#i don’t think the pictures do it justice but overall i’m pleased with how it came out!

[robosexualunderground]

discovery of the insulindian phasmid

[missmaywemeetagain]

Sister, my darlin’ Madi! 💗

So, I already told you that I will be in your inbox, right? I’m requesting a fic for Post Army!E. Uh oh…

What do you think you could do with this picture?

I was thinking maybe a little romance, a little smut action, a little exhibitionism kink (cause come on, we all know Elvis likes to watch his conquests), maybe a little bit of spanking. I don’t know, but it sounds a bit better in my head when I thought about it 😂 Feel free to do whatever you please with it. If you can’t stray away from angst, I welcome it.

-Daisy (@powerofelvis)

Ah, my darlin' darlin' baby! My first ever request and it seems entirely fitting that it's for you, my biggest cheerleader!! 💗 @powerofelvis

I hope I did your request justice--I maybe went in a little different direction (I couldn't manage the spanking for this one, sorry!) and I'm also apparently incapable of writing anything less than 4k, so here's your 5.7k monstrosity of smuttasticness! Love you, baby, and I hope you enjoy! 🥰

This is filthy, so Minors, DNI!! 18+

This is part of Madi's Get to Know Me Gala 💗. Requests/asks are still open for the time being!

So, here it is, my first Request: Snap

You pride yourself on being one of the top photographers in the field, especially when, just like so many other careers, it is dominated by men who think they know better and do better solely because of the dangling appendage between their legs. Luckily, your boss has a progressive outlook and sees your talent for what it is.

The thing is, you are able to get something different from your celebrity subjects and he knows it. The women feel more comfortable with you because they know you aren’t trying to get in their pants, and the men either soften or want to impress you to do just that. And you seem to have a naturally honed ability to figure out quickly what they want and need and are able to play to that to get the best shots.

It’s a win-win most of the time.

Luckily, you don’t tend to get starstruck easily, perhaps because you see behind the curtain of the business. Not to say you didn’t get some butterflies around Paul Newman or feel a sense of awe around Grace Kelly. But overall, the glitz and glamor doesn’t affect you much.

You are a little surprised, however, that your next assignment is the one and only Elvis Presley, fresh from his image-changing stint in the Army. And you sense that the change of image is going to be the challenge on this shoot because remaking a man who the public already has a solid image of through a measly photograph is easier said than done. You have little doubt, based on your research and what you’ve seen so far from his pretty army discharge pictures, that his rebellious streak is now over. But who he is now and who he wants to be going forward likely looks very different from the hip greaser image burned in your head from the 50s.

That and the fact that you’re traveling on a train with him as he heads off to his next big film in LA is throwing you a little for a loop. But you are nothing if not adaptable.

There are more than abundant rumors of Presley’s love for the ladies, which is how you think you find yourself the only photographer who is asked to join him on the train on his journey. The other male photographers had clamored their way past you, fighting for shots at the train station, both outside the train and in it, before it was set to leave. You hung back, taking a few pictures here and there, but mostly smirking to yourself at the desperation to get the man’s attention.

It surprises you a little how pleasant Presley is, how accommodating. He’s nothing but a polite Southern gentleman, giving everyone their piece of him graciously. And the interactions with the fans are nothing less than remarkable based on your experience with other celebrities, and you chronicle that with your camera. There is a presence about him, an essence, that you’ve never quite encountered before with the way he commands the space he is in, demanding attention without ever actually saying a word, without requiring it. But you are finding it a little difficult to get a true read on him with so many people around.

You sense there are many other sides to him, but it’s not until you are almost alone with him and the train starts moving that you are able to discern what they might be. When you are finally introduced properly and are up close to the man, you cannot deny that your heart flutters and you shiver a little at the open way his brilliant sapphire eyes take you in from head to toe.

“Well, hello there, honey,” he drawls, the words warm and dripping into your stomach as his hand clasps yours. “You must be our resident photographer.”

You hate the way his gaze and his touch disorient you. You’ve been around dozens of charming, handsome men, but this man is on another level altogether. He’s more than just a chiseled jaw and high cheekbones and stunning blue eyes. No, there is a magic about him that draws you in, throwing you off your game and threatening to melt you into an embarrassing puddle.

It’s more than a little infuriating.

You manage to snap out of it, clearing your throat and introducing yourself firmly, professionally, putting on your best celebrities-don’t-rattle-me affect. But the damage is done because you can see the glint of amusement in his eyes and the tiniest smirk play at those famous full lips.

You watch him relax with his friends, joking and messing about. Keeping a healthy distance, you get some shots that will likely never see the light of day but help you gauge the lighting and get a feel for him. When not around the onslaught of reporters, he seems filled with an almost adolescent penchant for horsing around, which seems interesting for a man of 25 fresh out of the Army who presents now as keen and intelligent enough despite the Southern accent that the snobs in LA and New York want to look down their noses at him for.

Suddenly, as if commanded silently, the others disperse into the different private cars reserved for him and his people, leaving the two of you alone. After a moment, those deep eyes of his find you, and he beckons you down the train car towards him in a come hither motion and the raise of an eyebrow.

That is when you realize what Elvis needs for you to get your shots. The man wants to play. A little tete è tete is in order, perhaps.

Easy enough, you think as you sit diagonally to him in the bank of seats across from him. You’ve played similar games before with other handsome men. Nothing tawdry, but a little flirtation never hurt anyone. Though with the way his eyes darken and his posture changes ever so slightly, for the first time ever, you think you might be a little out of your depth.

Regardless, you force yourself to maintain an air nonchalance. You hold up your camera. “May I?”

He nods, a smile playing at his lips. You’ve known some of the biggest stars to be uncomfortable under the gaze of a lens in their more private moments, but Presley seems to have no qualms whatsoever. And as you snap a few casual shots up close, it becomes crystal clear that the camera loves him. Every angle just works. He has no “bad side.” It’s almost exhilarating for someone like you who seeks to capture the truth in these moments to have the challenge of a man who was born to be in front of a camera as your subject.

Somehow, he’s both childlike and suave all at once. Innocent and sultry. Feminine and masculine. And he’s got the longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen on a man.

Elvis lets out a long whistle. “You sure are the prettiest photographer I’ve ever seen.”

Your eyebrow raises and you are thankful that your camera conceals the slight blush on your cheeks, despite knowing this is likely just a line to placate you.

“Is that so?” you respond evenly.

“Mhm. Sure is a nice change from the usual group of stuffy men up in my business, I’ll tell you for sure. Much rather have you up in my…” he trails off, then winks.

“I’m not sure you could handle a woman like me, Mr. Presley.” It’s a challenge and a risk, to be sure, taking this way to a man of such stature, but you put just a bit of playfulness in your voice to temper the slice.

He pauses, considering you in a different way, then mimics your own words back to you: “Is that so?”

Snap.

The photo you capture then is one you know has that edginess, that something else you are looking for.

There’s a sense of tension in his posture now, only recognizable to you because not a second so he was the picture of confident relaxation. But you’ve caught him out—that famous lip of his curling as he throws your words back at you, his almond eyes narrowing suspiciously but full of a feline sexual energy. While his right arm appears casual on the armrest, his long and slender pointer finger goes rigid, a suggestive gesture to be sure.

He’s playful about it but in such a way as a jungle cat seeks to play with its food before devouring it.

Heat courses through your limbs and pools low in your belly, a purely biological response to this amazing specimen of a man and the way he’s looking at you.

You manage to find your voice. “Quite so, I’m afraid,” you say with a flirty, faux sorrow.

“We’ll see,” he hums, then slides over the seat until right across from you. In a bold move you don’t see coming, Elvis nudges his toe under your skirt and in between your properly clasped knees, spreading your legs apart until his foot rests possessively through your thighs on the seat underneath you.

“You’re one cocky sonnuvabitch, aren’t ya?” you muse, finally bringing your camera down to look him in the eyes. You are hyper aware of the way his toe inches up, closer to the heat that now begins to pulse between your legs.

”Gonna have to wash your mouth out if ya keep talkin’ like that,” he purrs.

Snap.

“Oh, really?” You are loathe to admit just how badly you want to see him try.

“Yes, really.”

“Hmm, suppose you’d have to catch me first.” You are fully taunting him now, quickly hurtling into the realm of unprofessional but unable to stop yourself.

Snap.

But based off the smile on his face and the heat in his eyes, he is enjoying himself.

“Oh, that ain’t hard.”

“No?”

He chuckles and inches his foot up far enough that your thighs now encase it, sending a rolling shiver through you at the pressured sensation.

Snap.

Obviously, you know how a good round of flirtation and suggestion can open a subject up, so to speak, but you don’t mix business with pleasure. Right now, you are running headlong down a very dangerous road. You aren’t completely naive to the ways of men and sex, but you also aren’t overly experienced when it comes to the deed itself, due to propriety and self- preservation. Your experience has been limited to heavy petting and the basic mechanics of the act, but nothing you’d call very exciting or even overly enjoyable. The whole sex thing honestly seemed overrated, made more to please men than women.

But that was before Elvis Presley sat across from you and wedged his foot between your thighs.

The more you think about it, about him, the more you think you might burn right through your clothes as though it were the dead heat of summer and you’d been running for miles. You force yourself to breathe slowly, evenly, to keep control of your faculties and the situation, but he stares at you with those intense eyes and you already know it’s a losing battle.

“Show me how to work that camera, honey,” he says, surprising you with the change of tactics.

“What for?” Your camera is your livelihood, your baby, your artistic expression so this makes you nervous. Usually, you’d never, ever let a subject touch it. But these aren’t normal circumstances (and you also know that he has more than enough money to replace it if he screws something up).

“Oh, you’ll see,” he smirks, eyes dancing. He makes no indication that he’s going to move his foot from its precarious position in order for you to shift towards him, and when you raise your brows at him questioningly, he just smiles that wide, million dollar smile.

So you slowly, carefully, scoot your butt to the edge of the seat in order to lean far enough forward with the camera in hand. In doing so, however, the sole of his shoe is now flush against your core and you can’t help the little yelp that escapes your lips when he presses against you. It stokes something inside you that you’ve never felt to this extent before.

Oh, you are in trouble. You are in way, way over your head.

You manage a gulp and then clear your throat as you lean over to show him the workings of the camera. He meets you in the middle, and your eyes nearly roll back into your skull for the way it presses his toe into your now aching cunt.

Holy hell, the man smells intoxicating, and you are aware of just how close his face is to yours. It’s as if his eyelashes flutter in slow motion, his breath hot near your cheek, and a pressure builds inside of you, one you’ve only felt when your curious hand has made its way into your panties on a sleepless night or when you’ve pushed a pillow between your thighs, rocking into the friction. Certainly no man has ever made you really feel that way.

But that feeling barely touches the fire that courses through you now. In a slow daze, you show him the basic mechanics and he gently pulls the camera from your grasp. Suddenly, you feel vulnerable and bare without it, your shield of indifference taken away.

Elvis leans back, releasing some of the pressure on your core, and you can breathe again, if only for a moment, because the look in his eyes is nothing short of obscene in its sexiness.

“You develop your own film, darlin’?”

You are confused by the question, but all you can seem to do is nod in response, wondering where in the hell this is going.

“Good. Now, relax, honey, and pull that dress up for me,” he says, as though he’s asking something completely benign of you.

Your face must register your confusion, your surprise. To his credit, he moves his foot away, and his gaze and voice both soften, “I ain’t gonna hurt you, I promise, but you gotta tell me if this isn’t somethin’ you wanna do.”

To your credit, it doesn’t take you long to find your voice, as stammering as it might be. “I-I-I want to,” you say, and it comes out so breathless you’d roll your eyes at yourself in any other circumstance. In fact, you are rather shocked at your eagerness.

Elvis smiles broadly. “Well, okay then, honey. That dress,” he commands, nudging his chin up to remind you what it is he wants from you.

Your heart flutters so fast that you’re not sure it’s even fully beating anymore. You inch the fabric up, up, up your thighs, feeling the softness as it wrinkles under your palms, exposing your stockings to the man in front of you.

Much to your chagrin, you are utterly spellbound. A reasonable voice in the back of your head tells you to stop this nonsense immediately before you make a fool of yourself before you cross lines that cannot be uncrossed. Yet your body is so wound, so tuned into him, so needy for whatever it is he has in store for you that you can barely think.

Snap.

It takes a moment to register that its him taking pictures of you, not the other way around. An embarrassed heat rushes to your cheeks when you realize he’s aimed the camera squarely between your legs and not at your red face.

You pause when reaching the white lace tops of your stockings, the garter clips that hold them up now visible.

Snap.

It’s likely the way he bites his full lower lip behind the camera that gives you the courage to keep going, that little tell that perhaps he’s just as aroused as you, that this isn’t some cruel joke.

Finally, you pull the hem up over your hips, exposing your white panties fully to his scrutiny. Perhaps it’s the damp spot in the center of them that has him shifting his hips with a quiet, low groan. The sound sends a thrill rippling through your limbs.

Snap.

His voice comes out husky and about an octave lower this time. “Now reach into those panties and touch yourself for me, baby. D’you know how to get yourself goin’?”

“I think so, yes,” you reply breathlessly, altogether unsure if anything you’ve ever done to yourself is anything what this obviously experienced man expects.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll help guide ya if you need it,” he says with a kind of deference, patience.

You nod, then, biting your lip in concentration, you slip your hand down under the waistband of your underwear. The pads of your fingers are cool against the blazing heat of your sex as they trail down to that sensitive bundle of nerves you’ve only touched the surface of exploring. You circle the bud a few times, your hips rolling involuntarily in response.

Snap.

“Lower,” Elvis commands, and you obey, sliding down to find how swollen and soaking you already are. Something about the way he is watching you has a coil in your belly tightening in a way it never has before, has your body responding in ways it never has with another person.

“Are you wet, baby?” he breathes.

You nod.

“Show me.” It comes out sultry and eager and sets you on fire that he wants to see with his own eyes what he’s doing to you.

You pull your fingers out of the damp fabric and show him the slick shining there.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, snapping another photo. “Lemme taste you.” The blush revealed on his sky-high cheekbones when he pulls the camera away is enough to send your breath heaving, but it is nothing at all compared to what happens in your body the moment his lips close around your sticky fingertips.

An obscene moan rolls out from your mouth as his soft tongue licks your digits clean. The sound seems to urge him on, resulting in him sucking one, then the other, gently. Your hair stands on end, goosebumps running down your arms, your eyes fluttering closed. That coil inside your pelvis tightens so tight you feel like you might burst, but then he removes his mouth with a resounding pop.

You whimper at the loss and your eyes flutter back open to find his deep blues staring back at you with a passion that seems to rival your own.

“Sweet as honey,” he murmurs with a dreamy smile, picking up the camera once more. Something inside you is proud that he’s enjoyed tasting you, as if you were always meant for him to enjoy. “Now I wanna see that kitty.”

You didn’t know it was possible to be more flushed that you already are, but your cheeks rage with blood. You aren’t exactly sure how he wants that to happen and your brow furrows.

“Just pull those pretty panties to the side for me, baby,” Elvis encourages.

It feels like all the blood in your body rushes into your pussy the moment you slide the ruined cotton off to the side, leaving you bare for him. The cool air makes you shiver, or maybe it is the way he groans as he takes a picture of your most private of areas.

“T-touch yourself for me,” he says, his voice needy and strained now.

You run your fingers down then up through your lower lips, feeling the throbbing pulse of blood down there as you do so, feeling that tightness in your belly squirm for more. The obvious tent in his black slacks has you breathing even harder as you wonder what he would feel like buried inside of you.

But Elvis has other ideas.

“Aw, hell,” he moans before tossing your camera aside and falling to his knees in front of you like a desperate man praying for forgiveness. You barely have time to register your shock at the superstar prostrating himself at your feet before his large hands spread your thighs further apart, and his luscious lips kiss their way up your slit, landing on your aching clit.

“What are you—Oh my god!” you cry out before you can stop yourself, your hands flying into his dark mane of soft, perfectly styled hair. Never in your life had a man put his mouth there, it wasn’t even something you knew was done, and ohmifuckinggod it feels so good that your mind goes blank.

When Elvis moans into you, lathing his tongue flat against you and dragging it up your core, you think you stop breathing completely.

So far gone are you as his wicked tongue winds through and spears and soothes you, that you don’t realize that the mewling murmurs of, “Oh, Jesus. Holy mother of—Oh, Elvis!” are actually coming from your mouth. You feel him smile against you, pausing his ministrations long enough for you to catch your breath.

Which is good, because he immediately knocks it back out of you as he slides a long finger into your tight heat and latches himself to your clit like a man possessed. The deft way his finger pumps, then curves into some unknown spongy spot you didn’t know existed until this very moment has you writhing on the seat, clinging to his beautiful head for dear life. Somehow, the combination of the suckling and licking of your little nub coupled with the rapid work of his hand has your entire body tensing before he hurtles you over an invisible cliff, that tight coil in your belly snapping. Shuddering and gasping, you free fall, and a soothing warmth washes over you from head to toe.

You’ve never felt anything like it in your life.

Your chest heaves with exertion as you come back into yourself, whining at the emptiness when he removes his finger, then shivering as he replaces it with his tongue, lapping at the excess of slick arousal that now seems to coat everything below, including his face.

The aftershocks that he causes to ripple through you stoke the fire in your belly again, and you think that maybe, just maybe you had this sex thing all wrong. That the few men you’d fooled around with had absolutely no idea what they were doing. Because this…this was…so good you can’t even think of an intelligent way to describe it.

Elvis straightens and pulls up onto his knees, looking utterly pleased with himself, his pretty mouth shiny with you.  Slotting between your open legs, his eyes shine with arousal.

“Was that good, baby? Did you come?” he asks.

“I—was that…? Did I come? What does that—?” you stammer, barely able to string together a coherent sentence, confused by his words in your haze.

He chuckles at your floundering. “Have you never come before? Never had an orgasm, honey? That’s a damn shame,” he says, wiping his mouth with his thumb, then licking it.

You blush at your inexperience and at his gesture. “That was an orgasm? I mean, of course it was…I, well, I’ve been with men, I just—that never—Um, yes, th-that was amazing,” you babble, knowing that you must be bright red with embarrassment, but your body is so loose and warm that you almost don’t care.

He only smiles at your bashfulness and leans up into you, his mouth hovering so close to yours that you feel his warm breath on your lips and can smell yourself on them. “Well, best give you another one for good measure. Whaddya say, baby?” he whispers, your entire body tingles at attention.

All you can do is nod, almost frantically, wondering how in the world he could make that happen again and absolutely desperate for it at the same time.

It’s then that he finally kisses you and you are consumed all at once with how pillowy soft his lips are, how you can taste yourself on his lips and it feels like it should be wrong, but you sort of like it. He’s surprisingly gentle, his passion evident but controlled as he explores your mouth much in the same way he explored your pussy—soft at first, but insistent. You open to him easily, his tongue quickly finding yours and in one fell swoop, he maneuvers you onto your back on the seat, slotting his long legs between your thighs.

The gentle way his hands and lips caress your face, your neck, down to your breasts and waist has you distracted enough that you are surprised when he rolls his pelvis into yours and his excitement is particularly evident as it pokes into your belly.

It’s because of me, you think in disbelief, I’ve made Elvis Presley, of all men, aroused.

And that thought suddenly has you ravenous and bold. You reach between you two, taking his clothed but considerable length in your hand and squeezing.

Elvis groans above you, then smiles. “You eager little minx. Give you a little taste and now it’s all you can think about, huh?” he teases.

Your response is to smile back and work his length with your hand. You may not know much about the female orgasm before today, but you sure as hell are familiar with how his equipment works.

 “Okay, okay,” he gasps, his eyes rolling back, “Jesus, woman, I hear ya.”

He rids himself of his suit jacket while you make quick work of his belt and buttons and zippers. Unbeknownst to you, yet completely unsurprisingly, he is wearing no underwear, so with a quick push of his slacks off his hips, he’s totally bare for you.

He’s well-endowed enough for you to be a little nervous about it which he seems to pick up on. “Don’t you worry, baby, I’ll go slow,” he whispers kindly in your ear.

You nod and respond by wrapping your hand around him and pumping his shaft, swirling your thumb gently over his foreskin and over the head of him. The beaded pre-cum slicks over the tip, eliciting a low growl from the Adonis hovering above you.

Pulling up your skirt again, you bend your knees invitingly, letting him nestle between your legs. Elvis takes a moment to kiss you roughly, nipping at your lower lip, as he coats his erection in your slick, rubbing the length of it between your already sopping and swollen folds. The tip of him brushes against your clit maddeningly as he does so, causing you to arch and keen under him.

Finally, you can stand it no longer, reaching your hand down to line him up with your entrance. He smirks above you, but the look is wiped off his face and quickly replaced with something almost akin to awe as he pushes into you slowly. Your body yearns for him in such a way that, even though you are quite tight around him, you seem to suckle him in, inch by inch. The sensation has the both of you moaning, eyes rolling back and lips parting as you join together.

“Fuck, honey. So goddamned tight for me,” he groans, and a shudder of pleasure rolls through you.

It's utterly delicious the way he slots into you so perfectly, bottoming out as you swallow him whole. He gives you a moment to adjust and relax into the heaviness of him in your body, looking down at you with what you realize are quite soulful eyes. His arousal is obvious in the way his pupils are blown, but he still looks at you with an air of reverence even though this seems to be a spontaneous and casual fuck on a train.

When he starts thrusting in and out of you, slowly at first, and with somehow perfect precision, hitting spots inside you that you didn’t know existed, you realize you’ll never be able to have sex again without comparing it to the gorgeous man above you.

Lord, you wish you could take a picture of the way he looks right now, hair mussed and sweat beading on his forehead, his plump lips parted and panting. This is the perfectly imperfect Elvis you wished to capture when you got on this train. But in this moment, he is just for you to see. You don’t want to share him with the world.

He’s patient in his approach to keep his promise, yet he doesn’t need to wait long. Your body is humming with arousal, the warmth blossoming over you as his thrusts become more pointed and deeper. The way he rolls his pelvis, then swivels it, playing with motion and depth make you realize he’s gauging every reaction you have, adjusting to what brings you closer to falling apart.

You barely recognize the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling every hard inch of him taking over you, wanting more, more, more. Your wet heat flutters around him and he speeds his thrusts, but it’s when he brings his hand between you and rubs his thumb against your hypersensitive bud that you truly begin to fall apart.

This time, it’s more gradual, the way the heat and pressure builds. You know more of what to expect, but holy hell, he’s playing you like an instrument, making your entire body quiver with desire and need. You almost want to escape the feeling—it’s so intense, so stimulating, as he pounds into you from above, but you also never want it to stop.

“C’mon, baby, that’s my good girl,” he praises in that low Southern drawl, and that takes you up, up, up the crest of your arousal.

You pant and whine, desperate now for a release you’ve never had a taste of until now.

“That’s it, come for me now, darlin’, come on me,” he moans, working your clit faster.

That sends you flying over the edge, hitting the crest of your orgasm so hard the wind is knocked out of you, and you see white stars in the blackness of your closed eyes. You clench around him, your legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing, as though he can keep you from flying away. Body shuddering with release, you feel a gush of warmth and he’s sliding so effortlessly through you, he could split you in two and you wouldn’t even know it.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so good for me…did so good baby,” he pants, watching you come down from your high.

Elvis slows down, easing you through it, though he looks like he wants to absolutely ravage you for the way he looks at you so hungrily. He’s holding back, you can tell.

“I’m gonna pull out, baby. I-I-I—can I come on your pretty lil’ face?” he gasps, eyes begging you.

You’d be more taken aback if he hadn’t just fucked you silly. Never in a thousand years would you think to let a man claim you in such a way, but you find that you want—no, need—it. You’d let him do almost anything with you at this point.

You nod, unable to speak with how fucked out you are. Elvis pulls out of your heat and you groan at the loss of him, but he’s pulling you down to the floor and you go, bonelessly, onto your knees. Towering above you, he stands, using the remnants of your glistening release to pump his cock expertly, and the sight sends shivers through you.  

“Oh, that’s it, honey. Open your mouth for me,” he pants out, tapping your chin with his finger.

You obey without question.

Elvis clasps his free hand at the back of your neck, cupping your jaw as he thrusts roughly into his other hand. “Aw, f-f-f-fuckin’ hell,” he moans loudly, and then he comes violently. Pulsing, hot streams squirt over your cheeks, your chin, and you taste the bitter tang of his salty release on your tongue.

You’ve never tasted a man before, and you’re glad the first is Elvis Presley.

He looks absolutely ethereal in his release. The way he grits his teeth and then his mouth hangs open, eyes fluttering shut and body shuddering as he paints you with him makes him even more attractive than you thought possible.

You wait, mouth still agape and covered in his seed. His bedroom eyes open and he looks down at you. “Jesus, you look so damn beautiful covered in me,” he says dreamily. “Stay just like that.”

Then, surprising you once again, he grabs your camera which had been discarded earlier, bringing it up to his face.

Snap.

He memorializes the moment.

“Swallow, baby,” he guides you, tapping your chin closed. You do, even though it makes you a little queasy because you’ve never done this before.

Snap.

“Open,” he says, pulling the camera from his face. Then, he uses his thumb and fingers to wipe your face of him, depositing the rest of his cum in your mouth. “Want ya to take it all for me,” he coos. You take it willingly, and then suckle the rest off his fingers.

“My pretty lil’ photographer,” he moans out, snapping one last shot as he pumps his fingers in your mouth. “S’good for me, you dirty girl.”

You can’t help but whine at that.

Elvis flops back down onto the seat, dark hair failing in his eyes, and pulls you into his lap. He kisses you, gently, then with more insistence as he seems to relish the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Mmm, I want copies of those photos,” he says seriously, pulling back and looking into your eyes.

You blush furiously. “Okay,” you whisper, nodding.

He lets his head fall back onto the seat and closes his eyes in refraction. After a moment, he speaks again, pulling you in close.

“And I want you to be with me in California, once we get there. Will you stay?” he asks quietly.

The way he asks so earnestly both stuns and delights you. You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to.

“I will,” you say.

Elvis smiles.

Grabbing your camera, you take one last shot of your beautiful, mind-blowing man.

Snap.

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

PART 4/Finale

A/N: Here it isss! THE FINALE! I was so thrilled to co-write with @ageofbarbarians on this one! And let me tell y’all… We’re going out with a bang. Also, I would strongly suggest playing Stardust Chords while you read a certain part of this. You’ll know when to start it, as I have highlighted the title of the song ;) I truly hope y’all love it and I’m sorry it took soo long!

*please forgive any errors that I may have missed*

WARNINGS: this contains major 18+ content, minors please DNI!!

Exhibitionism, teasing, guitar riding, more bass amp filth, overstimulation, degradation, lil bit of humiliation kink, praise, very much dom!Jake, oral (f/m receiving), temperature play (ice), toys, gags, spanking, smacking, choking, unprotected sex. || Harsh language, arguing and a little bit of fighting between Jake and Sam, if ya squint.

Playlist HERE

MASTERLIST

••••

Just two weeks ago, the boys had received a call about returning to Red Rocks to play for two nights back-to-back. It was very much safe to say that they were all over the moon.

Of course, Jake wasn’t going back to Red Rocks without you this time. So, you were hand in hand with Jake as he guided you up to the entrance of the stunning amphitheater.

“I cannot believe we’re back at Red Rocks!” Sam practically squealed like a little girl.

The five of you walked in, standing at the top of the house in complete awe.

Just like Jake had told you, it was even more beautiful than the pictures you had seen. Pictures just did not do this place justice.

And as if he was literally reading your mind, Jake turned to you with a cheeky smile.

“Told you it was better than the pictures.”

“Yeah, you did tell me,” you returned his smile, although your tone didn’t sound quite as playful as you’d intended it to.

Jake raised an eyebrow at you, firmly squeezing your hand in his one time.

“Don’t get sassy on me.” He jested, but there was still a seriousness to his tone.

You definitively were starting to feel the effects of going days without having Jake to yourself. Granted, it was only three… But still, it was incredibly rare that you and Jake would go more than a day without having sex.

Sure, you understood that between them getting the call to come back to Red Rocks, the traveling to get there and just their overall excitement, the time for that level of intimacy for you and Jake was limited. However, that wasn’t going to stop you from finding a way to get what you wanted. You and Jake had a hotel room all to yourselves for the next two nights, there were plenty of ideas bouncing around in your head on how you could get Jake going.

“Greta Van Fleet, right?” A pretty decently dressed man greeted the boys with a wide smile and started shaking each other their hands.

“Yes sir, that’s us.” Danny took his hand and offered a warm smile.

“Great, my name is Anthony. I’ll be taking care of all the sound for you this weekend,” he began to explain, earning nods from all the boys. “I’d love to get you guys set up on stage and get a little soundcheck going.”

“Sounds fuckin’ great! Let’s do it.” Josh clapped his hands together, following behind Sam, who had already taken off towards the vans holding their instruments and equipment.

“Go find a spot to sit near the stage, baby. Okay?” Jake kissed your forehead and then your cheek gently.

You turned your head to chase after his lips, catching him slightly off guard. He kissed you back, slow and sweet, until he finally broke away with a smile.

“Okay, Jakey.” You smiled right back at him, but the mischief behind your smile though, that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Whatever you’re thinking… I think you should think twice about it.” Jake whispered, leaning down close to your ear.

“What? I’m not thinking about anything,” you defended lightly, trying your best to sound convincing.

“Mmm, I don’t believe you.” Jake chuckled, pointing at both of your eyes. “This is the same little look you had in your eyes last time.”

Last time.

It had been a couple months since the day you went behind Jake’s back, practically begging Sam to get you off on his amp. Again.

The three of you never brought it up around Josh or Danny, but in those rare moments when neither of them were around, Jake or Sam were bound to make some little comment, or sly joke about that day. Even if both of them chose to never bring it up, it was still burnt in your memory forever. You didn’t need Jake and Sam to remind you. All the filthy memories… They were always there.

They would always be there.

Making your way down the steps, your eyes scanned over all the rows of seats. Once you made it closer to the stage, you eyed the very first row and a risky idea instantly popped into your head.

You were definitely about to get yourself in worlds of trouble, but that’s exactly what you wanted.

At this point, you were a master at getting Jake riled up to the heavens.

Taking a seat straight out from Sam, you knew Jake would eventually notice you weren’t sitting near him like you always did. You watched them set up all of their amps and guitars. Every so often your eyes would trail over to Jake, who was plugging in various different chords and working on his pedal board. He had yet to notice where you were… or where you weren’t, rather. He was simply lost in his own little world.

After he plugged it in, You watched Sam pick up his bass and fling the strap around his shoulder. A simple action that you’d come far too obsessed with watching.

“Alright, Jake, you should be on!” One of the roadies called, motion to Jake’s guitar as he stepped off the stage.

Your eyes flitted back to Jake when you heard the sounds of his guitar ring flawlessly through the array of speakers.

“Sam, flip your main amp on and you should be good to go, too!”

Your eyes went right back to Sam, watching him stroll over to his amp and flick it on. Once again something you had seen him do many times, although from a quite different position than where you were now.

Sam and Jake played by themselves for a few minutes, until eventually Danny was ready and joined in with them - Josh falling in shortly after him.

They sang a few random songs that you knew they weren’t actually planning on playing, before Josh began to talk to them through his microphone.

“Let’s play a full song, yeah?” Each other the boys nodded at him and you could hear the muffled sounds of their voices discussing what they should play.

“Stardust Chords it is!” He smiled widely, the smoothness of his voice floating through the speakers.

Jake and Danny kicked it off, sharing nothing but a quick look between each other before starting the song.

You decided it was just the right time to set your little plan into full swing.

One might think you would have learned your lesson last time, but pushing your limits with Jake was one of your favorite things to do. And you most definitely were not afraid to do it.

Taking the hem of your black sundress adorned with tiny daisies in your hands, you slowly pushed it up your thighs.

Being that Josh was right there in the front, there was a brief moment of fear that he (or maybe even Danny) would notice. But, you pushed the thought to the back of your mind as far as it would go, simply hoping they wouldn’t. That’s all you could do, anyway.

Your eyes made their way back to Sam as you ran a single finger over your clothed core, staring at him with as much intensity as you could, in hopes he would feel your eyes on him and look up to find you.

You circled your clit lightly over your panties, exhaling softly at the little bit of relief you were already getting.

Keeping your eyes locked on Sammy as he played, you went a step further

and slipped your fingers beneath the hem of your panties. Sliding your fingers through your folds to collected some of your wetness, bringing them back up to your clit.

Your head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut and a quiet moan slipped past your lips as you worked yourself in time with the song. The second you brought your head back down and opened your eyes, they immediately locked with Sam’s. His eyes were dark and blown wide, his mouth was hanging open in half shock, half lust.

Sam somewhat recollected himself, mouthing something that was pretty much entirely lost on you.

But If you had to guess, it almost looked like he mouthed, “Keep going.”

Hoping that you read his lips correctly, you nodded and continued swirling your fingers over your clit rhythmically.

You held eye contact with each other, save for the few times your head tipped back - accompanied by a moan that would have been much too loud, if it weren’t for the boys’ playing.

You chanced a glance over to Jake, who was completely lost in his own playing.

Matching the speed of your fingers with the music they were creating, mixed with the bass that naturally reverberated through your body, it was an ethereal feeling.

You knew by the end of the song, you would be coming undone all over the bench beneath you.

At that thought, you could practically hear Jake’s scolding voice - Degrading you for such a filthy and slutty act.

“You’re such a dirty little slut.” Or, “What were you thinking, making yourself cum for everyone to see like that?” Jake would probably say.

You let your eyes drift from Sam and back to Jake, moving his body in ways that only he could as he neared his solo - only egging you on more.

Your eyes trailed back to Sam, whose eyes were fixated on your hand that was still shoved in your panties. You could feel a knot begin to form in your stomach and you motioned to your lower stomach with your unoccupied hand.

Sam nodded urgently, mouthing a simple, “Do it.”

He was dying for you to reach your high, just in time for the peak of the song

Your fingers quickened and you tightened the circles you were rubbing against your clit, chasing after your high with a fervor that you’d possibly never felt before.

Just as Jake was reaching his solo, the knot in your stomach exploded. Your head fell back in complete bliss, your body’s senses so overwhelmed in the best way; between the music buzzing your entire body and the pleasure you were giving yourself.

Little did you know, Jake’s eyes had finally landed on you.

He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly, his eyes trailing down to between your legs where your hand was tucked away. And just to make it all worse, his eyes flicked over to Sam, realizing he was watching you, too. His mouth gaped in shock, anger, lust and… jealousy…? So many emotions Immediately bubbling up inside him.

It took you almost the entirety of Jake’s solo to work yourself through, and come down from your high.

Once your eyes returned to the stage, you froze in your spot when your eyes met with Jake’s. He was standing in place, completely still - aside from his hands that continued to play flawlessly. Although, it was very clear he was not thinking about playing hardly at all.

It took everything in you not to shrivel up under his lust and anger filled death glare. But, you stood your ground, flashing him the sweetest smile you could muster.

Your eyes returned to Sammy; who was very desperately trying to hide his erection behind his bass. As the song came to an end, you slipped your hand back into your panties, collecting some of your juices and pulling them back out carefully.

Slipping them into your mouth, you could almost perfectly see the way Sam’s throat tensed as he swallowed thickly.

Jake on the other hand, was stone-faced as he watched you, his vision turning red around the edges. The only thing that broke him away from you, was Josh tapping him on the shoulder.

After what felt like an eternity of them standing around, talking with Anthony about the sound, he shook all their hands and disappeared down the stairs. With Anthony no longer blocking your view of Jake, you took in his tense body language and the way he was staring daggers at Sam.

Danny and Josh stayed around for another moment or two, before waving off to Sam and Jake, ascending down the same set of stairs and up through the house.

“How did we sound, Y/N?!” Danny beamed, motioning a thumbs up back towards the stage.

“You guys sounded amazing, as always.”

You glanced over at the stage, seeing that Jake and Sam had returned to their rightful sides.

“They said they’re staying here to work on some stuff,” Josh said, as if reading your mind. “We’re gonna go wait in the tour bus for them to finish. Wanna come with us, or stay out here?”

“I’ll stay out here, I think,” You smiled at them both softly. “I’m sure they won’t be long.”

The three of you exchanged your ‘see you later’s’ and then they were gone, ascending the stairs of the house.

Turning back to face the stage, this wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for. You were not expecting Sam and Jake to stay behind… but the fact that they were, had your stomach twisting with nerves.

“Y/N, you have less than 30 fucking seconds to get down here!” Jake yelled from the stage, startling you.

You smiled internally, despite the raging nerves that were rapidly growing. You were only semi-worried that you’d pushed Jake a little too far this time.

To -hopefully- avoid enraging him any further, you got up and made your way down to the steps.

“What the actual fuck was that, huh?!” Jake’s voice boomed. His face was red with anger and you could practically see the veins in his neck, pounding away under his sweaty skin from his rapid heartbeat.

“And you!” He pointed at Sam, storming over to him without even a second of hesitation.

Jake’s hands collided with Sam’s chest, causing him to stumble backwards. “You have the god damn audacity to WATCH HER! Like she’s yours to fucking watch!”

“First of all,” Sam’s voice was significantly calmer than Jake’s, but still incredibly firm as he shoved his brothers hands off of him. “You’re lucky Josh and Danny didn’t fucking notice. She sat on my side, for fucks sake! It’s not my fault you didn’t catch her sooner! So how about you jump down her throat and not mine, Jacob.”

Jake took a single step back from Sam, a silent battle taking place between the two of them as they stared each other down. Both of them being far too stubborn to give in.

You stood there, watching the two of them while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. The only sounds around you, being the soft sounds of crickets as the sun had began to set and the occasional, eerie whistle of the breeze blowing through the structures of the stage.

After what felt like forever, the expressions of the two boys shifted - along with their energies. It was like a switch had been flipped... Like a silent agreement, or alliance was being made between them.

Jake turned on his heels, almost making you jump from the sudden movement. Sam looked over to you, with an expression you were all too familiar with. His lips were pulled up ever-so-slightly at one corner, his eyes narrow, dark and glistening with lust... and maybe even fury.

“You know what? Since you wanna act like a whore,” Jake started, walking over and snatching his Les Paul from it’s stand. “We’re gonna fucking treat you like one.”

Jake made his way back over to you in long strides, holding out his guitar from his body for you to get a good look at. Your face contorted in slight shock, knowing what he wanted you to do with it.

“Panties off, and I want you on the floor with this fucking guitar between your legs.” Jake commanded, pointing at your core with his free hand.

You hastily hiked up your dress, hooking your thumbs into the hem of your panties, sliding them down and off your legs.

“Gimme.” Sam demanded quickly, holding out his hand.

Your eyes widened in shock and you immediately looked over to Jake, who only nodded his head towards Sam, silently telling you to hand them over to him.

You stepped over to Sam, placing your panties in his hand; as soon as you let go of them, he was shoving them down in his back pocket.

But it wasn’t long before Jake was putting an end to your little moment.

“Sometime today, Y/N.” Jake tone seeped with jealousy and impatience.

You shot Sam a cheeky grin and then made your way back to Jake - Who wasted absolutely no time shoving his guitar into your arms with such force, you stumbled back a couple steps.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Jake was practically seething. “You’re gonna get down on this stage with that guitar in between your legs, like I told you. And you’re gonna get yourself off on it, while Sam and I watch. Do you understand all that, angel?”

You started to sink to the floor of the stage slowly, your voice barely squeaking out the words you knew Jake wanted to hear.

“Yes, sir...”

“I think you can answer louder than that.” Sam insisted, taking on a level of dominance much like Jake’s.

“Yes, sir. I understand.” You repeated, much louder and stronger this time.

“That’s much better,” As soon as the words left Sam’s mouth, you couldn’t pass up the chance to say something bratty.

Sam wasn’t going to be the one punishing you anyway.

“Good, because I wasn’t going to say it again.” You sassed, clearly catching Sam a little off guard.

But not Jake.

“Now listen to me, you little smartass-“ Jake took no more than two long strides to get to you, bending down to come nose to nose with you. “- If you think you’re going to get away with talking like that, you’re in for a rude fucking awakening when I get you back to the hotel.”

“Might as well push all your buttons while I can then, huh, Jakey?” You sounded nauseatingly sweet, earning a low growl from Jake.

“Do what the hell you want, princess, but just remember… you’re just stacking up your consequences.”

Jake’s words sent a bone chilling shiver up your spine; one that had your entire body visibly shuddering.

“I think she likes getting punished though,” Sam pointed out, as he watched your physical reaction. “Just look at her, Jake.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Jake stepped closer to you and reached down, gripping your jaw in his hand tightly. “Now let’s recap, yeah? What have I told you to do?”

You met his blazing eyes; dare you say you watched them soften for the quickest second, upon locking with yours.

“I’m using your guitar to get off, while you and Sammy watch.” You shifted with the guitar, flicking your eyes over to Sam.

“And when do you stop…?” Sam chimes in with his own question, causing Jake’s head to snap over at him.

Jake looked right back to you, though. “Yeah, when do you stop, hm?”

You looked between the two of them for a moment, before settling on the answer that you felt would be correct.

“Until you tell me to stop…?”

“Such a smart little thing.” Jake let go of your face with the slightest little shove. “Too bad you use that genius little brain to construct devious ass plans and get yourself in trouble.”

You were about to huff out some sort of rebuttal while Jake’s back was turned towards you, but Sammy beat you to speaking.

“Jake,” he inquired smugly, as if the thoughts running through his mind, were the greatest thoughts he’d ever had.

Jake released a tense breath. “Yes, Sam?”

“I think we should watch her from exactly where she was sitting.”

All three of you fell silent, you for different reasons than Jake and Sam.

Jake turned on his heel without another word, taking off down the same set of stairs you had come up. Sam followed closely behind him, glancing back at you over his shoulder with a wink that you almost missed.

Just before Jake started his descent up through the benches, he shot you a stern look that you arguably could have seen for miles. “When we sit down, your pretty hips better be moving on my guitar!”

You didn’t feel like Jake was searching for an answering, so you didn’t give him one. You just adjusted yourself and the guitar between your legs - much how you had positioned yourself on his bed a couple months before.

Your eyes shifted back up to Sam and Jake, just as they were about to sit done in that same spot you had been in. And suddenly, with their eyes locked on you as they took their spots on the bench, you felt so small. The size of the amphitheater didn’t even matter. It wasn’t the amount of space, or how many people it held, or even how big the stage was…

It was simply because Jake and Sam were watching you, heavy, lustrous gazes, unwavering.

Noticing the slight shift in your demeanor, Sam nudged Jake lightly in his ribs.

Jake’s softer side slipped out briefly to offer a bit of encouragement.

“Come on, baby girl. It’s just us now!” Jake assured, loud enough for you to hear him. “I promise, if anyone comes, I will stop you!”

You nodded, letting your eyes fall shut.

Allowing your neediness and desperation take over, your hips began rolling into Jake’s guitar.

It felt even better than the first time; an even deeper level of desperation thrumming through your body.

Your mind drifted back to that first time; when you stared up at Jake’s backup guitar on the wall of your shared bedroom, flicking your eyes between it and the clock. You’d just needed a few minutes and you knew you would have at least a little bit of the relief you needed.

The adrenaline of it was insane, but it didn’t hold a candle to the current: Sam and Jake sitting in the house of the amphitheater, watching you so intensely, they might melt your body into the stage. The new level of adrenaline was almost heart-stopping.

Moving your hips a little faster, you did your best to stay in your own little world - trying not to think too much about your little audience.

Nerves could kill an orgasm in less than a second and as you worked your way up to that sweet peak, you couldn’t risk falling away from it.

Faintly, you could hear Jake talking with Sam. You started imagining them coaxing you closer with their raspy, lust filled voices.

‘Come on, pretty girl,”

‘Cum for us.’

A rather loud moan bubbled out of you as you imagined them talking and your hips sped up against Jake’s Les Paul.

Missing Jake’s beautiful face, you forced your eyes open just shy of reaching your orgasm.

He nodded, lips pulling up in a smirk that you were sure you could see for miles.

As if your body was just waiting for his permission to do so, you fell over the edge into your second orgasm - even better than the first one.

Your hips slowed almost to a stop, slight overstimulation taking over your body. Jake was having absolutely none of it.

“Y/N,” Jake called. “Don’t stop OR slow down. You got me??”

“G-got it!” You let go of the guitar with one of your hands, throwing Jake a thumbs, up just in case he couldn’t hear your shaky voice.

You felt the muscles in your lower belly and thighs flutter and clench, as you continued rocking your hips.

Forcing yourself to keep a steady, quick speed, you chased after your third high with fervor.

“Ja-Jake,” you moaned, hoping that somehow your airy voice would carry out to him. “Fuck-“

A soft breeze drifted across the stage, causing your sundress to flow around you with such elegance, compared to your current actions.

“Christ, she’s so beautiful.” Sam mumbled as he watched you, feeling himself harden in his jeans.

“Fuck, yeah, she is.” Jake agreed, shifting around in his spot. “She’s close again, look at her desperately trying to get herself there…”

You could once again just barely hear Jake and Sam talking back and forth with one another.

Part of you just knew they were gawking over the way you looked right now; on full display and so needy, making yourself cum on a stage surrounded by colorful lights that made you glow.

Seeking a little extra help in throwing yourself over the edge a little quicker, you adjusted your grip on Jake’s guitar and brought your other hand between your legs.

Your head tipped back as you sunk two fingers into your dripping heat, desperately reaching for that sweet spot that Jake never missed.

If only you could reach it the way he could.

But you made do with what you could give yourself, and luckily, it was just enough to haul you into bliss once more.

“Oh- oh, fuck!” You cried, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

Jake and Sam both watched you intently, just barely hearing your moans and cries of pleasure from where they were seated - Watching you struggle to do what Jake told you to do.

But after another minute or two, Sam became impatient with just watching and decided he wanted his own fun.

He stood up abruptly, turning to walk down towards the stage.

“Where are you going?” Jake questioned, forcing his eyes to break away from you and look over to Sam.

“Come on.” Sam just kept moving towards the end of the row, not even turning back to look at Jake.

“No, Sam-“ Jake followed after him, their sudden commotion catching your attention. “-What are you doing??” he questioned once again.

Your hips stalled against Jake’s guitar and you looked at them both curiously.

“I didn’t tell you to fucking stop.” Jake pointed his finger at you, making his way up the steps.

“No, no-“ Sam cut in, following closely behind him. “Let her stop, Jake.”

“And why should I?” Jake snapped.

Before you could even resume rolling your hips into his guitar, Sam was snatching the guitar from you and shoving it into Jake’s hands. He picked you up in his arms, carrying you over to his amp.

“Sammy?!-“

“Sam, what do you think you’re doing?!” Jake sounded pissed, but it only fueled the heat rushing through your body.

It was your goal to get him this way, after all. You were succeeded tremendously and Sam was somewhat unknowingly helping you out.

“It’s my turn to make her squirm.” Sam sat you down on his amp, flipping it back on.

Jake visibly hesitated for a moment, but as soon as you looked up at him with a devilish and proud smirk, his eyes darkened and jaw clenched even tighter.

“Actually, yeah. Go ahead, Sammy…”

Jake nodded, his head turning towards his brother, but his eyes stayed fixed on you as he spoke.

“Make her cum as much as you want to… She’s not to move until you tell her to.”

Your eyes snapped up to Jake’s in slight shock, not at all expecting him to hand off basically all control to Sam.

“You hear that, princess?” Sam called, picking up his bass from its stand. “You’re not to move until I say you can.”

“How many orgasms are you even at now, hmm?” Jake questioned curiously, having lost count of how many you’d given yourself against his guitar.

“I don’t know…? Three? Or four?” You shifted against Sam’s amp.

All you knew was that you were at least three orgasms into overstimulation.

You watched Sam fling the strap over his shoulder, strutting up to the pedalboard that unmutes his bass.

“You know what Jake? How about you play, too?” Sam suggested, flicking his eyes over to gauge your reaction.

A new rush of wetness surged between your legs. There was absolutely nothing that turned you on more than Jake playing.

That’s how you ended up in the situation you were currently in.

“That’s actually a great idea,” Jake smirked, glancing down at his guitar still in his hands. “And at least if Josh or Danny come back, it won’t look too suspicious if we’re both playing.”

Jake slung his own guitar strap around his shoulders, basically going through the same process as Sam had just done.

When they were both ready, Jake nodded to Sam, giving him the go ahead.

“Color, Y/N.” Sam demanded, looking directly at you with a devilish smirk that unnerved you ever so slightly.

The break in between your last set of orgasms and the ones you were about to endure, had allowed you to go back to normal at least a little bit. However, just one orgasm would plummet you right back -if not deeper- into overstimulation.

Still, you stayed confident in the answer you gave him. “Green.”

“Oh, she’s miss tough girl today, Sammy.” Jake grinned, looking at his brother but gesturing at you. “Let’s play something she won’t expect. Throw a little curve ball, yeah?.”

Jake sauntered over to Sam, leaning in to whisper into his ear exactly what song he had in mind.

You watched the smug grin pull at Sam’s mouth, as he nodded in agreement with whatever Jake was saying.

“Let’s play Keep Me Comin’ by Kiss.” Jake stepped back from Sam as his eyes lit up, adjusting his guitar in his hold as they both prepared to start playing .

Unable to hear anything Jake said, you just watched on in anticipation, clenching your thighs together in search of some relief... Relief that you couldn’t believe you still needed so badly.

Suddenly, your ears were filled with Jake’s guitar and your body jolted as Sam’s amp sent vibrations through you.

Almost instantly you recognized the familiar Kiss song and your head snapped up to Jake...

Damn him for remembering all your favorite bands and your favorite songs.

He mouthed something to you that was just lost on you - obviously unable to hear him over the music and for a brief moment, you missed the sound of his voice and his cocky tone.

A broken moan tumbled out of you, completely unheard by either of the boys in front of you - driving you farther and farther into the deepest pits of pleasure without even touching you.

It didn’t take long for your legs to begin shaking and your head to fall back in bliss, despite how badly you wanted to keep your eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of them.

Your fourth orgasm started creeping up on you quickly, the coil tightening in your stomach was almost painful, but you still wanted more. You loved that burning feeling, the way your body would tense and cease just before you fell over the edge.

It was addicting, no matter how many times you felt it. And between these two lately, you felt it a lot.

You forced yourself to bring your head level again, eyes fluttering open to see Jake and Sam both watching you intently…

Because of course they knew you were close.

Between Jake having picked one of the hottest songs he could think of; a particular favorite of yours on top of that, and the way your entire body succumbed to the intense sounds and feelings, you were right on the edge. So close to the edge in fact, that you could look down below it… Right into the choppy waters below, waiting to consume you and drown you in immense pleasure.

Within a few more seconds, you were trying to force yourself to stay upright and seated on Sammy’s amp.

The intense pleasure hit you like a train, ripping all the air from your lungs and most of the strength left in your body.

Jake and Sam continued to play, watching you with their lust-filled gazes.

Panting and writhing against the amp, you looked up at Jake with droopy eyes for a split second before your head lulled back down. You were fighting to catch your breath, a steady flow of whines and moans flowing out of you like a stream of water down a mountain.

Jake took a few steps over to you, carefully using the headstock of his guitar to tilt your head back up.

“I want another!” Jake yelled, making sure you heard him clearly over him and Sam as they continued to play.

“Jake!” His name fell from your lips almost in a plea. No where near loud enough for him to hear, even though you tried.

He just raised him eyebrows at you, before turning to strut back over to Sam. He leaned in, clearly straining to talk to Sam, even directly into his ear. The veins in his neck protruded, while Sam nodded along with whatever Jake was saying.

As the song came to an end, Sam backed off while Jake continued to play.

Sam made his way over to you, and slid his bass around to rest almost against his back, so that he could crouch down in front of you.

“If you can give me one more before this next song ends, nice and pretty and loud, I might just let you get up.” Sam negotiated, raising his voice -not at much as Jake had to- but just enough.

“Sammy, i—“ You choked on the humid evening air, even thicker and heavier around you than before. “I don’t know if I can…”

“Aww, did we drain you out, princess?” Sam questioned, feigning sympathy.

You shook your head. “I- maybe… maybe a little…?”

As if Jake’s playing had become background noise, you faintly heard another familiar guitar riff. Yet another song that wasn’t theirs.

Sam stood back to his feet with a devious smirk and started stepping backwards to rejoin Jake, yanking his bass back around to rest over his hips. “Like I said, doll, if you can cum one more time before this song ends, I’ll let you get up!”

Groaning as you throbbed against the amp, you willed your body to relax as much as it could.

‘One more, just one more, Y/N’ You mentally repeated to your body like a mantra.

As soon as Sam joined in with Jake again, you immediately recognized the AC/DC song, Squealer.

‘How fitting,’ you thought briefly, before overstimulation was threatening to grab you by the throat and chokeslam you.

You gripped the corners of the amplifier, knuckles turning nearly paper white. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK-“

You shifted around, searching for even the slightest bit of relief - but a different kind of relief now. Maybe you could find just one angle, that didn’t allow for the vibrations to so directly flow right into your sensitive core.

Alas, there was no position that could provide you even a little bit of relief. The vibrations and the sound of Jake’s guitar continued to overtake your senses. moans streaming out of your mouth that the two boys in front of you, would for sure mock if they could only hear them.

“One- one m-more,” you choked out in encouragement to yourself, high pitched and whiny.

The white hot coil in your belly started to burn and tighten again; an agonizing, but somehow still pleasurable sensation.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your whole body convulsing and shuddering as you were plummeted into another orgasm.

It was somehow so weak, yet so powerful all at once. It stole what was left of the air in your lungs, what little strength was left in your body. Everything.

Jake and Sam brought the song to it’s end, and you hoped to God that Sam wouldn’t decide to be absolutely ruthless and put your through another song.

“Sa- Sam… plea… please-“ you forced yourself to speak, with the remaining energy you had left. “I can’t...”

Sam looked up at you as he sat his bass down and they softened instantly. “Hey, hey. I told you one more and you would be done. You gave us one more, soo…”

You let out a long sigh of relief, slumping more of your weight onto your wobbly arms.

“Should we go get you cleaned up, angel?” Jake asked softly, kneeling down in front of you.

You looked up at him with fucked out eyes, nodding your head just barely, but enough for him to catch it.

“Yeah? Okay,” Jake stood up, carefully scooping you up into his arms.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, holding onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got you…” Jake assured you gently, tightening his grip around your body.

When he turned around Sam was right there, gently rubbing a hand over your arm.

“You did so good for me… Always good for me, Y/N.” Sam praised, making you smile softly.

Jake hummed and you looked up at him just in time to catch his dramatic eye roll. “I wish you’d be good for me.”

You chose to ignore his comment, for the time being, not wanting to dig yourself into a deeper hole than you already knew you were in. Jake carried you back to the bus and the door opened right before he walked up to it. 

“You’re gonna have to walk in. I’m assuming you don’t want tweedle dumb and tweedle dee asking questions,” Jake sat you gently on your feet and you leaned against him. You felt like your knees could give out at any moment. 

The two of you walked onto the bus and you immediately went straight to his bunk to lie down until you got back to the hotel. Jake joined you and you scooted over as far as you could in the small bunk. He closed the thin curtain before he directed his attention toward you. 

“You know,” He gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That was some shit you pulled back there,” 

“Jake I-“ 

“No, I’m not done.” Jake cut you off as he shook his head. He inched his face closer to yours. You could see the way they flashed to a darker shade, almost something you couldn’t quite read. It was a mix of adoration, annoyance, lust, and anger. 

“It seems to me that you’ve forgotten who you belong to,” His voice was low and his eyes burned into yours. You looked around the small bunk as you avoided his intimidating gaze.

“I haven’t,” was all you could manage to get out. 

“But I think you have, darling. All of this shit you’ve been pulling recently? Don’t think it’s going to fly any longer.” His nose touched yours and you were forced to look at him. 

“Are you guys ready?” Josh called. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. 

“Yeah,” Jake called back to his twin. You felt the bus begin to move and Jake averted his attention back to you. He bunched your dress up at your hips before ghosting his fingers over your soaked core. You whined at his delicate touch and shook your head. 

“Jake I can’t—“

“I don’t want to hear a single fucking word from you right now, Y/N,” Jake closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. His voice was still low, careful so none of the other boys heard him. Your breathing began to slowly pick up as he started rubbing slow circles on your already swollen bud. 

“I’m sick and tired of you acting like a fucking whore. You clearly need to be reminded who owns you. Owns you and that gorgeous cunt of yours.” Jake tilted his head and slapped his fingertips against your core. You whined and covered your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Show me that you fucking own me then,” the words slipped out of your mouth before you could even think about what you were saying. Your eyes went wide and so did Jake’s. The bus came to a stop and you had assumed that you were at the hotel. 

You and Jake had exited the bunk before making your way toward the front of the bus. You kept your eyes down as your pace was quick to try and avoid Jake.

There was not even a sliver of doubt that he was livid and you wanted to avoid making him more pissed than he already was. You’d added more than enough fuel to the fire. 

The both of you walked into the hotel and got your room keys and made your way over the elevator.

You both stepped in and as soon as the door closed Jake wrapped his hand around your throat and shoved you into the elevator door. 

“Go to the room and take all of your clothes off. I want you on your fucking knees with your hands behind your back. In front of the bed with your hair up. Do I make myself clear?” He commanded, voice dripping with venom.

You nodded your head, too afraid that if you tried to speak, nothing would come out and his grip around your throat tightened. 

“Do I make myself fucking clear?” He hissed, face blazing red and his breathing heavy.

“Y-yes sir,” you barely managed to get out.

Jake let go of your throat and seconds later the elevator door opened. He pointed behind you and you turned around to exit the elevator.

You walked to your room and before you opened the door, Jake put his hand on yours. Turning your head over your shoulder to look at him, His gaze softened, but you knew that he was still in a mood. 

"I will be back. Don't forget what I told you," He reminded,

kissing the top of your head as you entered your room.

You observed the way it was set up and you were in awe. There was a large window that took up a good portion of the wall and there was a gorgeous view of the mountains.

The bed faced the window and there was a small kitchen off to the side. You walked into the bathroom and you were met with a marble shower along with a jacuzzi tub. The sink matched the marbling of the shower and the floors were a dark gray, almost black and there were gold accents to match throughout the entire hotel room.

You could feel your hands begin to shake as you began to think about what Jake had in store for you. As much of a rise as you got out of him from sitting on Sam's side of the stage, you were slowly beginning to regret the whole thing. A part of you wanted to keep the teasing going but you knew it was in your best interest to stop it all. 

Taking a deep breath, you started slowly stripping yourself from your dress. You sat the material off to the side before sinking to your knees at the foot of the bed.

You held your hands behind your back and you patiently waited for Jake to come back.

As you waited, your mind drifted off to all of the possible ideas he might have. Those thoughts alone made you start to drip.

You bit your lip and looked towards the dark, hoping Jake would still be gone just a few more minutes.

Slipping one of your hands between your legs, you started to rub slow circles against your clit. You ran the tips of your fingers through your slick and pushed two fingers inside yourself.

Your head tipped back and your pace quickened rapidly. You brought your free hand down to your clit, rubbing fast circles into it and a whimper slipped past your lips.

You could feel yourself nearing your orgasm, as you curved your fingers inside yourself quickly.

"Fuck, Jake," You whimpered into the empty room, letting out a soft moan as your head rolled forward.

"It's a gorgeous fucking sight, isn't it?" Jake spoke. You gasped, eyes popping open as you looked towards the door.

"I think that's an understatement," Sam smirked from behind him. You were speechless as you looked back and forth between the two boys.

Jake turned his head around and whispered into Sam's ear before Sam nodded his head and faced his attention towards you.

"Good luck, Y/N, you're gonna need it." Sam grinned before he disappeared from your view.

Jake stepped into the room and harshly closed the door behind him, the slam making you jump in your spot.

"I asked of a few simple things and you couldn't even do all of them.” Jake slowly walked towards you, crouching down in front of you. “Now I walk in on you touching yourself while moaning my name? You're really just asking for it, aren't you?"

"What? I did everything you asked me to," You shook your head, but Jake shook his back. He reached behind you, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

"Your hair doesn't look like it's up to me." He raised his brows, keeping contact with you.

He pulled your head back and inched closer to your face. Your mouth fell open slightly and you were about to say something to him, but he shook his head. You immediately shut your mouth.

Jake let go of your hair upon hearing a knock at the door. He walked away from you and you watched his every move.

He opened up the door and he was handed a bucket before the door was closed again.

Walking back over to you, he sat the bucket on the dresser and sat something else next to it, but you couldn't quite see what it was.

"Do you remember your colors?" Jake crossed his arms in front of him and you nodded your head.

"Green, yellow and red,"

"Good girl," Jake started undoing his belt buckle, before sliding it out from the loops of his jeans. He tossed the belt onto the bed before slowly dragging down his zipper. 

"Do the rest for me, hm?" Jake requested and looked up at him with your best doe eyes, nodding your head before wrapping your slender fingers around his belt loops.

You dragged the material down his thighs, keeping eye contact while doing so, trying your hardest not to focus on the outline of him through his boxers.

You licked your lips as Jake took a step back and kicked his jeans away from him. He stepped closer to you again and you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down to the tops of his knees. 

"Open," Jake commanded and you did as you were told.

Jake showed you no mercy, as he hit the back of your throat almost immediately.

You gripped at his hips, but he pushed his hands off of him. "Hands behind your back,"

He slowly began to thrust his hips, but his slow pace didn't last long at all, before he was repeatedly hitting the back of your throat with a brutal pace.

Your eyes clamped shut and Jake grabbed a fistful of your hair, holding you in place.

"Look at me," Jake groaned and You tried your hardest to look up at him as tears brimmed your eyes.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, trying his hardest to not make a sound. He didn't want to show you how much he was enjoying this, since it was supposed to be a punishment after all.

You took in a deep breath through your nose and your eyes instinctively closed again.

Suddenly, you felt a harsh smack against your cheek and you moaned around Jake's cock.

You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, as he continued to fuck into your mouth relentlessly.

Jake let out a shakey breath and you felt stray tears roll down your cheek.

He bucked his hips into you a few more times, the pulled himself out of your mouth.

"Hands and knees. On the bed. Now." He pointed and you stood up. You moved onto the bed and propped yourself on your knees and you leaned against your forearms.

“Yes sir,” you said sweetly.

But In an attempt to egg him on a little, you slowly swayed your hips as you watched Jake over your shoulder. He had pulled his boxers back up, signaling he wasn't going to be using you any time soon.

"Stop. I don't even have to look at you to know what you're doing." Jake snapped, grabbing the bucket and sitting it on the bed as he positioned himself behind you.

Finally, you could see that it was filled up to the brim with ice and you felt a shudder go through your body.

"But don't I just look so pretty bent over for you, Jakey?" You tried to tease.

You swore you could've heard a small whimper come from him, but the thought disappeared when his fingers wrapped in your hair, pulling your head back.

"I'm so fucking sick of hearing your pretty, smart-ass voice right now. All I want to hear is you begging for mercy." Jake said flatly in your ear.

His words sent a shiver down your spine and let out a breath through your nose, choosing not to say anything. He let go of your hair and your head fell forward slightly.

You watched as he grabbed a piece of ice from the bucket and popped it into his mouth, leaning over you once more.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before putting the piece of ice at the front of his lips, slowly dragging it down your spine.

"Oh fuck," You whispered as you felt goosebumps raise all over your skin. His lips were wet and cold and the slightly cool air hitting the now wet spots on your skin made you shudder violently.

“Jake, please.”

He was inching closer and closer to your dripping core and you couldn't tell if you were shaking from anticipation, or the ice being dragged across your skin. 

You had no time to prepare for Jake's cold lips pressing against your heat.

“Oh, my god-“ you gasped, feeling your legs instinctively trying to close, but they didn't have the chance as Jake held them open and continued to lap at you.

The ice was quickly melting, given how hot you were and once it was completely melted, his tongue pressed flat against you. His movements were slow, trying to tease you in any way he possibly could.

Jake slipped one finger into you, his movements with his tongue still teasing and slow. He dragged out every one of his movements, being sure to take his time with everything he did.

You could feel your arousal dripping down your leg and you just wanted him to pick up his pace so badly.

And almost as if he was reading your mind, as his pace picked up just a little and he slipped another finger inside of you.

You tried your best to keep your moans to a minimum, but it was hard with the way Jake's fingers and mouth worked you expertly. Biting down on your lip, your knuckles turned white from how tightly they gripped the sheets beneath you. 

You could feel the knot in your stomach building, the high coming on so fast that you almost didn't even have time to comprehend the fact that you were right on it.

But it didn't matter, Jake wasn't going to let you cum that easily.

His fingers slipped out of you and his mouth was gone not even a split second later.

“Jake,” You huffed in sudden, bratty frustration.

“Shut it.” Jake reached for another piece of ice, resting it at the front of his lips like he had done before and he was hovering over you again, his face inching towards your shoulder; or so you thought.

You felt the ice touch your neck, inching closer and closer to your sweet spot.

He moved everywhere along your neck, but he was missing the one spot you wanted to feel him against.

The goosebumps rose heavily against your skin, the cool air making them more prominent. He was being a tease with the way he traveled down your back again, inching closer and closer to your dripping cunt.

You were going to beg for him, but you didn't want to give him that satisfaction. You kept the quiet whimpers to yourself, not wanting to see or hear that he was getting a rise out of you. 

It only took a second before his lips were wrapped around your clit again, a loud gasp flying past your lips from how cold and wet his lips and tongue were.

Jake’s movements remained slow, slow enough to barely bring the feeling of your orgasm back to it’s peak, but not enough to fully send you over.

It was torturous and you wanted nothing more than to spill over onto his tongue, to have him tell you how good of a girl you were and how sweet you tasted; but that was the very last thing you were going to get from him.

"Fuck, Jake I can't take this please just fuck me," You whined and gripped the sheets below you. Before you had time to comprehend what was happening, your back was against the mattress and Jake was hovering over you.

"Do you really want to be making requests right now?" Jake scanned your face. 

"If Sam were here, he would've been fucking me dumb already," You gave Jake a sinister smile and his eyes became almost black.

He opened his mouth to speak, but another voice beat him to it.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, doll." Sam spoke up, as he rounded the corner.

Your eyes shot over to him and you could feel all of the blood draining from your face. 

"Jake, I- He- What the fuck?" you were completely dumbfounded by the fact that he was even here.

"What is it, dove? Didn't hear him come in while you were a whining mess under me?" Jake pushed his lip out, giving you a fake pout and you shook your head. Your mouth was dry and you didn't know what to do or say.

"What? That smart mouth has nothing to say for once?" Sam snickered.

You so badly wanted to find a good come back, but your brain was empty, all you could think about was the two boys in your room and how after tonight you were going to be absolutely done for.

"Here's how this is gonna go," Jake held your face in place with one of his hands and you couldn't help but stare directly into his darkened eyes.

"You don't get to cum until I say so,"

"I think I already knew that you don't-"

Smack.

You stared at Jake with wide eyes, the sting across your cheek processing only seconds later.

He stared at you with a stern look, but you could see the slight worry in his eyes thinking he had taken it too far.

You didn't say anything besides staring at him in amusement and even more lust.

"Sam can you go into the top zipper pocket in my suitcase and grab what's in there." Jake turned his attention to his brother and Sam nodded before kneeling beside Jake's suitcase.

You tried to watch him as best as you could, but Jake turned your head to face him again.

"I tried avoiding this, but you don't know how to keep your mouth shut," Jake shook his head as he reached out to Sam.

Sam placed the item in his hand and you suddenly had a gag in full view.

‘When the fuck did he even get that?’ You frantically questioned in your head.

“Head up, mouth open," Jake commanded firmly.

You lifted your head as you were told and Jake placed the ball into your mouth, securing the strap in the back.

"Oh my fucking god," Sam whispered to himself.

He stared at you in disbelief, his eyes darkening much like Jake's.

Jake moved from above you and went over to the mini fridge where he had stored some of his alcohol. He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel's and twisted the top off and took a swig straight from the bottle.

Sam leaned over you, dragging his fingertips down your stomach so lightly it was almost as if he wasn't touching you. His movements were slow, inching closer and closer to your center.

You squirmed from the soft touch, and Sammy just continued staring at you in a state of awe.

"Yeah? You like how she looks, Sammy?" Jake smirked, walking over to his brother.

Sam barely even acknowledged that Jake was asking him a question.

"How about you let sweet, sweet Y/N know that you won't keep spoiling her, either?" Jake suggested, raising a brow as he looked down at you; so helpless.

"I never spoiled her..." Sam defended himself, breathless as his eyes raked over you for the billionth time.

You scoffed through the gag, the thoughts of the night you had spent with Sam and how he treated you. The way he whined under your touch, the shower the two of you had, him telling you how good you made him feel.

You were spoiled and you all fucking knew it.

"We all know that's not exactly true," Jake shook his head, taking another swig from the bottle of liquor.

"Whatever," Sam rolled his eyes. "Luckily, I like to be a tease just for the hell of it. Pretty baby, can't even tell me how good she wants me to make her feel," He fake pouted and your breathing intensified. His fingers dipped between your thighs, dancing lightly over the spot you needed him the most.

You tried to shift your hips to get any sort of friction from him, but Jake's hand came down and held you in place.

"Have your fun with her Sammy, she's not moving." Jake smiled down at you. Sam's fingers rubbed quick circles against your clit and you whined, wanting to pull your hips away from him.

You could feel another orgasm building, so close to the brink of spilling over. Before you could even reach the high, his fingers were gone.

"I have a vibrator, think we should torture her a bit?" Jake suggested and You shook your head quickly as a smile spread across Sam's face.

Sam’s smirk was wicked. “Go get it.”

Jake went over to your suitcase and grabbed the vibrator that you thought you had hidden from him back at home.

Obviously you didn’t do the best job.

He pushed the button causing the toy to come to life before handing it to Sam.

Sam adjusted himself next to you and he pressed the toy to your clit. You moaned into the gag, the feeling of another orgasm already building.

"So sensitive, hm?" Sam cooed. His lips connected with your sweet spot, nipping at the spot before soothing it with his tongue. “I bet you are, baby doll. As many times as you’ve cum today.”

“I bet it sucks to cum so much and now you can’t.” Jake added on. “Maybe you don’t deserve anymore at all today.”

Crawling over top of you as you shifted around, Jake slid his boxers down his legs and ran his tip through your folds, collecting enough of your arousal to completely coat him.

“God, you’re fucking soaked. Gotta feel you wrapped around me,” was all Jake said before thrusting into you, giving you little time to adjust.

He set into a steady pace, sending your body further into the pillows with each thrust.

“Looks like she feels so good, Jake.” Sam cooed lowly. “Should I let her cum?”

“No. Not yet.” Jake's thrusts were quick and sharp, hitting every spot inside of you so perfectly.

You were seconds from spilling over the edge, then Sam moved the vibrator from your clit, following Jake’s command.

The urge to scream into the gag was unreal, to say the very least.

He lazily dragged it across your stomach and you could feel yourself becoming lightheaded from all the denial.

Sam removed his lips from your neck, using his free hand to wrap around your throat.

Tears clouded your vision as you looked at Sam who had a dark look in his eyes. His grip was tight and you could feel your vision becoming hazy.

Sam moved the vibrator to your clit again and your eyes clamped shit. The gag doing a surprisingly poor job at silencing the high pitched noises you were making.

Your hands instantly found home against Jake's back and He hissed as you dragged your nails against his skin, sharp enough to draw blood.

"Let her cum," Jake groaned and Sam's hand left your throat. As soon as it did, you could feel yourself spilling over the edge.

There was no air left in your lungs, the stars growing thicker in your vision and your head began to throb.

“Jake said to let you cum,” Sam spoke lowly. “So cum for us. C’mon. Do it for me- For Jake.”

You let out a loud moan that was barely even muffled by the gag and Jake continued his brutal pace into you as you came around him.

“Shut up, Sam.” Jake huffed, becoming slightly possessive. “Only for me, pretty girl.”

Your body was limp, your orgasm already draining your energy. Jake's hips began to falter and you knew he wasn't far behind you.

His fingertips were digging into your sides hard enough that you knew you'd be bruised.

You moved your arms with the little strength you had left and pushed the hair that was sticking to Jake's forehead out of the way.

"Sam, take her gag off," Jake grunted. “Please.”

You lifted your head as best as you could, so Sam could take the gag off of you.

As soon as it left your mouth Jake's lips connected with yours and you moaned into his mouth.

Sam's lips connected with your neck and you could feel another orgasm wanting to take over.

"Jake, I-" Your voice was cut off by a high-pitched moan.

Your high took over, but it was stronger than one you had felt all day.

The space between you and Jake grow significantly wetter and your eyes rolled back into your head. there wasn't a sound to be heard around you as your body became completely numb.

*

Groaning, you rolled over in bed, being met with another warm body that you instantly knew to be Jake’s.

As you shifted, a soft groan rumbled out of his own chest.

After a second or two, Jake flipped over on his back, eyes slowly fluttering open to look at you.

“Did you sleep good, angel?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, not bothering to open up your own eyes as you cuddled into him, laying your head on his chest. “M’never doing anything sneaky.”

Jake chuckled, deep and gravely as his voice was still laced with sleep. “Yeah I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Where’s Sammy?” You decided to change the subject entirely.

“He went to bed after he helped me clean you up last night.” Jake explained, tilting his head to the side to place a kiss on your temple. “I don’t know who was more worn out, him or you.”

“I’d say me, since I fainted again.”

“You cannot keep doing that,” Jake scolded playfully. “You’ve scared the absolute fuck out of me both times.”

“You just make me feel that good, i guess.” You giggled, finally cracking one eye open.

“Sam was also there,” Jake reminded you through a little smirk.

“And I can assure you, he’s never gonna let you live it down.”

“Mm, that’s just fucking great.”

Tag list:

@shutupdevvie @why-ami-on-here

@belovedsamuel @gardensgatedaisy

@ageofbarbarians

@theweightofjake @jake-kiszkas-smirk @positivegvfthings

@gretasmokerising @sammysprincess

@jordierama @doodle417

@asparrowofthedawn

@jakekiszkasleftnutsack

@greta-van-chaos @mintysammykiszka

@skankforjakekiszka @sarakay-gvf

@teddiie @colorstreammind @ofburningskies @of-infinite-wonders

@highladyofasgard @simple-pleasures-of-existence

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Hay my description ask from the other day this time it's for Conner. (Young Justice TV series season 1) Conner has friends outside of the team and he's practice how to maintain his civilian identity one time when (10 year old) jon came to see Conner at his school meets Conners friends and Conner introduces them to each other. After the first time Conner's friend's ask about Jon and Conner learning how to keep himself in check answers without getting angry or annoyed:

1: when asked what Jon is like what dose Conner say?

2: when asked what kind of person Jon is what would Conner say?

3: when asked what kind of hobbies Jon's into dose Conner say and if so what does he say?

4: when Conner's asked what's it like to have Jon as a brother what dose Conner say?

5: when asked how close the two are what dose Conner say?

6: overall how dose Conner describe Jon?

My most sincere apologies for the lateness on this ask my friend @we-cross-universe-king-relate

1. “….He’s a good kid. He’s full of energy but he also knows when to take time to think about what he wants to do. He was raised right”

2. “Considerate, friendly, compassionate, sensitive when it’s too much for him, always eels the truth, headstrong, never truly fears that much and above all else, he’s positive yet smart.”

3. “Talk to his own friends at his school, play his video games, take strolls around the farm and especially the trees. A lot of it being what any kid whose raised by country folk these days can be like”

4. “I…..I frankly don’t really know if I can answer it without being too distracted by what I can say. I guess I’ll just say…..I like it. I really do”

5. “He’s the first one who truly treat me as something more than just as a weapon of Cadmus or even just a teammate for this…club I happen to be a part of. Jon’s like….family to me. And in a family, no one gets left behind. I vow never to leave Jon behind so help me if I can”

6. “He’s like a me that wasn’t be raised by computers and G-Gnomes. A me that from that had a loving family that steers him in the right direction ever since his powers first came in. A me….I myself would protect with my life, he deserves that protection.”

I tied picturing how YJA!Conner sounds like I’m my hind when coming up with these answers. Hope these work out.

If there’s anything to say about these you have, please leave a Reblog and/or reply. It’ll be greatly appreciated ;-)

[thoughtless-gay-frog]

((Anon who asked about victims))

Yay! I really like Manov too! He’s really awesome as a character, and i wish we could see more of him. It’s so sad that his brutal death was caused by his idol

(I just like aa victims in general lmao, too bad most of them are not talked about very often, so thank you for your answer on that)

So, another question if you don’t mind: what’s your opinion on spirit channeling in aa?

Yes!!! Welcome back anon, I’m glad you agree with me on Manov and I will gladly talk about spirit channeling!

Honestly it’s just such a cool concept. I overall enjoy the way they built the history of it throughout the games. It’s established in the second case of the original game, and it does not stop being important until the last case of Spirit of Justice (and maybe tgaa too, I just wouldn’t know lmao). While I’m not a big fan of Spirit of Justice as a whole, I do think it’s just so interesting how they continued to keep explaining the history of spirit channeling and how its origin of Khura’in ties into their entire culture, yet they’re two completely different ideologies.

This is more so a commentary on the contrast of Kurain and Khura’in, but I love the stark difference between how each country treats spirit channeling. Kurain is the first place we’re introduced to the channeling practice, and we’re supposed to feel bad and maybe look down upon Maya, just a little bit, for not being able to channel spirits. Because according to Kurain tradition, many women are able to do it, and as a descendant of the village leader, Maya should have been easily able to tap into her spiritual abilities whenever she pleased. We later meet other women from the village, like Pearl and Misty, who are very proficient in spirit channeling. The consensus of Kurain is that the lineage of the village leaders are all able to channel spirits, some like Morgan being an exception, but like. It’s not exclusive to them. They’re just the best at it, it runs mostly in their blood. Whereas we later learn that in Khura’in it’s the complete opposite, only the queen is allowed to channel spirits and any one else even considering it is blasphemy. Maya was very reluctant to channel for the sake of keeping their tradition alive. In Khura’in, spirit channeling isn’t necessarily treated better, it’s just treated like a perk of being royalty. Something the commoners could never hope to achieve. Which is such a different outlook than Kurain has and it’s just so interesting to me.

Global differences aside, I generally do just enjoy the concept. Like. It is so cool to know that the dead don’t really have to stay dead, if you suddenly lost a relative and never got to say goodbye you could do that. If you never got to make amends with someone who fell ill or got killed you have the chance to reconcile. And that’s just such a nice thought. And I appreciate that ace attorney didn’t just treat it like that, like something near and happy and picture perfect. That no, spirits can still deceive and cause problems when they’re summoned, taking over someone else’s body can cause harm and get one into a lot of trouble. It’s nice to see something so bizarre treated with realistic ideas, if that makes sense. I’m very glad that it stays throughout the games and continues to be messy and add onto trials, because yeah, if we had spirit channeling in the real world all kinds of wacky things would happen. People would try to use it to their malicious intentions. And I just really like how well the games dealt with that while still making it interesting and fun and something you want to learn more about.

[malereader-inserts]

The Night We Met

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Jughead Jones x Male!Reader Summary: There’s too much pain in his heart, he really wish it will go away soon. Word Count: 1,575 Request:  I. Need. ANGST! (Please feed me some angst 🥺) Warning: Suicide, depression A/n: I would love more angst prompts.

Riverdale is a small place, it’s a town where everyone knows everyone. 

Death is common, it’s heartbreaking, but somehow it’s always more saddening when it’s a young person, just because they had so much life to experience. Riverdale is a quiet town, really, but it was only loud because of one young lad. 

Jughead Jones was very fond of this person.

You weren’t too bright that people hated to look your way, you were too good for this world. But, you were real. There wasn’t negativity in your body other than your outlook in life, you were so kind that the elderly always see you and offering your time to help them. You would help struggling students with subjects, you were an inspiration to Jughead’s side project - to tell the perfect story of you. 

See, you were a soft boy. The boy who wore round glasses, oversized sweaters and baggy jeans. Sometimes, you would wear your overalls with your long shirt underneath and converse to match. You weren’t afraid to express yourself, you were too good for this world because nothing should harm you.

So, how can this happy boy kill himself?

The town mourns because this shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

The kid, you, you were supposed to go - be free. You were supposed to leave Riverdale, make it big in the big city. Make friends, make a family, expand your horizons. 

You’re just a boy.

It hurts so much, to think, to feel. 

Jughead hated it, your story was supposed to be making it far and yet it was ending abruptly. Jughead remembers the night you met him, it was just you and him in Pop’s diner. The neon lights illuminating your face, Jughead cannot help but feel threatened by your looks.

You sat across him, sipping a cold beverage. One leg up on the booth and your arms leaning against your knee. Jughead remembers vividly the rings you hand on your fingers, the chains around your neck - the dull brown striped sweater that seems to contrast the white collar from a shirt under it. 

You two seem to hit it off that night, you were laughing at each other’s jokes, the occasional flirty remark, exchanging numbers and kept “running into each other at pop’s late at night when it’s just you and him.

“I want to write a book about you, (Y/n),” Jughead says, as you looked at him curiously, “You’re interesting.”

“Far from it, Jughead.”

He stood by your side most of the time, somehow you two formed a relationship - it was so unlikely, but it was right. Two boys just in love with each other, they see nothing but each other. Jughead adores the book he has written about you, there’s a load of wisdom sprouted from your mouth. 

“People tend to forget to tell each other how much they love or miss you or need you, and even if they do remember, sometimes they're just too shy, too scared, too certain it's the wrong thing to say or the wrong timing. But it's not. It never is. Say it before it's too late. For all we know, it could all be different tomorrow.”

“It really could.”

“I could die tomorrow, and I know there will be a lot of unsaid things in the air. There will be regret.”

Jughead looks at you, “Are you okay?”

You shrugged your shoulder, there was a faint smile on your face, “I haven’t been okay for a long time,” There was a beat silence as you laugh, “I’m just kidding, Jug, I’m okay.”

Jughead wishes he didn’t believe it - but foolishly, he did.

Life continues, he recalls how happy you were, there was nothing in life that could go wrong for you. And yet, you let out your deepest feelings in the late night meet up at Pop’s.

“You know,” You sighed, leaning your head back against the window, “I’m tired of feeling-”

“Huh?”

“I’m so done with life, this life I mean. Reincarnate me to another lifetime like two hundred years from now, maybe it’ll be better.”

“That is if climate change hasn’t taken us already,” Jughead say as you chuckle softly, “Maybe we’ll have robots.”

“Maybe, they’ll lower the age of drinking.”

There you go, joking again, as if you haven’t accidentally got to deep in your feelings. Jughead remembers how you were, and now he cringes. It’s all there, the signs of calling for help - right in front of him. And, he brushed it off because he thinks you’re joking.

Jughead remembers.

It hurts.

He had all, and then most of you. Some and now none of you.

He remembers how you started to drift away from him. The meetings late night started to be rare until you stopped showing up. The smile was there but it looked sort of faded. You weren’t by side as much until you were avoiding him, telling him that you were busy. 

You died.

You killed yourself.

You were at peace now. 

“Please...”

The wind rustles the nearby trees, it’s not cold out. In fact, the breeze was comforting in the warm day, summer was ending and autumn was starting to come about. Autumn had always been your favourite season, it was the season for staying in and the cold weather starting to nip at your nose. It’s an excuse to wear jumpers and have hot coffee.

“Please, take me back to the night we met.”

Jughead trembles, he’s on his knees as he stares at your headstone. It’s clean and fresh among those that have been forgotten over the years. Jughead doesn’t think a slab of stone fits you well, it’s just not you.

Your life could never be marked by a gravestone, something so cold and immobile. Perhaps a tree with a wind-chime in the branches could do you more justice, or a simple song sung into the wind. What lies in the ground is only flesh and blood, that's never what you were. 

You were quite honestly the most beautiful spirit Jughead has ever known. he prays that you soar with the eagles on lofty breezes and swim in oceans deep; he prays that you know the freedom this life could never give you, yet most of all he prays that when his time comes it is you that takes him by the hand and you go onwards to better times together.

There are flowers for you, some that were there since you were buried, some that were new. But, your grave was never short of flowers. 

“I would have done anything for them-”

“-Except save them,” Archie says behind him.

A reared as if he had been slapped. Jughead swallowed hard, eyes wide and startled before their gaze shuttered. “You have no fucking idea,” He whips around to tackle the redhead, “You don’t know (Y/n), you don’t know him like I know him. Don’t think for one second I wouldn’t have tried.”

“Juggie,” FP says softly, grabbing the boy by his shoulders, “(Y/n) wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” Archie whispered, he knows he overstepped the line - it’s a shock really, your death was sudden.

“I failed him,” Jughead says, it’s a struggle for him because he’s holding back tears, “I keep seeing his face and I can’t help think I’ve failed him.”

Guilt, too much of it. 

Regret, and you were right - there are a lot of unsaid things in the air and he regrets not telling you.

“I love him.”

“He loves you too,” FP says, making Jughead look him in the eyes, “There is not a bone in (Y/n) that tells you, you were ever at fault - okay? He doesn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Going home was an empty feeling in Jughead, FP knows it will take a while for Jughead to bounce back to himself. School seems to empty without you, there isn’t someone there to wait for him at his locker; instead, there’s candles and flowers at yours. Jughead goes to sleep with the papers of your unfinished story, he goes to sleep in your sweaters.

He keeps a picture of you, always on himself. One night he stares at you, it’s been two weeks since you were buried. Your relationship with him hadn’t lasted long, three months - not once he had uttered the three words as you did to him.

“I love you,” Jughead whispers to the picture of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me that when I was alive?” Your voice questions him, he knows you’re not there, but can’t help himself to imagine you by his side.

“I was scared.”

There was silence, “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

He can’t imagine how terrified you were, in your last moments of breathing. He doesn’t want to imagine it, yet sometimes it keeps him up at night. 

“Make my story ending a good one, will you?” Your voice says, there’s a tone of happiness for a second.

“I don’t know how to end it,” Jughead admits, “It wasn’t supposed to end so soon.”

“Tell them I was brave for finding peace,” Your voice softly begs, “Please, that’s how I want it to end.”

Jughead stays silent before nodding to himself; he knows he’ll be haunted by the ghost of you. But, that’s a request he can do for you - your one last wish.

“Okay,” He whispers.

Maybe, just maybe, you found peace in his word.

[captaincoffeegirl515]

What the hell was that last act???

So first of all I want to say that I did enjoy most of the movie. It was okay. The sex scenes didn’t do anything for me though since I’m just not interested in sex at all. But while I more-or-less liked the movie, I felt that the big plot twists in the last act and the ending were badly done because… how the fuck did ANY of them manage to get away with ANY OF THAT??? Like from a legal standpoint it’s just ???

This got so much longer than I anticipated, so the rest is under the read more. And yes, there are so many spoilers. So if you haven't seen The Voyeurs yet and don't want spoilers, please avoid this.

Seb and Julia literally confess to selling their old apartment in order to spy on the people who live there and use them for their art show. Like, yes, they put that clause in the Terms of Agreement for the apartment (which literally no one ever reads) but there is still the matter of Informed Consent. Informed Consent is usually in the form of a contract Pippa and Thomas both need to read and sign, or via verbal questions and answers which is filmed so Seb and Julia would have physical proof of an agreement. This is basically telling them what footage was taken, how it will be used, and if Seb and Julia have permission to share the footage publicly. In Thomas’ case, since he’s dead, his next-of-kin will be asked. Only then are Seb and Julia legally allowed to publicly share and showcase the Pippa and Thomas’ pictures. And Seb is a professional photographer! He should know that!

Have you ever seen prank shows? Like even the ones on YouTube. Have you noticed at the end of some videos, there would be a part where the filmers would approach the person who was pranked and ask if they could use their footage in the video. That’s Informed Consent. They need to ask permission to use a person’s footage in a video or if they need to blur out the person’s face for privacy. Seb and Julia even showed a picture of a dead man for chrissakes! Remember the outcry when that YouTuber posted a video of a suicide victim in Japan???

The Japanese interviewer was right to disapprove of their methods because even though there was a clause in the Terms of Agreement, the prank (because isn’t that what that whole show they did was?) or experiment still resulted with someone killing themself (yes I know it was murder, but the world doesn't know it). They can possibly still be held liable for causing Thomas to kill himself the same way a prankster can be held liable if their victim dies from a prank because of this thing in Law called the Eggshell Rule or Eggshell Plaintiff.

What this means is that a defendant is liable for any injuries caused by the defendant’s actions, regardless of how unforeseeable or uncommon the plaintiff’s reactions to the defendant’s actions are. So for example, there is a scary prank where the prankster jumps out of the bushes and terrifies people. One of them turns out to have a heart condition, suffers a heart attack, and dies. Regardless of the victim’s frailty, the prankster can be held liable for exacerbating the condition and causing the victim’s death. Likewise in the movie, they can say that Seb and Julia, by orchestrating the whole thing and making Thomas see his girlfriend cheating on him, could have caused him to become broken-hearted and kill himself. Therefore, Seb and Julia can be liable for Thomas’ death.

And then here’s the kicker! The famous photographer and his wife, a famous model, both suddenly end up blind AFTER their big art show where they displayed Pippa’s scandal. And not by accident. No. This was obviously surgically done. And NOBODY suspected foul play?? Nobody thought about revenge?? Nobody thought it strange how their blindness was clearly done with a surgical/medical precision nor suspected the couple’s subject, Pippa, who they thoroughly humiliated, who also worked as an optometrist technician at a lab that has the machines that could cause that kind of blindness??? And they're both still alive! They can easily tell the police who did it!

It should have been way too easy for the police to know that it was foul play. Blood tests can tell that Seb and Julia had been drugged. How they were blinded can be traced to the optometry lab. Pippa would be the easiest main suspect due to her connection to them with revenge as the main motivation after they humiliated her in that art show.

And yes, I agree that what Seb and Julia did was wrong. They used Pippa and Thomas, and then murdered Thomas so they can have some juicy story to tell!

Even so, what happened to Ethical Codes in the medical field? What happened to the Hippocratic Oath? Non-maleficience rule? “Do No Harm”? Pippa should have been slammed with, idk, medical malpractice or something, after using her knowledge of the LASIK machine and using it to permanently blind people (which is an actual fear real people have about LASIK surgery), have her license revoked, be fired from her job, and possibly serve jail time. Why is she walking free all willy-nilly and still being allowed to continue stalking Seb and Julia?

I’ll admit though that maybe I’m being more harsh towards Pippa because I myself used to be a Board Certified medical professional (my license expired last year because I hadn't been working in that field for a while) and because of that, her actions angered and horrified me more.

Normally, we as an audience are made to root for the main character or hero, but I found it difficult to do so because Pippa herself is a terrible person. She's a pervert and a creep. She was obsessed with the lives of other people, stalked them, and even went as far as committing crimes in order to fuel her obsession - trespassing, breaking and entering, destruction of private property.

And my goodness this actually makes me think of a few Ben Hardy stans who are like this. Well, idk if going to Ben's school so that she can get a copy of a school film he was in can be considered a crime, but it's still fucking creepy.

Pippa’s got that Savior Complex where she tries to rescue this poor neglected wife from her horrible cheating husband (the same one she herself wants to fuck because she’s obsessed with him). And then when it all goes south, she immediately turns around and blames THOMAS of all people because “he started it”. Like, so what if he did?? He still had enough maturity to realize when they were taking it too far, and decided to stop with the stalking. He told her to stop multiple times but she was too blinded by her obsession and lust for a man that she doesn’t even know.

AND THEN!! She stalked a grieving husband (I know we know that was a lie but Pippa didn't know that) and proceeded to cheat on her boyfriend with said grieving husband. And frankly, I don’t understand why she’s so vengeful about Thomas’ death considering how easily she forgot him so that she could cheat on him. Like. Who knows, maybe he still would’ve killed himself regardless of the poisoned drink because the last thing he saw was his girlfriend cheating on him with the man she’d been obsessed with for the past idk how long. Even in the scene after Thomas died, there was a momentary grief where Pippa was all “it’s my fault Thomas died” but it was all too brief and immediately after she went back to obsessing and asking about Seb. And they want me to believe that she’d want to avenge Thomas’ death? No. I think she blinded Seb and Julia because she was angry at being called out for her obsession. For being told that she was wrong to go that far. It wasn’t about her “love” for Thomas. It was about how humiliated she was about being wrong.

Can you believe that Pippa gave this whole speech with the fable about being content with what you have and not to try to be greedy by wanting more and then she just immediately DOES THE OPPOSITE OF THE MORAL by cheating on her boyfriend because she wanted more aka Seb???

The more that I think about it, I feel like the true villain of the movie is Pippa herself. Her obsession with Seb is what started the whole thing. If she had been able to keep a healthy distance, none of that would’ve happened to begin with. There would be no fights over how far things were going. Seb would have no scandal to tell. She worsened Thomas’ insecurities of not being enough for her, making him go to great lengths just to try to please her. Poor Thomas. He truly deserved better.

Pippa also has awful friends. Instead of stamping down the creepy behavior, they’re giving tips on how to listen in on other people’s private conversations! And then later try to excuse her cheating on Thomas. And then help with her obsession AGAIN.

Acting-wise, I felt that Natasha, Ben, and Justice were incredible and I loved them. I love how conflicted Ben played Seb and how you can see it in his eyes. My favorite scene was the one where Seb and Julia had that confrontation over the wine where Seb asks if she ever felt guilty and Julia just stares right back and stares him down. Natasha was brilliant as Julie pretending to be all friendly and vulnerable with Pippa. Justice was very emotional and I love the scenes where he was horrified at how far Pippa was taking everything. For me, Sydney was the weakest one at acting. While there were some okay parts, her face can be really stiff at some points, like during the sex scenes.

Overall, I thought the movie to be quite thought-provoking especially in this day and age where people can find the most intimate details of another person’s life so easily, be that through Carrd, Instagram stories, Facebook feeds, and other social media sites. It makes you think about parasocial relationships, how people can be so obsessed about people that they’ve never even met, and how that obsession can easily grow into something dangerous that can ruin lives. Good movie, terrible last act. Too much sex for my taste, but then it wouldn’t be called an erotic movie.

Outside of the movie, I really love the chemistry between the four of them. I love watching their interviews and seeing how they interact with each other.

Last but not the least, I know this may be random but my brain likes to zoom in on the weirdest things. How on earth did Pippa manage to get Seb on top of that operating table?? No offense but Pippa is fucking tiny. Seb’s like twice her size and mostly muscle AND unconscious. Like ??? Sorry but that threw me off so much it’s ridiculous.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: Have you watched Lupin? What did you think? (And are you a fan of the books or other adaptations of the character?)

The short answer is yes, I have seen Lupin on Netflix. Overall I enjoyed it so long as I suspended my disbelief at certain things.

Unfortunately it took being struck down by Covid and being bedridden for me to actually to binge watch the whole series. So I was behind the curve when my friends, French and those outside of France, started to talk about it around me. I had to beg them not to give away spoilers until I had seen it all.

It did surprise me that it won rave widespread reviews outside France because usually French drama series don’t travel very well outside of France. I’m sure even Netflix had no idea how successful it would be for them. I’m sure being in Covid lockdown had something to do with it. In any case I don’t begrudge its success as it’s well earned.

However I wasn’t too surprised that within France itself the French reviews were decidely mixed and divisive. The critic at Le Point painfully hit the nail on the head when he wrote, “Le plus gros défaut de l'ensemble reste la pauvreté des personnages, tous unidimensionnels, caricaturaux et aussi épais que du papier à cigarette.“ - loosely translated as, ‘the biggest flaw of the whole thing remains the poverty of the characters, all one-dimensional, cartoonish and as thick as cigarette paper’.

There’s a growing amount of good French stuff on TV and streaming services but a non-French audience will not have had the chance to have seen all of it yet. I can think of any number of French television drama/dramedy/cmedy series that are much better than Lupin with better plots, characters, and even a truer perspective of French society and even modern day France (Dix pour cent (Call My Agent!), Le Bureau des Légendes, Engrenages, Baron Noir, and Paris Police 1900). But you would be hard pressed to find anything that comes close to Lupin just for the sake of something fun to watch during the Covid lockdown.

What makes the current generation of home made French television series so interesting is how much of it is a reflection of France’s own anxieities about itself and its role in a increasingly English speaking dominating world. In a funny way it sees itself as defiant plucky Asterix fighting off the Roman American cultural hordes from totally invading their Francophone culture.

For sure, it has societal and racial issues stemming from its colonial legacy and issues of immigration and integration (France has the largest Muslim population in Europe). However it seems to want to ‘resolve’ these issues through the almost sacramental adherence to French secularist ideals rather than American inspired ideas of social justice and equity. There’s always been something very admirable about the French - from the time of General de Gaulle and perhaps before - always swinging from snooty ambivalence to outright antipathy towards the influence of American culture ‘americanising’ French culture (no to Walmarts or fast food chains for example).

Is it any wonder then that Netflix’s ill-conceived American series ‘Emily in Paris’ was widely hated and mocked within France for just perpetuating those lazy American tropes of Paris and French culture?

Personally I know Francophile Americans, long resident in Paris, who were frankly embarrassed and spent a lot of time apologising to their French friends. I have one American friend who has told me that she was so mad that she would have blind folded Emily and shoved her hard in the car boot and drive her all the way to the poorest of the banlieues in the grimey crime saturated suburbs of Paris - Seine-Saint-Denis came to mind - and dump her preening arse there. She would slap her and tell the spoilt entitied brat to make her own way back home - you know, to her spacious apartment in one of the most expensive arrondissements of Paris that of course(!) any American intern working for French marketing firms can afford.

I digress. My apologies. Watching this God awful show gives me PTSD.

Onto Lupin.

Thankfully Lupin doesn’t try to play to non-French tropes of what Paris is or isn’t. It does skim the surface of current discontents within French culture and society (race, class, power, and money) but ever so lightly so as to not get in the way of just spinning a good crowd pleasing yarn. It invites you to have fun and not to think too much. I have to be honest and say I enjoyed it as long as I suspended my disbelief here and there.

Lupin refers of course to the character Arsène Lupin, the French gentleman thief who stole jewellery from Parisian haute bourgeois and aristocracy at the turn of the century. Lupin, as written in the novels and short stories by Maurice Leblanc between 1905 and his death in 1941, was the archetypical anti-hero, a Robin Hood who stole from those who deserved it but kept the loot himself. He was often portrayed often a force for good, while operating on the wrong side of the law.

Lupin never really made much of an impact outside of France as he had within France where is revered with many French film and television adaptations. In England, we already had a Lupin type character in the form of A.J. Raffles, a cricket playing gentleman thief with his aristocratic side kick, Bunny. E.W. Horning’s stories of Raffles’ daring heists proved to be quite popular with the British public when Raffles first appeared on the scene in 1898. And even later Leslie Charteris’ The Saint took over the mantle from Raffles as the gentleman thief/adventuring Robin Hood.

I think Hollywood tried to introduce him to an English speaking audience (legendary actor John Barrymore even played him) but he didn’t really take off and eventually they found their gentleman thief archetype in Sir Charles Lytton aka The Phantom (played by David Niven and Christopher Plummer) in the Pink Panther movies. So Lupin never got the English audience he deserved.

I first got wind of who Arsène Lupin was when I was growing up in Japan as a child. As strange as it sounds Lupin was big in Japan especially after World War Two. The Japanese did their own take on the Lupin character using Japanese actors and plot lines but it was Lupin.

I don’t know how exactly but I remember watching these scratchy DVDs of these Lupin inspired films. I think it was one of my parents’ Japanese friends who was mad for all things Lupin and he had studied French literature in France. Jogging my memory I now recall these black & white films were done in the 1950s. One starred Keiji Sada and the other version I remember was with Eija Okada (he was in Resnais’ classic film, Hiroshima Mon Amour) as Arsene Lupin called (I think) Kao-no Nai Otoko. I didn’t understand most of it at the time because it was all in Japanese and my Japanese (at the time) was pitiful, but it looked fun.

There was even a Japanese manga version of Lupin which was called Lupin III, - so named because he was the grandson of the real Arsène Lupin.

The 1960s manga series spawned generations of TV series which I do remember watching and finding it terribly exciting if somewhat confusing.

It was French expatriate friends whom my family knew that introduced me to the real Arsène Lupin. They had a few of the books authored by Maurice Leblanc. It was in French so I read them to improve my French but enjoyed the story along the way.

I also remember them showing me scratchy episodes of the 1970s Franco-German TV series ‘Arsène Lupin’ with the monocle wearing Georges Descrières in the lead role. It was a classical re-telling of the adventures of the aristocratic gentleman-burglar and very family friendly viewing. I don’t really remember much of it to be honest.

It was some years before I actually started to read more of the Maurice Leblanc’s novels and short stories collection. I have them all now. I was a teen and I remember being stuck in a snowed in a Swiss Alpine chalet and with nothing else to do but pull out a few dog eared books from the bookshelves belonging to our French host and read to pass the time.

I read Les Dents du tigre, Arsène Lupin vs Herlock Sholmes, and Les Huit Coups de l'horloge and thoroughly enjoyed them in the original French. I was already reading classic detective and mystery novels (Sherlock Holmes, Poirot etc) so it was natural to read the adventures of Arsène Lupin.

I haven’t got around to reading all the novels and short stories but I have read most of them and I enjoyed them all immensely. In the same way Conan Doyle, through Holmes and Watson, manages to conjure a convincing picture of late Victorian and early Edwardian England, so Leblanc manages to give us a taste of Belle Epoque France through the eyes of his suave gentleman-thief, Arsène Lupin.

Indeed it's a lot like reading Sherlock Holmes in that you're always trying to figure out how he did it, but the difference is that you are rooting for the bad guy. You can’t help but be drawn to this gentleman thief who is charming, comic, playful, and romantic and generous. Lupin is not an intellectual puzzle-solver but first a master criminal, later a detective helper, who maintains his curious ethics throughout his adventures. In this regard he is very much the anti-Sherlock Holmes; and I wasn’t disappointed when I actually read the story where Lupin faces off with Holmes himself. Brilliant!

I’ve also seen the 2004 French movie with Romain Duris in the Lupin lead role and it also starred the majestic Kristin Scott Thomas and the sexy Eva Green.

It was a decent adventure flick and it was a clear confluence of different Lupin novels (The Queen's Necklace (introducing Lupin's childhood), The Hollow Needle (where the treasure is the macguffin of the story), The Arrest of Arsène Lupin (the gala on the ship as a backdrop) and Josephine Balsamo, (one of Lupin’s most memorable opponents in the The Countess Of Cagliostro).

Romaine Duris, a fine classical actor, was I felt miscast because he didn’t have Lupin’s levity of wit and be at ease within himself. I love Duris in his other films but in Arsène Lupin and even in his other film, Moliere, he seemed ill at ease with the role. Perhaps that’s just me.

The latest Netflix adaptation (or reimagining to be more precise) is a welcome addition to the world of Arsène Lupin.If you don’t over-think it, it’s bags of fun.

Omar Sy is immensely likeable. Sy is a deservedly a big star in France - he won the best actor César for “The Intouchables,” an international hit - and has played forgettable secondary characters in big-budget American special effects movies (he was Chris Pratt’s assistant in “Jurassic World” and a minor mutant in “X-Men: Days of Future Past”). It was reportedly his desire to play Arsène Lupin, whom he’s compared to James Bond (“fun, funny, elegant”), that led to the series, created by British writer George Kay. And it is on his charm that the series largely, though not entirely, rests.

So the basic story revolves around a jewellery heist. Sy plays Assane Diop, a first-generation French-Senegalese man in contemporary Paris. A collection of Lupin stories, a gift from his father - whose undeserved fate Assane set himself to avenge in long-delayed, Count of Monte Cristo style upon a criminal tycoon - has made the actual Lupin books a foundation of his life and profitably illicit career. This fan-ship goes as far as borrowing practical ideas from the stories and constructing aliases out of anagrams of “Arsene Lupin,” a habit that will attract the interest of a low-level police detective (Soufiane Guerrab as Youssef Guedira) who shares Assane’s love of the books. (That the detective also shares an initial with Lupin’s own adversary, Inspector Ganimard, is possibly not a coincidence.)

Among the many comic delights of Lupin, is an unspoken one. Time and again, the show’s hero, master thief Assane Diop is able to slip into a place unnoticed, or by assuming a minor disguise that prevents witnesses from providing an accurate description of him to law enforcement.

Why is this funny?

Because Omar Sy is six feet three (and, since most actors are short, seems even taller), is roughly as wide as soccer pitch, and is memorable even before he flashes his infectious million-Euro smile. This is not a man for whom anonymity should be possible - even allowing for racial bias in a majority-white country, Assane would be memorable and distinctive - and Lupin seems cheekily aware of this. Like the various incredible sleights of hand Assane deploys to pull off his thefts and escapes, his ability to be anyone, anywhere, is treated more as a superpower than as something even the world’s greatest criminal would be able to pull off.

At one point, when he’s slated for a cable news appearance as a much older man, we learn that Assane is also a master of disguise. The revelation of this skill arrives with a wink in the show, and it feels pointless to ask where he learned it, or how he affords movie-quality latex and makeup. Or rather, asking the question feels wrong.

We know this is impossible, the show seems to be asking its viewers again and again, but isn’t it so much fun?

The performances and the production - it has that particularly European filmic quality of feeling natural even when it gets stylish - keep the series warm even as the plot is made up of incredulous contraptions that require everything to go right at just the right time and for human psychology to be 100% predictable. Its physics are classical rather than quantum, one might say, and like the world itself, which becomes more curious the deeper you peer into things, it is best handled along the surface. You do not want to take too much time working out the likelihood of any of this happening. Just go along for the ride.

Somehow, though, it all works because Sy is so magnetic and charming that questioning plot logic feels wildly besides the point. Though he never looks appreciably different in his various aliases (including one ill-conceived live-TV appearance done under old-man makeup and a thick beard), he changes his posture and voice ( if you watch it in French that is) enough to allow for the willing suspension of disbelief, in the same way that any lead actor as Superman has to do when playing Clark Kent. But Sy and the show are at their strongest when Assane is just being his own Superman self, utterly relaxed and confident in his own skin, and so captivating that his ex-partner, Claire, can’t really resist him despite ample reason to.

If Assane seems practically perfect in every way, he is not perfectly perfect. His most obvious failing is that his criminal shenanigans and revenging make him less than reliable in his daily life, affecting his relationships with ex-partner Claire (Ludivine Sagnier, whom non-French audiences might recognise from “The Young Pope” and “The New Pope”), who despairs of his inability to show up on time to see his son Raoul (Etan Simon). Like Sy, Sagnier brings a lot of soul to her part - though onscreen far less, she’s as important as Sy to the series’ success - and the two actors have great chemistry. Also impressive and key to creating sympathy are the actors who play their flashback teenage selves, Mamadou Haidara and Ludmilla Makowski. Really, you could do away with action elements and build a series around them.

This is a pity because Lupin often fumbles its emotional reveals in other parts - the story of Diop being torn between his job and his family feels like wheel-spinning, rather than genuine emotional intrigue.

Soufiane Guerrab is wasted in the Young Detective Consumed by the Case role and spends most of this season pinning colour printouts of book covers to cork boards and getting waved off by his colleagues, who are all blinded or otherwise hampered by careerism.

But to my mind the weakest link is the villain himself and his daughter. Veteran actor Hervé Pierre hams it up as Hubert Pellegrini, a business tycoon who is the patriarch of the Pellegrini family. He just comes across as animated cartoon villain with no character depth (think moustache twirling Russian villain, Boris Badenov, in the Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoon shows). He just emotes anger a lot without any nuance or hint of complexity.

Even Clotilde Hesme who plays the daughter who is unaware of her father’s criminal tendencies is miscast. For the record I adore Clotilde Hesme as she one of France’s most talented classical actresses (that non-French outsiders will not have heard of). She is a classically theatre trained actress and is one of the best stage actresses of her generation that I have ever seen. I’ve seen her in plays where she is just mesmerising. She has said before that she’s more comfortable on the stage than she is on the screen. And when she has been on screen she still has been a powerful presence. She’s actually won a César too. Here in Lupin, she seems to have no agency and looks bored with nothing really to do.I really hope they give her more scenes in the next part of Lupin.

The series is at its best when following Diop enacting his plans, and when revealing each one from a different vantage, making us privy to every moving part like a magician revealing his secrets. The show captures the momentum of a clockwork heist, the tension of sudden obstacles and the ingenuity of improvised responses, with thrilling precision (especially in “Chapter 1 - Le Collier de la reine,” directed by Now You See Me’s Louis Leterrier).

Lupin is also politically incisive when it wants to be; it brings to mind Ladj Ly’s Oscar-nominated 2019 film Les Misérables, which adapted the broad strokes of Victor Hugo’s novel about the 1832 Paris Rebellion, and modernised the story by focusing on the police brutality faced by non-white Parisians.

Lupin opens with Diop disguised as cleaning staff and entering the Louvre after-hours, alongside dozens of forgotten, anonymous non-white workers as they pass by “La Liberté guidant le people,” Eugène Delacroix’s famous painting of the July Revolution of 1830 which replaced France’s hereditary rule with popular sovereignty.

Before any semblance of plot or character, Lupin centres broken ideals and promises unkept (without giving too much away, the show’s primary villain has much more nationalistic view of French culture and history which merely adds to a cartoonish caricature than a complex character). The rest of the episode is about valuable jewels once owned by Marie Antionette - one of the most recognisable symbols of wealth and extravagance in times of extreme poverty - which are put up for auction by the Pelligrini family, and bid on by other wealthy collectors with bottomless purses and no sense of irony.

Granted, beyond this auction subplot, explorations of race and class are largely limited to individual interactions, but the show continues to refer back to (and implicitly comment on) its source material in ways that wink at the audience. An elderly, unassuming target of Diop’s schemes seems like an unlikely victim at first - Diop, though he acts in his own self-interest, usually displays a moral compass - until this victim reveals the colonial origins of her wealth, immediately re-contextualising the ethics of the situation, in a manner that Leblanc’s stories did not. (The show is yet to apply this lens to Arsène Lupin himself, who Diop treats with reverence, but that’s a secondary concern since Lupin is entirely fictional in-world).

Barring some nagging structural problems - like cutting to flashbacks when things are getting exciting, or epilogues that feel ten minutes too long - Lupin mostly works. It plants a few personal seeds early on, which it keeps hinting at without fully addressing, but by the time its scattered elements come into focus, the show finally figures out how to weave them together, and delivers a mid-season cliffhanger that renders many of these flaws irrelevant.

Lupin manages to have fun even with an antiquated premise - the story of a suave con-man who charms his way through high-profile robberies - while adding just enough new spin on the concept to feel refreshing. Omar Sy may not have much to work with, but his alluring presence makes Assane Diop feel like a worthy successor to Arsène Lupin.

Lupin isn’t going to win César, BAFTA, or Emmy awards, or even turn heads for its ability to develop tertiary or even secondary plots or characters - that doesn’t really matter. You’re there to see a difficult hero be difficult and heroic - everyone else is there to be charmed, vexed, or eluded by them. Sy’s performance bounds off the screen, and is almost musical. He floats through scenes like he glides over the roofs and through the back alleys of Paris; he outmanoeuvres his foes with superior literary references and sheer athleticism. He is irresistible and also good at everything he tries, even kidnapping.

I would encourage anyone to watch Lupin for a fun care free ride. But the only caveat I would make is watch it in the original French.

If you don’t know French then put on the subtitles to understand (that’s what they are there for). The real crime is to watch this (or any film or television series) dubbed in a foreign language. It’s disrespectful to the actors and film makers and it’s silly because it’s comical to watch something dubbed over.

Please watch it in the original French.

Then go and read the books. You won’t regret it.

Thanks for your question.

[luvelyhs]

if i could go back

i’ve been telling you guys i am incapable of writing anything without angst so... enjoy 

Pairing: Y/N and Harry 

Warnings: angst lol, happy ending tho

Summary: Y/N caught feelings for Harry, who was already in love with someone else.

~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N groaned at the blaring sound of an alarm, reaching over towards her nightstand to grab her phone. In the process, a body shifted beside her and she realized she wasn’t alone. Sitting up, she looked at the person next to her and the memories from last night seemed to drown her. 

“Mm, hello?” Harry’s deep morning voice grumbled to the caller who dared wake him up on a Saturday morning. Y/N grabbed the covers and wrapped it around her to cover her nakedness, and she felt a little embarrassed.

Y/N couldn’t wrap her head around the fact she actually slept with one of her good friends. She was always adamant of never crossing that line with him, but somehow it happened and she basked in the memories of last night. He was so sweet and good to her, like how she imagined he would be, and honestly her imagination didn’t do him justice. 

“You okay?” Harry’s voice turned concerned and Y/N tilted her head slightly in curiosity of who was calling Harry at--she tapped her phone screen and it lit up bright in front of her--nine in the morning. 

“Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry. I’ll come over now, yeah? You’ll be okay.” The words rushed out of Harry and before you had a chance to process it, Harry was turning to you.

“Hey, Y/N, there’s an emergency.. I think you should go.” Y/N blinked in confusion, this was not how she was expecting things to go when she woke up.

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, it’s just Daisy. Her boyfriend just broke up with her and she needs me right now.” Of course it was Daisy, and as long as she was in the picture, Y/N would never mean anything more than a friend to him. That’s been how it was for as long as she knew him. He was wrapped tightly around Daisy’s finger. She couldn’t help but feel jealous of her, Harry was so in love with her but she just wouldn’t see it. If only Harry felt like that around her, Y/N thought.

“But.. last night?” He looked down at her beside him, pity gracing his features.

“It meant nothing.” Y/N sighed, embarrassed and full of shame. She shouldn’t have done this. 

“I’m sorry..” Harry reached out to grab her hand as she gathered her dignity and got of his bed, grabbing her items and stepping into her clothes. 

“Save it, Harry. I can’t believe after everything she’s put you through you’d still walk through hell for her. You’re only hurting yourself, I hope one day you’ll see that. But I won’t stand by you through it.” 

She raced out of Harry’s bedroom, Harry following behind her trying to explain himself, but Y/N wasn’t having any of it, not when Daisy still had his heart.

“Call me when you get your shit together.” She turned towards him one last time, regarding him with a look that was full of anger and heartbreak.

“Don’t do this, Y/N. Please..” Harry was torn between saving his friendship with Y/N and going to see the girl he was in love with, but he didn’t need to decide because Y/N decided for him.

Y/N exited his front door, and in that moment they didn’t know it would hurt them more than they expected it to.

~~~

A few months passed, Harry tried every possible way to get Y/N to talk to him, but she wouldn’t have it, not when he was still under Daisy’s influence and being stupid. She cut off most contact with Harry’s friends, only because she didn’t want to break and ask how he was doing. She already got enough of it through social media. 

Y/N was a stylist, and she worked herself up, booking celebrity clients left and right and eventually became good friends with a few of them. She liked her new life without Harry in it, but that’s the thing. She didn’t love it, she missed him deeply, but she wouldn’t succumb to his charms. She still had that one night burned into the back of her mind.

“Are you going to Max’s party tonight?” Y/N turned to her assistant, Emily.

“I’m not sure, I’ll probably just leave after I get him ready.” Max Graham was a good friend and client, he was a big producer and would occasionally host big parties. She rarely attends, even though he always begs her to stay and mingle. She just doesn’t want to risk seeing him again.

“Why don’t you stay? I heard some big celebs are gonna be there. Maybe you can book Rihanna or Ariana Grande.” 

“You already know Grande’s stylist is my friend, I’m not stealing her away. Although, the thought is tempting..” Emily giggled at her boss and continued putting together some outfits on her iPad.

“Just stay this time please! If you get bored I’ll leave with you and order you some take out.” Y/N thought about it, he most likely won’t be there, he never used to attend these parties. She thought one night wouldn’t hurt. Also, why was she letting him still have control over her life? She could go to a party that she wants to go to, whether he was going to be there or not. It was her life, her choice.

“Fine, but you’re treating for lunch on Monday.” Emily rolls her eyes but nods anyway, excited her boss was finally going to enjoy herself at a party.

~~~

“Y/N, my darling angel!” Y/N giggled at her friend and client and bowed down exaggeratedly. 

“Hello, good sir. I come bearing gifts.” Y/N stepped aside and the clothing racks full of designer clothes held in plastic coverings was pushed in.

“What look are you going for today, Max?” She came up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders, holding his stare in the opulent mirror in front of them.

“Surprise me.” He boldly said, a sly smile on his lips. 

Y/N was excited. She loved dressing people up, she’s always had a knack for fashion and it was great that she enjoyed it as well. 

“Emily!” Y/N called, needing the help of her assistant. 

“Could you grab that new belt, I think it’s in the trunk.” She asked her while unzipping the bags she knew would look super well on Max. 

“Yup, be right back.” Emily walked away and Y/N held the two articles of clothing together, trying to picture it on her client and she shook her head, discarding the top she picked and plucked another from the rack. 

“Aha..” She whispered, grinning in excitement. 

“I have found the perfect outfit for you. You will love it!” 

Max turned around to grin at her, he loved the outfits Y/N dressed him up in. He was truly fond of his stylist, she was so caring and he knew she had been hurt in the past. He could tell from the way her eyes dimmed sometimes, looking to be in another world with a frown on her face.

He wanted her to have fun, and if there was one thing about Max’s grand parties, it was that you had fun. He prided himself on ordering the best hor’dourves for his guests and the best djs.

“I hope you’re coming tonight?” He basically pleaded with her, giving her his puppy dog eyes. She always said no, though. She didn’t like going to big parties, but he didn’t know why. 

He was prepared for her to decline his invitation, but Emily approached and answered for her.

“I got her to come tonight, you can thank me now, by the way.” She grinned at both Max and Y/N, and all Y/N did was roll her eyes at her perky assistant.

Max gasped over dramatically, turning his head to face Y/N.

“I’ve got a ton of people to introduce to you, my dear. Prepare yourself.”

Y/N laughed at her friend’s dramatic antics and switched the topic to the matter at hand.

“Alright.. I was thinking some stripes.”

~~~

Y/N decided to head back to her apartment really quick to change and get dolled up. She wanted to look good, not for anybody but herself. It’s been a while since she went to a party... the last time was definitely pre-Harry.

She swung by Emily’s apartment to pick her up, before heading to Max’s. His mansion was lit up with pretty colorful lights and multiple cars parked in his long round driveway. She and Emily greeted the valet and prepped herself mentally before heading inside.

She’s gotta give it to Max, this looked like a great party. Everyone was mingling and the atmosphere was nice, she decided she would have a good time, even if she had to force herself.

She caught the eye of the host and he quickly went up to her and greeted her with two cheek kisses and she praised his outfit.

“You look amazing, your outfit is to die for, who’s your stylist?” Max rolled his eyes at Y/N’s teasing and pulled Y/N and Emily along with him. He was giddy she finally made it and he wanted to show her off to a few major celebrities he had invited.

“Darlings, you both look absolutely stunning.” Max complimented them both and Y/N blushed, looking down at the short dress she wore. The little black dress with glitter sparkled under the twinkling lights above her. She hadn’t dressed like this in a few months and she missed it.

Max guided them to a few celebs, even getting to meet the Jonas Brothers who she was a big fan of when she was younger. She mingled with them and got into a deep conversation with Zendaya. She laughed and drank and danced, it was overall a fun time.

Until Max led her to a familiar figure. His back was turned to her in an all cream suit. She spotted Jeff first in front of him, who had a full view of the incoming people. She watched as his eyes saw her and they widened, pausing mid speech which made Harry confused.

Y/N wanted to run, she wanted to leave and forget she had ever saw him here. What the hell was he doing here in the first place?! The one time she had decided to have a good night and have fun he had to be there to ruin it.

Max held her hand and pulled her along as her feet reluctantly took the steps to their destination. Her mind was blank but then he turned around, and it was like everything she tried to repress came out again.

The feelings- the hurt, the pain, and the love? He was surprised to see her, that she could tell. His hand reached out to her and she watched as he pulled it back.

“Gentlemen! I’d like you to meet my beautiful and amazing stylist, Y/N Y/L/N!”

Silence. Jeff was the first to break it.

“Hi, Y/N. You look great! How are you?” He leaned forward to hug her and she reluctantly hugged him back.

“Jeff, hi. Yeah, I’ve been good, how are you? How’s Glenne?” They pulled back and Max clapped.

“You already know each other? Perfect! Y/N, do you know Harry?” She blanched, she hadn’t meant to, she just wasn’t ready to confront her feelings with Harry. She thought she could get away with never seeing him again but she should’ve known that in this industry, probably not.

“Yeah, uh, we met a year ago. Hi, love.” Then Harry had to give her that smile, that damn pantydropping smile. That damn handsome smile that made his eyes sparkle.

“Harry.” It was a whispered breath, taking him in. She missed him. They were friends, very good friends, before she caught feelings. And she missed him and their times together. But then the thought bulldozed into her mind. The reason she left him and everything about him behind- Daisy.

She assumed she was still in his life. And as long she was there, Y/N wouldn’t be.

The thought made her turn cold and rigid.

“Nice to see you again.” She smiled politely, turning her head to Max and seeing Emily wave to her to come in the background.

“Emily’s calling me over, bye guys.” She did a little wave and hurriedly walked over to Emily. She passed by Jay-Z and Travis Scott and she couldn’t believe she was in the presence of some big names.

“Girl, I just met Beyoncé. I died inside!” Y/N laughed at her assistant and they walked together to the bar.

“Should I introduce myself to Shawn Mendes?” Emily was a fan of him, and they were the same age so Y/N told her to go for it. But in all honesty she didn’t want to be left alone. Not while he was in the vicinity.

They grabbed their drinks and Y/N played with her straw while she watched Emily strut over to Shawn. Emily flipped her hair and turned her head back to look at Y/N, where she just gave her a thumbs up and a wink.

She took a deep breath in and let it out, shrieking and jumping a little in shock when the man she was hoping to avoid appeared beside her.

“Shit! You scared the shit out of me.” She clutched her chest and tried to calm herself from the fright.

“What are you doing here?” She mumbled, when she was around him now her confidence dropped and she became a nervous mess. She hated that. She hated he had so much control over her still.

“I miss you.” It was a simple statement, but her heart fluttered when he uttered those words.

Y/N looked away.

When enough seconds passed and Harry knew he wouldn’t be getting any response to what he said, he took a different approach.

“Dance with me.” Y/N laughed, startled by his request.

“Huh?” She was confused, they hadn’t talked in months and the first thing he wants to do was tell her he misses her and to dance with him.

“I’m not doing that.” She was being cold and callous but that’s how she did things. This was how she hid and masked the hurt. It was better that way, she thought.

“Y/N..” He uttered her name, she missed it. She missed him so much. But it also made her angry. If he wasn’t so far up Daisy’s ass, maybe they could’ve still been friends. Maybe they could’ve been something more. But Y/N was naive to think that they could’ve been. He wasn’t obligated to love her just because she loved him, no, it was her own fault for falling in love with her friend who was already in love with someone else.

“You can’t just do this, Harry! I cut off contact with you for a fucking reason. Can’t you take a hint?” He seemed hurt by her words, and she wanted to apologize but the words died in her throat.

“Just a conversation, lovie. Just tell me how you are.” She scoffed before thinking about it. He could tell she was weighing her options and the pros and cons so he decided to help a little.

“After, you can decide if you never wanna talk to me again. I’ll never bother you again, never contact you. You’ll be free of me.” That caught Y/N’s attention. That’s what she wanted, right?

“Alright..” He softly smiled at her before guiding her away from the loudness of the party.

“I’m so, so proud of you, lovie. You’ve made a name for yourself. I’ve heard people rave about you. Made me jealous how they got to see you and spend time with you and I didn’t.”

Y/N sighed. “Distancing myself from you was the only way I could cope. Truth be told, Harry, I really liked you. I mean.. it must’ve been obvious that morning. Seeing you hooked on Daisy just hurt me a little. It’s okay now, though.”

He stopped walking, turning to fully face Y/N. There was a light glow from the tennis court lights but otherwise they were wrapped in darkness.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize your feelings, and I’m so sorry for making you feel like shit that morning. If I could redo that morning, I would’ve ignored the call, no, no. I would’ve answered and told her to fuck off, I would’ve woken you up with so many kisses all over your face and body. We would’ve made love that morning and I would’ve confessed my feelings, and all this pain and hurt could’ve been avoided. But that didn’t happen, and all I could say now is that I love you. And if you’ll give me another chance, I swear I’d never hurt you again.”

Y/N inhaled deeply at his confession. It was full of conviction and truth. Her eyes welled up and she couldn’t stop yourself from full on sobbing.

“Oh baby, no, don’t cry!” He wrapped his arms around her, which made her cry just a little harder.

Harry thought he was too late, thought he made her so sad with his words that she would never want anything to do with him anymore, and that broke his heart into pieces.

“God, I just- I just never thought I’d ever hear those words.” She giggled while crying.

When Y/N had left that morning, he was hurt, but he had to see Daisy. He had went to her house, and he had convinced himself that he loved her. When she opened the door, her boyfriend was wrapped around her, and she dismissed Harry rudely. And then Harry thought long and hard. He had Y/N, the sweetest most caring girl, and he had chose Daisy over her? The one who had always used Harry as her backup when her boyfriend would grow tired of her. Y/N had always been there for Harry, had been there to hold his hand when the going got tough. He went home to wallow in his thoughts and really only fully came to his senses when Gemma whacked some sense into his brain. He realized he didn’t deserve Y/N, but it didn’t stop Harry from trying to contact her. She ignored every call, every text, and then eventually blocked his number. He’s ask his friends how she was and they’d say she was doing good, gave some vague details about her life but that was it. He missed her so fucking much and now that she was in front of him, he would never let her go.

“These are happy tears. Do you, do you mean it?” Harry was carefully wiping the tears streaming down her face, leaning forward to press his lips to her cute nose.

“Of course, I meant every word. I love you so much and I hate that it took me so long to see it.” He wrapped his arms around Y/N and she hesitantly hugged him back and instantly sighed in relief. How she missed this.

“I love you too.” She smiled and initiated the kiss between them, the first kiss since that night. It was passionate, they kissed deeply and smiled happily into the kiss. Y/N pulled back a bit but Harry followed, pressing multiple kisses to her lips. She laughed and swatted him away.

“Wait.. that was the cutest thing ever!” She heard her friend’s voice and the sound of someone being hit, followed by a groan and a whine. Harry and Y/N both looked at the two people hiding behind a rose bush.

“Really?” Y/N groaned, embarrassed of her friends spying on their intimate and personal conversation.

They popped out, both appearing drunk as hell. Harry laughed at their appearances and wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist, while Y/N tucked her head into his chest.

“Can y’all make some babies? They would look so adorable!!”

“Max!” Y/N scolded, cheeks heating up at his words.

“I’m down if you are?” Harry suggested, winking down at her. She rolled her eyes at her man, pulling him down for a deep kiss, her friends cheering her on in the background.

[unironicduncanstan]

Randi’s Kustom Kandi! (Comes with free stickers!)

🌈💖 Hello, I’m a queer autistic low-income artist selling completely customized Kandi bracelets for $1 a piece ! 💖🌈

😘 Details and how to start your order below 😘

💲 COST: Pony bead bracelets, with colors, b&w words, or plain star beads, are $1 each, no taxes, just $1.00 flat. The use of colored letters and iridescent stars are $1.25. As of right now to keep stock up, bracelets consisting of Only star beads aren’t available to order. Charm options are not yet available, but will eventually be added, and prices may range. This is all just based on how much it costs to buy the beads to make these bracelets! 💲

📦 SHIPPING: Each order will end up with a different estimate for shipping costs, based on where you live, and how many bracelets you order. I ship through USPS and I should be able to ship almost anywhere, but the further away you are, the higher shipping will be. I’m shipping out of Kansas. Domestic shipping will probably start at around $3 - $8, international shipping will just have to depend. If you want an estimate before starting an order, just give me your address and an idea of how many bracelets you might want, and I’ll get back to you asap. 📦

🤷‍♀️ AVAILABILITY: I have a full rainbow array of pony beads including b&w, some neons and pastels too, I have a nice color range of star beads including b&w and transparent, and some iridescent star beads as well, and then for letters I have black on white, white on black, color on black and color on white. A lot of these can be seen in the example image above!  🤷‍♀️

IMPORTANT TO NOTE;;; My pony beads are all around 6x4mm, and the letter beads are 6x6mm. This is considered somewhat Small for kandi bracelets. This isn’t a choice I made to skimp out, this size is actually more expensive and harder to find than the usual 6x9mm, I just very much prefer this size to work with and wear. It’s only a tad bit more subtle, but it fits most people a lot better and I would Definitely recommend it for people with smaller wrists or who are just starting out with Kandi.

🤔 HOW TO ORDER: So basically, how you choose to tell me the pattern you want is up to you, you can draw it out if you want or just try to explain it with words, or whatever else works. Once you explain what you want, I’ll show you what beads I have that match your request, and you can decide what you want out of those options. 

An example could be; “I would like a bracelet with a repeating pattern of red and blue pony beads, with the word PLUR in black on white letters, and two pink stars on each side, just like this!” 

To which I might say; “Ok, here I have 2 shades of red and 4 shades of blue, and I have plain pink stars or iridescent pink, which ones would you like me to use?” and then I’d show you a picture of all of these colors for you to decide! Once we have all your bracelets planned out, I’ll ask for a few more details to give you your total price. Then once the payment goes through, I’ll start working! Whenever your bracelets are all complete, I’ll send you pictures of the finished products to make sure you like them (if not I’ll redo at no extra charge). After you give the OK, I’ll ship them out! (You can also ask for some ‘random/surprise me’ bracelets if you aren’t sure of any patterns, of course.)

What I have in stock might vary, I will try to update this post as that goes, so please make sure to visit this posts SOURCE instead of a reblog before you start an order to check for availability. Please send your order requests to THIS blog, through PM if you can. If you want an alternate way of communication, contact me however you can and we’ll go from there. I have discord, facebook messenger, email, etc. 🤔

🤷🏻 WHAT ELSE I NEED: When confirming your order, I’ll need your shipping address. I’ll then be able to calculate shipping cost and give you a full price. (Again, zero hard feelings if you can’t afford the price I give, like, bad vibes in the NEGATIVES, been there done that, and I’ll be available if you ever do have the funds, but please understand I can’t change shipping costs, I really would make it free if I could.) After that I’ll ask for your paypal and send a payment request, once that payment goes through is when I start your order! I’ll have to ask a few more questions, like your wrist measurements (or an estimate, since the bracelet is made of elastic it’ll have a decent amount of stretch, but this may warp how spaced your beads are if it’s too inaccurate.), and i’ll need your first and last name (it doesnt have to be a legal name, just something to put on your package). 🤷🏻

📫 SHIPPING TIME: Once again, this will depend on how far you are, and because of c0v1d it may be more delayed than expected. I’ll try to send you a tracking number as soon as your item ships. 📫

📿 CHARMS: If you’d like more options, the best solution I’ve been able to think of for now is that if you’d like, you could surf Ebay, Etsy, Etc. till you find some charms you’d want me to use, and then if you’re okay with covering the cost to get them (typically $5 to $15 for a decent lot) and then waiting a bit extra for me to receive them, I would have no problem using those for you! :) Someday I’d really like to stock up on popular charms to have more choices available, but I don’t quite have the funds quite yet. Thank you for your understanding. 📿

😷 ALLERGY/SENSITIVE SKIN NOTICE: I seal small parts of my bracelets to reduce the chance of breakage. I use a very tiny drop of Loctite Super Glue Gel on the knot. This glue does not keep the beads from moving freely or lock them into place, it’s used sparingly as a sealant. If you ever receive a bracelet that is locked or sticky, I would fully refund you and offer to send another. You can also absolutely opt out of this, Just add “No glue” somewhere to your order. Just be warned that your bracelet will be less protected from breakage. 😷

❗ DISCLAIMER: Either way, I cannot take responsibility for a bracelet eventually breaking down. Kandi and elastic bracelets in general are a bit prone to snapping, but mostly over time and especially if used in rave settings. I use high quality jewelry elastic from amazon, very high rated and recommended by other Kandi makers, and I knot them 3 times, so mine should last as long as they possibly can. Please make sure your wrist measurements are as accurate as they can be, and please be gentle when taking them on or off, just being careful will help prolong it’s usage by a lot. Now if a bracelet arrives broken, I will of course replace it, no extra charge. ❗

🦄 STICKERS: Order 5 bracelets and get one free sticker! Order 10 and get two, so on and so forth in a pattern of 5. The stickers are hand cut by me from large books and sheets, so the edges might look odd but the sticker itself should be unharmed. These are completely random, and based loosely around a scenecore aesthetic. Most are pretty ‘medium’ sized, but they do range quite a bit. 🦄

✍ CONTENT: Kandi, scene and rave culture, is in a general sense, a very upbeat and supportive based environment. I do not want to make bracelets with negative messages on them. I will obviously NEVER make any with hate speech or rude remarks, but beyond that, please keep your phrases positive. If you want something thats meant to fight hate, like “kill all n*zis” or something, I'm not opposed to that as it’s for justice, it’s just that most Kandi is focused on ‘happy party vibe’ messages. As far as media or interests, like if you want a bracelet that says “Gir” or “100 gecs”, or uses ship names, etc. I will not deny you any interest you choose. BUT, I am personally uncomfortable with d.dl/g and won’t make bracelets based on that, nor will I ever make bracelets supporting ped0ph1lic or 1ncestu0us content, including if they’re based on medias or fictional ships. As far as pride bracelets, I would LOVE to make those for you, and I will Never deny working with your identity, pronouns, etc. once again, unless it’s a p/ed0 flag or something. I will never deny working with any mental or physical disability/illness or other kind of divergency pride. Race and/or religion pride is also great except for “White pr1de” because of the violent connotations behind that concept. NSFW Kandi is fine, cussing is fine, I hope this goes without saying but please only ask for Kandi with a slur on it if you can reclaim that slur, and overall, just be mindful with what you ask for if you plan to wear it in public settings like raves. If you have any controversial ideas you felt this didn’t cover, please feel free to ask, I will not get angry at you for your request, even if I have to deny it. ✍

Thank you for reading! I look forward to doing business with you 😊

[maladjusted-nerd]

Starsky and Hutch’s Girlfriends (and Their Hair Color)

[PBS announcer voice] This post is brought to you by the time I was reading The Ollie Report for Bounty Hunter and came across the memorable line: “Again, Starsky is drawn to the dark-haired girl, Hutch to the blonde. Exogamists they are not.”

These are the two ladies in question, respectively:

I thought of this quote a lot as I continued watching the show, because it was quite often relevant. But then I got to Starsky’s Lady, and suddenly Hutch’s date wasn’t a blonde! I began to wonder about the quote, and the truth of the sentiment behind it (which is by no means specific to that one blog). Did Hutch really tend to go for the blondes, and Starsky for the dark-haired women?

So like any sane person, I decided to spend a billion hours of my life making a long-ass photo-heavy meta post that hopefully someone will care about. If anyone actually finds this information interesting or useful I will be happy, buuut I guess if nothing else it gives us an excuse to look at a bunch of pretty ladies.

How did I decided who’s here: I started with the list of women from the Canon Compendium’s Girlfriends and Dates page, added anyone whom I felt the boys made a “concerted effort” to flirt with, and then threw out a few people I didn’t think belonged. I tried my hardest to be objective, but making this list was by no means an exact science and several times it really just boiled down to “do I personally believe she should be on here” so like people will have different opinions on that and it’s fine! Spice of life or whatever.

As for the actual contents of the list: I will state each woman’s name and the episode she’s in. (If she doesn’t have a name she’s listed as Jane Doe. This is a cop show, after all.) I will state her hair color-- for Reasons and also My Sanity the only options are “blonde” or “darkhaired” (not blonde), but hair color is fucking weird and sometimes it was a guess so feel free to think otherwise. I will also state the reason that she’s here, aka the nature of her relationship with Hutch or Starsky (or both)-- so spoiler warning for pretty much everything, I guess.

Also fair warning that sometimes I was too lazy to get a good picture, or it was just actually impossible (newsflash: discos have bad lighting). Rip to any women I may have made look bad, you’re all beautiful queens and I love you.

Pre-Show

Vanessa (Hutchinson Murder One)- Darkhaired. Hutch’s late ex-wife and all-around terrible person.

Laura Kanen (Deckwatch)- Blonde. Hutch’s ex-girlfriend.

Helen Davidson (Lady Blue)- Blonde. Starsky’s late ex-girlfriend.

Kathy Marshall (Fatal Charm)- Darkhaired. A stewardess friend of theirs; it’s never said she’s an ex BUT she kisses Hutch square on the mouth in greeting and is Starsky’s date for dinner/disco. And she dances with both of them. Good enough for me!

Season 1

Hutch

Jeannie Walton (The Fix)- Blonde. His girlfriend at the start of the episode but not by the end! (Rip king)

Molly (Pariah)- Darkhaired. Stewardess friend/one-night stand? Something like that. Also his date at the end.

Jane Doe (Deadly Imposter)- Blonde. His date at the party.

Abigail Crabtree (Deadly Imposter to Vendetta)- Blonde. The only girlfriend we see in several episodes!! (The only girlfriend that lasts several episodes, whoops.)

Starsky

Jane Doe (Pariah)- Blonde. His date at the end.

Jane Doe (Deadly Imposter)- Darkhaired. His date at the party.

Amy (The Hostages)- Darkhaired. She works at a café that he’s going to for a second time, to let her know he’s ~available.

Sharman Crane (Running)- Darkhaired. They had a semester of woodshop together in junior high and then they kind of fall in love while he’s helping her dry out.

Season 2

Hutch

Abby (Deadly Imposter to Vendetta)- Still blonde. Miraculously still his girlfriend. (Until she isn’t.)

Gillian Ingram (Gillian)- Blonde. His now-late girlfriend who fucking deserved better.

Jane Doe (Gillian)- Blonde. Lady at the bowling alley that Starsky discreetly tries to set him up with.

Christine (Starsky’s Lady)- Darkhaired. His date of the episode.

Starsky

Vicky (The Las Vegas Strangler)- Darkhaired. They don’t really get a chance to go on an official date but they kiss a bunch and he’s really sweet on her and it’s cute.

Andrea (Vendetta)- Darkhaired. His picnic date.

Nancy Rogers (Gillian)- Darkhaired. His bowling date.

Terry Roberts (Starsky’s Lady)- Darkhaired. His now-late girlfriend who, like Gillian, also fucking deserved better.

Laura Stevens (The Velvet Jungle)- Blonde. They’re on a date at the end, but it should also be noted they meet when she accidentally knocks him into a dumpster. You know, like the start of any good romance.

Sharon Freemont (Starsky and Hutch Are Guilty)- Blonde. His evil lawyer girlfriend. (Not that he knows she’s evil.)

Both

Jane and Bobette (The Vampire)- Jane is the blonde on the right, Bobette is the darker blonde on the left. Starsky and Hutch mix up their names so it’s hard to tell which girl they actually like better, and also they’re twins so like does it even really matter?

Officer Sally Hagen (The Specialist)- Darkhaired. Starsky kisses up her arm in her first scene (someone please file a workplace harassment suit against him), and then at the end he and Hutch keep wrapping their arms around her waist. But she does get to flip both of them over her shoulder, so it kinda evens out.

Season 3

Hutch

Dianna Harmon (Fatal Charm)- Darkhaired. His possessive, violent nurse girlfriend. (You can really pick ‘em, Hutchinson.)

Dr. Judith Kaufman (The Plague)- Darkhaired. He tries so hard, but twas not meant to be.

Molly Bristol (The Collector)- Darkhaired. His girlfriend du jour.

Anna Akhanatova (A Body Worth Guarding)- Blonde. He’s technically her bodyguard and then they spend like two whole days making out. Good for them.

Mary (Class in Crime)- Blonde. His fishing date.

Starsky

Jane Doe (Murder on Playboy Island)- Darkhaired. Undercover agent he flirts with at the bar.

Rosey Malone (I Love You Rosey Malone)- Blonde. The entire plot revolves around him falling in love with her and it really doesn’t end well.

Jane Doe (The Collector)- Darkhaired. His date at their late-night deli party. (Bonus Starsky in the picture, hi Starsky!)

Sharon Carstairs (The Heavyweight)- Blonde. Their canoodling on his couch gets interrupted by Important Case Matters, and she winds up getting re-engaged to her ex-fiancé (ex-ex-fiancé?). Rip to a king.

Rachel (Class in Crime)- Darkhaired. His fishing date.

Caitlin (Class in Crime)- Her hair almost has a red tint but it’s otherwise undefinable. Car saleslady/one-night stand.

K.C. McBride (Quadromania)- Blonde. They have a nice taxi date (although he’s been sleep deprived all episode, poor boy, and falls asleep).

Both

Christine Phelps (The Heroes)- Blonde. She makes them lose all their braincells, it’s painful to witness. This episode hopes you will forget the actress was Gillian last season.

Julie McDermott (The Action)- Blonde. Starsky wins the kerfuffle for her but Hutch definitely makes a good go of it.

Lisa Kendricks (Foxy Lady)- Blonde. They drool and fight over her for half an episode like they did with Christine and it’s embarrassing.

Season 4

Hutch

Paula (Photo Finish)- Darkhaired. He’s like her date at the party, and also the end.

Kate Larrabee (Cover Girl)- Darkhaired. An old friend of his. It starts out just as a comfort thing but they quickly become very friendly.

Marlene (Starsky’s Brother)- Darkhaired. Starsky steals her from Nicky as a Big Brother Power Move but Hutch winds up with her at the bar.

Marianne Owens (Ballad for a Blue Lady)- Darkhaired. I don’t really know what’s going on here but there’s Something (and there’s a lot of parallels with Rosey Malone, so).

Starsky

Sergeant Lizzie Thorpe (Discomania)- Blonde. Technically Hutch talks with her more, but Starsky does most of the flirting.

Jane Doe (Discomania)- Darkhaired. He spends literally five minutes dancing with her. Is it relevant to the case? No. Does he care? Also no.

Emily Harrison (Blindfold)- Darkhaired. He accidentally blinds her during a case so he starts hanging out with her out of guilt but I feel like he also kinda falls in love; they kiss at one point anyway.

Marcie Fletcher (Photo Finish)- Blonde. His photographer girlfriend.

Officer Dee O’Reilly (Strange Justice)- Blonde. His meter maid girlfriend. They have a date at the end!

Jane Doe (Dandruff)- Darkhaired. He’s making out with her at the beginning.

Detective Joan Meredith (Black and Blue)- Darkhaired. It’s Heavily implied they slept together. (Side note love u Meredith!)

Melinda Rogers (The Groupie)- Blonde. He has a date with her at the end. (Yeah she slept with Hutch, but he was undercover and proceeds to lowkey rebuff her in the tag, so I’m not counting it.)

Katie (Starsky’s Brother)- Blonde. His date at the nightclub.

Both

Allison May/Laura Anderson (Targets Without a Badge parts 2 & 3)- Darkhaired. They both try to court her before Starsky realizes she’s his childhood friend (although they do make another go of it in the tag).

Kira (Starsky vs Hutch)- Blonde. Starsky’s girlfriend, although she says she’s also in love with Hutch so then they sleep together which Starsky is NOT thrilled about and it’s a very ugly mess.

Totals:

Hutch:

Pre-show: 3 (1 blonde, 2 dark)   Season 1: 4 (3 blonde, 1 dark)   Season 2: 6 (4 blonde, 2 dark)   Season 3: 8 (5 blonde, 3 dark)   Season 4: 6 (1 blonde, 5 dark) Overall: 26 (13 blonde, 13 dark)

(If the math looks weird, it’s cause Abigail counts for both seasons she’s in but only once overall.)

Starsky:

Pre-show: 2 (1 blonde, 1 dark)   Season 1: 4 (1 blonde, 3 dark)   Season 2: 8 (3 blonde, 5 dark)   Season 3: 10 (6 blonde, 3 dark, 1 ??)   Season 4: 11 (6 blonde, 5 dark) Overall: 35 (17 blonde, 17 dark, 1 ??)

(Thirty-five?? Calm the fuck down, Starsky.)

  In conclusion:

“Exogamists, they are not” might have been true back at the end of season 1 when it was said, but it’s certainly not true by season 4/the end of the series. Hutch now seems to favor dark-haired women, and Starsky’s about half and half, although they both wind up with an equal split overall.

Do with that information what you will; I’m outta here.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #18: The Concrete Rose

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: Angst, brief Hansanna

October 12, 2019

From the second Elsa saw her roommate, she knew she would become her muse.

Douglas Academy of the Arts produced hundreds of graduates every year already with an astounding, artistic reputation. Anyone that had a future in the arts ran through Douglas Academy first. But that prestige came at a price, success at all costs meant that almost everyone was cold and cutthroat; no one was a classmate, everyone was competition.

It was a mantra that all the students bought into except for two people: Elsa and her roommate Anna. From a simple handshake and a peace offering in the form of a chocolate bar (“The vending machine accidentally gave me two, how lucky is that?!”), Anna stood out from everyone else in Elsa’s eyes.

They became quick friends despite how drastically different they were. Elsa was reserved and stayed in her head a lot, Anna loved people and spoke every thought that came to her. Elsa was constantly second-guessing her decisions and had a keen eye for details, Anna was more impulsive and loved seeing the bigger picture. Elsa was a sculptor who kept her works secret until they were finished, Anna was a dancer who would always post videos of her practicing for her latest performance.

The one thing they had in common was their need to support the other.

One day well into their first semester, Anna barged into Elsa’s room with a flyer that she’d gotten in almost all her classes: an advertisement for the 3-D Art Showcase in three weeks. “You’re doing this, right?” she asks, pushing the flyer in front of Elsa’s face. “You’re entering a thingie into the thing?”

Elsa plucked the flyer out of Anna’s hands and turned back around in her chair, “Not a chance. I heard first years get eaten alive at these showcases, I’ll wait until next year.”

“Oh come on! You’d kick so much ass if you entered something. Remember that clay canary you made me?” Anna pressed her palms against Elsa’s shoulders, which almost knocked the pencil out of the unexpecting sculptor’s hands.

Elsa shook her head, “That was different. I’d have to make like… something fancy and intricate if I want to even be considered for the showcase.”

“Well, can’t you at least try? Please?” Anna slid her hands down so she could wrap her arms around Elsa’s shoulders from behind. “I can help you just like you helped me while I was rehearsing my first interpretive dance.”

It took a while for Elsa to get used to Anna’s touchiness, but she learned to accept it. This was just another thing that added to Anna’s eclectic personality, and besides Elsa was a big fan of the rosemary body wash she was using. “Anna, all I did was press play on your speaker.”

“Which helped out a lot!” Anna assured her. “You know how much energy I could have wasted doing that myself?”

“… not a lot?”

“Just think about joining, okay? Knowing you, I bet you probably have like five ideas running through your head and when you pick one, I’ll do whatever I can to help turn that idea into something concrete.”

Well if thinking about it was all that Anna was asking her to do, then Elsa could do that. Less commitment that way. And she was right, of course, there were five ideas floating around in Elsa’s mind but none of them she could latch on to and say that that was the one to work on. “Alright fine,” she said after a dramatically heavy sigh, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s my girl! Oh shit, I’m gonna be late for rehearsal!” Anna sprinted out of Elsa’s room to grab her dancing shoes. Before slamming their shared door shut, she said, “If you eat my spaghetti, I’ll kill you!”

November 5, 2019

There was something that Anna told her that day which stuck with Elsa much more than she thought it would.

Turning an idea into something concrete.

What if she sculpted something out of concrete? It was a near guarantee that a lot of the sculptors entering the showcase would be using clay, recycled metals, or wood; using concrete would probably help her stand out and better her chances of being picked. After a researching how to make this work, and some choice words of encouragement and dancing from Anna, Elsa set to work getting everything she needed for her crazy idea.

There was still, of course, one glaring problem: What was she going to sculpt?

Her answer came to her during Anna’s first performance of the semester. It was an interpretive dance that told the story of a young gladiator fighting for the freedom of his sister who was enslaved by a vindictive landowner. Her ability to tell this story without words (not even in the song she chose) wowed the audience and inspired Elsa as she waited for every beat of the story she’d seen Anna tell maybe a hundred times in their dorm.

Elsa decided to recreate one of the poses Anna did where she jumped in the air and punched her arm out like she was thrusting a spear into an unseen adversary. It was a painstaking process that tested her dexterity and her patience even more so, she shut herself in her room until it was finished. In the end, the sculpture was much smaller than she wanted it to be because she underestimated how much concrete mix she actually needed. And a piece of Anna’s skirt chipped off because it refused to stick to the wire mesh. Still, overall she was very impressed with herself.

And so it seemed was the showcase committee, because she was given one of the last remaining spots on the showcase floor.

Elsa somehow found a way to keep Anna from seeing it beforehand, so when she went with her roommate to the showcase, her reaction was genuine.

Anna gasped, “Holy shit, is this me?! She’s so pretty!”

Everyone in the building looked at them with judgmental glares, especially the judges. Elsa didn’t mind all that much, she wasn’t expecting to take a ribbon home, this was more about proving she could hang with Douglas’ best and to thank Anna for supporting her these past few months.

“I ran out of time to add details to the face, so I kept it blank,” Elsa explained. “I hope it doesn’t look too creepy.”

Anna shook her head, “No, I love it! It’s like… it fits so much with Henry’s character, the gladiator I mean. He presents himself as this nobody that could be anybody, like Henry is just a faceless idea, but he stands for justice and integrity, which can speak to anyone.”

Elsa smiled, her heart fluttering from the feeling of being understood. “I’m glad you were able to see that. I think I’ll steal that explanation when the judges come over.”

“Fine, but if you win a ribbon then you’re buying me dinner. For believing in you and for being your muse.”

“Pssh, you are not my muse.” How in the world did Anna already know that?

Anna squeezed Elsa’s shoulders and smiled, her eyes seeing right past Elsa’s thin resistance. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Michaelangelo.”

The judges came around a few minutes later to ask her some questions and write notes on their clipboards. Anna wanted to talk her roommate up so badly but settled on providing moral support right next to Elsa as she answered the questions concisely and with the professionalism that got her into Douglas Academy in the first place.

She didn’t win a ribbon, but decided to take Anna out to dinner anyway.

December 26, 2019

“I think concrete should be your thing,” Anna said before taking another long sip of her hot chocolate.

“My thing?” Elsa asked.

“Yeah, like the thing that makes you stand out from everyone else. The thing you’re known for. Da Vinci had his inventions and paintings, Degas painted ballet dancers, you could be the concrete rose.”

Elsa chuckled, “Concrete rose? That sounds more like you than it sounds like me.”

Anna gasped, “Why Ms. Elsa, you best be careful or I might just take that as a compliment.”

“Uhh you should because it was.” Elsa gently kicked her foot forward to keep the front porch swinging. They drank their hot chocolates in silence, relishing in that post-Christmas bliss. Elsa’s family was always a little more dysfunctional around the holidays, but when Anna told her she’d be spending her Christmas in the dorms she knew that couldn’t happen. Her best friend deserved a real Christmas for the first time in forever.

When their mugs were empty, Anna spoke again, “Thank you for letting me come with you. I… maybe I would have felt a little lonelier this Christmas. And I’m happy that I’m not.”

“Anna, you’re my best friend- heck, you’re like the sister I never had. I can’t leave my sister hanging, you know?” The confession is so raw and unusual for Elsa that it doesn’t feel right coming from her lips at first, but the more this moment sat the better it felt.

She looked to Anna, her red cheeks were a sign that the cold was finally getting to her. “I had a lot of foster siblings growing up… none of them liked me all that much.”

“Well that’s their loss.”

“Thank you, Elsa. Really. Everything you do means a lot to me, I hope you know that.”

Elsa smiled and tapped her shoe against Anna’s, “Everything you do means a lot to me too.”

Anna brought the empty mug back to her lips. “So, if we’re sisters, does that mean I get to steal your clothes and burst into your room to tell you stupid nonsense?”

“You mean you don’t already do that now?” The force that Anna pushed her with almost sent Elsa off the porch swing.

October 21, 2020

Elsa and Anna complemented each other’s strengths in a way neither of them ever expected. The 3-D showcases happened four times a year, and Elsa entered every one of them with the support of Anna. There were also four major dance performances throughout the year, and Anna entered every one of them with Elsa’s support.

Anna had taken second place for interpretive dancing at the last competition, but Elsa was still looking for her first major win. She felt confident, however, in her entry for the upcoming showcase.

“I mean I love it of course, but it’s ambitious,” Anna said while looking over Elsa’s sketch. “How are you gonna carve out the bird and the cage at the same time?”

“I was thinking of making the cage and bird separate, and then putting them together,” Elsa answered. “If I get the dimensions right, I can hammer some nails underneath the cage so it stays put.”

“Hmm, alright well you sound like you know what you’re doing.” Anna handed back the sketch. “And I’m gonna support you a hundred percent. No matter what.”

“I know you will,” Elsa said while putting her arm around Anna’s shoulder. “… I think this is the one.”

“I think so too,” Anna said proudly. “And when you come back with a ribbon-”

“You’re buying me dinner.”

Anna gasped and wriggled out of her best friend’s arm, “Rude!”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “Oh please, half my budget is spent feeding you. I’m sure you can afford to buy me dinner one time.”

She saw the gears turning in Anna’s mind, trying to come up with a rebuttal, but in the end she groaned and said, “Fine, I’ll take your bum ass out for dinner, sis.”

Elsa worked harder than she ever had before, inspired once again from seeing Anna’s latest performance. It was a soliloquy in dance form, about a bird who’d spent their entire life on the move and in the hands of many owners, but never once being allowed out of its cage. It paralleled Anna’s life story: the foster child from New York who was only getting her first taste of freedom now. She paid special attention to the bird’s eyes, wanting them to emulate the longing and ambition she saw in her best friend.

The process resulted in a lot of tiny cuts and a couple of sleepless nights, but it was all worth it in the end. She won second place at the showcase.

True to her word, Anna took her out for dinner that very night on the condition that Elsa wear the obnoxiously huge, red ribbon. They had to stick it on her shirt with a safety pin. “Alright, where does Madame Second Place want to go for dinner?” Anna asked, dressed in an adorable skirt and blouse combo.

“I was kinda joking, you know?” Elsa said. “You don’t actually have to buy me dinner.”

“Oh please, you can’t get cold feet now. I mean you’re already wearing the ribbon, that’s like… I don’t know, it’s like when your high school prom date puts the corsage on you. It’s official, no backing out.”

Elsa raised an eyebrow, “What so you’re my prom date now?”

Anna pursed her lips, “Well maybe not for prom, it’s too late for that. But I’ll be your date if you want me to.”

That answer leaves Elsa speechless.

“Ooh, I know where we can go!” Anna added before Elsa could finish catching up to the millions of thoughts running through her mind. “There’s this really good Mexican place downtown. I heard they sell this burrito that’s the size of your forearm, and I have long forearms so I wanna see that. Sound good?”

Elsa blinked and said absently, “Yeah, let’s go.” They walked side by side to Anna’s car, all the while Elsa pretended she wasn’t seeing her best friend in a brand new light.

May 15, 2020

It’s a scary feeling to know that you’re in love with your best friend. Even scarier when you’ve considered them your sister for almost two years now. It’s like being strapped in to the world’s best roller coaster against your will. Sometimes it’s exhilarating and you think maybe this isn’t so bad, but most of the time you’re screaming and want to get off.

Elsa’s been on the same damn ride for months now and it hasn’t gotten any easier. But she’s accepted it, which is something she never expected.

All of Anna’s errant touches, her smiles and glances, and even just the way she says “we”… Elsa has second-guessed each and every single one of her behaviors. And yes, she would probably stop overthinking if she’d just talk to Anna but she doesn’t know how. It’s hard enough trying to have a regular conversation with her now, it’s nearly impossible approaching her with a talk about their feelings.

And even so, she’s accepted the fact that she’s fallen in love with her best friend. For the past two years, they’ve been nearly inseparable, there’s no one in the world she knows better or cares about more than Anna. Falling in love with her felt almost inevitable.

But did Anna feel the same way? Well, she’d find out soon.

For the last 3-D showcase of their second year, Elsa had been working on a particularly special project. It didn’t have to do specifically with Anna’s last performance, but it was dedicated to her nonetheless.

Rising from a slab of concrete, she sculpted out a finely detailed rose, complete with a realistic crack where the stem breaks out and defined petals spiraling into the rosebud. It represented Anna’s ability to grow and flourish from a life of a constantly uncertain home life and rough nights on the streets.

At the base of the concrete slab, she wrote ‘For Anna, for everything’. When Anna notices the inscription, that’s when Elsa would tell her how she feels.

She shut herself out from the world for a particularly long time; Anna only saw her when they were walking to classes together, and even then Elsa remained tight-lipped so as to not spoil the surprise. Her patience had to be rewarded, she figured, or else this would have all been for nothing.

When the showcase finally arrived, Elsa waited anxiously for Anna to show up. She said she would be running late because she needed to meet someone, but that was fine because it gave Elsa more time to figure out what she’d say to the judges. Which in turn helped keep her from pacing around the showcase floor like a lonely, lovesick puppy.

When the judges came, she defended the lack of complex expression and vibrancy of her piece by quoting Henry David Thoreau’s opinion on simplicity. And she covered the etching with her hand because that was one question she’d rather not answer just yet. At least not to them. The judges looked impressed with her answers and one of them even mentioned that she had a knack for giving life to her sculptures. The high from that compliment should have lasted her throughout the entire day, but it was shot down almost immediately.

When the judges left, she saw Anna walking towards her. But she wasn’t alone, she was with a guy.

And they were holding hands.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I was waiting for this guy to get his fucking shoes on.” Anna patted the guy’s chest with a coy smile. He was tall, proper, and with fashionably thick sideburns. The way he wore his t-shirt and jeans looked awkward, as if he was ripped straight from a 19th century portrait and was forced to wear modern clothes to blend in.

“Hey in my defense, I didn’t know I was going to the showcase until you texted me like half an hour ago,” he said while wrapping her arm around Anna’s shoulders.

“Lies. And propaganda.” Anna turned to Elsa with a softer smile on her lips, which was just another hit to Elsa’s already bruising heart. “Again, I’m sorry I was late but I figured it was time for you two to meet. Elsa, this is Hans. We’ve been dating for a month now.”

A month?

A… a month.

Elsa’s doing her best to remain polite and cordial, but it’s hard when her entire body feels like it’s crumbling onto the floor. She extends a hand out anyway, wincing when Hans takes it with more strength than she’s expecting. “It-It’s nice to meet you, Hans. Anna’s lucky to have you around.” The words come out of her mouth like a rejected poison.

Anna talked some more, so did Hans, and maybe Elsa nodded and smiled when she needed to, but for the life of her she couldn’t tell you what the hell they talked about. When it came time for the… couple to examine Elsa’s sculpture, Anna beamed at her with that same pride that was on her face since day one and Hans said she did a good job. Elsa kept her hand over the inscription the entire time.

She won another second place ribbon. When Anna noticed the inscription, Elsa said it was a thank you for being a wonderful friend. Each word felt like pulling teeth.

September 4, 2020

They met at the campus coffee shop while Elsa was isolating herself. Ironically, Anna was going there to get a hot chocolate to surprise Elsa.

She brought Anna and Hans together.

It was a very lonely summer for Elsa. Since Hans lived in New Jersey, it wasn’t that hard for him to visit Anna whenever he wanted, which is exactly what he did. They spent almost every moment of the summer together, and while Elsa pretended to be happy with getting texts, the occasional phone call, and a surprise weekend visit from her best friend, none of it could stop the constant ache in her heart.

Move-in day for their third year was especially brutal, she unpacked absentmindedly while listening to Anna and Hans joke around and kiss when they thought she wasn’t looking. She tried all summer to let go of the feelings for Anna and to just be happy for her, but it felt like the more she tried, the more she held on.

“Alright, that’s the last box.” Anna wiped her hands on her jeans and looked at Elsa and then at Hans. “Let me just change out of this gross, sweaty shirt and we can get something to eat?”

“Of course, babe.” Hans kissed her and walked out of the girls’ dorm, Elsa finally let go of the breath she’d held since they started moving their stuff in.

“You’re coming with us, right?” Anna asked.

Elsa wasn’t expecting her to to talk to her, and she had to take a second for her mouth to catch up with her mind. “Uh no that’s okay,” she finally replied. “You two enjoy yourself, I want to unpack all of my stuff before I eat.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure? If you’re worried about being a third wheel, trust me it’s not gonna be like that.”

Elsa tapped her fingers on the stacked boxes in front of her. “No, I’m just not hungry yet. That’s all.”

“Well… alright, but I’ll bring you back some food and I won’t take no for an answer.” Anna peeled off her shirt and disappeared in her room to find a new one. From somewhere inside the room, she added, “We’ll hang out sometime soon okay? Just the two of us.”

October 1, 2020

'Sometime soon’ turned out to be nearly a month later. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but with the third year at Douglas being notoriously difficult, they needed to spend a little more time adjusting to the bigger workload and busier schedules. And any free time Anna did have was taken up by Hans…

Elsa continued to pretend to be okay, and she actually relished how busy their third year was going to be because it gave her something else to think about. A six-page essay on contour ate up time she was going to spend thinking about the sexual innuendo Hans was 'accidentally’ adding to him and Anna’s conversations.

The busy times couldn’t last forever, though, and Anna and Elsa finally found some time to spend together- just the two of them- one night on top of one of Douglas’ parking garages. It was a place they’d gone to many times just to get away from the staunch air of pressure and competition in every corner of every building underneath them. This was a place for them to breathe, a home away from a home away from home.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much lately,” Anna said, breaking the silence from their lack of conversation. “It’s just that this is the first relationship I’ve been in and… I don’t know, it’s exciting and new. Not that things aren’t like that with you, it’s just-”

“Anna, you don’t have to apologize. Whatever time I get to spend with you is just fine.” Elsa bites her tongue before she can say that she still wishes she had more time with Anna.

“I just don’t want you to feel like I’m neglecting you, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re not, so it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Okay…” Anna scooted closer to her, their bare elbows touching made the nerves in Elsa’s arm tingle and send shockwaves through her entire body. “Sooooo, you want to know what I’m doing for my next performance? You know, so you can start figuring out what you’re gonna do for the showcase.”

Elsa looked away, “I don't… I think I’m gonna skip the showcase this time.” She wanted to say she was going to skip the showcase this year, but that would have set off too many alarms in Anna’s head. She could deal with the one alarm she saw going off behind her best friend’s eyes.

“How come?” she asked.

“It just looks like it’s gonna be a real busy year, and I think I need to focus on getting through it. Once I can do that, then I can start thinking about sculpting again.”

“I… see.” Anna looked out across the campus. “And that’s the only reason?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Elsa wondered if there was something she said, or some visible part of her full of pain that she’d forgotten to cover up.

Anna shrugged, “No reason. Just wondering.”

Elsa didn’t have it in her to pry, so she also went back to looking at the buzzing nightlife of Douglas Academy. With luck, they wouldn’t have to address this ever again.

November 30, 2020

Luck remained on Elsa’s side for nearly two months, and then they returned from Thanksgiving Break. Anna had declined her invitation to spend Thanksgiving with her, and instead she spent it with Hans’ family. Who, as it turned out, was exceptionally rich.

Anna spent a good hour gushing over their massive house with the hot tubs (plural) and rooms as big as their whole dorm, and then talked about all the people that were there for Thanksgiving dinner and how amazing the food was. Knowing Anna’s struggles, Elsa tried to remain supportive while she gushed over Hans and his family and his really nice house. And then she said something that should have remained a thought.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet not joining me for Thanksgiving.”

Anna pounced on that out-of-character remark immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gosh, what could she say that wouldn’t sound passive-aggressive? Elsa decided on, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m really glad you had a good time on break.”

For a second, that looked like it would work. And then Anna closed her eyes and sighed, “Oh god… you don’t like Hans.”

Elsa didn’t say anything, which is the worst thing she could have said.

“Elsa, we’ve been going out for months now. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I…I guess I…”

Anna sighed and waved her hand, “Never mind, I guess it doesn’t matter. Look, I like you both so I don’t want things to feel awkward or whatever. What can I do to help? I want you to like Hans so that things don’t suck between us.”

There’s nothing Anna needed to do, this was a problem that Elsa had to deal with on her own. That’s what she wanted to say to her best friend. But instead, there was another disconnect between her brain and her mouth and she said something that was bound to make things worse, “You don’t even know why I don’t like him.”

Anna nodded, “You’re right. So why don't you like him?”

Elsa wrung her hands together, “Anna, we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“What? But you’re the one that brought it up.”

“I know, but it’s just not… this won’t end well.”

“Is this one of those things where the protective older sister hates every guy her sister dates and thinks that no one’s good enough for her?”

“No,” Elsa replied. And under her breath, she muttered, “I wish.”

“Elsa, we’re the only two people in your room. I heard that.” She scooted across the bed to get closer to Elsa, their fingers nearly touching were enough for Elsa to feel like her arm was on fire. “Just… tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

Though it felt like the wrong thing to do, Elsa pulled her hand away. “I don’t know if I can,” she replied. “Can we drop it please? For now?”

“… okay.”

December 13, 2020

This was the longest time Elsa and Anna had gone without talking to each other. Sure, they were polite and fake when Hans was hanging out in their dorm, and they still said good morning and whatnot to each other, but they hadn’t made an effort to really talk to each other in two weeks.

Knowing this was her fault, Elsa set out to craft an apology to Anna. After deciding on recreating the canary she made her during their first year, this time in concrete, she went to work quickly on creating the mesh outline for it. One night, during this process, she heard a knock on her door. A knock that could only belong to one person.

She took a deep breath and then opened her door. “Hey Anna,” she said far too generically.

“Do you love me?”

Elsa tensed up so much she almost tore her doorknob off. Any answer would have been a good one, but instead she remained frozen in silence.

“Hans and I had a fight and he said…well I mean he thought that… areyou in love with me?”

Still as a statue, much like the concrete rose Anna’s holding in her hand, Elsa somehow found her voice long enough to say, “Anna, I didn't…”

Anna nodded, and in the darkness of their shared loft Elsa could finally see that her best friend had been crying recently. “I should have known. I’m sorry.” She walked away, pressing the concrete rose closer to her chest, and disappeared into her room.

January 20, 2021

Though their relationship had hit an all-time low, Elsa felt it was wrong not going to Anna’s performance. She still very much wanted to support her best friend even if they still weren’t talking all that much. But Anna smiled at her the other day and that… gave Elsa hope somehow? Either way, it was enough to get her to stop being a coward and show up to the performance.

She arrived at the auditorium just in time to see Anna walk on to the stage, but not with enough time to find a seat. So she stood by the entrance awkwardly as the music began playing through the speakers. What conspired for the next five minutes was the most poignant expression of heartbreak and longing that Elsa had ever seen in dance form.

It started off as a simple ballroom dance, and though Anna had no partner you wouldn’t realize it in the way she moved. But her mystery partner continued to pull away no matter how many times Anna chased after them. When the partner disappeared, Anna continued to dance alone and while her moves were perfect and calculated, she let her posture slump with every break in the song. By the end, she’s nearly dragging herself along the floor hoping to make it to the end of the song, all the while reaching out for someone. Something. The song ends with her laying on the floor breathing heavily and the audience erupting in applause.

And for the first time in a very long time, Elsa felt a jolt of inspiration.

February 15, 2021

Elsa sat by the base of her sculpture. The judges had come to talk to her long ago and spectators were slowly trickling out of the building, but she couldn’t leave yet. In fact, she’d wait all night long for Anna if she had to. The note she left underneath Anna’s door even said so.

This had to be the fastest yet most detailed sculpture she’d ever created and there were no doubts as to what inspired her. Time continued to tick away, and Elsa continued to sit.

Finally, after an eternity, she saw the familiar silhouette of her best friend walking through the door. She was wearing the same skirt and blouse that made Elsa fall in love with her in the first place.

Quietly, Anna closed the gap until they were a couple of feet apart. “I got your note,” she said softly.

Elsa nodded, “I watched your performance.”

“Oh, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“I was in the back of the auditorium. But it was beautiful, I’ve never seen anyone move like you do. I’ve never seen anyone express heartbreak like you did.” Elsa wrung her hands together, “I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but did you and Hans…”

Anna nodded, “A couple of months ago, actually. But my performance, it… wasn’t about him.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No, it…” Anna took her first glimpse at Elsa’s sculpture and it completely threw her off. “Oh my god.”

Immortalized in concrete was Anna in a stunning ball gown, her face content while she swayed in the arms of her dance partner. Except unlike the gladiator sculpture, Anna’s partner was completely visible.

And it was Elsa.

“I know it’s a little forward, but it didn’t feel right having you dance alone,” Elsa replied. And with much less confidence, she added, “Is that okay?”

Anna looked at her, confusion settled on her face. But then that confusion chipped away slowly but surely until a beautiful smile was seen in its place. “It’s perfect,” Anna replied, “Y-you did it again.”

Elsa blushed, “Well, I do have a pretty wonderful muse.”

“Well, I think that muse owes you dinner. What do you say?” Anna reached out her hand, eyes telling her that this was what she wanted.

“She doesn’t owe me anything.” Elsa took her hand and a lovely, warm feeling enveloped her. “But I’d be glad to go with her.”

Anna squeezed her hand and said, “Then it’s a date.”

Elsa’s sculpture won first place that day.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x03-- And the court had a clerk...

Hello again! It’s nice to have this show back. This episode was a bit less of a standout than the previous two, but I’m still happy with the overall direction for this season. More under the cut (or here, because tumblr sucks). 

When Robert King tweeted the episode title, I asked him if all the titles this season were adding up to one long sentence/story, hoping he’d confirm it and give a little more information. He did! He said it’s “in the Farmer in the Dell mode” and while I think I get what he’s saying, I’m very curious to see how it plays out. Haven’t been able to track down 5x04′s title yet, but the promo is out. (As of this morning! It’s interesting they’re not putting them after the episode this year; I kind of like it.) 

Kurt’s job is up in the air given the new administration. I think this scene exists mostly just to remind us where Kurt works and the stakes.

What month is this supposed to be in? The transition seems recent but no one is wearing masks.  

Kurt spots a poster asking for help ID’ing people at the Capitol on January 6th. He thinks he recognizes someone...

And now we’re in case of the week land. This case is about a small business owner whose business went under after someone created fake news articles accusing him of pedophilia.  

I think the whole point of this (kind of long) scene is to show that this case is a pretty small deal. Low stakes, inexperienced opposing lawyer. (Not even sure why Liz would be arguing this in court, but whatever.)

Tbh I thought this was going to wind up in 9 ¾ court.

Now that we have junior level characters, we get scenes showing that there are, in fact, people at RBL who are mid-level. Liz asks an associate to work on something, he asks another associate to work on it, she delegates to other associates, and they delegate to Marissa and Carmen. This work seems terrible.  

It’s so funny to me how this is probably more realistic than most of the lawyering on the show and yet it only shows up selectively. We only see the hierarchy here to make it clear that Marissa and Carmen are at the bottom.  

David Lee interrupts and asks for Carmen. He’s very rude to her. Interestingly, she’s hesitant to leave her grunt work and follow David, even though she must know he outranks the associate who gave her the grunt work.

“Why am I supposed to know you?” David asks her as they walk through the halls. “I don’t know if you are,” Carmen responds. “Why does Benjamin Dafoe know you?” he asks. She doesn’t know who he is.  

“Who are you?” Dafoe asks when Carmen enters. She states her name, again. “Why are you important?” he asks. “I don’t think that I am,” Carmen responds.  

Then Dafoe says his top client, and it’s a name that the characters all know. I’m glad this scene is free of any “he’s the white OJ” expository lines (that’s from Sweeney’s introduction) -- it’s clear from the reactions and the discussion of police and rape that the top client is a bad guy, probably a rapist. The rapist wants Carmen to represent him.

Putting 2 and 2 together, Carmen asks if the rapist knows Rivi. He’s not, but he’s at the same prison. As soon as Carmen says she’s representing Rivi, David Lee switches gears, understanding the situation and trying to sign the new business. He’s so shameless!  

Marissa sorts ALL the papers. There are a LOT of papers. I’m swamped. Look at all this paper.

She catches the associate who assigned her the task leaving for the night just as she finishes up, and cheerfully notes she’s finished the task. Then the associate mentions this was only half of the bills. Marissa does not like that. Since her goal in wanting to be a lawyer is mostly just to give her something exciting to do and earn respect... this hierarchy thing is not going so well.

Marissa decides that after her rough day, she’s going to stop by Wackner’s court. He’s in the middle of a case about Emily in Paris fanfiction and he’s very happy to see Marissa.  

Wackner’s night court has a program—it notes the sponsor is Copy Co-op (I thought it was Copy Coop?) and the paper products were also provided by them. And “there will be regular intermissions at the discretion of Judge Wackner.” It’s very theatrical.  

Wackner takes a recess and calls Marissa to his “chambers.” He asks for her thoughts on the case. “All they want is attention and to feel like they’ve won,” Marissa notes. Wackner’s on the same wave length and compares it to the Scarecrow’s diploma at the end of The Wizard of Oz. So, he makes copyright certificates and some minor modifications to each of the fanfic books. They say “I respect you and I love you” and that’s that.

Wackner catches Marissa before she leaves and asks her to be his law clerk—part time or full time, 10% of all the legal filings and unlimited use of copy machines. She is hesitant because she “doesn’t even know what this is.”

Wackner says his court is “the future.” Marissa turns him down; notes she wants to pass the bar. “You know why all these people are here? ‘Cause the courts and the lawyers and the appeals have made justice... unattainable. Out of reach. To anyone who doesn’t have a shitload of money to wait it out. That’s why Exxon beats out Mr. Nobody. Read Kafka’s Before the Law.”  

I just read it, and you should too! It literally is a page, but tl;dr, there’s a man who wants to get to the law and instead he spends his whole life trying to win over the first of many gatekeepers on the path to the law. He never gets through the gate.  

“Justice is only just if it’s available to everyone,” Wackner says. Marissa thinks about that.

As I said last week, it’s smart that Wackner makes so much sense. Hearing him say all this, knowing that it’s true... it makes it very easy to get on board with the thought experiment. Of course there would be huge repercussions to this kind of system, but it makes so much sense it’s compelling TV!

Kurt’s showering when Diane gets home, which gives her time to stumble across the WANTED poster and notice that Kurt has drawn facial hair onto one of the pictures. “Who is this?” she asks him. “No one,” he says. “Well, you drew in a beard and a moustache on him,” Diane notes. Kurt says he was doodling, but Diane calls him out as he is the “exact opposite of a doodler.” Kurt says he thought it was someone he knew, but he’s not sure. Diane pushes him to tell the feds. Kurt reiterates he’s not sure, but it’s someone he went shooting with. “Oh my God, then it’s him,” Diane jumps to (not incorrect) conclusions. Kurt says he didn’t talk that way; he’s a veteran. “Kurt! That’s the profile!” Diane argues. Kurt isn’t convinced and he doesn’t want to be responsible for naming names. He notes he’ll be threatened with indictment for not naming names and then only lawyers will end up benefitting. Diane is not convinced.

I think this is an interesting conflict for Kurt and Diane. I understand why Kurt is hesitant to speak out before he’s sure. And I understand and agree with Diane that it’s important to identify the attackers and prevent anything like that from happening again.

I don’t mean to blame Kurt, exactly, but I feel like all of what happens next could’ve played out differently if Kurt had been just a little clearer with Diane about why he was hesitant to ID the man. Like, the threat of indictment for not naming names sounds like some typical anti-government rambling. Saying you specifically are afraid that this will turn back on you and you need to weigh your options and come up with a plan first would put Diane in a very different mode, in which they’d work together to craft the best strategy. Because this man would’ve been ID’d by someone, sooner or later, and Kurt would’ve needed to be prepared.  

Diane stares at the wanted poster at work and asks Jay to find his identity. He’s on the FBI TEN MOST WANTED? Ten!? Ok!  

Diane shares the extra information she has—the gun range and that he’s a veteran—and Jay gets to work.  

Turns out there’s no money in the case that Liz, a name partner, is working on and Marissa just spent all those hours sorting bills for. I could’ve told you there was no money in that case lol.  

Jay IDs the guy very fast. He’s faster than the feds because they didn’t know where he shot. The range had his license on file, and Jay got ahold of it.

“Well, we don’t pay you enough,” Diane says. “Oh, I know that,” Jay laughs.  

Diane says she’s going to think about calling the feds—it's definitely the same guy.

Marissa notes someone high profile (David Cord, who I presume is a thinly veiled stand-in for David Koch given the name, his role in the plot, and the fact that he is “David Cord of the Cord Brothers”) in the lobby giving a fake name and goes to tell Liz.  

David Cord is performing magic tricks for the receptionists (they don’t recognize him) when Liz and Marissa show up. “I knew your father. I hated your father,” Cord says. “Yes, well, he hated you too,” Liz says. He says he gave a fake name to see what the reception would be like since he’s kinda infamous.  

Liz introduces Marissa as one of the law clinic lawyers. Marissa knows what to say in this situation. Specifically, she knows that it is the exact right moment to name drop her father.  

“Democrats as far as the eye can see,” Cord notes. At that, Liz asks Marissa to get Julius involved.

More good expository work! (No, editor feature of Word, I do NOT want that to say “Better expository work,” that would change my meaning, go away and please stop grading my recap??? I don’t know how I brought this up but it’s telling me my score is 72%, so a C, and it’s driving me crazy. Oh, now I’m a 71%. It had me at like, 50%, because I had written “Wackner” and “Wackner” is not a word. No shit.)  

Anyway, back to the exposition. I like that we don’t get a line like, “Liz! David Cord, the Republican super donor, is here!” We just get to see Liz’s reaction, Cord’s hate of Liz’s father, and the line about democrats. Then it becomes clearer who Cord is.

Just noticed Liz is wearing an Apple Watch.

Liz stands for her meeting with Cord, likely to maintain power. Cord says January 6th changed everything to him and now he’s all about unity and loving America.  

Cord has something to say about Liz’s case, the one that’s not making any money, and he seems to know quite a lot about it. That spooks Liz.  

Then Cord offers her $12 million to continue the case for another six months (all of these months, seemingly, will play out in the couple of days the rest of this episode takes, but, whatever). He just wants them to go after the social media company that distributed the fake news... and Section 230.

Don’t know what that is? Now you do, because there is a Good Fight short! These work so much better when they’re actually needed (explaining concepts, etc.) than when they’re trying to force one into every episode (remember that Downton Abbey one? What... was that?)  

I was talking to @mimeparadox about this short and he pointed out that this short has a VERY clear POV on an issue that actually doesn’t seem to be all that straightforward. If you’re like me and only had a vague sense of what Section 230 was prior to this episode, this short is telling you what to think of it—it isn’t just explaining what it is.

I do tend to agree with the show’s POV on most things, but this is an issue I’d like to read more on. I love how Section 230 was something I hadn’t really read up on prior to this episode and now that it’s been on TGF I realize it’s something that actually, yes, I would’ve been interested in knowing about earlier. Is this because things that are on TGF are interesting to me because they’re on TGF or is it because TGF generally only discusses things that would be interesting to me? Probs a little bit of both.  

Diane asks Jay how to make an anonymous phone call and he hands her a burner phone. She calls the FBI with the rioter’s name. She doesn’t leave her name and then she dumps the phone.  

Credits! Did you catch there’s a Jordan Boatman in the credits? She plays one of the associates who passes down the grunt work to Marissa, and she’s Michael Boatman’s daughter in real life! She’s also been in one other episode, in season 3.  

I never get tired of these credits!  

The RL partners (and some associates who are on the case? I think these are the same ones who delegated the work to Marissa?) debate whether or not they should take Cord’s money. Madeline notes that he’s funded a lot of Republican campaigns; Julius notes that both Republicans and Democrats agree that Section 230 is flawed and this is an opportunity for unity.

Diane notes that the right doesn’t want to stop conspiracy theories from spreading, so is this really that bipartisan? “It would help if the boomers would stop falling for those conspiracy theories and sharing it with their friends,” an associate (I believe this is Michael Boatman’s daughter again) notes. That quiets the room and the partners all glare at her. Yeah, that was a kind of stupid thing to say. First of all, it’s just not appropriate to say to the partners, and it’s also, like, missing the point? If it’s easy for conspiracy theories to spread among boomers, maybe just expecting each member of that generation to suddenly have a millennial’s understanding of the internet is the wrong strategy? Maybe there’s some structural issue here? That maybe, just maybe, this case is actually about?  

The associate also points out that the internet is currently a place where people can speak out about sexual harassment-- “they repeal section 230, and there would be no #MeToo.”

One of the partners says he doesn’t believe that—if they regulate section 230, then newspapers can actually be competitive and there’s still free speech online.  

“We’re not going back to reading newspapers, grandpa,” some associate says. What the actual fuck, dude? Who talks like that to their boss?! It’s so condescending. He’s also wrong! “Newspapers” are not just physical things... reporting by major publications still matters and will continue to matter. Like, is he suggesting that in the future all news will just be random people tweeting things they think are true with no fact checking or curation? Sure, journalism is struggling right now—but I don’t think that’s because there’s a lack of desire for well-reported news.  

I am glad the partners call him out on saying “grandpa” and honestly I’m shocked he isn’t asked to leave the discussion after that rude remark. Unless this young looking dude is a partner too? But I don’t think he is.  

Julius notes that if they’re going to pursue this case, they need money like Cord’s. At that, Liz starts to leave the meeting. “We haven’t decided if we’re taking this Cord money yet,” Madeline protests. “Of course we are,” Liz says and leaves.  

Now that’s more like it! I’m not sure if this is necessarily the best way to handle this, but she’s a) correct, they were always going to take the money because it is $12 million and an issue of interest and b) using her authority. Should Liz be making decisions totally on her own? Maybe not. Does Liz making this decision and then leaving (with everyone accepting that she’s correct) cut through a lot of bullshit and establish Liz as the one in charge? Yup.

Diane says, “Ooh-kay” with a little bit of an eyeroll after Liz exits, but she’s still laying low. I think in a different season Diane might’ve tried to push back.  

Is it me or does Baranski get a lot of material this episode we haven’t seen before? Lots of really good reaction shots/tones in this episode I don’t really think we’ve seen from Diane before. I’m impressed there’s still new stuff after 12 years.

At some point maybe I will actually write the essay I’ve been wanting to write for ages about how TGF is still so relevant despite being in a universe that should be showing its age by now. I wish I could find the first time that I called TGW a period piece set in the present day (I know it would’ve been during season five) because I think that’s the key to TGW/TGF’s enduring success. The shows always feel timely because they try to capture the present moment (which is, of course, always changing) and don’t get stuck in any one moment in time. Further, the fact that the writers are always so tuned in to events and skilled at quickly reacting to what happens in the world makes them VERY good in a pinch, which is (I think) why they’re able to make the most of unexpected situations (Josh leaving TGW, the pandemic).  

Liz and Julius bring a suit against ChumHum to attack 230. Judge Friend is initially skeptical of their argument that 230 is unconstitutional; then she’s intrigued. I am too. This argument about the press is a very interesting one. I obviously have a lot of reading to do on 230, but my take after this episode is pretty much that social media platforms have to be held responsible in some way, but I don’t think it’s feasible or desirable for them to be responsible for every single one of billions of posts. I think there has to be some way to regulate social media giants that would allow everyday people to share things and speak out but would prevent the curated (even by an algorithm) spread of fake news and make social media giants accountable when there are very public bad actors using their platforms. What that regulation would be I have no idea. I just refuse to believe that our options are to give the social media sites full immunity or to regulate the internet so strongly that no one is able to speak freely because all the platforms are worried about lawsuits.  

Over at the VA, people are being fired. When Kurt gets into his office, Madeline Starkey (wait, are there two characters named Madeline in this episode?) is waiting for him. She’s still very quirky and scary.  

Starkey says the guy that Diane reported is now saying Kurt trained him on using assault rifles and buying ammunition in bulk. Kurt notes these were topics covered in a group setting, which Starkey knew—and what she’s really after is the names of the others in the group. (She may already know them, since she knows there were five of them.)

Kurt refuses to name names and just stares at her.  

Case stuff happens! (I liked the last two episodes a lot but it’s much faster for me to just write, “case stuff happens” for some of the scenes.)

Hey, surprise Aaron Tveit! (Not really a surprise; he is in the credits. But still yay!)  

I don’t really know why Liz and Julius are talking about newspapers specifically and not all types of fact-based journalism/press? I feel like their argument is most convincing when it’s about actual newspapers (especially local ones) but still would apply to cable news...

Marissa’s still hard at work sorting papers when the associate comes back in and informs her she can stop; they’ve changed strategies and everything she’s done is now irrelevant. She also says “I forgot to tell you” at the start of that thought, meaning that she neglected to tell Marissa this important information earlier and wasted her time. Marissa is not pleased and so she goes to Wackner’s court, where Wackner now has a deli ticket machine and is wearing super-sized novelty sunglasses. Why not!

He sees Marissa and calls a five-minute recess. In “chambers,” Marissa tells him she’d like to work for him part-time but keep her RL job.  

Wackner needs her help processing more copyright certificates. He’s priced them competitively at $20 and found that a lot of writers want these certificates, even though they have no legal value. (Neither do actual copyrights, Wackner notes. And he notes that if anyone plagiarizes, they can sue in HIS court.)  

“Marissa, I’m building something here. I want you to join me. I want your advice on cases. I want to bounce legal theories off you,” he says. “What are your legal theories?” she asks. “I don’t know. That’s why I need to bounce them,” he says.  

Marissa gives him from noon to 2 and 5-7, which seems awfully ambitious for someone working at a law firm!

“That’s how revolutions are made. Back rooms of copy shops,” he says, accepting her offer.  

Kurt is sulking in the dark when Diane arrives home. He lets her know about Starkey’s visit and she immediately goes into lawyer mode. Notably, this scene does not spend much time on how Starkey found out the rioter’s name. Curious if they’re saving that for later or if Diane and Kurt both know what Diane must have done or if Kurt think’s it’s a coincidence.  

Kurt SET UP A TOUR OF THE CAPITOL for one of the veterans in his shooting group, and that tour was ON JANUARY 6TH! I really do wish he’d told Diane that upfront.  

Maybe the long pause where Kurt refuses to tell Diane which congressperson arranged the tour even after she promises she won’t say is him letting on that he knows that Diane ID’d the guy? Or maybe it’s just Kurt.  

I do not like the dead birds in Starkey’s office, mostly because I do not like thinking about dead birds.

Starkey compares Diane and Kurt to the Conways.  

And now more case stuff happens.  

Julius gets to question a witness for the first time in two years! He’s a little shaky at first but then he does a fantastic job! Yay Julius!

When Diane arrives at the office, reception is filled with around a hundred teddy bears. “What?” she asks. “Build-a-Bears. They were sent to Marissa,” the receptionist explains. “Okay... why?” Diane asks the logical next question. The receptionist does not know.  

“This one’s a Marissa bear,” she says, showing Diane a bear wearing boots and a wig. It does not look much like Marissa and it says “Hug me.”

Diane looks confused and furious at the same time. Her look here is, like, a milder version of the death stare she gives Alicia in Outside the Bubble when she learns about Alicia and Cary’s plan to leave.  

“Why don’t we, meaning you, take all these stuffed animals and put them in the conference room,” Diane instructs the receptionist. She is NOT! HAPPY! The receptionist seemed to be having fun with the bears, but clearly the right answer was to have done something with them and... not to have put them over every surface in reception. Eeek.  

Carmen’s new client, the rapist, arrives at the firm before anyone can hide the bears. “This may not be the firm for you,” his advisor/lawyer (I’m not totally sure what this dude’s job is) warns.  

Madeline notices the rapist and glares at the receptionist. “I know. I’m putting them in the conference room,” the receptionist says, thinking Madeline is upset about the bears. She is not upset about the bears.

Diane finds Marissa, who’s working with Carmen again. She asks Carmen to give them a moment.

“Why are there hundreds of teddy bears in our reception?” Diane asks. Marissa is confused. Diane shows her the Marissa bear. Marissa looks horrified and amused. “That doesn’t even look like me,” Marissa notes, completely missing how pissed off Diane is. I don’t think we have seen Diane be this direct/no-nonsense in ages.  

“That would seem to be beside the point. What is going on, Marissa?” Diane demands. Marissa suspects this is based on some advice she offered to a client who was buying a Build-a-Bear franchise and thinks this is a thank you gift. “What client? You’re not a lawyer! Why do you have clients?” Diane says exasperatedly.  

Marissa gives her a look, and Diane immediately understands that she’s been back to Wackner’s court. “Oh my God, this is about that Copy Coop court?”

“Marissa, no. By participating in that simulacrum of a courtroom, you exposed this firm to malpractice, sanctions, and God knows what,” Diane says. If that were really true, she wouldn’t have sat there and argued. I mean, I don’t know the legality of this all, but I feel like it’s a bigger optics issue than legal issue if Diane and other lawyers are willing to even consider participating?  

“If you wish to continue your employment at this firm, you will never do anything like that again. Do you understand?” Diane says. She will not hear any arguments.  

I love that Marissa is the thing that keeps Wackner coming back. It’s a good plot for her, but structurally, it also allows the show to keep Wackner around without many contrivances. Wackner sees that Marissa would understand what he’s up to, she sees that he shares some of her frustrations with the law, and they both want to work together again. It’s not like suddenly everyone’s talking about Wackner’s court and all the cases somehow end up there or anything.

The receptionist, who is having a truly terrible day, comes into announce that Kurt and Starkey have arrived. “Don’t put them in the conference room!” Diane commands, knowing that the teddy bears will be there. It’s too late, though, because the receptionist (who previously seemed to be fine at her job if bad at recognizing public figures and understanding that partners might not find teddy bears amusing) has already put them in the conference room. I feel bad for her, and don’t think the other things were her fault, but I feel like she could’ve seen this one coming...  

I find the teddy bears HILARIOUS, mostly because the reactions to them are so funny. It’s kind of the same gag as the balloons for Lucca in season two, but I don’t really care, because I’m getting to see Diane Lockhart treat hundreds of Build-a-Bears like they are a real work problem.

Starkey jokes about the bears; Kurt is silent.  

The rioter from the poster is now accusing Kurt of coming up with the STRATEGY for January 6th, which Kurt and Diane both dismiss as bullshit.  

I could do without Starkey’s musical cues.

I can’t tell if Kurt is in trouble here or if she’s just pressing him to name names. Why wouldn’t she just have rioter guy name names if he’s so eager to blame Kurt? I guess maybe if the others were actually there, he might be less likely to name the names of his actual co-conspirators? Or, Starkey might already know the names (surely the shooting range has logs) and be using this to raise the stakes.  

No one (except maybe the partner named Daniel) is happy about the rapist in reception. “Since when are we representing people like Wolfe-Coleman?” Julius asks. Didn’t these people help both Sweeney (though I think Sweeney was in some weird police brutality case and they didn’t actually want to represent him) and Bishop? And Rivi? But they draw the line here? Sure.  

Ah, there we go, an expository line-- “he’s the next Jeffrey Epstein”. Almost made it the whole episode without one of these. I’ll forgive it since it’s so late in the episode lol.  

“Did you approve this, Liz?!” Madeline demands. Liz did not. Daniel wonders if that means Diane approved it. Liz doesn’t think so and calls Diane (who happens to be walking past) in.  

“I know, the teddy bears. I’m working on it,” Diane says when she opens the door. I think the teddy bears are a bigger issue to Diane than to anyone else.  

Diane didn’t approve representing Mr. Rapey either. She’s uncomfortable that a meeting was happening without her; Madeline notes that she is standing there specifically because they wanted to involve her.  

David Lee pops up out of nowhere with the answer: one of the new associates (not Marissa, “the real one”) pulled in Mr. Rapey. Are there only two associates now even though orientation was for a big group?  

Firth is gone, btw. David Lee is the new Mr. Firth. I have no idea why David would want to be STR Laurie’s guy for managing RL but... sure, whatever? David Lee is an effective antagonist, especially in small doses, and this allows the writers to keep him around and continue the STR Laurie plot without a key guest star. If STR Laurie is still a thing, and it seems like it is going to be a thing for a while, then having David Lee take on this role makes sense for plot. Otherwise they’re going to have to shoehorn him in to every plot somehow. At least now he has a reason to be around.  

Liz and Diane take a walk to chat. Diane is worried about having David as their boss. Liz says she has a worse worry—David Lee knew exactly when to come downstairs with information, suggesting he know what they were talking about. “Would he do something like that?” Liz asks when Diane wonders if there’s a bug. “Oh, yeah,” Diane replies. Hah, yeah. He absolutely would.  

They decide to have Jay search for bugs and Liz is frustrated with how much time they have to spend on things other than lawyering. Yup.

“What is going on with all the teddy bears in the conference room?” Liz asks as they head back to the office. “It’s a long story,” Diane sighs. I also love that the teddy bears link the various pieces of the episode together—it feels like all of these threads are happening simultaneously because of that constant.  

I don’t get RL’s approach to clients. Bishop and Rivi are ok, Wolfe-Colman is not (except that actually he is fine). Cord is okay too. Do they draw the line anywhere? I know Liz was right when she said that OF COURSE they were taking the money, but is there really nothing that differentiates that situation from this one? I feel like there should be.

Marissa goes back to see Wackner. Since someone refuses to say “I respect and I love you,” Wackner reverses his ruling. This is part of the “Bad Loser Law of last Wednesday,” so the rules of Wackner’s court are clearly a work in progress.

Marissa explains she can’t be the law clerk because of Diane. She tries to connect him with a real lawyer, still not understanding exactly what Wackner’s after. “You know just enough not to crush what I’m doing here,” Wackner explains. “A real lawyer will look for reasons why not. I need someone to look for reasons why.”  

Case stuff happens. I cannot read Cord’s handwriting. Liz and Julius lose the case because Judge Friend says what’s happening isn’t fair, but it is constitutional. (So here we have, at least in the show’s POV, a good and attentive judge who can’t make decisions that make sense because she’s bound by a document written before anyone had ever dreamed of the internet.)  

Cord is waiting for Liz in her office. He’s prepared to bankroll an appeal. Did they blow thorough that $12 million already? Impressive; it’s been like a day.  

Cord says they are definitely the firm he wants. Interesting.

Now Liz wants a meeting with Carmen, so it’s Marissa who leaves the room. This scene seems like it was meant to be a different day?  

Liz wants to talk about Mr. Rapey. Carmen is, yet again, chill about the case. “Carmen, is there anyone that you would not represent?” Liz asks. Funny, Liz, I could ask you the same. Being hesitant about it is not changing the fact that you’re representing bad people. Carmen’s just cutting the bullshit.  

“I don’t understand. Is there someone you don’t want me to represent?” I love how Carmen’s incredibly polite responses always seem very pointed. There is absolutely nothing wrong with Carmen’s reply, and yet it puts Liz in a place where she can’t dance around what she’s trying to say.  

“I’m just trying to get a sense of who you are,” Liz explains.  

Then Liz decides she’s going to help on the Craig Wolfe-Colman (Mr. Rapey) case, and they will keep talking about her career path. Liz, this does not seem like the right solution! You're worried about your associate representing bad people so you’re like, I know, what if I ALSO represented bad people? If your goal is to convince Carmen not to take clients like this, you’re kinda shooting yourself in the foot!  

“Are you worried about me?” Carmen says, again turning things on Liz. “I don’t know what I am about you,” Liz replies. Me either. Well, I know I'm intrigued, but beyond that, no clue!

All the bears have ended up in Diane’s office, where Wackner is waiting. He jokes about how his court is always seen as informal, yet this real fancy law office is covered in Build-a-Bears. Then he says he wants to hire RL—he's willing to pay. He wants consultation from Marissa (“consultation on legal issues”) and he’s prepared to spend a lot. And, if there’s one thing we know, it’s that they’re always going to take the money. So, they do.

I love that Wackner’s goal is to “perfect my little clubhouse of the law.” It’s a fun plot, and it also allows for the rules in his court to change (I’m sure we’re going to be treated to/subjected to a lot of whimsical gags around changing and ridiculous rules). It's also a good way to work through the thought experiment over the course of the season. It’s not like Wackner already has a system set up and it’s perfect—I'm sure we’re going to see his system run into issues and explore that more, too.  

Wackner monologues a bit here about why he’s running fake court, and he lets us know he’s going to monologue. Basically he thinks people no longer want to help people and are only motivated by their own self interest. He notes that no one talks about the Peace Corps anymore and asks the last time Diane heard anyone say those words. I’m sure I’ve heard a reference more recently but my mind went RIGHT to season one Cary Agos saying “Peace Corps. Belize,” as some kind of smarmy pickup line. This is likely not where my mind was supposed to go.

Wackner wants “A new Peace Corps. For America.” Diane’s sympathetic to that and agrees to take him on as a client.  

Wackner asks if he can take a bear. Diane instructs him to take two.  

Aaaand Wackner and Cord end up on the elevator together. Wackner hands Cord a bear, the elevator doors close, and the episode ends. Since last episode ended with Marissa and Carmen in the elevator together, I’m hoping this will be how every episode this season ends. I think using the Kings’ favorite liminal space to transition between episodes is kind of fun, and it fits with the ellipses at the end of every episode title.  

Speaking of... did you see today’s elevator-themed episode of Evil? It was written by the Kings. Those two have been obsessed with elevators for at least a decade.  

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette Vs Santa: The Final Round

Okay, so it’s 11:38 on Christmas. I promised I would post this today. So I am. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone. Enjoy your present.

           The jolly fat man would get his, Marinette swore. She wore a lovely gold, snowflake-embroidered cocktail dress. Her hair was done in a French side braid with voluminous Curls; more than she ever had in her entire life. Honestly, she looked like a princess.

           And it would’ve been a win for her if it wasn’t for the circumstances that made it yet another Tie against Santa.

           Roy has his hand on the small of her back since they step out of the limo. The forced sweet smile on her face was for the paparazzi that had waited outside the restaurant. When they got inside, and as they were shone to their table, Roy's hand slipped south.

Marinette stiffened and leaned close to Roy and whispered in his ear, “If you don’t get your hand off my butt, I’m going to take off one of my five-inch heels and slit your throat with it.”

Roy’s hand was gone in a flash, “Aww babe,” He said, a little loudly, nodding to the table where his parents’ Oliver and Dinah waited; their eyes watching the young couple’s every move. “You know I can’t keep my hands off you.”

           Marinette giggled, as she fought the urge to slam his against a nearby table, “Not in front of your parents. It’s called manners.”

Your lucky homicide is still technically illegal, Marinette thought viciously, and a sure-fire way to get on fat bastard’s naughty list.

           He wouldn’t win. No, Marinette had gone too far; been through too much to lose now.

“Thank you, Marinette,” Dinah stood once the two approached. She pulled Marinette into a hug. “I’ve tried to instill etiquette into Roy for years. His last girlfriends and he nearly in trouble for public indecency. Maybe you’ll do a better job than I did.”

           Marinette laughed, “I will even if I have to cut off his hand.”

           Oliver chuckled, “You’re definitely Bruce’s girl.” The resemblance was uncanny.

           After that the fell into an easy conversation.

“That dress is beautiful,” Dinah said. “Who’s the designer?”

           Marinette beamed, “I am. I love fashion. It’s my dream,” She explained. “I plan on launching my own company. While there’s always room to learn and enhance my designing skills, I feel as if I have that side at least somewhat covered. However, the business angle is something I need to learn. Which is why I plan on getting my MBA at an Ivy League. I was considering Yale or Princeton.”

“Princeton,” Oliver grinned. “Did you hear that Roy?” Roy rolled his eyes, and once again, regretted being born. “Marinette’s considering Princeton. That’s the top school on his list. Queens have gone there for generations.” He pulled his wife into a hug. “It’s where I knew Dinah was the one.”

           Dinah gave Marinette a blank stare, “I couldn’t get rid of him. It was like having bedbugs.” (“Hey!” Oliver cried in protest.) “No matter what I did, he just coming back. The only solution was to burn the entire place down and vanish without a trace. But apparently, that’s illegal or whatever. Stupid.”

“I know, right,” Marinette nodded earnestly. “What’s up with that?”

           They had a wonderful dinner. They watched a paparazzi pretending to be a waiter be escorted out of the restaurant. It was great, amazing even. Oliver and Dinah had been perfectly lovely. Roy had acted like a perfect gentleman. Marinette could’ve almost pretended she was actually meeting her boyfriend’s family. She was about to count the entire night as a win until…

“So how many grandkids should I expect in the future,” Oliver asked, a sincere look on his face, though he was snickering inside.

           Marinette chocked on her chocolate mousse and ended up in a coughing fit that Dinah helped her with. Roy had met his father’s gaze and gave him his most charming smile, “Seven,” He answered.

“Seven!” Marinette barked out and she looked around frantically as if Ashton Kutcher had revived his hit show and was about to pop out.

Oh, gods; please let me be getting punked, Marinette prayed.

            Oliver’s eyebrows went up, “Seven, huh, big family.”

           Roy hummed, “the Wayne-Queens certainly will be.”

“You mean the Queen-Waynes,” Oliver corrected, his hackles rising.

“Well, I figured since we’d be living in Gotham,” Roy didn’t even bother to hide his smirk. “We’d go by the Wayne-Queen family. I actually found this great place not too far from Wayne Manor. Plenty of room for the kids, maybe a dog or two; a rose garden. You know how Waynes are about their roses. You can visit whenever.”

           Marinette might have momentarily blacked out during this. It was how Marinette knew she had officially lost that round to Santa.

           Oliver and Dinah just looked at Roy; their entire bodies stiff.

           Dinah took a long drink from her wine glass, “Gotham has such a high crime rate. Have you considered Star City, Marinette?”

“I’ve never been,” Marinette said sweetly. “But I could live anywhere really. I’m pretty open.”

           Roy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “Yes, but I figured you’d want to spend as much time with your family as possible. Jason’s my best friend. I love Gotham. It just works. Besides Bruce Wayne would make an amazing grandpa.”

           The grip Oliver had on his dessert fork made Marinette fear for Roy’s life. It was time to step in. “I suppose Robb or Thea would love a big backyard to play in.”

           That got the other three’s attention.

“Robb? Thea?” Oliver whispered. His throat was dry. His brain tried to process what was said.

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But Roy and I started talking one day and well,” Marinette trailed off. A soft pink blush appeared on Marinette’s face, enhancing her overall innocent aura. She had done background on the Queen family. “Our firstborn; if it’s a boy Robb as in Robert Thomas; for your father and my grandfather. If it’s a girl, Thea Sabine; for your sister and my mother. It was Roy’s idea. He knows how much you loved them.”

           It was then that Marinette got to check off one more wish off her list. It had been made as a joke in passing to Chloe and Kagami months ago. They had been having a girls’ night. When Chloe, ever prepared, asked what they wanted for Christmas. They had been watching a Justice League fight on the news. Marinette had laughed and said she wanted to show them up one day; make a superhero cry.

           However, watching The Green Arrow tear up while the Black Canary comforted himself, made her think that Santa took her to wish out of context.

           Roy was pulled into a big hug by his parents, and he sent her a vicious glare, and mouthed, “What did you do?”

           Oliver pulled back, wiped his eyes, and said, “You know; there’s nothing like a spring wedding in Star City.”

           Marinette threw down her napkin.

Fuck Santa.

-

           The news had a field day. The picture of Marinette in her dress and Roy in his designer suit was what everyone was talking about. The women of the view talked about her outfit. Wendy Williams talked about her outfit. It was as if Marinette was living in another universe.

           Nothing could bring her down.

“What the hell?” Jason asked as he picked her up for school. “Why the fuck is Roy spamming me with hate texts. Why the fuck is Oliver arguing with B over visitation rights to his grandchildren? Who the Fuck are Robb and Thea? And why the fuck is Dad asking Aquaman if Atlantis really sunk on its own, or if it had a little help?”

           Marinette tiled her head, “Is Papa planning on sinking Star City? And that’s forty dollars for the swear jar.” Her parents had implements after one too many curse words were thrown around.

“Worth it!” Jason said. “And yes, I’ve positive that’s what’s going to happen. It’s gonna be amazing. Also, he’s gonna kill Roy!”

“He deserves it,” Marinette crossed her arms.

“Hey!”

“He put his hand on my butt!”

           Jason paused and narrowed his eyes. “Correction. I’m gonna kill Roy.”

           Marinette rolled her eyes, but then she realized something. “Aren’t they’re usually two of you? Where’s the other one?” It was the routine. She was always escorted into school by two members of the Wayne family.

           Jason smirked, “You’ll see.”

           The paparazzi mostly screamed the usual things at her. At that point, she was used to it. It was the few changes at school that she was used to.

           Damocles had been fired for bribes and severe negligence. He was replaced by Mendeleev. Bustier had been fired for her role in Marinette’s expulsion without proper procedure and basically catering to bullies while blaming the victim. She replaced by a sterner teacher name Miss Reed. She was by the book and not afraid to call in the higher-ups if something smelled fishy.

           The first was any and all forms of bullying in class was no longer tolerated. The school had issued a zero-tolerance policy that the kids in Bustier’s class had felt immediately.

           The second was Lila’s supposed medical history. No doctor’s note, no special treatment. It was also required that Lila present a note from her mother regarding any future absences.

           The third was Adrien’s being pulled randomly out of class. CPS got involved real fast regarding child labor laws.

           The days of her classmates getting away with bloody murder were over. Reed saw everything. Everything.

           Alya, who had returned to class always avoided Marinette at all times. Her parents had given her the biggest talking to about respecting others’ right to privacy. Marinette had agreed to drop any legal charges against her former friend provided she adhere to the cease and desist order. The girl knew too much about Marinette. And Marinette needed to make it clear that she would bury the girl in lawsuits before she’d allowed even one-fourth of it to be made public.

           Jason had walked her to class. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he went directly to the back of the class and took a seat next to Chloe. He pulled out his phone and proceeded to ignore the curious looks from the students.

The blond eyed the ripped jeans, the overly sized red flannel shirt, and the beat-up leather jacket, “Grunge died in the 90s. Like it deserved.”

           Jason, not bothering to look up from his phone, “Paris Hilton said it’s cool that you plagiarized her look.”

           Chloe gasped.

           Marinette just looked up at the ceiling, knowing exactly how this was going to go. Chloe would not forgive this. Jason was an asshole. It would be war.

           Miss Reed walked in and didn’t look twice at Jason.

           Marinette narrowed her eyes; something was up.

           The class went on without a hitch though until just about the end of the first period…

           When Tim and a pretty, brown-haired, tanned skin, an older woman walked in the door. They looked to be having a pleasant conversation.

“Mama,” Lila gasped, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here?” She looked around frantically.

“Ooohhhh,” Marinette nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.” That was what was happening. Operation: Get That Bitch.

“Oh!” Tim feigned surprised. “I didn’t know your daughter was in my sister’s class, Naomi.”

           Naomi had been pleasantly surprised when Tim Drake, the CEO of Wayne Industries reached out to speak to her about potential business ventures in Italy. He was in Paris visiting his sister and wanted an insider perspective on Italy’s economy and tourist information. Her bosses were thrilled. Wayne opening up a site in Italy would do wonders for the overall economic and industrial growth. Then they got to talking about a potential student exchange program that Wayne Industries were willing to fund.

           What Tim hadn’t told the Ambassador was that Wayne Industries had been scouting locations in Italy for their new plant for the last ten months. All the research was done. Everything was primed to go. Still, Tim was kind enough to ensure that Naomi Rossi received the credit for getting Wayne Industries on board.

Mrs. Rossi blinked in surprise, “I had no idea either. Lila, we’re here to discuss a potential international exchange program for kids all over the world. Tim wanted to say hello to his sister. Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with Marinette Wayne?”

           Marinette leaned forward in her seat. A slow smile spread across her face.

“I, well, I,” Lila struggled to say.

“We’re not the closest, Mrs. Rossi,” Marinette offered. “She’s always so busy, we haven’t had the time.”

“Ahh,” Tim snapped his fingers. “That Lila Rossi. Marinette told me all about her.” He crossed his arms. “Naomi, how was Achu? I haven’t gone yet. But from what Marinette’s told of Lila’s stories, you two go all the time. You become close to the royal family, yes?”

           Coldness went down to Naomi Rossi’s spine. She stiffened. Her eyes went to her daughter who had a look of dread on her face. Not this again, she nearly groaned. “There’s been some… confusion,” Mrs. Rossi said, gearing up every ounce of diplomacy she learned in her twenty-year career. Lila was so grounded after this. “A miscommunication, I suppose. My ambassadorship has taken my family to England, Spain, and Japan for a little while, and here in France, of course. However, nowhere else. We have never been to Achu. That is a bit above my paygrade, I’m afraid,” She laughed nervously.

           The class was as silent as a library. If Bustier was still there, a few students would’ve started yelling their complaints and cries for explanations. One or two would’ve started screaming at Lila for lying. But Bustier was gone. And the look Reed was giving her class, dared them to try.

           Tim chuckled, “Kids. When I was seven I swore I spent the summer in Greece with my parents. I didn’t find out until I was eleven that I was actually in Rome. What can you do?” He gave her his most charming smile. “England, was that where Lila met Jagged Stone? I think he’s from there.”

“Jagged who now?” Naomi asked. “The Rock Star? No, Lila’s never met him. She’s a huge fan though.”

“But he wrote a song about her!” Alya cried out. “She saved his cat from getting hit by a plane!”

           Miss Reed, “Alya, please raise your hand and keep to a reasonable level while inside. It will be detention if I have to tell you again.”

Miss Reed and Mendeleiev had agreed to The Wayne's suggestion of revealing Lila’s lies to the class. It was the only way they would believe it and that she could lie her way out of. It was unnatural the way the students trailed after the girl, simpering over grand stories and promises of famous connections. They needed to learn to rely on hard work and their own talent, not on how many famous people they might get to the chance to meet.

“A plane?” Mrs. Rossi asked, an affronted look on her face. “You think I would ever allow my child to be in such danger?” She looked at her daughter. “Your grandmother always said you would be a grand writer with all the stories you tell. You could’ve at least come with a sensible lie.”

“I can explain,” Lila said but whether she was talking to her mother or class was anyone’s guess.

           Rose raised her hand, “Lie? Lila can’t be lying. What about all the trips she takes with you? The charity organizations she runs? The famous people she knows like Clara Nightingale who always ask her for help. She’s close friends with Prince Ali. That’s why she’s always away from school. One time she was gone for weeks.”

           Naomi Rossi looked at her daughter, who did everything she could to avoid eye contact with her mother. “You told me that the school was closed due to the Akumas. It was a lie.” She looked at the teacher. “If the school wasn’t closed, Lila should have only missed three days of school this semester due to her being ill with the flu. She should have only missed seven to ten days in total last year. I do apologize, my daughter…” She gave Lila a dark look. “Seems to have a talent for tall tales.”

           Miss Reed stood up, “It’s a matter for the Principle. Her last teacher overlooked many things and wrote off what she couldn’t. Her schoolwork was done the year before; her grades were good enough to pass. She has not missed too many days so far; a few more than the average student but it happens. Any homework missed can still be made up. She is welcome in my class. However, when you get the chance, I would like make an appointment to discuss with you any medical accommodations she has that need to be addressed.”

           Mrs. Rossi crossed her arms, “She never wears her glasses. She has sensitive eyes that prevent her from wearing contacts. Without them, she can’t see more than a few feet ahead of her.” She looked straight at her daughter. “And she knows this.”

           Marinette wanted to bang her head against the desk. Why couldn’t Lila just say that? She’d have understood.

           Mrs. Rossi looked at the class, “I am so sorry for any trouble my daughter may have caused.” She looked at Tim. “I hope this doesn’t cast a negative light on any prospective business relations.”

           Tim shook his head, “Kids will be kids. Let’s continue to speak over lunch.”

“I’ll see you at home, Lila,” Mrs. Rossi said.

           Tim grinned, “Marinette, I’ll see you after school. Jason.”

           Jason got to leave only to stumble nearly down the stairs. He cast a quick glare at Chloe.

           The blond gave him a vicious smirk, “Walk much?”

“Oh it’s on,” Jason hissed.

           Marinette rolled her eyes. Last year, she had wished with all her might that her friends would see Lila for who she really was. Now the truth was out. Lila had been exposed.

           Regrettably, Marinette had already lost all her friends. And those who were still her friends, already knew the truth. So it wouldn’t change much. She’d had already forgiven her ex-friends a long time ago. Marinette just had to intention of being friends with them again. Still, it was a victory.

           Fuck Santa; this round went Marinette.

-

-

           The Justice League had been stunned when they learned that the masked hero Ladybug who was protecting Paris in an adorable bright red suit, who seemed to be made of sunshine, rainbows, and happiness was Batman’s daughter. Like so stunned that as soon as they saw her secret Identity of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and her takedown of monsters twelve times her size; one or two (or twelve) asked Superman to take a DNA test too. Because Bruce Wayne wasn’t the only black-haired Superhero around, and you know things happen.

           …Batman hadn’t been happy when Oracle alerted him that someone in the Watch Tower was running his daughter’s DNA against Superman’s.

“How sure are we?” Hal Jordan asked. “The DNA results never came back. How do we know she’s not Big S’s?”

           The main members of the Justice League were waiting for Batman and his family to arrive. Then they were would officially be introduced to the hero Ladybug.

           Superman glared, “Stop it. Batman already brought out the kryptonite the last time you mentioned it.”

           Wonder man nodded, “Her civilian self is the spitting image of Bruce.”

“All of his kids have dark hair and light eyes,” The Flash reminded them. “One of like seven or twelve, or however many he has now, we know for sure is his.”

“They are all his,” Black Canary stated with a growl. She and Oliver had adopted Roy when he was young but that didn’t make the boy any less hers.

           Just then the light of the zeta beam sounded and Batman and Ladybug appeared in the room. The clear contrast between the two was startling.

           The Dark, brooding, Knight of Gotham dressed in all black with a look on his face that could’ve made Superman wince in fear. Ladybug, dressed in bright red, with a big, cheerful, smile on her face and large blue eyes that looked positively mesmerized by the heroes.

“I brought cookies,” The small girl chirped as she motioned to the goodies in her hands. “And apple pie! It’s a family recipe. I made them myself. I really hope you like them.”

           Batman glared worsen to the point where a few Justice League members feared for their lives. The message was clear; they’d like them. Or else.

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Diana smiled. “Come on, let me show you where we’ll be meeting.

           Marinette tried not to stare in awe at her favorite superhero. “I also brought Vegan. And gluten-free cookies. I wanted to make sure everyone could get some.” She said as she was led away.

           The world-renowned heroes visibly cooed at the young hero. She was the most adorable thing they’d ever laid eyes on.

           The Flash laughed, “What did you bring, Bats?”

“Death,” Batman growled as stalked after his daughter.

           Cyborg swallowed hard. “I’m not saying you’re right,” He told Hal and Barry. “I’m saying for this type of situation; Maury is classier than Jerry Springer.”

           Superman groaned. They were going to get him killed.

“Apple pie!” The flash said. “She brought Apple, Clark; it’s a sign from the gods.”

           Ladybug briefing them on her hero journey had been riveting. The Justice League had always been aware of Ladybug's existence. Once aware of her, Diana had told them all the history of the Miraculous and how her own mother used to be one of the users. Ladybug, with Chat Noir for a time, handled herself and protected the city well. They saw no reason to interfere. The Justice League had strict rules of interfering with another’s heroes’ turf. They figured if Ladybug needs help, the hero would call on them. They never knew she was a child.

           Her age bothered them.

“She can’t protect the city,” Aquaman said. “We’ll need to step in.”

“Excuse me,” Marinette said.

           The Flash nodded, “We’ll need to run Intel. I’ll have Vibe take a look at things.”

“Wait! I don’t think you-” Marinette started but was cut off.

“The magic is ancient and powerful,” Hawkman interrupted. “We should call Constantine. Or Doctor Fate perhaps.”

           Ladybug shook her head, “That wouldn’t be a good idea!”

           Green Lantern waved her off, “It’s fine, kid. We’ll handle it. While we’re at it; consider joining Young Justice or Teen Titans. Get you some training before you call yourself a real hero. Until then stick with the little league team.”

           Marinette froze. What did he just say? White-hot anger coursed through her veins.

           And to think she always dreamed of meeting the Justice League; of standing face to face with the heroes after having proven herself; proven that she was just as much of a superhero as they. However, Marinette knew she was already a hero. And no one would tell her otherwise.

           The round went to Santa. But Marinette would have her due.

           Fuck Santa!

Superman said, “We’ll start having unplaced league members scouting the area. They’ll notify us at the first sign of Hawkmoth.”

“ENOUGH!” Marinette yelled. She growled at the heroes. “Who the hell do you think you are?” The silence that followed that question was deafening. “You know nothing of Hawkmoth; saw nothing of what I’ve been through. There is a reason I never called in the league. Superpowered individuals still have emotions; still anger. He can turn any of you into akumas. Get inside your heads; learn who you really are. You’ll be a toy for him. Batman brought me here to meet you; not for you to pretend you know how to do my job.”

           She glared at the room and then zeroed in on the Green Lantern. Within seconds, Ladybug had yanked him out of his seat, pulled the ring off his finger, and held by his collar as the man detransformed. “Real Hero? You think I’m not a real hero? I’ve fought monsters nightmares couldn’t even begin to fathom. You want to see what I’m capable of, Glow Stick? How about I take you to the nearest training room and see if you bleed green?”

           Batman stood up, “My team will be running point on the Paris situation; following Ladybug lead. You’ll refrain from entering the city of Paris until further notice. That is all.” He looked at his daughter and had to fight to keep the smile off his face. “Ladybug let Green Lantern go, and give him back his ring.”

           Ladybug huffed, “I’ll give him back his ring. And then I want ten minutes alone with him.”

           Hal gulped.

“No,” Batman said. “We must leave. You have to get ready for Winter break. Next time.”

           Ladybug glared and then dropped the hero on the ground. “Next time,” She promised.

           Then swiftly the father and daughter duo departed.

           Once the two were gone, Wonder Woman chuckled, “Anyone else want to question Ladybug’s Paternity. Anyone?”

           Barry had to fight the shivers that went through him. Ladybug had Batman’s glare and knew how to use it. “Nope. Never again.”

-

-

           Marinette’s first night in Gotham was memorable. The entire bat family had been waiting for Marinette when she arrived; Bruce, Alfred, Kate, Dick, Barbara, Jason, Cassandra, Tim, Stephanie, Luke, and Damian. Alfred, the man her brothers had deemed their grandfather, had welcomed her with open arms and a dinner that was more like a feast than a simple meal.

           On the outside, Wayne manor looked like any home in the neighborhood; quiet, idealistic, and seemingly perfect.

           On the inside, as soon as Bruce and Alfred stepped away for a moment, her siblings took her to the Batcave. It was as grand as she always imagined. Then someone (Tim) brought out lightsabers.

           Marinette thought it was a fancy version of the toy she used to love so much as a kid; her only complaint was that the plastic swords only came in green, red and the occasional blue. She really wanted a pink one and had put it on her Christmas list for two years straight.

           She pressed the button, only for the sword handle to heat up, and a pink laser rises out of it. “Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“…This is a real lightsaber,” The heat from the sword threated to burn or hand a little. Or worse. She’d seen all the movies. She knew how this usually ended up.

“Yep.”

           Marinette nodded slowly. Because what the heck.

“Just go with it,” Luke shrugged. “Just-just go with it.” He sounded like a defeated man. A tired one at that.

“Don’t be like that!” Dick smiled, “Family bond time is the best time.”

“Jedi versus Sith?” Marinette just asked.

           Tim pointed a bright gold lightsaber at her, “Jedi versus Sith.”

           Marinette looked around at the different colored and very, very dangerous lightsabers. There was no way this could possibly go well. And with the way her Kate, aka Batwoman, was smirking there was no way Alfred would consider her proper adult supervision. Someone was going to lose a hand. Or die. Most likely both.

           But she wouldn’t back down. This was more or less her eight-year-old self’s dream. It was also likely to get her killed.

           …Marinette would take those odds.

“What team am I on?” She asked.

           Cassandra shook her head, “Up to you. Good versus is a chose; just a game though,” She cast Stern looks at Jason, Tim, and Damian, who now sported black robes, clearly, by the Darth Maul make up that had somehow appeared on Damian’s face, were clearly Sith Lords.

           Santa thought this would scare her. That she would be cowed into submission. Finally admit defeat. Well, Marinette only had one thing to say to that. Two things actually.

“Give in to the dark side, sister,” Damian ordered her. His lightsaber was red and had two sides to it much like the character he matched.

           Marinette got into a fighting stance, “Not today.”

           And Fuck Santa.

           …

           Alfred and Bruce were not happy when they finally located the children.

           Or the fact that someone had to get their hand reattached.

--

--

           It was two to two. Christmas day had arrived. Marinette had expected the worst; had geared up for the worst.

           Nothing happened.

           Marinette spent the day with her family.

           Her parents had even arrived from Paris on the day before Christmas eve.

           They shared presents. They sang songs. The entire family was together. It snowed outside. She and all of her siblings had a snowball fight while her parents and Alfred watched from the porch.

           It was a perfect Christmas day.

           Except for one thing…

           Marinette knew the truth.

           The perfect day was the result of one thing…

           Santa was preparing too. He didn’t back down. The fight wasn’t over yet. He was too busy to mess with her on Christmas Eve or Christmas. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean anything.

           Everyone knew the Holiday season didn’t officially end until January 1st.

           After New Year’s eve.

           That was the final round.

           The match to end all matches.

           On New Years’ Eve, it would be war.

-

-

           Roy wore a tailored tux as he walked her down the carpet, passed the flashing lights of the paparazzi.

Marinette never thought she’d fight the most battle of her life in a ballgown. It was a jaw-dropping, off the shoulder, floor length silver dress with lacy unique floral accents. Her hair was in a side-braid with small forget-me-nots on top of her hair like a crown.

            It was her battle armor, and she was ready for anything.

           It was a promise, she made to herself.

           …

           Okay so it turns out, Marinette lied to herself.

           She wasn’t ready for anything. She did not stand a chance against Santa. He was a jerk. And she was six-second from throwing in the towel and running off crying.

           Marinette had known exactly who was attending the ball. She had memorized every guest on the list. Trying to figure out exactly what the fat guy who throws out her. As soon as she saw exactly which celebrities were coming. She knew.

           The first punch had been the man ten-year-old Marinette swore she was going marry. Harry freaking Styles.

           But Marinette had prepared herself.  It would be a quick conversation and then she wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the night.

           When she met the superstar, Marinette had smiled and laughed; had a good conversation, wasn’t even awkward at all. She wasn’t the overly One Direction obsessed 10-year-old anymore.

           It was a hard hit, and the best conversation of her life, but Marinette didn’t go down.

           Santa’s next move was a cheap shot, and she stumbled.

           Marinette had been trying to find a quiet place to think for herself so could get strengthen up a bit but, to avoid one of her brothers (Dick), she collided straight into Nick Jonas and fell on her butt.

           She hadn’t even realized it at first as he helped her up.

“Thank you,” Marinette said kindly, as she brushed off her dress. When she looked up and saw exactly who had collided with, her face turned a bright red. “You’re Nick Jonas,” She squeaked; literally squeaked. She wanted to die.

           Nick Jonas. She loved Nick Jonas. She listen to all his songs; even his old Jonas Brothers ones. She had always wanted to meet the singer; she had dreamed about it.

“Yeah,” Nick smiled. “You alright.”

           No. Marinette was not alright.

           Still, she chirped a quick, “I’m fine.” And introduced herself.

           Then he said, “Love your dress.”

“I made it! I can make you one!” Slipped out before she could stop it.        

           He just laughed though, “How about a suit instead?”

           Yeah, so that happened.

           And the night just got worse from there.

           …

           Santa gave her a combo hit; worthy of a champion.

           Not many knew but Marinette was a huge Harry Potter fangirl. Hermione Granger was her all-time favorite. She was a hardcore Harmony shipper; Harry/Hermione forever.

           Tim knew it though. He was a big-time fan as well. And he thought it would be a great idea to introduce Marinette to the actress who played her favorite character; Emma Watson.

           It was not a good idea. At all.

The first words out of Marinette’s mouth upon seeing Emma Watson were literally, “It's leviOsa, not levioSA!”

And it was at the point that Marinette just wanted to call it a night.

Emma had laughed it off, promising she got it all the time.

…

Marinette met Chris Hemsworth and just wouldn’t stop giggling.

Stephanie had to pull her away.

It was then that she knew Santa had her on the ropes.

…

She met Big Time Rush.

The boy band had become internally famous over the last few years. Not as big as One Direction but they still had their dedicated fans. Marinette was one of them

Kendall Knight, James Diamond, Carlos Garcia, and Logan Mitchell. They were all eighteen

It should’ve have been easy. She liked their band but not nearly as much as she liked Harry Styles, or Emma Watson, Or Chris Hemsworth.

Still, she hadn’t seen James asking her to dance coming.

However, Marinette had remained calm and cool.

It’s a pity, she was still such a klutz.

Suffice to say, Marinette wouldn’t be listening to Big Time Rush for a while. And James Diamond wouldn’t be asking strange girls to dance any time soon.

Santa gave her a punch right in the face.

…

She ran into Tom Holland the exact moment she got the hiccups. He did his best to help her get rid of them

…

Marinette had just stuffed an entire cupcake in her mouth when she realized Jennifer Lawrence was standing next to her. It wasn’t too bad. As the blond did the same thing a second later.

…

She pointed at Johnny Depp and said, “Jack Sparrow. You’re Jack Sparrow. Oh my god!!!”

           To which he replied, “Captain Jack Sparrow.”

           …

           Suffice to say, Santa didn’t have Marinette on the robes anymore.

           No, Marinette was on the floor; waiting for the referee to call it.

           …

           It was an hour until the official New Year. Fifteen minutes until Marinette was supposed to perform. She was backstage. Everyone was waiting for her. She promised Tim.

And she found that she just couldn’t do it.

           The entire night was too much.

           It was all too much.

           It was over.

           She had lost.

“Rough night?” Roy, her date and pretend boyfriend asked.

           Marinette was sitting on a chair, her face in her hands, “You have no idea.”

           Roy sat next to her, “Pretty exciting though right?” He didn’t get an answer. “Tim said you met Emma Watson, that had to be awesome.”

“It was embarrassing.”

           Roy frowned, “Sabine told me you used to dress up as Hermione Granger all time. You’re saying meeting the Queen herself wasn’t even a little cool?”

           Yeah, it had been amazing to meet her in person. “A little cool.”

           Roy chuckled, “You met Harry Styles,” He reminded. “And from your blond bestie told me; my only real competition.”

           Marinette giggled. “That had been… awesome.” And everything.

“You met Chris Hemsworth,” He added. “Tom Holland, Big Time Rush, and a bunch of other celebs that I’ve been told you were huge fans of. Yeah, you were a little embarrassed.” He shook his head. “But I don’t get it; I’d be so psyched right now if I were you. So why aren’t you.”

           Marinette paused.

           Why wasn’t she?

           Marinette had met people she never even dared to really hope she’d ever meet one day. She wore the most beautiful dress in her entire life; danced with Roy Queen and James Diamond. Joked with Harry Styles. Talked Emma Watson the actress who played the character she loved most out of all the books, tv shows, and movies she’d ever loved.

           It was all a matter of perspective really. Marinette was so focused on the bad, she never even realized just how great it was. Santa had thrown the worst at her but was still there. She hadn’t run back to Wayne Manor no matter how much she had wanted to. She stayed strong.

           At one point, she knew for certain that she wouldn’t just surrender; after the Chris Hemsworth incident. If Santa wanted to win, he was going to have to knock her out.

“Thanks, Roy,” She said. “I couldn’t wish for a better date.”

           It was the most amazing night of her life.

           And no one was going to make her feel otherwise.

           Marinette stood up, determination on her face.

           She had a song to sing.

           …

           Marinette stood on stage. The crowd looked up at her. Her hands were shaking. Her mouth felt dry. The lights were near blinding.  She had changed the song at the last minute. The music was coming from her phone anyway.

           Marinette knew the lyrics to the song by heart; had sung it a thousand times in her room to herself.

           She could do this.

I will do this, Marinette swore.

           The music started. It was her favorite song. And Marinette was going to sing it so loudly, so proudly; they could hear her in the North Pole.

“What if I told you

It was all meant to be

Would you believe me

Would you agree

It's almost that feelin'

That we've met before

So tell me that you don't think I'm crazy

When I tell you love has come and now.”

           She was doing it. Marinette was really doing it. She always had a good voice. She had taken singing lessons for a long time. And her teachers always praised her talent. But after one terrible incident, she never thought she’d ever get on stage and sing in front of anyone again.

           But there she was.

“A moment like this

Some people wait a lifetime

For a moment like this

Some people search forever…

           Honestly, Marinette could fall right on her face and it would stop the euphoric feeling coursing through. This was her victory song.

           Jolly Saint Nick had thrown at her more than she ever thought she could take. But she was still standing.

           And as long as she was, the big red guy would never win.

For that one special kiss

Oh, I can't believe it's happening to me

Some people wait a lifetime

For a moment like this…”

The music faded. The applause from the audience roared.

…

Marinette and Roy slow danced to something my Celine Dion neither could recognize. The New Year was less than two minutes away.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Roy smirked. He knew he was good at Pep talks to matter what Artemis said.

“I feel better,” Marinette admitted. “It’s been an awesome few weeks.”

“Yeah?” Roy asked as he twirled her around.

           Marinette nodded, “Nearly Every. One. Of. My. Christmas wishes came true.” She tried not to growl. Positive outlook after.

“Santa must be out to get you.”

           Marinette looked up at Roy with appreciation, “You have no idea.”

“Anything he didn’t get to?” The redhead asked. “Something you can do for yourself first?”

“Countdown to New Years in 10!”

           Marinette thought about it for a second but she realized there was. There was one more thing on her list, that she added at the very beginning of Christmas.

“Yeah, there is.” She said. “Do you want to kiss me.”

           Roy nodded earnestly.

           The crowd counted down. “7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1” And then Marinette kissed Roy.

           Balloons came from above. Everyone cheered. But Marinette kept kissing Roy.

           She always wanted a New Year’s kiss.

           Take that and stick it up your chimney, Santa.

           Marinette was officially the winner.

           Nevertheless, there was always next year.

           But for now, fuck Santa!

[dreamlover31]

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 2

At the end of an exhausting day at the shelter, Alexa returned to her apartment to get herself ready for her date with Rafael later that evening. After entering her apartment, she headed towards her bedroom where she left a trail of clothes in her wake as she went into the bathroom, she turned on the faucet and stepped into the warm spray of her shower. As the water cascaded down her naked form, the stress of the day had essentially been washed away along with the suds from the body wash, shampoo and conditioner; when she was finished, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. 

After exiting the bathroom, Alexa made haste to the walk in closet, as she browsed through her wardrobe, she felt a little giddy at the idea that she was about to have dinner with the most well renowned ADA in all of Manhattan. After making a second sweep of her closet, she finally settled on a spaghetti strapped, maroon colored dress that practically screamed sexiness. Hmmm, I wonder if maybe this is too forward…I mean it’s a gorgeous dress but I just don’t want to give him the wrong impression, suddenly she was startled by the vibrations coming from her phone that laid on top of the dresser right across from her bed.

As she looked at the screen, she saw that it was a text from Rafael.

Hey just wanted to let you know that I’ll be a little late in picking you up, have to finish up some paperwork at the office, I should be there no less than 5 minutes.

After she read his text, she quickly sent one of her own telling him that she understood his situation and that she would wait for him, once it was sent Alexa continued to finish getting ready; she decided to go with the maroon dress and then picked out a pair of black four inch heels. From there she went through her jewelry box and decided on a pair of black beaded chandelier earrings and a choker, then she sprayed on her favorite rose scented perfume and went over to the long wide mirror that hung on the bathroom door, as she gave herself a quick glance over, she thought to herself: oh yeah, this is definitely the outfit…I hope Rafael doesn’t have a heart attack when he sees it. It was then that she heard a knock at the door, when she reached it, she opened it ajar only to find that it was Rafael standing there holding a bouquet of roses.

After she unlatched the chain, Alexa proceeded to fully open the door and stepped aside to let him in, as she turned around to face him, his jaw practically fell to the floor when he said:

“Wow…you look beautiful”

“Thank you, are those for me,” Alexa asked as she pointed to the bouquet in his hands.

“Oh yes, here” 

After he handed her the flowers, Alexa went into the kitchen to put them in some water, meanwhile, Rafael decided to take an impromptu tour of tour of her apartment. Overall, he was impressed at how meticulous and coordinated the furniture was; a beige colored couch that sat in the middle of the living room as an oak brown coffee table laid out in front of it, a 50-inch plasma screen placed up against the wall on top of a TV stand that matched the color of the coffee table. Also, he takes note of the colorful landscape paintings that hung along the wall, when he finished looking across the room, he then made his way towards the bookshelf that sat on the left hand side of the room. 

As he glanced at the collection of romance, crime and justice, and self-help books; he did not notice that Alexa had come up from behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder, he quickly turned around as she said:

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you”

“It’s alright, I was just admiring your collective works of art here”

Alexa smiled, “Well shall we make our way down to the restaurant” 

After gathering her purse, they made their way out the apartment and upon exiting the building, Alexa slinked her arm around Rafael’s as they walked down towards the Italian restaurant. During their stroll, Rafael couldn’t help but peek at Alexa’s remarkable physique, her long slender legs, the curvature of her body and the pout that formed from her perfect lips that made it difficult for him not to lean over and kiss her. Alexa felt Rafael’s gaze upon her and smirked.

“Why don’t you take a picture it’ll last longer”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare”

“It’s ok I get it”

A few moments later, they made it to the entrance of the restaurant, before even entering; the smell of garlic bread and parmesan flooded their senses. Their mouths practically watering as they entered, Rafael made it known to the hostess that they had a reservation, after it was confirmed, she escorted the two of them halfway across the restaurant to their table. Once they were seated, a waiter came by to take their drink orders, both Rafael and Alexa ordered a glass of red wine. As he took his leave, the two of them looked upon each other while being surrounded by the chatter and commotion of the restaurant, a few minutes went by before Alexa decided to break the ice:

“So how’s work?”

“Ugh…brutal, I recently lost a case in which a television actor and his friend gang raped a woman in the bathroom of a nightclub”

“The Bobby D’Amico case?”

“Yeah”

“Oh man…I saw it on the news, but kudos to whoever leaked that video of the two of them almost raping that undercover cop. Those bastards got what was coming to them”

“I couldn’t agree more”

It was then that the waiter came back with their glasses of wine, at the same time, Rafael and Alexa placed their order. He ordered the chicken parmesan while Alexa ordered a simple pasta dish, as the waiter departed from their table again, the two of them continued their conversation:

“Listen I hope you don’t mind me asking but what made you decide to work at a domestic violence shelter?”

Alexa paused for a moment as she took a sip of her wine.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to…” Rafael’s voice trailed off but then Alexa interrupted:

“No it’s ok…um my dad he uh…he would use my mother as his personal punching bag, whenever he thought that she was cheating on him or for no reason at all. One time he beat her so bad that she bled out all over the kitchen floor, she had to have 20 stitches in her head.”

As she continued to describe the horrors of her childhood, tales that involved severe beatings and acts of emotional terrorism, small tears started to prick in her eyes. Rafael reached out to comfort her by placing his hand on top of hers as he looked upon her with eyes that conveyed to her that he understood her pain, with her free hand; Alexa wiped her eyes.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that…I know what it’s like to live in a house where you don’t know what’s going to set a madman off”

“What do you mean?”

“My father was like yours…he took out his misery and self-loathing on me and my mother, I hated every minute of it, there were times where I’d pray for his death. Even though he’s been dead for 15 years, my hand still curls up into a fist whenever I think of him. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s probably one of the reasons that I became a prosecutor…I wanted to provide a voice for those who were being treated like they were less than human beings”

“Wow…I don’t what to say”

“Well we all have a past, the trick is to not let it define us”

“True”

The waiter came back with their orders shortly after, when he left, they reached for their utensils and proceeded to dive into the fine cuisine displayed before them. During the course of their meal, Alexa and Rafael continued with small talk, but then he brought up the subject of her last relationship and all of sudden it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“There’s really not much to tell Rafael”

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry”

“Alright…you want to know the story? I gave the guy a year of my life that I’ll never get back only to find out that he’d been screwing some piece of office trash on the side”

“If you don’t mind me saying, he was a fool to let someone as smart and as beautiful as you go…seems to me like he didn’t know what he had”

Alexa smiled as his words sunk in, it became apparent to her that maybe she had finally found someone who would appreciate her and possibly love her in the way that she deserved to be, once they cleaned off their plates, Rafael asked for the check. After paying the bill, he proceeded to walk Alexa back to her apartment building, along the way; Alexa thanked him for his kind words but he reiterated to her that he meant every single word.

“Well here we are,” Alexa noted as they stood facing each other outside her apartment building.

“I had a really great time tonight”

“Me too”

After a brief moment, Rafael leaned in to kiss Alexa only to have her pull away from him.

“I’m sorry, I just”

“It’s ok I understand”

“Please don’t take this wrong way, I really like you but I just want to take things slow”

“Alexa, It’s alright”

With that, they exchanged their goodbyes as she made her way up to her apartment, as soon as he had visual confirmation that she was inside, Rafael walked down the street and waved down a passing cab. Alexa looked out her window as she saw the cab drove by with Rafael in it, as she made her way towards the bedroom, she began cursing at herself for letting a golden opportunity get away from her; What the hell is wrong with you?

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @thatesqcrush @teamsladsandgents @karens-imagined-world @itsjustmyfantasyroom @youreverycolor @misssirenlove @beccabarba @glimmerglittergirl​ @madamsnape921

[chopper-witch]

Otherwise Undocumented (A Zuko x Reader fic)

Before you read this, please know I STRUGGLED with the summary. It is so hard to write it without giving things away but I believe in a good summary so here ya go. My shit attempt. Also probably some errors sprinkled in for extra spiciness.

Additionally, if you are tagged and don’t want to be, please either inbox me or reply to this post. If you are not tag and want to be, do the same! Tags below the cut!

_____________

Characters: everyone in A:TLA; you (reader); I add your parents to this due to plot and give them names (I think names are important and will only use a filler like (y/n) for reader); might add in random OCs later.

Pairings: Zuko x Female* reader; Mai tries to be x Zuko; all the other canon ships. (sorry, Mai. I do her justice, I think...)

Timeline: Mainly focuses on 88 AG (when I am making you start at the Academy) to 100 AG (just past the end of the war)

The first chapter is set in 80 AG-85 AG though. 

Genres: Angst (not sorry); fluff; PAIN (is that a category?)

Overall warnings: 

VIOLENCE (y’all, VIOLENCE);   I’m hoping some smut but I take my time;    swearing (not sorry, I just swear);   blood;   death;   abuse (have y’all read the comics?????? Ozai Was Not A Good Person, but then add some of my complete inability to not be cruel to characters);   VIOLENCE (I mentioned this, right?);   torture (this literally starts with a torture scene, so like, TORTURE); Azula does bad stuff to reader (VIOLENCE);   Ozai is a Bad Parent and Creepy Person;     PTSD (what do you expect???);   characters are technically underage still when I do get to the smut part so Ima be real with you 16-17 y/os have sex but if that bothers you this is Not The Piece For You;   oh, and as I say, “fuck canon” (I try to be as canon compliant as possible, but also, fuck canon, this is fanfiction); I Create Lore and Locations to Fit My Plot.

Summary: A legend almost long forgotten in the Fire Nation reappears in the body of a young girl, reappears in you. The Blood of the Dragon was last seen alive the day after Roku died, walking to be publicly executed for treason. A true legacy to live up to. Well, a true legacy to change. While it is a happy surprise for the Nation’s royal family and military that the Blood is back and malleable, your mother knows she should have known better. All the signs were there, all the omens. She should have taken you and run when she had the chance. 

Then maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in the capital, isolated from all of your family, being molded into a weapon for their use. Maybe you wouldn’t have spent your childhood practically locked inside the palace, repeating revisionist history while balancing on one hand. Maybe you wouldn’t be both a prize and a play thing. And maybe she could have saved just one more person. 

That’s not how fate works, though, is it? 

No, fate is twisted. Fate shows you what you want then tears it apart, expecting you to put it all back together somehow. The only way to cheat fate is to re-determine destiny; to rearrange your life so completely that you need to be dealt a new hand of cards. Force fate to part ways for you. 

So maybe, just maybe, being arranged to marry the youngest prince and biggest disappointment of the Fire Nation royal family ends up being the best decision someone else has ever made for you. 

Just not for themselves. 

A/N: All my fics have happy endings, so don’t worry! I mean, there is one that doesn’t but that is for good reason and every post about it warns people to get off if they don’t want to be hurt. Also, I know the title doesn’t make a lot of sense. It will, eventually. I promise!! 

*For long form fics, I usually do x female reader. I avoid physical descriptions as much as possible so anyone can be the reader, except in places where it matters (being a woman is unfortunately a big plot point in this, and I will not be changing that but there are not many descriptive moments about a female body). 

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