decide to see if she and Dodger ever text each other. But, there’s nothing. You’re quite literally the only person she texts, making this whole thing all the more strange. 

You place her phone back on the nightstand, checking on her once more before you quietly walk away. But before you do, something catches your eye. Her glass of water. It’s empty. You may as well fill it for her so she has it in case she wakes up thirsty. As you pick it up, something else catches your eye. Something far more alarming than an empty glass. 

You see the pills you gave her earlier, the ones you saw her swallow down. Or, at least you thought she did. But she didn’t. The three pills you gave her are sitting behind the glass, hidden from plain out of plain view. Had you not moved the glass, you wouldn’t have seen them. 

Suddenly, you’re remembering how the doctor was convinced that she hadn’t been taking them, asking you suspiciously if she had been. 

And you told him yes. Of course she’d been taking them, why wouldn’t she? 

You give them to her every night. You watch her take them every night. But if you thought she took them tonight when she actually didn’t, does that mean…that she never takes them? 

You can't bring yourself to believe that. You don’t even want to believe it. There’s an explanation. Has to be. 

She wouldn’t do that to herself, to you as her number one caregiver. She’s told you time and time again that she wants you to live your life for you, not for her. She’s said that she hates relying on you, but loves that she can. 

No, she wouldn’t do that. She would know to take her medications, because they make her better. And she wants to get better. For her and for you, like she’s said since she got sick in the first place. 

But it doesn’t explain…

…she really hasn’t been taking her pills.

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The cold, wet hair hitting your back makes you shiver before you wrap it up in a towel, taking the matching one to wrap up your soaking wet body. You decided to take an ‘everything’ shower before filming tonight, completing all of your deep conditions and skin scrubs. This is the most refreshed you’ve felt in weeks.

Tonight will be your last intimate scene with Sam, black lace dress included. And also your first with Jake. This will be the first time you’ll share the screen with him as your fictional ‘husband and wife’ characters. But there will be no loving sentiment between them on the screen. 

No. Tonight, Arthur will catch Guinevere in the middle of the act with her beloved Lancelot, his closest companion and best comrade. It’s going to be one of the most intense scenes within the entire project. 

According to what Josh has written in the script, Arthur will walk in on Guinevere and Lancelot making love, thus beginning the downfall of his reign due to his all consuming desires to get rid of Lancelot. 

Something else Josh wrote into the script is that Arthur and Lancelot have quite the heated argument over who is more deserving of their precious Guin. All the while, she is laid out on Lancelot's bed, clad in her most scandalous attire in front of both men whose need for her will end their relationship in one of the worst ways imaginable. Arthur will take one look at his wife, her body nearly on full display before them both, the most intimate gift that she’s offered his once closest confidant. He will then immediately order the death of Sir Lancelot for treason as he has committed one of the most heinous crimes against the king. 

Lancelot won’t argue, as he believes his time with Guinevere, however short, is enough to sustain him, even in death. She was worth it, she is worth it. And he will force Arthur to look upon her and realize the treasure in her that he has taken for granted. He will beg the king to at last show her the love she deserves once he is gone and no longer can. 

Suffice to say, tonight's scene is a big one. It serves as a catalyst for a lot of significant plot points. And you’re hoping that everything you’ve learned about acting thus far will suffice for the heaviness expected from you and your fellow actors. The hard part about this scene for you is the lack of dialogue. Once Arthur becomes privy to the affair between the two, Guinevere stays silent for the most part save for a few lines. Meaning you’ll be relying heavily on your body to convey her every emotion and thought, which you’ve found to be far more challenging than speaking a few lines with a manipulated voice.

Manipulating your body without a single word is a different thing altogether. To be able to convey emotions without speaking is something you’re not the most confident in, on and off  the screen.

But something happens to you once you put your costume on. You become someone else, someone you’ve always wished you could be. And with Jake being present, you’re sure you’ll have a little added inspiration. But that means you’ll be trying a little harder to look nice for tonight's filming session. Hence the ‘everything’ shower that felt like it took literal ages to complete, but felt so incredibly wonderful. (And also felt rather necessary.)

With your body now only a little damp, you remove your towel to start lathering yourself up in your favorite body lotion, fragrant with notes of wild lavender and chamomile, then taking your frenshe body oil in vanilla cashmere and massaging it all over your skin, focusing a little more on your neck and chest, even adding a little to inner thighs. These scents make for the perfect, seductive aroma, and your skin feels so soft, so alluring. Perfect for tonight.

Normally, you’d shy away from looking at yourself in the mirror, especially your nude form. Yet here you are, scrutinizing your reflection, noting each and every tiny thing that you wish you could alter. The years that you’ve spent hiding…years. 

It’s hard to look at your body when it’s not covered by the sweaters that are two sizes too big. You’re forced to accept your body, to accept the things you hate that you’ve felt the need to cover with a security blanket ever since you were a child. 

You stand to the side to see just how much your tummy is pooched from the apple cinnamon oatmeal you ate this morning. It could all be in your head, but you’re almost sure you can see the bloat from your tiny meal. You turn around completely, looking back for the crinkles of cellulite that you know are present in your ass. 

They’re there. Just as you suspected. You’re sure no model. No perfect ‘beauty queen’... 

…no Stacy. 

Fuck. How could anyone find you attractive when you’re so mortified by your own reflection? 

The voice in your head is loud and overpowering. It’s screaming louder than the voice that talked to you through recovery. 

You’re in such a strange place.

While your confidence in yourself has arguably never been higher, the urge to relapse has grown right along with it. Maybe it’s because you’ve suddenly found a version of yourself that you can appreciate. A version of yourself that you’ve always longed for. But she can’t be found in your real life. 

No. She only makes her appearance when you’re pretending to be someone else. She isn’t you.

She lives within you, but she isn’t you. 

You grab the towel and quickly cover yourself back up with it, not wanting to spiral even deeper into your insecurities when you’re supposed to be playing a confident, beautiful queen in a few hours. 

You’ll be fine once you put the dress on, you tell yourself. Please, please don’t do this. Not right now. 

You know shoving down the thoughts, ignoring them with a temporary fix, isn’t the answer. But you can’t deal with it right now. You don’t have time. You don’t have the mental space for it. 

You’ll deal with it later. It can wait. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Josh’s room is the set tonight, and it looks incredible. The bed is adorned with a white satin duvet, with red and white rose petals scattered all over. This is your throne for the night, where you’ll be lying for the entire duration of the scene. 

Josh’s walls are painted white, but he and Malachi have worked pure magic with the lighting that has given them a dark red hue. You thought they had actually painted them when you walked in, but Josh showed you the lights, the “wonders of cinematic sorcery,” as he called it. It looks like a brand new room, it looks so good. 

Jake was right when he told you his brother is one hell of a director. Everything he does feels professional. You just know you’ll see Josh’s name alongside the likes of Tarantino and Scorsese someday. His talent and eye for putting together the best scenes will get him far. And Malachi will be right alongside him, designing the perfect costumes for Josh’s films. A dynamic duo, those two. 

But if you’re honest with yourself, the beauty and eroticism of the set has you even more nervous for this scene. You just hope that you can do this set justice and not fuck it all up. It deserves some of the best acting you can offer Josh. You don’t want to let him down with your insecurities that have been weighing so heavily all day. 

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“I still can’t believe it,” Nat says as you’ve just finished applying the final layer of Ben Nye to your secret ink. (You still can’t get over the fact that Sam now knows about it. Not what you wanted, but there’s nothing you can do now. It’s done. It just feels strange that something so personal is now not as personal as you intended for it to be.)

As you dab a little finishing powder over the foundation, you turn your head over your shoulder to Natalia, who’s sitting crisscrossed in the center of Jake’s bed. “Believe what?” you ask her, snorting a chuckle. 

“Your sexy little tattoo, that’s what.” Her beautiful face wears that contagious smile of hers, her right eye throwing you a sly wink. “I would’ve never suspected it when I met you. You’re just full of secrets, aren’t you?” 

You have no idea. 

“Guess you could say that.” You huff a giggle while you secure all of Josh’s makeup back in his bag. Still to this day, he’s yet to ask you what it’s for. Odds are, he thinks you just need a little extra coverage for your face. It doesn’t seem he suspects a thing. (You’re just hoping Sam keeps his mouth shut about this unrevealed aspect of yourself.) 

“Do you think you’ll ever get anymore?” She questions as she’s handing you your gown. 

“Thank you, babe,” you tell her, taking the garment bag from her. “And I don’t know, I’ve not really put too much thought into it.” She helps you secure the hook and eye in the back of the dress, holding your hair over your shoulder so it’s not in her way. “I was pretty drunk when I got this one. But I do love it. So, maybe. It makes me feel mysterious, you know?” 

With the dress fastened, you stand in front of the mirror and adjust a few things. The thing you’re always the most concerned about with this costume is the chest area, naturally. If you situate the lace just right over your breasts, there’s not quite a full view of your intimate area. But there’s still enough to add a little sensuality to it. 

“Damn, y/n.” Nat says, her eyes trailing your chest as you get yourself adjusted just the way you like. 

“What?” You say through a giggle. 

“Oh, nothing,” she says. You can see her devious grin in her reflection of the mirror in front of you as she’s pulling your hair off your shoulder, smoothing out the kinks. “Just that Danny’s lucky he snatched me up when did.” Her golden eyes lock with your reflection as she winks and chuckles. “You’re just too gorgeous, girl.” 

You playfully roll your eyes as you both break out in a fit of giggles. (You wish everyone saw you that way. Jake, mostly.) With a final onceover of your liquid lipstick, blotting your lips and cleaning up the edges, you feel you’re about as ready as you can be for tonight's scene. 

“Well, he better watch his back,” you say, opening Jake’s door and walking through the threshold, Nat following close behind. “I could still steal you away.” More laughter sounds from you two as you head down the hallway, walking past the living room and up the staircase to the loft.

Danny is waiting at the top of the stairs, and when Nat makes it up to him, his toned arms wrap her in a full hug. “What are you two laughing about?” He asks, planting a sweet kiss to her temple.

Neither one of you says a word as you throw a silent wink towards Nat, letting the laughter bubbling within you both burst through yet again. 

“What?” He insists. 

Without an explanation, the two of you lock arms and proceed to the film set, leaving him still asking what the commotion is all about, but letting him sit in his wonder while you walk away together.

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“You ready for this?” Sam whispers to you, his face mere inches from yours. With you splayed out on your back, and he perched on his side right next to you, arm draped across your body, you’re positioned just the way Josh had in mind for the beginning of the shoot.

His smile, infectious and beautiful as always, warms your soul (and your body) and has you feeling very much at ease as you mentally prepare for this scene. You haven’t filmed with him in a while, and you’ve been so busy with the utter shitshow your life has been lately that you’ve just not been able to see him much. Feeling him this close to you again after all this time, you’d hate to admit just how nice it feels. 

It feels really fucking nice. You hadn’t realized how bad you missed it, how bad you missed him.

“I think so,” you mutter, smiling at him while he looks at you with heavy, lust filled eyes. “But, are you ready?”

He brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it lovingly behind your ear with a peculiar smirk across his lips. You can’t see Jake, but you can hear the prolonged sigh from his lips as he’s positioned just outside the bedroom door, awaiting his cue to barge in on the two of you. 

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he confirms, sending off his words with a wink before he shifts his attention to your director.. “I think we’re good to go, Josh!”

Josh confirms with a nod of his head, gesturing a thumbs up to Malachi to dim the overhead lighting and giving Danny the “okay” to shine a little spotlight on the bed you’re on. 

“Scene 73, take one.” He doesn’t yet have a cue card, so with (a rather loud) clap of his hands, he yells, “ACTION!”

As soon as the scene begins, you’re fully encompassed by your alter, the ever sought after Queen Quiniverre. Every insecurity, every doubt, all but washes away once Josh says the word. You’re not you anymore; you feel as though everything you hate about yourself doesn’t exist within this realm. You’re not you, and Guinevere would never be insecure about the things that you are. 

And that’s exactly what inspires you to be the best Guinevere that you can be. You wish, more than anything, that you had her confidence. But even if you don’t have it, she does. And at least you can know what it’s like, even if the moments are short. 

Once Sam says his few words of dialogue, he leans in to envelop you in a passionate kiss full of burning desire. Bodies tangled, hands searching one another; a moment of pure ecstasy shared between two secret lovers, bound together by a love so deceitful to the King. 

And then, you hear him. He walks through the threshold with heavy feet, his breathing stern and labored. 

“I thought I knew better than to heed Mordred's vile words of my first in command. And yet, I find that I needn’t worry of his lies, only those of my beloved and her dearest, both of whom betray their King.” 

He unsheathes his sword, a motion to take Lancelot for himself. To battle to the death for their prize who lie in the bed before them. 

…his voice. 

It echoes throughout the entire room, the entire apartment. The anger he’s displaying is being pulled from somewhere deep within him, exhibiting itself through the King as he’s finally privy to his wife's infidelity. The volume nearly startles you from your position on the bed. You didn’t expect such vibrancy from him, such passion to be exuded through him. He’s speaking his dialogue perfectly, acting through it as though he’s done it a hundred times over. He’s still using his accent, but it’s believable this time. It’s coming through much more powerful than the last time you heard it. 

“My once most trusted comrade, you must die at my hands for treason. The highest crime against your king, to lay with his precious Guinevere, deserves no less than a death of the highest order.” 

His accent, where it was once convincing and accurate, has now begun to falter under the pressure of the scene. He’s beginning to sound less like the betrayed king, and more like an pissed off Jake.  

He continues to hold his sword out firm, glaring at Lancelot with a fiery anger from the depths of his soul, until he shifts them to you. The same anger geared towards you, only it doesn’t feel as though it’s Arthur looking at Guinevere, it’s more like Jake looking at you. And the extent of it is making you more uncomfortable as the seconds (that feel more like hours) are passing without a word from either of them. 

It’s supposed to be Sam’s turn to speak, but it’s likely that he’s caught on to the tension pouring from Jake, and the tensions that lie in the space between you and him. 

“Sam!” Jake screams, causing you to jolt from the sheer volume. “Say your fucking line so we can get this over with and I can get the fuck away from all of you!”

“Woah, woah,” Josh interjects, motioning for Malachi to turn the lights back on as he cuts the camera. “What the fuck, Jake? What’s your problem?”

Jake tosses his sword to the floor, taking off his cloak and throwing it towards Josh who hardly has enough warning to catch it. “This, Josh. This is my fucking problem!” Jake fumes, gesturing his flexed arms towards you and Sam as you’re both struck silent by his sudden outburst. “I can’t perform with this, I won’t.” 

You look to Sam as he blinks a few times, as if suddenly being pulled out of his state of utter shock at his brother's actions. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sam challenges, getting up from his position and leaving you there by yourself. 

Danny grabs Nat’s arm to take her out of the room, and she’s waving for you to join her. But you don’t want to leave, not yet. You don’t normally stick around for a full blown, Kiszka fight. But you have to hear what Jake is going to say for yourself. 

“It means, Sam, that I can’t stand working with you,” he looks to you, still on the bed but now in an upright position as you watch the scene unfold before you. “Or her.” 

What the fuck–?

Josh is pleading with him to calm down, but he won’t have it. He brushes him off when his twin offers a comforting hand to his arm. 

“Fuck this goddamn film and fuck every single one of you that has anything to do with it! It’s fucking bullshit. I’m sorry, Josh. I’m fucking done.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You can’t take it any longer. You storm out after him, heedless of everyone else, ignoring their presence and pushing your way through to reach him. 

He slams his door but you waste no time in opening it immediately after, refusing to let him shut you or anyone else out after such a blow-up.

There’s not much light in his room, save for the lamp in the corner shining a warm hue on the space. The calming aura of his room means nothing in comparison to the tensions between you two— the ever growing tensions that now feel sharper than any blade.

He stands facing his bed, his back turned to you. As soon as you enter the room and shut the door behind you, he quickly turns on his heel to face you. And he does not look pleased, his features etched with irritation. But you continue to stand your ground, not willing to budge anytime soon.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He growls, deep enough for your bones to feel it. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat accumulated between his knitted brows. That familiar flare of his nostrils makes an appearance and his lips are pursed in a tight scowl.

Normally, you’d cower down to anyone who’d find it in themselves to speak to you this way. You’d hide yourself, hide your feelings, stay quiet and out of the way. Give into them to keep the peace. But right now, fuck keeping the goddamn peace. You’ve kept it for far too long at this point and you’re done allowing yourself to be invisible any longer.

“My clothes are in here and I need to change since you selfishly decided that filming is over for the night,” you simper back, your volume challenging his. “And I’m also here to figure out what the fuck your problem with me is!”

His furious stare is penetrating your very soul, his eyes the darkest you’ve yet to see them. His fists are clenched and his biceps are bulging so much you’re just waiting for the chainmail sleeves to give way. 

But you’ve never seen him look better. 

“Problem?” He begins closing the short distance between you, practically stomping across the carpeted floor, flailing his arms about as he speaks. “What the fuck are you talking about?” The heat behind his tone grows stronger and stronger, his gaze on you darkening by the second. 

You refuse to break eye contact while you snicker and shake your head at him playing stupid with you. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he’s clearly choosing to play dumb with you, acting like he hasn’t put you on a fucking roller coaster with him since the day he was shoved into your already messy life. If he wants to keep playing games with you, then you have no problem playing your own against him. 

You’re still in your revealing attire, your breasts nearly on full display, the entirety of your form leaving next to nothing to the imagination— to Jake's imagination. You’re privy to his numerous glances at your breasts. You won’t pretend you’re not, and you can’t hold back the satisfied, devious curl of your lips each time you catch his gaze. You should find the urge to cover up, to hide yourself or wait until you can change to confront him.

But that’s not what you intend to do. Wearing this dress brings out a part of you that you’ve come to cherish— it cloaks you in a confident aura that you’ve lacked all your life. And as much as he tries to pretend it means nothing to him, you know the effect this dress has on him. You’ve seen it firsthand for yourself. He can try to hide it all he wants, but you and him both know what it did to him the first time he saw you wearing it in this very room. You may as well use that to your advantage right now. 

You feel powerful, in control. Those doubtful thoughts you were having earlier tonight about yourself have lowered their volume nearly to a full mute. If he can’t handle talking to you like this, then he can’t handle you.

“You’re fine with me one minute,” you huff a snarky giggle, standing firm and refusing to bring your arms up to cover yourself, even with his continuous gazing.“Then you act like you can’t stand my very existence the next. I’m just fucking confused, Jake. If you hate me so goddamn much, why don’t you ask me to leave? You don’t need me to do this fucking film. Why don’t you find some other unsuspecting girl and rid yourself of me once and for all?”

With as much of yourself as you’ve invested in this film, and the new found sense of self-assurance being in front of Josh’s camera has given you, you don’t want to quit this project. If walking away was truly what you wanted, you would have done so a long time ago. And deep down, you want to believe that if Jake truly wanted you to leave, he would’ve demanded it already. But right now, all you can think about is that conversation you overheard weeks ago. 

“I only asked her because I had to…I was not about to work on something alone with her.” 

It’s something you’ve not let yourself forget. Even after everything he’s done for you— helping you with your mom, staying the night with you when it felt like your world was crumbling— none of it seems to matter because of  his words that linger in your mind like a never ending echo. He wouldn’t have said them if he didn’t feel them. That much, you’re certain of.

And after what he said to you in class…it was a harsh reality that you weren’t ready to face. He validated your deepest fears of not belonging, of not being accepted. Every hurtful thing he’s ever said about you, each cutting remark he’s said to you are repeating relentlessly in your head. 

“I don’t hate you, y/n!” He shouts through gritted teeth. He takes a few steps towards you, leaving only inches of space between your bodies. His eyes are still fixed in their vexed glare, yet there’s something different behind their darkened gaze. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then…” Your voice is shaky as you try to raise it. You have to look up at him to see his face, he is so close to you. Your trembling body begins fighting against your accusatory words. “Then why did you say you only asked me because you had to? That you didn’t want to work on something alone with me?” Of everything he’s ever done to you, those words hurt the most.

“Because I can’t…” He throws his arms up in frustration, shaking his head as he looks away from you. “...I can’t trust myself to be alone with you. And I can’t fucking stand it when—” He stops himself before he can continue, his index and thumb tightly gripping his chin, almost and if to physically stop himself. 

“You can’t stand what, Jake?” Your anger surges, overpowering everything else. Your vision blurs and your limbs are tingling with pure rage. “What the fuck do I do that you can’t stand so badly?” 

He snaps his head towards you, his loose waves, making a luscious display around his handsome face. “I can’t stand seeing you with him.” He points to the photo on his dresser, the one of him and his brothers. The one with Sam. “You think it’s fucking easy for me to see you with him like that? Especially knowing what happened between you two the night we all went to the stupid fucking haunted house.” 

Now you’re pissed. Not only is his reasoning ridiculous, he’s also accusing you of something that didn’t happen. This isn’t your fault. None of this is. And for him to treat you like shit because of that?

“You don’t know shit, Jake!” Your voice rises to a near scream, letting go of any pretense of holding back. “Nothing happened that night, and even if it had, why the hell do you care? What makes you think you have any right to be pissed about anything that I do? I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you; this is your fault! So your reasoning is, frankly, complete bullshit. And I’m not buying any of it.” You’re yelling so loudly your voice is cracking and breaking, your words reverberating with raw, pissed off emotion. No one has ever provoked you to this level of anger. No one except your dad, when he decided out of the fucking blue to leave you. You hate that he’s brought out this side of you. “You act like that because you can’t stand the very thought of me,” you continue. “Just tell me you want nothing more to do with me and I’ll walk right out that door. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He stands still for a while, silently staring at the floor. He brings his hand up to rub his chin, something you’ve seen him do a hundred times, when his mind is racing about something. Josh almost always points it out. He does it a lot during filming, during your scenes with Sam. Especially during the ones when you’re wearing the very outfit you’re standing before him in right now. 

Then, he takes two more steps, until he’s close enough to you that you can feel his heaving breaths against your already heated skin. His demeanor has changed. He doesn’t seem angry anymore. The way he’s looking down at you…he now seems desperate. 

“I can’t stand the way he looks at you…the way you look at him,” he whispers, his eyes traveling the curve of your breasts as his lungs deflate letting out a deep sigh. His eyelids have become heavy over his whiskey colored eyes that flick back to yours. “I can’t stand it…because I wish it were me.” His voice, once harsh and furious, is now a deep, hushed whisper. It’s low, gravelly in pitch. 

It’s fucking sexy. But you’re still not convinced. You need more. You’re sick of thinking he likes you for a split second, then pulling himself away when he feels you’re getting too close. 

No. Not this time. If he pulls away again, you’re done. Out the door. Gone from his life and free to live yours without him and this film. You’ll take a failing grade if it means you don’t have to go through this anymore.

“I don’t believe you, Jake.” Your words are stern, but your body language begins deceiving your cold statement. You’re trembling, vibrating through to your very core. No matter how pissed you are, you can’t fight this incessant attraction you’ve felt for him for a long time now. You fought fiercely in the beginning, had completely convinced yourself that he was nothing more than a handsome jerk who harbored feelings of distaste towards you. 

But fuck. That made you want him more. His mystery, his demeanor. The kindness that seeped through every now and again. Nat was right; you’d always known it was there. His genuine heart is sometimes too strong to stay masked behind this rough act he's tried to uphold. It's broken before you enough times to know that it’s there. And maybe it’s because of you that it's breaking more and more. His guard is falling. That’s why you’re so fucking pissed that he’s fighting every second to keep it up. And what you just said…it's not that you don’t believe him. A big part of you does. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he was completely dumbfounded the first time he saw you in this lace dress. The way he seethes when you’re with Sam. On camera or not. 

But right now, you need to fucking see it. To see that side of him that you know is buried within. It’s not enough to simply hear his words; you need him to prove it to you. You’re tired of the back and forth with him. This is his opportunity to show you what ever the fuck it is that he wants from you.

There’s a look of confliction as his hand reaches out to you tentatively, his fingers playing with the lace on your shoulder. They move, hovering just inches over your collar bone before his fingertips delicately skate over the skin with such a gentle, intentional touch. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding as you feel the warmth of his touch.

“I’ve wanted to touch you…” His fingers follow the curve of your neck, passing over your pulse point, tracing a path along the curve of your jawline. “...just like this since the day I fucking laid eyes on you. And seeing my brother get to do it…” Your bottom lip is lightly tugged by the pad of his thumb, smearing the dark lipstick. “...it eats me up inside, y/n. I don’t think I can watch him kiss these lips one more time.” His focus is now entirely fixed on your lips, as his tongue gracefully glides over his own. Your craving for him intensifies with every passing moment. Each second fuels the fiery need within you.

“Then…why don’t you just do it?” The words fall straight from your mouth before you can even think twice about saying them, hanging in the air that’s slowly shifting from an angry tension to a much different kind. Your eyes lock yet again, each of you silently pleading with the other to bridge this divide between you once and for all.

With one hand still caressing your face and finding the small of your back, he pulls you flush against him, holding you tight against his warm body. He leans in, his lips brushing over yours, a feather-light caress that steals your breath. 

And as if you’re pulled together by an invisible tether, your lips finally meet. 

It starts slow, almost hesitant. But the intensity begins growing as your emotions are spilling over, fueling the kiss with a passion that is closer to desperation. His hand finds your hair, tangling your soft locks as he pulls you even closer, deepening your embrace with a hunger born of a longing that’s finally being set free.

You can feel his walls crumbling before you, letting break through his barrier. The insurmountable distance that was created between you, not only physically but emotionally, has at last been closed. 

His tongue glides across your teeth, drawing your bottom lip firmly between his. He serenades your mouth with the most beautiful melody, eliciting a yearning that forces your thighs to come together in an attempt to soothe the desire pulsing between them.

He tastes like the sweetest honey infused bourbon. His lips are soft, putting the most sumptuous velvet to shame. 

The hand resting on your back glides upward along your torso, stopping just before he reaches your heaving breast. His lips break from yours before he tugs on the hair at the nape of your neck, fully exposing the expanse to him. 

“Jake…” You start, but he’s already so attuned to your desires that you don’t have to say another word before his mouth meets your taut skin. His tongue traces along your neck, stopping to suckle the skin. A strained moan sounds from deep within you, eliciting a sensual snicker, reveling in the response he’s drawing from you.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles against you, sealing his compliment with a kiss. As if you’re not falling apart enough, you nearly melt into him when his hand finally caresses over your full breast. “This okay? Can I touch you here?” He whispers softly in the shell of your ear, his words both a question and a promise of his respect for you.

“Please, Jake, more” you whimper through heaving breaths. 

He groans deeply against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he teases your hardened nipple through the flimsy lace. You practically cry out for him, your body squirming with anticipation, begging him for more. He shushes you gently. “I’ve only just begun,” he whispers, his index finger tracing slow circles over your sensitive bud. “Let me take my time with you.”

He pinches your nipple, playful smirk gracing his lips as he chases the sounds escaping your parted mouth. 

You clutch his biceps tight, anchoring him to you to keep him from slipping away. He hisses as your nails dig into his skin, only igniting his desire for you.

“Do you believe me yet?” He whispers, his lips grazing your jawline.

While there’s not an ounce of lingering suspicion within you, you dare to toy with him a little further.

“Nuh uh, not yet.” You respond quietly, your body betraying you as your desire is displayed physically. He can sense it, and the mischievous grin curved on his lips assures you he’s privy to your little game.

“Feel how much I want you.” And with that, his hand takes yours, guiding it to his pulsing cock that’s straining against his black pants, imploring you to feel the undeniable need he has for you.

He throbs beneath your touch as you palm him through the satin fabric that still conceals him, keeping in time with your own racing heart. His breath hitches, he whimpers beautifully in your ear as you continue to feel him, and if it were even possible, he’s becoming even harder against your touch, desperate to remove the confines of his pants.

“Holy fuck, Jake…” 

Your legs press together once more at the feeling of him, his sheer size and thickness that is obvious even through the barrier between you. All you can think about is how he’d feel nestled away deep inside of you, filling you with every inch. He’s massive, that much you can tell, even through the barrier.

“Yeah?” He hums through heavy breaths. “That’s all for you, love.”

His words have your arousal nearly dripping down your thighs, your body growing more impatient by the second.

“Lay down for me,” he mutters in your ear. “Just like you were for the scene. Only this time, for me.” 

His words, almost possessive in their wake, leave you speechless and craving him even more. He lightly motions you in the direction of his bed, keeping his eyes locked with yours. 

Once you lie down, just as you did just moments ago, he positions himself at the end of the bed while he looks at you, taking in the vision before him. 

Normally, you wouldn’t have half the confidence for a moment such as this, and it’s for that very reason you’re glad  you’re in this very dress. It’s been the source of most confident moments as of late; it only makes sense that you’re wearing it in real life with Jake. 

As he begins to remove his chainmail top, you tremble at seeing him so bare. You’d seen it before, but not like this. This time, he’s taking it off for you, removing yet another barrier that exists between the two of you. 

You’re breathless at the sight of him. His pecs, sculpted and chiseled, rising and falling with his deep breaths. The smooth expanse of his unflawed skin, begging to be touched and explored. And his broad, sturdy shoulders that beckon you to sink your nails into, to keep a tight grip against while he’s on top of you. 

“Look at you,” he mutters, his eyes tracing every curve  of your body as he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you as though he’s not done looking at you just yet. “You’re a fucking queen,” he whispers, his voice husky and filled with desire. Finally, he leans in, his lips meeting yours with a tender gentleness, leaving you yearning for more as he lifts away again just slightly. “A beautiful queen.” 

He kisses you once again, this time hungrier than the last. His hands roam your body with a newfound intensity, each touch igniting a fire within you that leaves your body arching towards him, begging for more. More of him.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of kisses along your skin as his body slowly lowers down yours. You suck in a deep gasp as his warm, wet tongue follows a slow trail from your belly button, gliding all the way up to your chest, tracing along the curve of your breast. 

His lips suck a mark right where his tongue stops, leaving a bruise right where the fabric ends along your chest.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against the bruise his lips left on your taut skin, marveling at his work. “All marked up from me. Want to mark you up everywhere…”

His focus seems deliberate, as if he’s determined to leave his mark where it will be most visible during your scenes, his attention fixed solely on the skin peeking out amidst the black lace. 

“This…will be hard to cover up for filming, Jake…” you utter, breathless from your purely aroused state. 

“No,” he whispers between leaving his mark right in the middle of your breasts. “Don’t cover them. Let them see.”

Before you can continue your weak protest, he carefully pushes back the lace over your left breast, fully unveiling it before him. He shushes you as his lips instantly attach to your perked nipple, sucking it deep within his mouth, softly nibbling at it all while his hand removes the lace from your right breast, kneading the flesh between his fingers.

But as he does so, you feel your body begin to tense when you discover his fingers are all over the area covered with makeup. The area with your tattoo. It feels too fucking good to make him stop, but that same feeling that overcame you when Sam unsuspectingly saw it is blazing within you. 

Once you shift your eyes to his hand, you notice the makeup smeared almost completely, the red ink bleeding through to present itself, even if you aren’t ready for it to.

“Jake I…” 

But it’s too late. As he lifts to switch his attention to your right breast, he sees it. His eyes are fixed on your etched secret, mouth lazily agape at this small piece of you he’s discovering for the first time. 

“H…holy fuck,” he stammers, leaning in to peck his lips against the word along the tender spot. “This is so sexy I just…” he brings up his finger, tracing the “R”, then the “E”, the “D”

“Do you like it?” you ask him, feeling a rush of confidence wash over you.

Your initial hesitation has all but vanished. It's so different with Jake…something about the way he makes you feel, the way he brings out this part of you that no one else does. Not even Sam.

“I love this, y/n,” his lips meet the ink once more, decorating it with wet kisses. 

“I…I’ve always been so scared for people to see…” Your words would hardly be legible if he wasn’t so close to you. Your mumbled tone is evidence of how he’s affecting you, what he’s doing to you. “... and it’s not exactly accurate for the film,” you mutter through a weak chuckle.  

“Does anyone else know?” he quietly implores. “Does Sam know?” 

“No.” 

The word flies out of you before you can even take a second to think about it. It’s a lie. Sam does know. But that doesn’t matter to you right now. And Jake doesn’t need to know of what you almost did with his brother in a shitty attempt to get to him. 

“Only Natalia knows.”

“Good,” he mumbles between leaving more kisses along your breast, slowly creeping closer towards your erect nipple.“Let’s keep it that way.”

His tongue lightly flicks the sensitive bud, drawing languid circles around it while his fingers follow the same motion of the other breast.

With the way his body is positioned between your legs, you can’t close your thighs together to ease the ache between them. It doesn’t stop you from trying, though, and when he notices, he grins against your supple flesh, looking up at you to see your completely fucked out state. He understands what you need without a word, and he begins to shift his body even further down your own, keeping your legs spread and his mouth trailing down your flesh, until his face is nearly level with your throbbing core. 

The slit in your dress proves to be quite convenient at the moment, enabling your legs to spread easily while the only coverage you have is from the thong that perfectly matches your skin tone.

As his lips brush against your inner thigh, his warm breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, you find yourself instinctively arching your hips closer to him, craving whatever pleasure he can offer.

“You smell so fucking good, love,” he mutters. 

You’re silently praising yourself for thinking to add your body oil to your thighs, not realizing you were doing it for Jake. 

He’s not done marking you up just yet, as he sucks long and deep on the flesh of your inner thigh, eliciting a high pitched moan from deep within your being, your hand quickly flying up to stifle your sounds. 

“This one is just for me,” he mumbles against the bruise, tracing it delicately with the tip of  his finger. “And only for me.”

“Jake, please…I need more,” you cry out, your voice trembling with desperation as he stares deeply into your heavy, longing eyes. 

“What do you need, beautiful?” He probes, peppering your thigh with gentle kisses, following a slow path towards where you crave his lips the most.

“Jake…”  

“Tell me what you need,” he says in a hushed voice, his lips trailing a delicate kiss just above your throbbing clit. “Just tell me and I’ll do everything in my power. It’s the least I can do for you…please, let me make everything up to you.”

“Jake I don’t care anymore I just—” you reach down to brush a loose strand out of his face, fingers grazing over his sharp jawline as he leans in, leaving a sweet kiss in the middle of your palm. “I just need you.”

A devious, sinful smirk graces lips as his attention diverts to your aching heat. 

With his index finger, he traces the wetness you’ve left on the fabric of your panties, drawing slow and lazy circles over your clothed clit. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks, his blown pupils dark with need as his question almost sounds as though he’s begging. “Want to see you, all pretty and wet for me.” 

“It’s all for you, Jake.” 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. His hands, strong and firm, reach up to your hips, tugging at the sides of your thong as you lift yourself to help him pull it down your thighs. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He helps you lift your right leg out, then your left leg, placing your panties on the edge of the bed once they’re finally off of you. 

Out of everyone you’ve ever been with, no one has ever taken this much time with you. Not once has anyone asked what you need, what you want. It's a side of Jake you never expected to see. In a thousand years, you wouldn't have imagined him being this attentive, this caring toward you. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hums, his eyes longing fixed on your dripping core. “Every single part of you, just perfect.”

You instinctively jolt once his lips attach to your already sensitive clit, sucking it gently, his warm tongue swirling around it. With a tender touch, he holds your hips down in place, keeping you still for him as he explores you.

“Jake, oh my god, plea–”

He cuts off your words with a long glide of his tongue from you leaking entrance to your aching clit, sealing with a deep kiss to your throbbing bud, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

With his middle finger, he prods your entrance before slowly pushing it all the way in, finally filling you as you clench hard around his long digit. His grip on your hips does little to restrain you; you find yourself grinding against him, yearning for more of his touch. His tongue dances over your clit while his finger delves deeper into you, setting an delicious rhythm that has you craving more.

Then, he adds a second finger, filling and stretching you around him even more. His thrusts quicken, driving you closer to the edge with each brush of his fingers inside of you. 

Your hands instinctively find his soft locks, fingers entwining in the strands and tugging. A low moan escapes him, sending vibrations against your core.

“Just like that, Jake, just like tha–” 

But just as you're nearing your peak, there’s a sudden knock at the door that causes Jake’s fingers to still their movement, keeping them inside of you as he lifts his face that’s now glistening from your dripping arousal. 

“Jake? Are you and y/n okay?” It’s Josh. He sounds concerned, distressed. It’s sweet, although his timing is…awful. “You’ve been in there for a while…we’re just worried about you guys.”

Shit.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: oof. that was a lot. thank you for sticking with me, lol.

who do we think the mysterious Dodger could be?

i'd love to hear your thoughts! don't be afraid to reach out; hearing from you all keeps me going.

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️ (let me know if i've missed you)

sending all my love!

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul-27

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet #greta van smut #greta van fic #jake fic #gvf #gvf smut #jtk #le morte d’arthur

[martianbugsbunny]

Maybe Disney needs to try taking on a fairytale they haven't done yet. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy more original stories like Raya and the Last Dragon and Encanto that as far as I'm aware don't originate from any particular legend (feel free to correct me if I'm wrong tho). Those are fun. Exploring different magical concepts like dragons and the miracle is awesome.

But that being said, I think Disney needs to go back to its roots and do a fairytale. Something with a princess and a big bad that comes from an existing legend. That's (generally) where Disney excels. That's why people love Disney. Little Mermaid? Classic. Beauty and the Beast? Classic. Princess and the Frog? Classic. Cinderella? Classic. Snow White? Classic. Really, I just think Disney does what Disney does best when they're taking a story that already exists and turning it into a beautiful piece of animation with a gentle, kind soul at the center of it, maybe with a different little spin like setting the Frog Prince story in 1920s New Orleans or having Beauty's father be an inventor. Little touches like that to make the story uniquely Disney, but with a solid basis in a folk narrative that touches something deep and instinctual inside most people.

Give me a girl who's cursed. A girl who either falls prey to evil or makes a deal with it, and whose sweetheart fights for her like Aurora or who does the brave thing and sacrifices to fix it like Ariel.

Give me a girl who's trapped. A girl whose family keeps her down or who just hasn't found where she fits yet, who stays kind despite her troubles like Cinderella or who finds her own alternative way out like Belle.

Heck, even a weird-ass thing like Shakespeare But Lions would be welcome. That's such a Disney thing to do, taking a story like Hamlet and filling it with whimsy and giving it a happy ending. Plus, Simba is one of the strongest protagonists and learns one of the best lessons in all of Disney fight me.

(I'm not going to count Frozen in the folk story group because the departure from the original was so wild I don't think it deserves to count. I love Elsa with my entire soul but I would also die to see Disney do a proper version of the Snow Queen fairytale.)

Look, my point is that I'd like to see something that really makes Disney dig a little deeper and recapture the spark of its classics. Because as much as I enjoy stuff like Tangled and Frozen and Moana (I've watched all of them loads of times and I cry about them consistently) they don't come to mind as Disney classics for me. Maybe that's just me. Maybe it simply hasn't been enough time. Maybe it's the difference in the animation. Speaking of that, however, I would actually love to see a Disney movie done in a 2D style again; I don't think 3D has any inherent superiority and I'd love to see what Disney could do with a 2D movie now. And there are so many folk stories in the world, surely there must be one that Disney can bring to life the way it used to. They haven't retold every story that's been told already.

Am I being a little picky? Probably. But I'd love to see something that reminds me of the Disney classics where a gentle person with a courageous core has their life touched by magic, faces an obstacle, and has a happy ending. Something that's not a variation on "X needs to be saved" but a specific character longing for a specific thing and either doing what they think is necessary to get it (like Tiana and Ariel) or giving it up for the sake of someone else, but getting a happy ending nonetheless (like Belle and Simba). Also a clear-cut badguy who gets to be absolutely cunty and evil about it with no peculiar twist.

I'd like to see something Classic Disney again.

#whew that was long am winded #I was just having some thoughts #might talk about Disney movies more on here I love Disney so much #comparative analysis of brave frozen 2 and lion king anyone? #I'll do it I swear I will #anyway! #🎶let's get down the business🎶 #🎶to tag. the post🎶 #disney #disney movies #disney animation #disney classics #cinderella #beauty and the beast #the little mermaid #the princess and the frog #sleeping beauty #snow white and the seven dwarves #the lion king #ariel #aurora #tiana #simba #belle #(wanting to slap the princesses whose names are the same as their stories rn lol) #snow white #disney princesses #2d animation #(my beloved) #seriously I really want that it serves

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Maybe it is not because of cgi movies but because how bad written the characters especially the villains. So far the only villain I can think fits is Mother Gothel because of how well-written her character is despite lacking of powers and a twisted version of her helps. Although they did take inspiration from CGI movies like Big Hero 6 for that chapter 6 plot and even took some TV shows like Lion Guard which it revealed to have lion guards in Leona's hometown.

[Referencing this post!]

As I mentioned in the original post, yes; TWST does take inspiration from and make reference to many Disney properties regardless of artistic medium. This extends to their animated and live action films and shows, as well as musical productions (the whole plot line with Rollo having a little brother that was led astray by sin comes from an obscure Hunchback of Notre Dame German musical) and more. It’s just that TWST has yet to introduce characters in their own universe explicitly twisted from characters in the 3D era, whether villains or not.

Seeing as the big “sell” of Twisted Wonderland is its villain-based characters, I can see why one might think poor quality of the original (3D) Disney characters would be a factor in preventing them from being successfully adapted. However, I personally don’t think this is a huge consideration since that would imply Disney’s old villains are all written significantly well when some are simply generically evil or not that interesting (though this will vary depending on who you ask). Besides, it would also discount the fact that no matter how low quality or boring the original villain was, they can always be “dressed up” and given a more interesting story and character by the TWST team; they are not 100% beholden to the mold the original Disney character set.

I definitely agree that many of the more recent villains aren’t the… strongest… (if we had a villain at all, that is). Mother Gothel is the only one that immediately sticks out in my mind as a great villain from the 3D era. (She’s so uniquely wicked in how she gaslights and manipulates Rapunzel.) However, we don’t know if the people on the TWST team also hold this same opinion of disliking the 3D era and letting that actively influence their design direction for the game. It’s very hard to discern what the overall sentiment is since we don’t often hear from the TWST devs and just make assumptions of what the popular opinion is based on what we hear from our own social circles.

With the deliberate 3-4 years of staying with 2D animated characters (+ the G7 being some of the most iconic Disney villains) and now the Platinum Suit line now making references to the classics, I really think nostalgia is the main motivator rather than TWST (or Disney) questioning the quality of their 3D stories and characters. If anything, they (Disney, that is) seem pretty eager to stroke their own egos about mega box office and merchandising hits 😂 Frozen, anyone?

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Mother Gothel #notes from the writing raven #Tangled #Frozen #Rapunzel

[nightmare-grass]

Midsummer’s Eve

Tagging the most vocal supporters of the initial ideas post: @star-ocean-peahen , @telemna-hyelle , @tired-twili , @sansxfuckyou , @indigoartistqueen , @arpeggiopeg , @dyne-osaur

I’m posting my updated notes on my Disney princess movie idea based on the Princess and the Pea; it’ll have the old notes with it for context but it’ll have lots of new notes like character names, casting, storyline ideas, and merchandising opportunities because we all know how Disney operates. I’m putting it under the line so this post doesn’t become another “Do you love the color of the sky” post in its absurd length.

Next Big Disney Princess Movie

- I’m slightly obsessed with the Princess and the Pea, I wanna figure out how it could be turned into a Disney Princess movie

- The original story is that a king and queen think no one is good enough for their son, so they test a prospective partner’s purity by having her sleep on a tower of a hundred mattresses with a single pea placed at the bottom. A random girl seeks shelter from a storm and finds the castle; they let her in, and just because they’re curious they test her out on the mattresses. She tosses and turns all night, and in the morning she reports she could not sleep a wink. The king and queen are satisfied because obviously she could feel the pea under the mattress tower so she’s pure enough to marry their son.

- Maybe the Princess could be plagued by insomnia and a being that comes to her in her dreams leads her on a quest to rescue a magical prince from his overbearing parents, the rulers of the fairies. They test her with odd nature-themed trials, and the final one is testing her purity by feeling a pea under a stack of mattresses.

- Maybe not outright stating insomnia, just alluding to it with her inability to fall asleep easily and, in the Pea trial, psyching herself out to the extent where she thinks she can feel a tiny lump under her mattress

- Her thoughts are like “the final test can’t just be falling asleep, there’s gotta be more to it, there always is with these people!” She’s awake so long that she becomes adjusted to the dark silent stillness of the room and is finally able to feel that tiny lump under all one hundred mattresses.

- Plot starts when heroine stumbles into the fairy castle seeking shelter from the thunderstorm outside, unaware of the true nature of the castle she’s found herself in

- She was led to this castle by will-o-the-wisps, prankish fairies

- Or maybe the being who led her here could be her cute animal sidekick, some sort of tricksy fae creature

- Could try the Frozen/Tangled approach where the events take place in the span of a day or a few days, or could emulate Disney renaissance classics and have the story stretch on for weeks

- Make the heroine Irish? Make the story Irish? Even if Hans Christian Andersen wrote it, we don’t necessarily need to stick closely to the source material in that way. His fairy tales have been adapted by Disney plenty of times, rarely sticking to his geographic region. The Emperor’s New Clothes became the Meso-American Emperor’s New Groove, and The Little Mermaid apparently takes place in the Mediterranean. Making her and the setting Irish justifies all the fairy lore I want to bring in with this story.

- Since the prince in this story is a Fae prince, maybe he sees this human girl one day and gets a crush, so he keeps visiting her in the form of a fox because he’s not the most socially gifted, and he gets the Will’o’Wisps to lead her to his castle as a way of introducing his choice of bride to his parents, because fae customs are just weird like that. The princess was already fond of her fox friend and later in the movie she learns it was the prince in disguise visiting her because he was in love, and over the course of the story as he helps her win the challenges set by the king and queen, the princess and the fae prince actually properly fall in love with one another. The Pea trial is the last trial and it’s one where the prince cannot help her in any way, so he just gives her advice before she’s sent off to bed.

- In this idea we have a prince who’s not charming or dashing but who’s sincere and kindhearted and more than a little awkward, and a princess who is steadfast, determined, and who isn’t a pushover, who will get through the toughest of odds on her wit and will, of course with the help of her friends because that’s what friends are for. The “villains” are a king and queen who may be overbearing at times but who genuinely want what’s best for their son, parents who differ on how best to raise their child but who love each other fiercely and will protect their family at all cost.

- Maybe the princess can be a changeling, aka a fairy baby who was swapped with a human baby, and then that could either be a reveal at the end of the film when she gets fairy magic by marrying the fairy prince, or it can be left ambiguous how she gets her magical power up and it can be left in the editorial notes that the protagonist was supposed to be a changeling

- What if the princess were fat? Like, the first explicitly chubby Disney Princess in a lineup where slim and athletic is the norm. It would be good representation, I’ll have to play with the design a bit and deviate from my Doll Divine first drafts, because the dresses would fit different on that different body type.

- I also don’t want the prince looking like the general Disney Prince, I want him to sort of embody fox-like characteristics, so the transition from fox to human is believable, also so he looks a little otherworldly since he is a fae prince. Maybe his skin is pink (close enough to a normal human skin tone) and his parents are blue and purple, giving them an otherworldly look.

- I should make a Disney Renaissance style movie trailer for this. Leave the people wanting more, maybe start a petition, get some internet attention that might get Disney’s attention. Long term plans are good.

- In Beauty and the Beast, Belle’s favorite book has “far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise,” as well as a scene where “here’s where she meets Prince Charming, but she won’t discover that it’s him till chapter three,” and I want to use this as a guide for my hypothetical movie. I want people on the internet to assume this story is the book that Belle is reading. So I can have my prince in disguise as a fox but chapter three would usually take place after the intro and after the inciting incident, so after the princess’s normal life is established and after she comes to the fairy castle, which is ideally how I was imagining the reveal to happen.

- There’s the issue of “why wouldn’t the princess just try to leave once she learned what she was expected to do?” In this bare bones list of plot ideas, I’ve indicated that the princess is led to the castle, is sought after by the fae prince, and is sympathetic towards him because of his controlling and overbearing parents. Maybe she stays because she can see just how much he needs her, and throughout the story the two gradually fall for each other. I mean, the prince was already in love with her but we also need to give time for the princess to fall for him.

- Since I love Beauty and the Beast so much, maybe there should be opening narration in the form of a fairy tale, but then it’s revealed it’s the fae prince talking to himself while admiring the princess from afar, and we should do the thing where when the emotions become to great he starts singing, and that’s the opening song, playing in his mind as a fox while he interacts with the princess’s village and the princess herself. The song could function both as an establishing number and an I Want song for the prince.

- Maybe the story should have a meta commentary on how Love at First Sight, as a fairytale staple, isn’t really true love, it’s just puppy love, and real true love is born of dedication and honesty, real love takes effort, which is shown in all the trials and all the ways the prince helps the princess throughout. It’s not enough to say “this is the one I want to marry,” you have to earn your partner’s trust and affection.

- The princess should get a musical number about how she underestimates herself, and over the course of the song she changes key and starts believing in herself, and this’ll take place during a montage of trials

- The fae king and queen should get a campy musical number showing how in love they are, how much more powerful they are than this lowly human girl their son has brought home, and how she’ll never beat them at their own game so why try, and this villain song will set them up for a sympathetic reprise at the end when she inevitably comes out on top

- I might want Joel McNeely to compose for this movie. He proved he can emulate the classic Disney sound in Peter Pan 2, and he has experience composing Celtic-sounding fairy music with the Tinkerbell movies. If Alan Menken is still alive by the time I somehow make this thing work, I’d take him over McNeely.

- Story takes place on Midsummer Eve, because in Irish folklore that’s when the fae are at their happiest and they sometimes take mortals away to be their brides

- There’s a thing in Disney Princess movies that got pointed out in Ralph Breaks the Internet. A princess finds some form of water, looks at it, and sings about her dreams. Snow White’s wishing well, Cinderella’s soap bubbles, Aurora’s woodland river, Ariel had the whole ocean, Belle sang in the snow plus singing at the fountain in the town square, Jasmine got a singing part in Whole New World as they flew through clouds and over oceans/pools, Pocahontas had the river, Meg technically isn’t a Disney princess but she had a whole fountain garden solo number, Mulan had her water garden, Tiana never sang in the presence of water but she did sing a couple times in the swamp, and although Rapunzel never got a water-based song and Merida doesn’t sing, Elsa got her songs in the snow, and Moana had the whole ocean like Ariel did. This is a trend I wanna continue, so I’m gonna try and work in a musical number where the heroine reflects near some form of water.

- The Princess and the Pea is quite a mouthful, and I fear it would get confused with The Princess and the Frog, plus nowadays Disney titles tend to be one word descriptors of some aspect of the movie. Tangled, Frozen, Moana, Encanto, so I think a good candidate for the name of this movie is Midsummer’s Eve. Hopefully that would be enough to differentiate the name from Midsommar, a movie I do not want people connecting this story to at all.

- If I really wanna push the prince’s fox-like features, should I make him small? Like, slim 5’8” young man with pointy ears and pinkish skin. Then I could make his crush, the princess, both tall and fat, but in a muscular way? Like, instead of dainty princess should I go more warrior princess? Twink fairy prince with butch warrior princess? I think that would look stunning.

- Casting Reeve Carney as the prince, he’s got a gorgeous singing voice. I wanna find an Irish actress who can sing for the princess, but I’m not limiting myself with my casting choices for the king and queen. I want people who can be flamboyant, intimidating, and heartfelt.

- The Fae appreciate when humans manage to outsmart them or match their cunning, so in the story the first challenge the princess completes she’ll get by just barely by following the rules and brute forcing it, and the king and queen will sarcastically commend her efforts. The next challenges the princess will catch on that she needs to work smarter, not harder, and she’ll find loopholes and ways around the problems, earning more of the queen and king’s favor. Finally, the princess will face them, saying essentially “I’ve completed every challenge you’ve thrown at me, you must not keep your son cooped up here on his own any longer!” And the remark about their son makes them realize they’ve been unfair to him all this time, not considering what he might want.

- The princess’s cute magical sidekicks include a mischievous Wisp, a well meaning Sylph, and technically the prince in his fox form, which can all be made into plushies for marketing purposes. In the film, the Wisp would stick around her after the other Wisps had fulfilled their duty leading her to the fairy castle, and the Sylph would be gifted to her as a tiny lady in waiting, cleaning up after her and offering to help her in any way, except when it comes to challenges set by the king and queen.

- Talking with the fae is kind of like Alice trying to talk to the people of Wonderland

- Post-Credits scene should be an awkward post-wedding family dinner between princess’s human family and prince’s fairy parents, just these otherworldly creatures sitting across from this burly warrior chieftain forced to make awkward smalltalk it’d be hilarious.

- I wanna make it clear, even if it doesn’t look like it, this love story is a queer love story. The princess is Bi, the prince is Pan and genderfluid, and them being in love with one another doesn’t negate that. Just because the corporate overlords at Disney will inevitably frame it as a straight relationship, these two characters are anything but.

- Maybe the fae can be genderfluid, and the fae royalty can have alternate castings for if I want to turn them different genders for various scenes

- Gonna have another case of single dad raising rebellious daughter, but compound that with the fact that the princess’s dad is the leader of his clan so he’s under a lot of stress. If his daughter disappeared one night, he might think she was taken by a rival clan and might be on the verge of going to war if she doesn’t return, so that’s some extra stakes for the background of the movie

- Quite a bit of fairy folklore in Ireland and England dates back to the 12th century, during which time Ireland was being invaded by the Anglo-Normans, so there’s my background conflict for the humans to be dealing with while the princess is off in fairyland.

- Primary Gaelic weapons of the 12th century: spears, battle-axes, darts, sling-stones

- I’m giving Nessa a sling for a weapon, I think it could be used in a trial or two to solve a problem

- A friend of mine recommended a sort of Greek Chorus of magical cats in little bard uniforms that could slink around the castle and sing for comedic effect. Looking up Irish cat breeds I could only find the Manx cat, so that’s the cat I’m going with.

- Casting the Princess:

- I’m going for someone with an alto sort of voice, someone who can pull off a grounded performance in the face of all these over the top campy fairy characters. They should either be a young adult or someone who can sound youthful, but since the princess is more of a warrior she’ll need to have a deeper voice, or at least not a light and airy voice. Ideally I’d want an Irish actress, just so I don’t get complaints about a bad fake Irish accent. For all the human characters I want Irish actors or people who can pull off Irish accents for background characters, since the story takes place in Ireland and the fae Otherworld.

- Jessie Buckley is Irish, she’s an actress and a singer, her voice is a bit on the deep side but not exactly what I was hearing in my head

- Aisling Franciosi is Irish, she’s still in her 20’s, she can sing really well, but her voice is a bit higher than what I was going for initially

- Casting the Villains:

- We need two singers who harmonize well, who sound great together, who have chemistry so we can hear it in the voice acting. We need two actors who can pull off comedy, heartfelt drama, and menacing moments. Race and accent is not an issue, I’ll just let anything slide because to me a faerie can sound like anything, but I won’t be so lenient on human characters.

- Casting the Fae Prince (or Fae Princess):

- My first idea was Reeve Carney, and I’m gonna stick by that decision unless I stumble across another actor/singer who can pull off a socially awkward twink

- Casting the princess’s dad:

- Resist the urge to plunder HTTYD for casting because those guys are Scottish, and I need Irish actors.

- Maybe Brendan Gleeson, he gives tired gruff dad energy

- Liam Neason is Irish, he’s got a deep gruff voice, and he’s played battle-hardened dad characters before

- Casting the Sidekicks

- Should the Sylph and the Wisp have voice actors? Or should they be more like animal sidekicks, no spoken lines, just noises and body language? I kinda like the idea of them having squeaky gibberish voices, as if Nessa can’t understand their tiny fairy language and the other fairies in the movie are speaking her language to make it simpler for her, in a sort of patronizing way at first?

- Names:

- I want names that would be easy to spell and pronounce for general (non-Irish) audiences but I want Irish names to fit the setting. The fae characters can have more fantastical names but I wanted to go with names that really fit each character.

- Princess: Nessa

- This name can mean “rough” or “not gentle.” In Irish mythology, she was the powerful and ambitious mother of Conchobar (Conor) MacNessa, King of Ulster.

- Fae Prince: Daithi (dah-hee)

- This is an old Irish name that means “swiftness” or “nimbleness.” Daithi was the name of the last Pagan king of Ireland who ruled from 405-426 AD

- Fae Queen: Sloane, Bree, Dara, Sapphire

- Fae King: Bran, Bellamy, Tiernan, Beryl

- Human Dad: Cathal (ka-hal)

- Meaning “strong in battle.” Derived from Gaelic “cath” (battle) and "val" (rule). It was the name of a 7th-century Irish saint.

- Character Design

- What if the princess were fat? Like, the first explicitly chubby Disney Princess in a lineup where slim and athletic is the norm. It would be good representation, I’ll have to play with the design a bit and deviate from my Doll Divine first drafts, because the dresses would fit different on that different body type.

- I also don’t want the prince looking like the general Disney Prince, I want him to sort of embody fox-like characteristics, so the transition from fox to human is believable, also so he looks a little otherworldly since he is a fae prince. Maybe his skin is pink (close enough to a normal human skin tone) and his parents are blue and purple, giving them an otherworldly look.

- If I really wanna push the prince’s fox-like features, should I make him small? Like, slim 5’7” young man with pointy ears and pinkish skin. Then I could make his crush, the princess, both tall and fat, but in a muscular way? Like, instead of dainty princess should I go more warrior princess? Twink fairy prince with butch warrior princess? I think that would look stunning.

- The fairies could be human sized but their wings could do the thing where they become capes, like in Gargoyles

- Nessa:

- Pale freckled skin, heavy-set, muscular, tall, long dark brown hair, dark blue-green eyes

- She wants to be a warrior in her father’s clan but he doesn’t want her seeing battle as his eldest and only daughter

- I’m gonna dress her up in red because the only other princess who wears any red is Moana, and she’ll have a green cloak because folklore says it’ll hide you from fae sights, green is a protective color alongside being complimentary to red

- Daithi:

- Pointed ears, slim physique, pretty short, pink-toned skin, fox-colored hair (dark roots, orange to white gradient on the ends), bright golden eyes

- Regal outfit with lots of nature motifs

- I want the fae royalty to have a variety of different outfits they switch between depending on the situation

- Cathal:

- I want him to look hardened by life, but I want to make it clear that Nessa is the child of his that looks most like him. No more cloning the mom to make the daughter, I want Nessa to look most like her father’s daughter. Same hair, same eye color, same nose, similar jaw, big strong dad with big strong daughter

- Dark brown wavy hair just brushing his shoulders, dark blue-green eyes, pale scarred face, strong jaw, tall muscular build, looks like a warrior king you’d be scared to go up against

- Queen Dara:

- Loud and proud, larger than life, take inspiration from drag queens

- Google “drag queen fashion” and “high fashion inspired by nature” and you’ll get the gist of what I want the queen to look like

- Dara can have more insect theming and bright shiny colors

- King Tiernan:

- Im thinking this character should embody the traits of male birds; the preening, the intricate mating displays, the bright colors and showy feathers. He and his wife shouldn’t be drowning each other out, they should be complimentary, like these two enter a room and they’re immediately the most fabulous pair

- I kinda wanna deviate from typical fantasy menswear, it’s all very dark and heavy, I want the king to look light and fun but still powerful and regal, and I want him to be beautiful, like, all fairies are beautiful to some degree, and I want the king to be beautiful

- I also want the king and queen to utilize the full range of colors on the classic Disney villain color palette; purple, red, green, black, gold, and blue would work with nature-inspired patterns like insect wings, bird feathers, plants and flowers

- Tiernan should have ornately styled facial hair with jewels and golden beads woven into his beard

Ideas for the Trials:

- final one has to be “sleep on the tower of a hundred mattresses”, and I want this one to go like this:

- Nessa is sent to bed with the king and queen acting suspicious. “Sleep, if you can” that sort of thing.

- She returns to her room and is faced with a tower of mattresses. They altered her bed while she was away doing the challenges, and she gathers that this is yet another challenge. She fears there might never be an end and she’ll be trapped in the fairy realm forever.

- She begins the long climb up. The bed is kept stable by towering posts, but she’s exhausted by the time she finally reaches the top. Despite her exhaustion however, as she tucks herself into bed she finds she cannot fall asleep.

- Her mind is racing, thinking things like “this can’t be it, can it? There’s always some little trick, some little complication with the fae, there always is! And what if I fail this test? Would they send me away, or would they trap me in more trials till my hair goes grey? What would happen to Daithi? He’s so used to living with these mad people but he shouldn’t have to be! It isn’t right! Why shouldn’t he get a say in who he marries, why’s it up to them?”

- As she’s thinking this, she starts tossing and turning but no matter what she does she cannot get comfortable. She feels a bump in the mattress but as she glances over the side to search under the top mattress she gets a bit of vertigo. She steels her resolve and starts to climb down the ladder, checking every mattress for some kind of rock or anything that could cause such a noticeable bump. She searches and searches until she reaches the floor, and under the very bottom mattress she finds a tiny green pea. Furious, she takes the pea and storms out of the room in her nightgown, ready to give the king and queen a peace of her mind.

- Not sure if there should be a montage blurring together an indeterminate amount of trials but if there was I could get away with a musical number, like how Make a Man Out of You is a training montage where all the singing is inner monologue

- I want weird nature-themed trials you’d find in fairytales and folklore, like herding rabbits or picking the correct item out of a lineup of identical looking things, so I’m gonna research and read up on fairytales to find any weirdly specific elements I can borrow

- In most of the tasks I want Daithi to be able to gift something to Nessa that will help her succeed, wether it be a magical aid or a piece of advice. All this helping will continue to grow their friendship and blossom that romance.

- A darts competition?

- An obstacle course?

- If we want to add something scary to the movie I can make one trial deal with the dead or ghosts since a lot of fairy folklore from Ireland utilizes ghost stories and death omens

- Maybe just indirectly steal from that one folktale I read about the dude carrying a talking skeleton to its final resting place

- The trial is to bring a skeleton hanging around your neck to its burial site all the while avoiding the sight of a Banshee

- It’s like a terrifying game of Red Light Green Light with corpses and ghosts

- At a tense moment where Nessa’s nearly there but the Banshee is turning, about to catch sight of her, Daithi in the form of some tiny animal swoops in to distract the Banshee, giving Nessa the time she needs to pass the trial.

- A game of riddles against the king that provides a break in the montage song Nessa will sing about feeling the need to prove herself and slowly realizing that she has nothing to prove to anyone, she just needs to realize the strength and willpower already within herself. The riddles game provides a break where the characters talk in a certain rhythm so it’s like talk-singing and it’s continuing the song.

Basic Plot Outline:

- Storybook narration, morphs into our fairy prince character Daithi daydreaming while watching our protagonist Nessa from the trees/bushes. She has no idea he’s there and she’s having fun with her younger brothers. Daithi can’t bear to merely watch anymore and transforms into a fox to interact with her, which is when we get the opening number that will establish a bit of the setting but also serve as the prince’s I Want song as his inner thoughts. He wants someone who gets him, someone he can pour all his love into, he wants a partner to stand with through thick and thin, like his parents’ relationship. He wants a life partner, and at the start he’s projecting all that onto Nessa, his dream girl. He’s convinced it’s true love because it was love at first sight, he barely knows this girl but he’s a hopeless romantic.

- Nessa and her brothers are wary at first but as soon as Daithi shows he’s friendly the siblings include the fox in their game, like playing with a stray dog. Their father comes to break it up to send the boys off to gather resources for the upcoming Midsummer’s Eve festivities, taking the opportunity to give Nessa a stern talking to. They both know she’s past the typical age where she’d be married off to forge a new alliance, but Nessa is steadfast in her desire to help her father and fight for her people. Cathal is adamant that she stay away from war, and hopes she can loosen up and make some friends outside of her brothers at the celebration later that evening. Maybe we could have Nessa singing a reprise of Daithi’s I Want song but change the lyrics to fit Nessa’s situation of wanting to prove herself strong and capable to her father, and since it’d be a reprise there’s no need to make it very long, it can be like the Belle Reprise, the One Jump Ahead Reprise, the Part of Your World Reprise, or the Poor Unfortunate Souls Reprise.

- During the festivities a massive thunderstorm comes out of nowhere and Nessa is drawn into the woods by a mysterious light and the sounds of childish laughter which she thinks are her youngest brothers running off to the woods in the middle of the night in a thunderstorm. She’s the type to charge in headfirst and deal with the consequences later. Instead of her brothers, she finds a luminous castle in a part of the forest she doesn’t recognize at all. The doors open of their own accord, and she goes inside, now drenched and exhausted.

- The castle is bigger on the inside and the massive doors swing shut behind her. This is the throne room, and perched atop the ornate golden thrones are two imposing beautiful creatures. The taller one seems to be dressed in a more feminine style and the shorter one has an ornately styled beard and mustache. These are the king and queen of the fairies, Dara and Tiernan. They slowly get up from their thrones and saunter over to this haggard human girl who dared to enter their realm without so much as an invitation, but Daithi in his humanoid fairy form quickly walks over to intercept, like, “Mom, Dad, this is the girl I’ve been telling you about!”

- Nessa is quite rightfully overwhelmed so she sits in stunned silence as this guy she doesn’t know talks about her like they’re good friends and his parents openly judge her with backhanded compliments and scathing remarks. She literally has no clue how to react to all this so when the guy takes her arm and leads her off to the hallway she lets him do it, and here’s where he apologizes for suddenly dropping all this on her poor human mind. He also shows her he’s the fox that’s been visiting her for quite some time now, and she gets a better sense of what she’s dealing with now that she knows they’ve actually interacted before in a positive way, they’re not complete strangers.

- The reason Daithi lured her to the castle is because his parents were about to marry him off to a fairy of their choosing unless he finally picked someone and brought them forward for his parents’ approval. Midsummer’s Eve was the deadline they set. It’s definitely a lot for Nessa to process, so Daithi asks his parents to give Nessa a place to rest for the night before they do anything with her. They oblige and Nessa is set up with a lavish room and a Sylph handmaiden to tend to her needs. Curiously, a mischievous Wisp has been sticking by Nessa’s side ever since its brethren led her to the castle, and it gleefully wrecks little things in the room that the Sylph compulsively attends to and cleans up. These two are the primary comic relief, lots of slapstick and physical comedy.

- That very night, the king and queen plot just how they’re gonna test this mortal. If she’s gonna stand any chance of marrying their boy she’s gotta live up to their standards, and those are high standards. Dara wants to hold a contest of strength but Tiernan proposes a dueling of wits, and together the two devise a series of trials for Nessa to complete before she earns their favor. Daithi is eavesdropping in fox form so he can hopefully give Nessa a heads up before she goes to face the trials.

- Nessa thinks about it like this; these are obviously the fae, basically gods, and they’re much more powerful than her. Best to be a polite guest and play along with whatever they’re planning until she’s earned enough of their good graces to ask for a guide out of their realm and back to her home and family.

- Should the villain song go here? Like, as the way the king and queen fully introduce themselves to Nessa and set up the trials, all the while singing about how there’s no chance she’ll actually succeed and how they’re better than her in every way? Could lead directly into Nessa’s hero song, a triumphant moment as she gets the hang of the challenges and starts beating them at their own game.

- One thing I set up in the beginning is Nessa’s clan having some enemies that might take an alliance to fully defeat, and the fact that Nessa’s past the typical marriage age to forge an alliance between her group and another, and the fact that the whole point of this story is to get past the superficial crush stage of Love at First Sight and work to forge a strong bond with your chosen partner, so perhaps the movie could end with the humans and the fae coming together under the marriage of Nessa and Daithi, forging a new alliance that will strengthen them for years to come.

Merchandising Opportunities:

- Fairy Castle playset, dolls of Nessa, Daithi, Dara, Tiernan, the Sylph, and the Wisp

- Fashion dolls of Nessa and Dara, accompanied by dolls of Daithi and Tiernan respectively

- Singing dolls of Nessa, Daithi, Dara, and Tiernan

- Plushies of the Sylph and the Wisp, plush fox based on Daithi

- Figurines of the principle cast members

- Costumes of the princess dresses and fairy royalty outfits

- Makeup kit inspired by Queen Dara

- Simplified story for children’s books

- Potential for a follow up series exploring how Nessa navigates the role of fairy princess, her struggles fitting in and her misadventures with all sorts of fae creatures (like a similar formula to Tangled the Series)

- Wisp nightlight

#Disney #the princess and the pea #princess and the pea #Disney movie idea #Disney princess movie idea #movie idea #Disney princess

[starlight-nursery]

Fun Facts of the Week!!

Mickey might be the most famous mouse in the world, but Walt Disney’s first cartoon character was actually a rabbit named Oswald.

If you’re walking down Main Street and you suddenly crave popcorn, blame the scent machines. The Disney Smellitizer (a machine patented by Disney Imagineering) emits different scents throughout the theme parks.

Mickey and Minnie are married in real life! Wayne Anthony Allwine, who voiced Mickey for over three decades, married Russi Taylor, who played Minnie.

The Pizza Planet delivery truck from Toy Story makes a cameo appearance in every Pixar film except for The Incredibles.

Buzz Lightyear was originally going to be named Lunar Larry.

The color of Elsa’s ice palace in Frozen changes with her mood, from purple when she’s sad to blue when she’s happy and red when she’s scared.

Disney hides classic characters in the backgrounds of its animated films. For example, Mickey, Goofy and Donald all appear in the opening sequence of The Little Mermaid.

-Mod Munchkin

#agere #starre #cglre #Age Regression #ageregression #age regression blog #age regression server #agere discord #agere discord server #agere community #safe agere #sfw agere #starlightnursery #starlight nursery #starlightmods

[disney-is-mylife]

Your list of Disney genres sounds very interesting

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED

(fair warning: I am Bad at Making Graphs, so I'm literally gonna just type out the lists. Hopefully, it'll make some sense shbdgvdf)

OKAY SO

The 61 (so far) of the Walt Disney Animation Studios feature films can be split into 5 major categories:

Animals (20 films)

Princess (14 films)

General Fantasy (11 films)

Sci-Fi (8 films)

Package (8 films)

~~~~~

Tier 1 - Package:

We start the list with the film that encapsulates several genres, but with an emphasis on music:

Fantasia (1940)

Fantasia 2000 (1999/2000)

Then, we morph into more story features, with music still being the focus:

Make Mine Music (1946)

Melody Time (1948)

and then it becomes more "proper" feature-length, only split into two:

Fun & Fancy Free (1947)

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949)

and finally, a bit of a wild card, but we delve into "societies" and fully bipedal anthropomorphic characters with Donald, José, and later, Panchito:

Saludos Amigos (1943)

The Three Caballeros (1945)

From there, we drop down to our biggest category:

~~~~~

Tier 2 - Animals:

There are 20 Disney films that are solidly Animal films, which makes up a THIRD of Disney's line-up. The three major sub-categories are:

Animal Society

Domesticated/Trained Animals

Wild Animals

Jumping down The Three Caballeros in Tier 1, we start with movies with a fully Animal Society, with zero humans:

Zootopia (2016)

Chicken Little (2005)

Robin Hood (1973)

then it blends more into human society, but with a still distinct hidden animal society that wears clothes and walk like humans:

The Great Mouse Detective (1986)

The Rescuers (1977)

The Rescuers Down Under (1990)

We then go into the Domesticated Animal category, with The Aristocats as the "bridge," since it features animals that wear clothes and play instruments lol:

The Aristocats (1970)

101 Dalmatians (1961)

Lady and the Tramp (1955)

Oliver & Company (1988)

Bolt (2008)

Home on the Range (2004)

Dumbo (1941)

The Fox and the Hound (1981)

The last one is another "bridge," this time to Wild Animals, which is split more or less evenly between "with humans" and "no humans":

Brother Bear (2003)

Tarzan (1999)

The Jungle Book (1967)

Bambi (1942)

The Lion King (1994)

Dinosaur (2000)

Now, let's go back to Brother Bear and drop down to:

~~~~~

Tier 3 - General Fantasy

This category is bit harder to split, but in essence:

Children's Lit

NOT Children's Lit (lol)

Okay, so, let me go down the list to see if it makes sense:

With Brother Bear as our drop-down from Tier 2, we start our list with mythological settings (the "NOT Children's Lit," if you will), starting with another arrogant youth who is unwittingly transformed into an animal, then classic mythology:

The Emperor's New Groove (2000)

Hercules (1997)

Which then leads to more "grounded" fantasy, but still fairly "mature" audiences:

Encanto (2021)

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

and then deeper into medieval style...

The Black Cauldron (1985)

The Sword in the Stone (1963)

except now, with Sword in the Stone as the "bridge," we're officially in "Children's Lit" territory, with a focus on British Lit:

Pinocchio (1940)

Alice in Wonderland (1951)

Peter Pan (1953)

slowly becoming more and more dreamlike, until we reach the "wonderful world of make-believe" with our friends in the Hundred Acre Wood:

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977)

Winnie the Pooh (2011)

Now, let's go back to the start of this tier, Emperor's New Groove, and drop-down to another "royal turned into an animal for a lesson" with....

~~~~~

Tier 4 -Princess:

Okay, first context: I know there's some debate on which Princess films "count," but for this list's sake, here are the ones I'm counting:

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

Cinderella (1950)

Sleeping Beauty (1959)

The Little Mermaid (1989)

Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Aladdin (1992)

Pocahontas (1995)

Mulan (1998)

The Princess and the Frog (2009)

Tangled (2010)

Frozen (2013)

Moana (2016)

Frozen 2 (2019)

Raya and the Last Dragon (2020)

(Remember, this is ONLY including WDAS, so Brave doesn't count here. Moving on.)

Of the fourteen films, there are four sub-categories:

Prince/Princess (3)

Prince/Peasant Girl (3)

Princess/Peasant Boy (technically 4, counting Frozen 2)

Technically Not a Princess (4)

Now, that said, how do these categories work with my "drop-down" point from Emperor's New Groove? Well, we start with Prince/Peasant Girl first with:

The Princess and the Frog

Beauty and the Beast

Cinderella

All three had direct enchantment lead to their romances, to varying degrees, starting with genuine transformations to merely a magic dress and coach. But naturally, so did others, which takes us to our Prince/Princess pairings, starting with the OG:

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Sleeping Beauty

The Little Mermaid

Now, we switch things up and go to the "Technically Not a Princess" category, jumping off the ocean theme to:

Moana

Raya and the Last Dragon

Mulan

Pocahontas

leading lastly to Princess/Peasant Boy:

Aladdin

Tangled

Frozen

Frozen 2

And as it so happens, the Frozen films are the only "official" princesses who turn into queens..... which drops-down into a largely forgotten film with another Disney princess-turned-queen:

~~~~~

Tier 5 - Sci-Fi

Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)

from there, we travels to other worlds, with some familiarity of our world,

Strange World (2022)

Treasure Planet (2002)

Lilo & Stitch (2002)

to our futuristic worlds,

Meet the Robinsons (2007)

Big Hero 6 (2014)

and finally, a "hidden" world within our own:

Wreck-It Ralph (2012)

Ralph Breaks the Internet (2018)

~~~~~

So! There you have it! I wish I had graph making skills to make this easier to understand lol ^^"

#Star answers #Starling ramblings #anon #Disney #Walt Disney Animation Studios #Disney animation #Disney movies #Disnerd #Disnerd issues #this is what keeps me up at night lmao #you get me going on Disney films and I will literally NOT STOP #20 notes

[gothicprep]

analysts spend a lot of time thinking about disney and what it & bob iger are up to, given that the company has its fingers in so many pies. there's the theatrical business, which just had a soft summer after indiana jones, the little mermaid, and elemental all underperformed. there's the streaming business, which is stagnating in the us and shedding users in low-revenue markets like india, so it's hard to say how that's going. there's the theme parks and the cruises, which are making more money but attracting less visitors, which is troubling for them (as well as the disney adult types who have loved the parks for decades and are eating the expense). then there's linear tv – sports and gambling deals specifically – which is a weird asset. everyone agrees that it's in near-terminal decline, but everyone also agrees that it generates tons of cash and you can't really offload it without upsetting up your balance sheets.

all of this gets to a broader problem underlying the disney products right now, and it's a problem that's shared with a lot of the industry right now. let's be blunt – there's a real problem on the creative side. the two biggest properties disney owns are star wars and marvel, which are both in a very clear rut. interest is declining and audiences are tuning out. the live action remakes are doing okay, but where does the next generation of remakes come from when they aren't making new animated classics? this is where the company has a real problem. it's lack of originality. encanto was probably the only thing to really move the needle for them since frozen came out a decade ago. one original hit every ten years is not a sustainable model.

pete docter has taken over at pixar and the movies they're currently making sort of reflect his cerebral, abstract interests. this doesn't necessarily make for bad movies, but not ones that are positioned to be total, world-conquering hits in the same way toy story or the incredibles were. kathleen kennedy's tenure at lucasfilm clearly has not worked, at least on the feature film side. the mandalorian has been a hit, but they're really overdone it with the "you have to watch this show to see this important thing happen". we watched andor and we liked it a lot, but i'm about as hardcore a star wars fan as you can get, and i haven't touched the book of boba fett and i probably won't with ahsoka either. i think kevin feige's reign at marvel was considered to be a guarantee of quality for a while, but the homogeneity has really hurt them there, especially with the decline of the visual effects.

i think it's hard to look at the disney creative and say that there's any part of it that's working great and that's kind of depressing! most of us were kids of the disney golden age, to an extent. we were kid moviegoers at the time when pixar kept knocking it out of the park! so to be alive at a time where disney just seems to be befuddled by making mass entertainment is very strange.

#i love watching movies with my friends #new tag for my movie biz rambles

[beardedmrbean]

“How could frozen be a Disney film?!” okay I’m cheating with gargoyles, Tarzan, Princess and the frog, hunchback of Norte dame where the villain song is basically “The brown girl makes me too horny. She must burned in the stake!”, etc.

Fuck the first incredible movie executed HERO GENOCIDE in one scene better than what dc and marvel ever could in several issues

What is this idea you can’t do dark shit under Disney? No you can if you’re clever enough, hell Don Bluth, the legendary animator and ex Disney employee. Pointed out from his experience

You can put a lot of dark shit into your kid animated movie. As long as you give them a happy ending!

No seriously if you think about a lot of classic Disney films. He right.

I often wonder if it's possible to buy a set of the rose coloured glasses some people use to look at the past.

To their credit at least, Disney hasn't really gone the original route on the endings of several of their hit movies.

Evil Queen from Snow White being forced to wear red hot iron slippers and dance till she died comes to mind, as does the actual ending of The Little Mermaid, or most of the entire text of Hunchback especially the ending.

Esmeralda dying and Quasimodo curling up next to her body in the grave until he also dies is not something that would play well in a children's story.

#anonymous

[jasminedragonart]

Why modern disney sucks. an essay by me. P.s. you dont have to like my opinion, it is literally just an opinion and no amount of telling me to go outside or get a hobby is going to stop me from procrastinating on this site and spitting out my views on my blog.

You don't have to read it. it's fine.

So disney has lost its magic, and to be honest there's no one reason why. It's actually a number of reasons to do with the stories they choose, the animation, the woke feminism of Hollywood and not understanding the formula which we will explore in the paragraphs below.

Let's start with the stories they choose to tell. Back in ye olden days disney's main thing was retelling fairy tales. You have Snow White, Cinderella, Pinnochio, Robin Hood all classic fairy tales that would have been accessible to everyone. The thing was, as well, that disney didn't cater to children, or girls. Disney was focusing on a broad audience of all genders and ages. Meaning it had to appeal to adults and children. which it did. Snow White was seen by a lot of adults when it first came out. A lot of the stuff in Pinnochio is what only adults would truly understand and what kids did served as a cautionary tale. for example the beer and smokes when Pinnochio got to Fantasy Island. it was only when animationbecame targeted more towards children that we see the animation and stories change to a more child friendly stage. But even still, they could still be enjoyed by adults.

Modern disney has forgotten that. They see something catered to children as catering to toddlers. Kids can learn about drinking. they can learn about smoking because, chances are, they see it every day. my parents used to smoke around us. My parents and family used to drink around us on new years and christmas. It's a part of life children already know about. There is literally no need to censor it. But they do, which waters down what is a story about morality into a barely able to be followed movie.

Then there are the stories themselves. Disney seems to have steered away from the fairy tales, which theres nothing wrong with. But by doing so they're putting a lot of pressure onto their writers who, in my opinion, dont understand the fairy tale structure. Or the story disney has created. So theres a character, they want something, there's a villain, they stand in the way of our hero. They overcome the villain and have a happy ending.

This, structurally is a good formula. It's easyto stick to it's easy to replicate. It's easy. But disney doesn't like this anymore. They want to humanize their villains which, you don't have to do that. Villains sometimes need to just be villains. they don't need depth. They're literally there to stop the protagonist. That's their story, we don't have time or the energy to humanize them because if we do the ending wont be as impactful.

Let me give you a scenario. In the new girl boss amazon Cinderella they gave the evil stepmother a backstory. They humanized her, and did we feel sorry for Cinderella after that? after we find out the stepmother is only hard on her for her own good?

Go back to old Cinderella. she's mopping floors, she has to get up at dawn. She has chore after chore after chore and when she is promised a reward she doesn't get it. The stepmother has nothing to humanize her. The step sisters are horrible. It really helps us to feel for Cinderella and that's important because we WANT Cinderella to now escape. We WANT her to have a happy ending with the prince.

We don't want that in the amazon Cinderella.

I will give the Disney remake of Cinderella this that they did make me feel for her. It wasn't bad.it just wasn't magical.

They need a villain. It's why frozen, in my opinion, was so bad. The villain needs to be established from the offset. None of this surprise crap. Remember this is a kids film, they kind of need the clarity. Not always. But you have to remember you only have an hour and a half to tell this story. It's different in tv shows. You can build that stuff up. But in movies you don't have that time. You need established roles. That's why they make money. Syndrome is immediately a villain. He doesn't try and trick mr incredible himself, he does it through Mirage who herself isn't a bad person so it makes sense. Clayton, Gaston, Maleficent, Hook, they're all bad and we need them to be that way. We dont have time for backstories for them and the hero.

It's not about them.

disney doesn't follow a formula. It also chooses the wrong characters to be their main character. Like in Luca, like I said, Alberto should have been the main character. He had the more interesting story and you go with what's more interesting when it comes to writing.

The reason I didn't like encanto was because it was all over the place in terms of plot and follow through. Bruno was set to be this big bad. Then he's not. theres no follow through. same with the grandma. Again, we need someone to contrast the hero against and we need a poignant defeat. Like in the princess and the frog or tangled, again, they had a villain, rapunzel turned on her own would be mother because she's shown to us to have no redeeming qualities in this film.

Let's move onto money and animation. There is no money in 2d anymore. Which is sad. You can feel the passion in old disney because they spent years making them. These days they plop out a new film every month. There isn't time to care about a movie. There are no special art styles. Like Hercules, Atlantis with its comic book style, Tangled which is cgi but was going to be 2d so you can see the art style still. All new films look the same I'm sorry but they do. I feel like people put their whole soul into those old movies. Like the jungle book animation is amazing. So is mr slithers in robin hood. I know people work hard, but my brother, an animator, even says he wishes they put money into 2d stuff because it's just better hands down. More creative, more fairy tale esque. Like if you look at Klaus, which is not disney but oh my god the animation in that is beautiful.

Thats not to say modern animation cant be. But disney isnt known for that. Pixar and dreamworks are and dreamworks does such a good job with creating art styles in their movies. They arent carbon copies. You look at shrek and you look at kung fu panda and you know they're different.

Onto new age hollywood feminism. I don't think disney knows what feminism means? They can't. Not possible. Why else would they purposefully trash their old films and make fun of them in their new films? There is nothing wrong with wanting to be snow white or sleeping beauty. They are representations of their time and representations of women. leave them alone. They don't need to be woke. They don't need to be strong willed. every girl is different.

I feel like Disney is trying to fix their old movies but they literally dont have to be. The formula works for a reason. People would stop watching them if there was a problem with them. But they don't. We still watch them, we still find meaning in them today.

I feel like Disney focuses too much on making things child friendly that they're forgetting the reason old disney works is because its family friendly. Aka theres something for everyone.

Theres more, someone did a stellar video on youtube explaining why movies like the little mermaid helped disney revive itself. Like they cracked the musical formula. I'm gonna try and find it and put it on here. But this is all I have so far.

#Disney #Modern Disney #Aka anything after princess and the frog and tangled

[princesssarisa]

Sleeping Beauty Spring: "Sleeping Beauty" (1995 Jetlag Productions animated film)

Jetlag Productions, whose videos were released by GoodTimes Entertainment, was probably second only to Golden Films as the biggest producer of animated "mockbusters" in the '90s. Their Children's Classics collection consists mostly of stories also adapted by Disney, including Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, The Jungle Book, Pocahontas, and of course, Sleeping Beauty. Many children whose parents either chose to buy less expensive alternatives to the Disney videos or mistook the Jetlag videos for the Disney versions grew up with these 45-minute animated features.

The Jetlag Sleeping Beauty opens with the feast celebrating Princess Felicity's birth, while a voiceover narrator sets the scene. The time period is medieval and the aesthetic brings to mind sword-and-sorcery cartoons of the '80s an early '90s. Felicity has seven fairy godmothers, who are pretty, child-sized young women with wings and with bright-colored dresses and hair: Aura, Wisteria, Grace, Terpsichore, Melody, Amorata, and Primrose. But the feast is, of course, interrupted by the evil fairy Odelia, who, unlike the good fairies, is adult-sized, and wears wasp-like yellow and black stripes. She curses Felicity to prick her finger and die one week after her sixteenth birthday. But the youngest, most comical fairy, the feisty and clumsy Primrose, changes the curse to a hundred-year sleep. She also adds that when the spell ends, Odelia will die.

Of course, the King, Queen, and fairies still want to prevent the curse from coming true at all. To that end, Primrose comes to live at the castle to watch over Felicity, never letting her out of her sight. But one day, a week after her sixteenth birthday, a restless Felicity lulls Primrose to sleep, then sets out to explore the castle. Of course she finds a tower where a disguised Odelia waits with a spinning wheel. Primrose and the King and Queen reach her too late, and Odelia taunts them, sarcastically praising Primrose for improving her curse, because now Felicity is doomed to wake in a world where all her loved ones are dead. To prevent this, Primrose casts a powerful spell to put the entire castle to sleep; in doing so, she fatally depletes herself of magic, and turns into a red rose on Felicity's bed.

As the hundred years pass, Odelia makes every effort to prevent a prince from finding Felicity. First she surrounds the castle with impenetrable briars, and later she surrounds the briars with a magical pit that opens to swallow up anyone who comes near... and, as it turns out later, contains a giant named Valdar at the bottom. But at long last, the brave Prince Richard arrives, having had many dreams about the sleeping beauty. Primrose's spirit speaks to him (still as feisty and no-nonsense as ever), and with her advice, he conquers all the obstacles. But just as he reaches Felicity's bedside, Odelia appears and casts a spell to slowly turn him to stone. But just before the spell can kill him, Primrose's voice urges Richard to throw the rose that was once her body at Odelia. When the thorns stick onto her chest, Odelia is frozen in place, giving Richard the chance to kiss Felicity's lips. With this, Odelia dissolves into thin air, and her spells are broken. Felicity and Richard live happily ever after, and are last shown with their own two children in the castle garden, where the narrator says that their favorite flower was the primrose.

This is an interesting Sleeping Beauty. While the animation is cheap, and while some of the plot twists feel a bit unnecessary and melodramatic, it's still a lively and creative version, with more emotional heart than the frothier Golden Films adaptation. The waspish Odelia is definitely a better version of the evil fairy than Golden Films' screeching Ursula (though neither equals Disney's Maleficent, of course). And while Primrose's brash personality is sometimes more annoying than funny, her ultimate self-sacrifice adds an interesting bittersweet note to the story.

Like most Jetlag films, this isn't a musical, but it does feature two songs sung in voiceover: "Let Your Heart Make Up Your Mind," sung over the opening and closing credits, and "Princess, Did You Know," sung during a time-passage montage.

I also enjoy the fact that the voice cast includes several performers from very popular Canadian-made cartoons. These include Stephanie Louise Vallence (the longtime voice of Miss Clavel in the Madeline series) as Princess Felicity, 11-year-old Andrea Libman (the voice of Madeline herself at the time, and later of Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic) as Primrose, and Kathleen Barr (My Little Pony's Trixie and Queen Chrysalis) as Odelia.

Other Sleeping Beauties are higher art, but this inventive version is still worth seeing at least one time.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @thealmightyemprex, @reds-revenge, @fairytaleslive, @the-blue-fairie, @comma-after-dearest, @faintingheroine, @paexgo-rosa, @thatscarletflycatcher, @themousefromfantasyland

#sleeping beauty spring #sleeping beauty #jetlag productions #goodtimes entertainment #1995 #direct to video #animation #animated film

[rj-winter]

Disney's 'Wish' is Disappointing.

RJ Winter

[This review contains spoilers for Wish (2023)]

Before I watched Wish, I did something I don't normally do: I let myself read one of the (non-spoiler) reviews that was published before the movie released. I don't usually like to do that, because I feel it gives away too much of the story if I want to be surprised, but I was intrigued after talking with a friend about how the critic consensus was that it was mediocre and didn't push the boundaries of Disney.

All in all, those complaints didn't turn me off the movie. If anything, it made me look forward to it; those same reviews praised the soundtrack and the homages to Disney's history, and that's arguably the most important thing for a musical intended to celebrate the studio's centennial anniversary.

As a rule, Disney holds itself to a certain standard of quality. I thought that it would be fine, maybe a little bit boring.

Let me say this: Wish is not boring.

To follow up on that, though, it also isn't good. It's not even really mediocre. I hesitate to call it bad outright, if only because there's quite a bit of potential underneath, but I certainly can't give it the same praise I've seen others offer.

Let's start off with the things that this movie does well: the visuals are beautiful, calling back to the 2D animation that Disney was built on without directly returning to that style. Most of the character designs feel the same way. The standout song, This Wish, was the only thing from the soundtrack I let myself listen to before watching the movie (as it was the first song they released), and I'll probably continue listening to it on my own time because I do really like it. Perhaps most importantly, considering this movie's entire reason for existence, the subtle homages to Disney's history were a welcome addition and a nice touch. Also, the little star critter is adorable; as is its way of communicating, given that it can't talk.

And now that I've sufficiently praised the things I thought were good, let's address the parts where the movie falls flat: first, and most damningly, Wish is a musical comedy with jokes and songs that both tend to miss the mark. A number of the homages to Disney's history aren't the subtle ones I praised before, but instead a lot more overt in a way that's often distracting.

Its comedy is often in the same vein as something like Frozen, and while I'm in the camp that does still like that movie I have to admit that ten years on I'd like to see them try a different approach. I had hope that they would lean more into the old styles of storytelling, of something timeless, but Wish is unfortunately filled with jokes that rarely land and already feel somewhat dated. The best example of that is the goat, Valentino, whose design feels as out of place as his comedic timing.

Earlier I praised This Wish, the standout song, because it made it feel like a true return to form for Disney--feeling somewhat fresh but also calling back to the classics. However, it exemplifies some other problems with the movie: first, that the pacing in this film is outright bad. It feels like they had to squish a much longer story into their 95-minute runtime, or maybe like a handful of scripts got squished together and the final product either wasn't edited at all or went through one too many revisions.

And, similarly, the entire thing feels disjointed; none of these songs feel like they belong in the same story. A musical is only as good as its soundtrack, so let's go over each song and my personal gripes with it:

Welcome to Rosas, the opening number, is a passable opener for this movie. I actually like the first minute or so of it, before it devolves into heavy foreshadowing and jokes that don't seem to land, at least for me. It does feel the most tonally consistent overall with the rest of the movie, so there's that.

At All Costs, the duet between Asha and King Magnifico, is clearly a remnant from an older draft. The demo makes it an outright love song duet, and I've heard that an earlier version had the star be a boy and potentially had a romance between him and Asha in the script, so that's quite possibly where this came from. It feels strange and out of place, especially in the scene it's in, and the alterations to make it less overtly romantic do it a disservice. I do like the demo version, though.

This Wish is, as mentioned, the standout song; my issues with it are unrelated to the music. It's a song that belongs in a movie with more heart behind it than this one, and feels like another remnant from a different take on the storyline; the movie itself feels like it was rushing to get to this point and so the moment doesn't feel earned. Several things, such as Asha recalling her late father's lessons, would have more impact if we'd seen them more clearly beforehand. Most importantly, though, Asha hasn't gone through any real development or change at this point in the story--despite the song itself claiming that it should be a turning point for her.

I'm A Star has a lot of little bits that I like, but the focus on comedy that slowly slips in brings it down; the ending having the 'homage' to Disney's history that I found the most painful to watch. I think that with less comedic asides, I would like the overall song more. It's another one that feels like it was at least meant for this version of the movie, but I don't think that's necessarily a good thing.

This Is The Thanks I Get is just not a good villain song, which pains me to say as someone who absolutely adores the old ones. It lacks style and substance, and overall it feels like a first draft song that would benefit from some heavy rewrites; as is, it's not funny or menacing. Magnifico in general suffers from them seeming to take him from being an outright villain from the start to trying to give him a sympathetic origin but only ever committing to it halfway. A villain song about someone being corrupted by the darkness in their panic can work; but he snaps too quickly.

Knowing What I Know Now is another song that feels like a very disjointed first draft. There's potential underneath it, but it's buried in how everything is so rushed and seemingly haphazardly slapped together.

The reprise of This Wish feels even more unearned than the original song does; existing solely to serve this scene in the plot rather than for the sake of the story and the characters. I like the idea behind it, it has some of the same heart, but it feels strange and out of place in this version of the movie. It definitely doesn't hit the way it was intended to.

In the end, Wish feels like several movies, all of which have the potential to be good, but none of which were successfully realized; and that genuinely pains me to say, as someone who grew up loving Disney and its history.

#disney #wish #wish 2023 #wish disney #disney wish #wish spoilers #disney spoilers #spoilers #review #movie review #rj.txt

[aleniksimmer]

Miraculous the movie

Final thoughts:

-if you watch it alone without any prior knowledge of Miraculous it feels extremely random, the characters are flat, the powers blurry, their objectives kinda lost in the songs, which are there but don't really clear the situation or move the plot forward

-if you watch it knowing the show it does make even less sense, the powers are completely fucked up, sometimes the suits protect them, sometimes not, the characters feel a very faded copy of what they're supposed to be and most of the times the plot doesn't plot, things just happen cause it's fanservice and "a laugh for the kids", it really feels like a fanfiction in which the author was focused in a couple of scenes and then tried to connect them together even if they don't work. Conflicts starts and are closed at random, there's zero build up, as I said before it all feels like it happens because the "author" wanted it to happen but not because the story makes sense developing in that way through the characters (as it should be with a well written story)

In the end, I enjoyed some visuals, I enjoyed some 3d models, but in general it's not something I would want to watch again, it feels uneventful and it does feel like you just have to be a casual/passive spectator. There's no foreshadowing, no messages between the lines. They tried to make the line "save a life, save the world" meaningful but it really gave nothing.

Last very personal opinion, as a hardcore fan of Frozen movies and shorts, it feels like the animations/camera angles/songs were heavily inspired by that and classic Disney in general instead of focusing on the canon material. I get they wanted to retell the story in a shorter format but it didn't quite deliver the intended result for the mentioned reasons.

Spoilers

So I finally decided to watch the movie cause I need something lighthearted rn, and a few seconds in I'm hating how they are presenting the miraculouses "they were only given to heroes but the butterfly is the most evil one cause evil butterfly ohhhhh" like the fuck did you just smoke Fu? Seems like Zag didn't really watched the show and had this vague idea that the butterfly miraculous is EvIL. It would be a long watch. I will edit this post each time I have to say something.

-

I'm a DIE HARD fan of musicals, like half of my songs on Spotify are from musicals, I have playlists of Disney songs. But this?? Seems Zag watched more Anna from Frozen than the actual show. I know Mari was very insecure in the beginning, but this is all over the place, and the dialogues, they are so detached (and I don't want to shit on the animation, but for fuck sake she wants to be a fashion designer, her whole room is pink, her sketches are colorful but the best she can imagine is a gray smoking and a white dress?? Not even a hint of color?? And she stops in front of a white dress?? For frick sake she's Marinette not "I love a sterile environment with bland people" Gabriel Agreste). And I'm 5 minute in. God save me

-

At least I can relate to the flute scene. What a vile instrument c_c

-

Ahh I don't know how to feel about them using that tune and those scenes that resemble so much the parts of the show that make you heart skip a bit in a context that feels so less deep. I think I'm missing the build up to the crucial point.

-

The long hair?? Gabe with the long hair?? I'm crying 😂😂

-

Oh come ooooonnnn. They give Nooroo a fuking bad reputation like this. And it doesn't make any sense design wise. If the butterfly is the worst of the worst why does it have a random place in the circle of secondary miraculouses. I hate it.

-

And now the jewels fly. Okay. OK. I need to forget about the show.

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Ok. Now I'm 100% certain that Fu is high on something.

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No Tikki, the butterfly is lost due to Fu and you perfectly know what it is capable of? Otherwise you wouldn't call it the eViLlllll.

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So, what did we learn today. The gargoyle is there to do nothing, no objective, no plan, no correlation between the emotion and the akumatized result. Gabe should want their miraculouses but apparently the akuma is just trying to play with them through the city? Why sneaking behind? Why attacking CN at random and then going around? Why staying in Notre Dame and just make noise in the beginning? Second, the yoyo is doing all the work, God forbid Mari learns how to use it. Just make the yoyo do the job and LB is just there like a sack of potatoes. Everything is so random.

-

Who needs heroes when you can crush the akumatized person with a train, right?? Also that poor akuma got fried to death just to make the batman symbol.

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He keeps making fun of her, treat her like an inferior but he's in love?? I'm face palming hard right now. Also, a fucking God of destruction apparently has a digestive system he can't control. Nice. Really really nice. So funny. Ha ha. 😑

-

He really went for that disney villain vibe..

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I NEED a figurine of them on the moon.

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I am weak for Ladynoir, ok? Ok. Don't care much about the song but how they interact now it's adorable. They're dancing. My poor heart. 😭

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Really, hawkmoth decided to become batman.

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And now he's a Jedi, ladies and gentlemen!

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Oh, the flying superman shot was really missing now.

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Physically and canonically everything doesn't make any sense but okay. God feels like a fanfiction.

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Show Gabe would have laughed maniacally and grabbed that ring without any second thought. Oh well.. This is anticlimactic.

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So.. Are we finally going to see a lucky charm at the end of the movie ooooor... Nope, just some dust and Elsa building skills.

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NOT EVEN THE KISS??? YOU DIDN'T EVEN GIVE US THE KISS??? YOU REALLY WANT TO MAKE A SEQUEL OF THIS?? Like what, Mayura and the other 3 heroes? Oh for God sake. I would prefer this investment in the quality of the show animation than in this.

#miraculous awakening #miraculous the movie #Is it spoiler?

[tizniz]

Favorite Disney character ? Also old Disney or new Disney?

*cracks knuckles* alright, we're doing Disney talk? Strap yourselves in, kiddos. Because Disney is my THING.

Favourite Disney character Well okay, we need to break it down into Disney or Pixar because they are different but the same and also impact my favourite character.

For Disney it's probably Ariel or Stitch. Ariel because well, to be quite honest her being a mermaid plays a part but also I just remember falling in love with her as a little girl. Platonic love, I should add. Part of Your World is such a relatable song. And also I grew up beside the ocean and felt that connection. We were going to or from Vancouver one day, and because I grew up on the island, this meant riding BC Ferries (if you know, you know) and I remember singing Part of Your World loudly as me and this other little girl ran back and forth in the play area (back when they had those ugly red and yellow 'cars' bolted to the floor...again, if you know you know) Ariel just holds such a special place in my heart and I love her so much and also her prince is the hottest (love you Eric) and you can fight me on that.

But there's also Stitch, my little experiement 626. I LOVE Stitch. I also relate to him because he and Lilo are lost souls and are wanting to find a home and a family and they find it with each other. Stitch is so precious and misunderstood and he's also FLUFFY (watch the movie to understand that). He's also sassy (Not touching you! Not touching you!) but loyal. And he's just...Stitch. I can't explain it but I connect with him so much. He also makes a fabulous Elvis.

Then we go into Disney Pixar which is when WALL-E comes into play. Both the movie and the character.

WALL-E is my favourite little robot and I absolutely adore him. He's so curious and fascinated by the world around him and he just wants to love and be loved. He's shy and awkward and my precious little bean. Plus he becomes BFF with Mo who is my favourite secondary character. WALL-E holds a special place in my heart too because I went and saw the movie with my oldest brother. We have a 5 year age difference between us and were never the closest when we were younger. But one day we drove our mom to work before heading to a bigger city where there's a mall and stuff (I grew up in the SMALLEST town y'all) and we had lots of time to kill. But this is when WALL-E came out and I was SO excited to see it but us going to see movies wasn't the most doable (small town and low income family) but my brother took me to see this movie. He does not care for Disney or Pixar. But he sat through that movie with his little sister (I was 14/15, he was 19/20) because she wanted to see it. I don't remember much of my childhood but I do remember him doing this for me and it's a special moment.

Old Disney or New Disney... While I am partial to 'old Disney' because of the animation style and the stories, I also really enjoy 'new Disney' too.

Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, 101 Dalmations, etc...those are classics and lovely and so enjoyable to watch. The animation is so fun and the way they created these stories and told them is everything to me.

But then you get movies like Encanto, The Good Dinosaur, or even Frozen 2 (superior to Frozen, fight me) that are also good and interesting and fun. The Good Dinosaur has some of the most beautiful animation I've seen in years.

And that's not even touching on the live action movies that have been produced by Disney. Are there flaws and issues? Absolutely. I'm not going to disagree with that.

But to me, Disney is magic. It holds such a special place in my heart and life. Disney had quite literally saved my life. And so I love and appreciate all of it and don't think I'd ever pick old vs new. I want it all.

This got long, but that's what happens when I talk Disney :)

come distract me and ask me stuff

#tanis answers #rae 🩷

[twistedtummies2]

Fifteen Days of Disney Magic - Number 11

Welcome to Fifteen Days of Disney Magic! In honor of the company’s 100th Anniversary, I am counting down my Top 15 Favorite Movies from Walt Disney Animation Studios! Today’s entry is truly a Tale as Old as Time. Number 11 is…Beauty and the Beast.

Of all fifteen films on this list, the four-part stretch between 11th and 8th place was the hardest bunch of movies to sort out. I knew what films made up this particular section of the countdown, but ranking them was a lot tougher. To try and work things out, I first took time to revisit all the films basically back-to-back. Then I asked myself a few questions: how much would I like to play a part in the film (such as in a stage production)? Similarly, how often have I written about or would like to write about each movie’s world? How often do I reference this movie or talk about it in general? Which world and story would I like to write most for? And finally, which picture do I have the most general nostalgia for? Unfortunately, after asking myself these questions, and revisiting the films, “Beauty and the Beast” – perhaps shockingly, to many – lost out the contest. Do not misconstrue this, however, to mean that I dislike the movie, or think it has less merits than the other three to come above it. In some ways, I think it’s the technical best of the movies in question…but again, there’s a difference between “best” and “favorite,” and if certain earlier entries have not made it clear, the latter is really what I’m talking about with this countdown, not the former. But now, let’s focus on the positives, because – needless to say – there are MANY positives. The original fairy-tale of “Beauty and the Beast” has become just as much a trope, in and of itself, as it is a classic story. Disney’s version changed several elements of the original tale, and virtually all of them were for the better. Long before “Frozen,” this film essentially acted as a subversion and deconstruction of a lot of Disney staples from years before, while still being its own great story with incredible artistry and wonderful characters and music. In a way, you can see this as the direct precursor to a lot of modern Disney movies, with a heroine and a hero who learn from each other and have complex personalities, writing that has an ironic sense of humor, and a villain who does not at first SEEM to be the villain…although Gaston, admittedly, works very differently from characters like Hans or Bellwether, but that’s another story. The film is largely regarded as one of the single best Disney movies ever made, and it’s not hard to see why. Indeed, it’s fitting I bring up “Frozen” so much, because when that film came out, the common phrase I heard everyone use to describe it was, “It’s the next Beauty and the Beast!” While I do like “Frozen,” I think I’ll always prefer this film. I love it’s sense of artistry; its visual style and the feeling of size and splendor that comes with it. I love how it’s subtle and simple with its messages and themes, being both layered and yet totally easy to get a grasp of. I love how it takes so many fantastical concepts and characters, yet makes them feel so real and so easy to empathize with. SO…why isn’t it in my Top 10? Simply put, if you look back on the criteria I named, it actually ranks the lowest on all counts. I don’t watch Beauty and the Beast that often, compared to the other three movies, and I don’t quote Beauty and the Beast that often (except for the songs). I’ve never really written for it and do not currently plan to (nor expect to), and of the four films in question, it’s the one I’d least like to play a part in…although, to clarify, I’d still love to be in it. Cogsworth and LeFou both sound like tons of fun to play…just saying. 0:) The countdown moves into my Top 10 tomorrow, with my 10th Favorite Disney Movie! HINT: It Never Gets Old.

#disney #disney 100 #disney 100 special #list #countdown #top 15 disney animated movies #fifteen days of disney magic #number 11 #beauty and the beast

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

2D Purists, Cut It Out

Once again, I'm seeing people get all ornery over the latest look at WISH, the new feature from Walt Disney Animation Studios that marries their post-TANGLED house style and aesthetic to a more watercolor-based look. Once again, people are grousing that it doesn't look as good as the 2012 short PAPERMAN, and others are grousing that it just isn't 2D, period. I feel like the artists and film crew behind WISH are getting a lot of flack, especially on the heels of the recent Writer's Strike coming to an end. Not a good look, if you ask me.

I've gone over it many times before, I'm farggin' exhausted. Walt Disney Animation Studios, as they stand, are likely lucky to even be making films, let alone make it to 100 years of existence. It's the bedrock of the entire company: No Disney Brothers Cartoon Studio, no Walt Disney Company. It seems as if it's alive by virtue of that alone... They were on the chopping block multiple times in the post-Walt span of 67 years, as recent as 2006, believe it or not! Each movie has to do well in some way in order to justify to the heads that they're a building worth investing hundreds of millions of $$$ into. When reliable hitmaker Pixar is right next door, too. Remember, Disney purged a long list of animation studios/partners: Blue Sky Studios, Disneytoon Studios, several arms of the animation studio, Skellington Productions, etc. etc. So, I'm just going to take what I can get. I'm sure I'll find something of merit, both visually and storytelling-wise, in WISH. The recent trailer, I thought, was a bit of alright. Nothing too fancy to me, but it looks like it'll be a fun time nonetheless. I haven't been wowed upside-and-down by a WDAS feature in ages, but that's a me thing. WDAS is doing THEIR thing, and I guess it's not entirely for me. That's OK! Clearly it's working on someone else... Note ENCANTO, RAYA, and even STRANGE WORLD's sheer success as streaming titles, ditto slightly older movies like the FROZENs and MOANA.

But I think some people should understand that in animation, on one half of the playing field, it's not about the art unfortunately. It's called the animation INDUSTRY for a reason.

I get it. We miss the halcyon days of Disney making a new, gorgeous, splendorifously animated feature using pencil and paper, and post-1989, a lot of digital aid. I get that. I'm a 1992 baby, that era was my era, my jam. THE LION KING alone is one of my **formative** films. It's why I write stories and make comics and would LOOOOVE to turn them into animated movies. I was a preteen during the BROTHER BEAR/HOME ON THE RANGE days when it was all fading away, and I watched - as a late teen/young adult - the studio try to make it a thing again, only to blow it.

It's because it was never about the method, the technique, or anything.

To the artists and filmmakers, it absolutely was! No denying that.

To the bean counters? NO. It's product to them, builds the bottom line, fills the pockets, etc.

That's how it's been in the post-Walt age, post-Golden Age, whatever. Steve Hulett, who worked at Disney Animation circa 1976-86, summed it up once: "These are studios. Not Renaissance art factories."

It makes me think of how a lot of classical art was commissioned by merchants, it was largely glorified fanart of Biblical scenes, but the artists who made those works put their ALL into them. Much in the same way the filmmakers put their all into [name any Disney/big studio 2D animated movie made from 1990 to 2004].

In order words, they more than understood the assignment, no matter how flawed the picture might've been on a writing level. (Like say, POCAHONTAS, an utterly gorgeous movie that the filmmakers clearly went HARD during its production.)

There are so many 2D movies made around the world or independently. I recently saw Disney and Pixar veteran Jim Capobianco's THE INVENTOR, a half Rankin/Bass-style stop-motion half European-like 2D film, in a theater! All by myself, may I add. 10 years in the making, a personal labor of love of his own.

Are these complainers *ever* there for those types of films? I thought so.

Where am I going with this? Ah yeah, that's a big reason why 2D was shuffled out of the question by executives. CGI was huge in the early 2000s, and it seemed that even the least-liked features (note SHARK TALE and CHICKEN LITTLE's critical reception) could outgross or out-success the most beloved 2D features of that period. Both of those movies outgrossed LILO & STITCH, for context...

Now, couple that with CGI being less of a hassle in certain ways. Suppose a big change is made to a movie well into production, and scenes have already been animated. Shaded and lit, even. Well, the sets and character models are still there, so the worst they have to do is shoot a scene from a different angle and reanimate their digital puppets. In 2D? New background to draw and paint, gotta redraw and reanimate the characters AGAIN and keep them ON MODEL- ahhhhh! You can see why CG is preferred in this instance. Perfect for a pipeline of movies that can't be disrupted.

So to bean counters and execs, it was only about getting movies made and them making money. In the early 1990s, CG wasn't at a place where it could sustain a feature-length film, so big-time animated movies were done in 2D almost exclusively. And it just so happens... The animators at studios like Disney, like DreamWorks, like Fox Animation, like Kroyer Films, like Warner Animation, etc... The makers of all your faves from HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME to THE IRON GIANT to THE ROAD TO EL DORADO to ATLANTIS, etc. The filmmakers got the assignment. That assignment being "Make big family film that's sure to be big franchise and McDonald's Happy Meal hit". They took that assignment, and WENT HARD. They didn't have to, but they did anyways. They gave us the coolest damn 2D animation we could've asked for, no matter the writing or the finished movie and how it would fare with critics/audiences. And even the writing, it's like, they did what they felt was right - even if it didn't register for critics nor get audiences interested.

So, again, it was all assignments, and 2D was pretty much the only method they could use. Stop-motion was reserved for the likes of NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS and CHICKEN RUN, more off-beat projects. There was never a stop-mo wave. LAIKA literally runs off of commercials and shoe money, the exploits of a nepo baby. So, it was mainly 2D til TOY STORY came along. TOY STORY came out in fall 1995, and once you started seeing films like ANTZ, A BUG'S LIFE, TOY STORY 2, SHREK, etc. That was it. And these developments coincided with audiences choosing the 2D animated movies they wanted to see, and avoiding the rest... And also them getting so wowed by CGI, while seeing 2D as same-old same-old. Capitalism then cemented 2D features' fate, unless it's based on a TV show, like SPONGEBOB or MY LITTLE PONY. It didn't matter that the CGI wow factor was a fad, and that by the end of the 2000s, audiences didn't flock to see *every* CG movie on the block. CGI was the way, and that was that about that. Because it's about getting the thing made and released without the special challenges a 2D movie presents.

Only FIXED is the anomaly right now, which Sony Animation was willing to take a chance on. It is still unknown if it hits theaters or streaming. If it's the former, this is... I think the first 2D animated **theatrical** movie from a mainstream animation studio that's *not* based on a TV show in ages. Like, since... What? WINNIE THE POOH? (Which is based more on the classic Disney shorts/feature than any of the TV show iterations of the character.) THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG?

You can never guess what audiences will flock to see. If you randomly threw a solid 2D feature out in, say, 2027... It could be big, it could flop hard. But the studios, the industry, they're unwilling to chance that. Thus they aren't, and will not. Quality doesn't matter, because you could throw a **great** 2D movie out, and it could still flop just because... If FIXED does well, I don't know what it means. Could move a needle, maybe not. I kinda don't care, because capitalism is an unmovable object. I don't have a crystal ball, and I can't say for sure what could happen. I guess you could say I'm "Will 2D Come Back" Agnostic. I don't deny it, but I don't think it'll for sure happen. I DO NOT KNOW, haha.

The mass refusal to make 2D animated features in mainstream theatrical feature animation (not streaming, mind you, as we did get KLAUS, WOLFWALKERS, and MY FATHER'S DRAGON from some of the high-end services) was so firm, so absolute, that the idea of traditional animation might as well been tax write-off'ed and Men In Black-erased from our minds. That's how FIRM these companies were in getting rid of it, that's how FIRM they are in NOT wanting to utilize it for a feature film.

So instead, we get stylized CG films like the SPIDER-VERSEs and PUSS IN BOOTS 2 and MITCHELLS VS. THE MACHINES and NIMONA and such. We get maybe a brief 2D scene in a larger CG movie, or some small 2D elements. That mix has got the advantages and the 3D immersiveness of CGI, mixed with that special sauce people love about 2D... And even then, for some people, it just isn't enough. Some will insult the artists and their work, which is not cool. But I'm sorry, either take what you can get or continue to be unsatisfied... Or, seek out 2D stuff that's regularly being made. That's just not by studios as big as Disney and DreamWorks, and not being made in America at that. Broaden your horizons, they're EVERYWHERE.

Anyways, had to vent. Sorry. WISH looks cool, will be seeing.

[welcometololaland]

Because I suck at originality, I’m going to ask you your top 5 Disney movies in exchange for you making me suffer and pick books! You’re lucky ily 💜💜

oh no i'm sorry for causing you pain lmao! love you!! thanks for the ask!

so i don't watch disney that often, and i need to caveat this by saying i have not yet seen the new little mermaid and i desperately want to! so i'm going to answer this ask with my favourite 5 disney movies from childhood (because it's more unhinged). also, i haven't seen so many of the new disney movies incl. moana, frozen, encanto etc. i know i'm behind! i hope you don't mind!

1. the lion king 2: simba's pride (1998) - it's no coincidence that my favourite animal is a lion, and it wasn't until the lion king sequel that my obsession with big cats became fully realised. now, i hear you ask: 'lola? why would your favourite movie be a direct to video sequel?' WELL. my parents didn't watch a lot of tv when i was young, and we didn't get a vcr player until dvd's were just about to make them obsolete. but the one vcr i had was lion king 2 and i used to take it to my grandparents house like once a week and watch it. i watched it so many times the tape went funny. i could literally recite this movie, and i haven't watched it in YEARS. ALSO it doesn't have an elton john slapper but it does have: he lives in you, not one of us and that zira's lullaby which i can't get out of my head now. certified bangers. don't knock it 'til you try it.

2. the lion king (1994) - i don't know if i even have to explain this. the first seventeen times (approx.) i watched this movie i had to hide in the scary parts because it's so good but also i was probably like 4 and didn't understand that movies are the same every time you watch them. kickstarted the obsession with lions. scar's be prepared song is liked on my spotify.

[interlude for a controversial opinion: i don't like toy story. don't come for me.]

3. lady and the tramp (1955) - a classic movie for a dog lover (not JUST a cat lover, turns out i just love animals). i used to be completely obsessed with how cute lady was and i wanted a dog called lady SO BAD. the spaghetti scene is so iconic. lady's sidekicks are so funny. the pound puppies make me cry SOMEONE ADOPT THEM!!! this movie made my parents regret ever letting me borrow something from the video store because i wouldn't stop harassing them for a dog.

4. the incredibles (2004) - still fucking pissing myself at this movie like why did they make the mom have such a dump truck booty??? the dad is hilarious. the kids are lowkey annoying but i do like them. frozone is my favourite character: 'HONEY, WHERE IS MY SUPERSUIT??!'

5. the parent trap (1998) - lindsay fucking lohan made me want to get my ears pierced so bad and i only chickened out like five times before i finally got them done. this movie made me wanna be a twin. i kept giving my sister sideways looks and questioning whether we could pull it off (spoiler: we couldn't).

thanks for the ask, this was fun!!!

#nice ask day #lola answers #disney movies