#the one detail i actually put thought into is her early season outfit being more red-leaning and the one in this drawing being more purple

[silverlistenstothings]

love wins!

[purpleyellow]

The audacity

Seventeen 14th member

Hayun’s masterlist

“Seventeen won’t take bs when it comes to Hayun”

Requested by: two (2) anons    

cw: offensive language

a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open! 💙

(to my brazilians around, this gif is svt’s version of ninguem solta a mão de ninguem)

The arrival of dancers made the practice room even more crowded and noisy than usual. It was one of the few times Seventeen worked with an outside dance team, and they happened to have a lot of new faces around, who needed time to figure out the staging and how things were working so far.

After they ran through the choreography a couple of times, the choreographer called in a break, allowing the huge group to instantly clear the middle space and separate themselves into small circles of conversations.

Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua instantly met each other and began chatting about dinner plans and whatnot. Slowly approaching Jun and Wonwoo, the oldest filled them in on what they're deciding until he starts searching for someone.

“So, we could order it on the next break and have someone grab it for us. Anyway, did anyone see Hayun?”

“Making friends, as usual,” Wonwoo comments, pointing at the other corner of the room where the girl was surrounded by four dancers.

“Hayun-ah” The leader waves her over and waits as she jogs to his side “We're talking about dinner, what do you think about-”

“Oh, those guys were talking about this new restaurant that opened downtown, I was thinking of tagging along with them” She points back at the group and watches as her members nod “But I can cancel, of course”

“No, go ahead. It's just a meal” Joshua goes to wave her off when Seungkwan approaches them with crossed arms.

“Yeah. Just a meal. Until she's suddenly ditching us during the holidays and moving out with her new friends” The boy pouts, turning his face away from the group. Hayun reaches up to ruffle his hair before landing a soft slap.

“Says the dude who is friends with half of the entertainment industry” Ignoring his eye roll, she turns back to the rest of their little huddle “Well, if nobody else will feel betrayed”

“I was kidding” Seungkwan whines and Scoups pushes her away from them “Stop being dramatic and go do your mingling”

Going back to the group of dancers, Hayun resumes chatting with them for a couple of minutes before the break is over.

After more hours of running over every tiny detail for the stage, the rehearsal finally ends and the scattering of people begins. Hayun takes a couple of minutes talking about minor adjustments with the members and just checking up on them before searching for the four friends she had made that evening.

“Hey, how do you guys plan on heading there?” She asks, taking a sip from her water bottle and missing the glances between the two boys and two girls.

“Actually, we might have to do it another day,” The girl closest to her says and flips a hair strand off of Hayun's shoulder. “We got pretty tired from this last session”

“And work tomorrow it's going to start pretty early, you know. It's best to let this go for today,” The boy nods to her before pulling out his phone from his pocket and slightly turning away from the idol.

“Yeah, I get it. That's okay, we'll reschedule it then” Hayun smiles and gives them a thumbs up “I'll head to the dorms, then. Have a good rest, and tomorrow we'll talk more”.

Sending her some quick waves and small smiles, the four dancers waited for Hayun to turn around before sharing an annoyed look and sighing.

The practice room slowly grows empty, only leaving Wonwoo and Vernon who lost an incredible game of rock, paper, scissors, and had to stay behind to clean up everything. Finally turning off the lights, the two boys head out into the hallway and spot a group of four people standing by the entrance.

“Aren't those the people Hayun was talking to earlier,” Vernon asks quietly before a voice from the group reaches them.

“Why is this damn cab taking so long? We should have let that airhead tag along”.

“Agreed. She would have talked our ears off, but at least we would have made it to the club already”.

Sharing a look, the two idols stop walking and listen closely to understand if the dancers are talking about what the boys think they're talking about.

“That was so stupid. Why would you invite her in the first place? She's so annoying”.

“I mean, having an idol considering you a friend would be fun, right? Especially with the Christmas season coming up. Can you imagine the gifts she would buy us?”

“Yeah, dude. We wouldn't even need to worry about paying for stuff anymore. Just have Hayun tag along anywhere and, boom, no more tabs to pay.”

“But also, no more functioning eardrums”

“No, you have a point. She seems like she'd give us her credit card password on the third time we hung out. Not to mention, looking at her position in contrast with ours. You don't even have to befriend her, but be on her good side, and she'll make sure to give us more gigs within Pledis”.

Standing frozen, Wonwoo and Vernon listened to everything they were saying and shared looks of disbelief. Having enough of it, the oldest cleared his throat and slung his bag, making it hit his own back with enough force to make a thumping sound.

“Let's go, Vernon,” He ignored the four people standing before them with wide eyes and resumed walking. Once shoulder to shoulder with one of the dancers, Wonwoo stopped again and said while looking ahead, “Next time, be careful of whom you're talking about”.

Vernon, on the other hand, made eye contact with each dancer before raising one eyebrow and following the oldest. After closing the car door, he groaned annoyed, “Can you believe they had… ”

“… the fucking audacity” Jeonghan places his cup on the table, face showcasing utter disgust after Wonwoo told him what they had listened before leaving the Pledis building.

“Show me who those people are again tomorrow. I'll make sure they never step inside our practice room, ever again,” Hoshi points out.

“Is there a way of not having them tomorrow? I'm afraid Scoups Hyung might commit murder” Dokyeom brought attention to the leader standing on the corner of the kitchen.

Looking like he was plotting an illegal act, Seungcheol scoffs and pushed himself away from the cabinets. “The bare minimum you would expect from someone is that they can be professional. I swear, those people are getting an earful for talking about Hayun within a billion-meter ratio from where I work”.

“It's best to let it rest until tomorrow's performance is done. After we'll probably never see them again, so there's not much point causing any visible disturbance.” Laying a hand on the leader's arm, Woozi tried to make some sort of sense, but all it did was cause Scoups to roll his eyes.

“We can't just act like nothing happened”

“We also can't change anything about the choreography until then” Hoshi butts in and takes a breath trying not to jump in the 'let's hunt them down' train.

“They already know Wonwoo and Vernon heard them trash-talking her, so I'm not letting them have it easy tomorrow.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes and pointed to both Woozi and Hoshi, “I'm speaking my mind the first moment I see those sons of bitches, you're free to wait until the show's over”.

“About that, I don't think we should tell Hayun what happened” Joshua, who had been quiet the entire time, speaks, drawing attention to him. “Not until, as you said, the show is over, and we won't see them again. You know that she's probably going to get disappointed about it”.

“And you expect her to not go running to meet her new 'friends' once we arrive at the venue?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, but Mingyu shakes his head and backs the older up.

“We just have to keep her entertained around us. Fill in Dino, Seungkwan, and Myungho later, and have them help with making sure the group doesn't run into her”.

Raising his hand, Vernon casually mumbles “Maybe don't tell Seungkwan, he won't be able to hide his feelings about the whole thing”

“Myungho won't either” Jun comments and the room falls silent at the sound of the remaining members chatting and approaching the kitchen.

“Wow, you make a meeting and forget to call in the main characters” Hayun laughs walking through the room and opening the fridge for a beer “So, when's the food arriving?”

~

Hayun is sitting on the makeup chair, casually watching Scoups and Jeonghan whispering to each other from the mirror's reflection, when a hand lands on her shoulder and another holds out a smoothie for her.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Joshua sits on the chair next to her while Mingyu punctures the drink's lid with a straw.

Without taking her eyes off the mirror, she nods with her head to it. “Those two are up to something”

“Scoups and Jeonghan Hyung? Nah, they're always like that. Sharing secrets and stuff,” Mingyu giggles, shoving the straw inside her mouth and shifting to stand in front of the mirror. “Cute nail polish, when did you have time to get it done?”

“Oh, these are acrylics. This lady was just putting them on” Hayun falls into his trap and began analyzing the design with some occasional comments from the boys.

Peace has seemingly set inside the dressing room, yet it doesn't last long until Dino's loud “Uh?” caught the attention of the members, who turned to see what he and Vernon were doing.

Trying to shut the youngest up, Vernon makes it very obvious to the guys that he had just filled Dino in with the “frenemies” situation. Most of them try to brush it off and not bring more attention to it. Seungkwan, however, approaches them by, very loudly, asking what's up.

“What are you talking about?” He boringly fixes up his outfit. Vernon can feel the burning eyes of Jeonghan on his skull as he tries to deviate the conversation to another topic.

“Did you go see catering already? I heard they had a coffee machine”.

“Wait. Does he not know what happened?” Dino fails to read the room properly and instigates the older boy.

“What happened? Why is everyone sharing secrets all of a sudden? Is the thing you're discussing why Scoups Hyung seems ready to jump someone”.

The timing of events can't be worse, as the makeup artist taps Hayun's shoulder to let her know they were done. Within seconds, the girl gets up and turns to where the three youngest were standing.

“What's with the gossiping? Did Vernon lose his airpods again?” She brushes away from Joshua as he tried to hold her in place and waves off Mingyu when, in a panic, he suggests they should check out the pigeons outside.

“What? No! I mean, yeah! How unfortunate, isn't it?” Vernon jumps around his answers and tries looking for anyone willing to help him out.

“Just tell her about it” Approaching them from the door, Jeonghan, now without the leader's company, shrugs his shoulders, making Hayun raise an eyebrow.

“Jeonghan, at least wait until the day is over,” Joshua speaks through his teeth and the boy rolls his eyes.

“Well, she already knows something is up, and to be fair I don't know what good hiding this will bring. At least, if she feels like doing something about it, she'll have the chance right now”.

“Do something about it? Hadn't we agreed that the best is to wait until the performance is over and just never see them again?”

“What even are you talking about?” Hayun shuts them both up and Jeonghan and Joshua turned to her with annoyed expressions, “Don't even look at me like that. You're the ones mentioning me as if I'm not in the room”.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Joshua tilts his head a little and speaks softly, “Trust me for a moment here, it's best if you brush it aside. Until later at least, and then we can settle it as you wish”.

“Wha- Just spill it out for fucks sake. I'm going to combust if you don't tell me right now whatever this all means,” Hayun puffs, punching his shoulder. Just as Joshua opens his mouth to say the same thing again, Jeonghan beats him and shoves himself in front of the girl.

“Do you recall those dancers you were planning to go out with yesterday? Yeah, well, turns out they're all little shits who were trash-talking you, and just overall talking crap, yesterday”

“Jeonghan” Joshua repressed the older who does nothing but wave him off.

“Doesn't matter what they said because you're nothing of it, and-” Adverting his eyes for a second, Jeonghan stares to the side, where half of Scoups' body is waving for him through the door. “And, and, you're amazing and all of that. So now go rest your awesome self while I go teach those punks a lesson”.

Zooming past her, Jeonghan runs to the door, where the leader is already back outside. Hoshi, Jun, Woozi, and DK, scream for him before also going out of the door. A very lost, Seungkwan, simultaneously tries to get Vernon to tell him what exactly the dancer said before while shouting for the older to wait for him to also speak his mind.

“I didn't want you to know about this before the performance, but-”

“Whatever, let's make sure nobody dies today” Hayun rolls her eyes and turns around, Wonwoo running from where he was watching everything and holding her by the shoulder.

“Do you want us to go fix that up? It's okay to give them the cold shoulder or just go off if you want to” Nodding, she keeps silent and walks out, bringing the rest of the guys behind her.

The8, who also had just found out about the situation, whispers to Vernon, “Can you believe they had the audacity?”

“I know, right?” The youngest whisper-yelled at him as they made it to the hallway and assessed the situation.

“The next time you even think about opening your mouth to talk about her-” Scoups had his finger pointing at the tallest dancer -who ironically had a few centimeters on him-, while the rest of the members stood next to him nodding and calmly listening to what the leader was saying.

“Oppa, just drop it,” Hayun shouts, walking past them and holding his shoulder.

Annoyingly, Scoups rolled his eyes and turned to her, “What do you mean, drop it?” Thinking for a second, he blinked and turned even more bothered, “Who even told you about this?”

The leader looked around until he found Mingyu, offending the tall guy who made an X in front of his body.

“Doesn't matter who told me. Let's just not lose time doing this” Brushing past him, Hayun now faced the dancers “Look, I'll teach you something right now, so grab it or drop it okay? I don't give a shit that you don't like me, or whatever, but at least be professional because all this situation did was teach me that none of you care about your careers. It's pretty clear by the angry puppy beside me that you just lost any chance of growing inside our brand, so keep this as a lesson and respect the artists you're working with. Also, once we're on stage put on a smile, so my fans won't be able to sense your shit”

“It should be pretty clear by what she said but you definitely don't have a chance to work with any Pledis artist again” Hoshi came from the end of the hallway alongside their manager and choreographer. The latter nodded and added.

“For the sake of the performance, you should all go back to your dressing rooms. You all said whatever was on your mind, so try to refocus during the last few minutes you have”.

“I didn't get to say what was on my mind” While the group was dispersing, DK mumbles on the side and Jun snorts.

“You had a chance, but all you did was stare at them and scowl until Scoups Hyung took the lead”

“I don't care about who said and who didn't say what they wanted” Hayun rolled her eyes, turning to the boys as they arrived in the room. Clasping her hands together, she brings them to her face and smiles, “You all care about me”.

“The fact you still doubted about it after years hurts me” Dokyeom held his chest and frowned, the girl laughs and goes to hug him.

“Group hug?” Seungkwan says uncertainly and Hoshi nods, dragging Woozi with him, “Group hug!”

[solariaswitch]

Were Darcy and Stella set up to be narrative foils?

A lot of people showed an interest in my “hot take” (although it really isnt a hot take lol) post about Darcy and Stella being supposed narrative foils and asked me to elaborate. And in full disclosure..,, The more I think about this take the more stupid it sounds but then again, the dumber the theory, the more I like it. And I think this one is pretty cool, even if it might be my imagination and my tendency to overanalyze details that weren’t actually meant to mean anything all. But first things first. I’ve received two questions about what narrative foils are, so here’s a short description that I copied from wikipedia; a foil is a character who contrasts with another character [...] in order to better highlight or differentiate certain qualities [of each other]. And this is exactly what I think Stella and Darcy were meant to do; to contrast each other while also highlighting that witches and fairies really aren’t all that different. 

Now, why do I think they were meant to be narrative foils? Well, to begin with, the writers of Winx really seem to enjoy making their heroes and villains foils. Bloom is a narrative foil to both Icy and Valtor, and one could argue that Faragonda and Griffin are as well. With Stella and Darcy, the first thing to look at is what might be the most obvious part of this relationship; the powers. The relationship between their respective powers parallels the relationship between Blooms and Icy’s fire/ice powers. Light and dark, clarity and deceit. Their powers are two sides of the same coin. Light powers have commonly been associated in almost all cultures with truth, enlightenment and protection, while dark powers are connected with chaos, mental disarray and manipulation, and yet one can not exist without the other. Just take a look at some traditional symbols in many cultures, yin and yang, the celebration of midsummer and the equinox as the times where light and dark are equal. They always contrast each other, it’s their one inherent quality.

Further, Stella and Darcy have personalities that share strong similarities while simultaneously being complete opposites - once again highlighting the yin/yang kind of relationship, where there’s always bound to be a similarity between light and dark. Stella is impulsive and cheerful, loud and expressive. Darcy is all about control, and she’s very emotionally restrictive. But they share some interesting similarities. They both operate as second in command in their respective groups. They’re the respective “hot girl”-stereotype as well, but they live this out in very different ways. Both of them are obviously very pretty and know that their looks can gain them attention and get their will through. Stella expresses at several points that she often feels that people struggle to see past her appearance and that she often feels people only see her as pretty. Darcy also uses her beauty to have people do her bidding, the most obvious example is the Riven ordeal in season one. They’re also both the most fashion-conscious within their respective groups.

Now, let’s talk about character design. Darcy and Stella have the same eye color. And it’s an uncommon eye color, which has led many people in the fandom to speculate if Darcy might be Solarian. Straffi actually put a lot of love and effort into character designs, enough effort to hire actual high fashion designers to help draw the outfits of the show. And so, I’d like to think that not much was left to just pure coincidence. Additionally, it’s an interesting detail to note that Darcy’s secondary color is gold, and Stella is often presented with some purple in her transformations. Here, have these shitty side by side comparisons I made to show my point (and thanks to @bitchatcloudtower for helping me notice this!);

I think that the creators of the show were trying to make a point to highlight these narrative similarities in season one, but then gave up and settled with having Bloom/Icy as the main narrative foil relationship. The Stella/Darcy one is only shown a few times in later seasons but is a bit more prominent early on in the show. In the episode “Date with disaster.” Darcy disguises herself as Stella in order to steal her ring. They chose to specifically send Darcy to steal the ring, despite the trix being fully capable of using illusion powers to send anyone (we see them turn Knut into a human, and Stormy can change her appearance in season two). Arguably, Icy would have been a better actress and had more success at finding the ring, sending her would have made more sense. I think that sending Darcy was a deliberate choice made by the creators to highlight that they were setting Stella and Darcy up as narrative foils, similarly to how they were setting Bloom and Icy up. But like many early subplots in winx, it was buried and forgotten about, or in this case just never explored that much more. Intentional or not, I think it’s an interesting thought.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties - here is part 6! We are officially halfway through this fic! Part 6 sees friendships blossom, situationships struggle, and cheeky intercontinental facetime chats! I hope you all are enjoying it as much as i am! I love hearing from you after you've read it! Love always, Steph xx

Part 6 | parte sesta

warnings; a couple of tugs on the heartstrings (in both the best and worst ways)

word count; 2301

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 06/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Amelia had been back in Turin for a week or so, settling back into her city apartment had been more difficult than she anticipated as she was now alone for the first time in more than 2.5 months. It wasn’t very often, but sometimes she did miss the companionship of having a boyfriend. She missed someone to have breakfast with, to watch movies under the covers, to bring to official events. She still did all of these things, with a date, that was a friend, that sometimes maybe crept beyond the friendship zone and into the we shouldn’t be doing this but it feels so good zone.

Fede was someone that hung around Amelia like a fly to sugar. She enjoyed the attention most of the time. She appreciated his friendship, wisdom, talent and intellect. He could hold a conversation, talk to her about the arts, sell her the dream. She even didn’t mind it when they did cross that line a few times. Long afternoons and even longer nights spent wrapped up together in his bed sheets, her bathtub, his kitchen, her lounge room...you get the point. It was almost as though the two were in a committed relationship - committed being the operable word.

Fede wanted Amelia all to himself, and she was just that - available to him and for him whenever he wished, which was often. That’s what confused Amelia most, he didn’t want to label their situationship. He was happy to be ‘friends’ outside the four walls of their respective homes, but lovers when the curtains were drawn. She would maybe understand if he was elusive, always going out and on his phone but he wasn’t. He spent all of his time with her, there wouldn't have been enough hours left in the day if he separated those he spent with her from those he spent alone.

The Juventus players noticed this behaviour early on, seeing a noticeable difference in the way their number 33 paid attention to their tactical sessions. How he was turning up to the training centre early, with an extra piccolo for the english member of their coaching staff. Federico claimed he was helping Amelia brush up on her Italian, but having an Italian-born mother who insisted on sharing her culture with her kids, meant she was pretty much fluent in the language before arriving in Turin. His teammates weren’t stupid and neither was she.

This was the one area of her life where Amelia felt comfortable to go with the flow, she didn’t need to prepare or overthink anything to do with the charming Italian boy from Firenze. She let him take it at his own pace, she was in no need to rush. She let him take her home to meet his Nonna, she spent quality alone time with his dogs when he’s running late from training, and that’s a rare occasion being that it’s normally her there after him and he hangs back to drive them both home.

Everything was progressing at his pace, and the moment Amelia just asks for some clarification on the situation, he would get visibly stressed. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And for a long time he could, he had Amelia's attention and affection at Juve, he even had it during their european campaign. At the end of the tournament, when they all broke up for their summer breaks, Fede conveniently waited until their final round in the shower, if you know what i mean, before pulling her into bed and having a heart to heart with her.

Amelia thought that she was finally getting the clarification that she was after, which in a way she did. Fede spoke whimsical words about how she makes him feel wanted and understood, and in turn he told her about the affects he knew he had on her. It was a conversation that would turn Shakespeare to a pile of rose petals. In the end, he told her that he wanted to continue what they had just how they had been doing it. And so, that's exactly how they left it. No labels. Friends outside of the four walls of their apartments. That was all Amelia needed to be able to enjoy her family holiday in Mykonos, guilt free, not missing the man that became the equivalent of her shadow.

The constant company she had in Mykonos compared to what she was experiencing in Turin made her more eager to return to work than she had previously. Of course, there are group chats and facetimes and phone calls throughout the days that kept her occupied, but she was missing the boys and her brother. Her friendship with Kyle was back to its old ways, memes being shared across the european continent, long phone calls to talk about their problems. Kyle knew all about the Fede x Amelia situation, Amelia having given him the sparknotes version over a wine filled zoom session one evening that same week. Their pre-seasons hadn’t gone back yet so they were able to indulge in a bit of vino, guilt free.

She was surprised about the constant contact, or lack thereof, that some of the boys had maintained with her. Ben Chilwell hadn’t once messaged or instagrammed the girl, despite being active in their group chats and liking her holiday pictures on instagram. He even made the rookie error of liking a picture so far down on her instagram, there was no way to explain his need for being there. She messaged him a couple times, assuming he just got busy with whatever he was doing, but there was radio silence on the other end.

A friendship she was surprised had blossomed so well, considering their flirtatious start to life, was with that of Jack Grealish and Tyrone Mings. There had been more facetimes than she could count between herself and the two villa boys. Whether it was Tyrone telling her about a book he had finished that he thought she would enjoy, or Jack asking her how to cook dinner, maybe even them both cooking dinner together - of course she had to have a later dinner to be able to do so, with the time difference and all...and there was no way Jack was going to be having dinner an hour early “athlete’s schedule an all tha ya’know” he would smirk down the camera, brummie accent on full display.

She met Tyrone through Jack, he facetimed the girl for outfit advice one night before going out with the tall defender and the pair hit it off. Both giving Jack the fashion advice he needed but didn’t want to hear (a Gucci two piece tracksuit set is never the answer). Tyrone immediately noticed a certain attention to detail being applied by his fellow number 10, to the tactics that were being put forward by the girl that was far too good at her job. His training was improving, his set pieces having a certain amount of flare. There was also a lack of attention being paid from Jack to other girls. Instead, much preferring to spend the evening at home watching the same netflix series as Amelia so that he could discuss it with her the next day, or better yet, at the same time.

As pre-season had commenced, Amelia had been applying the same tactics that she developed (and that obviously worked) throughout the European campaign to her Juventus club level. Having faith in the four men that were with her and the Azzurri to ensure that their other teammates were completing them accurately. It appears that her skill was widely recognised, having a few missed calls and voice messages left from English telephone numbers that she was yet to listen to. In all seriousness, she was nervous to listen to them. Worried that they would make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. A wise person once told her that you shouldn’t make any decisions whilst you're at the top of your happy, or the bottom of your sad. You should make important decisions when your life is at its constant. It's very easy to accept things that you wouldn’t normally when you're at the peak of your mood, just as easy as it is to forget the bigger picture when you're down. Who knew Kyle Walker was so wise.

“So, i’ve got a bit of a dilemma” She spoke down to her facetime camera one evening in early August.

“Hit me with it darlin’” Jack spoke back to her, getting his dinner utensils out so that they could cook together again. He didn’t like not being prepared for her tutorial, he got stressed if she added pepper and his pepper was still in his pantry. Each afternoon, when it was agreed upon what they would be cooking together that evening, she sent him a list of what he would need out on his bench to complete the meal.

“I’ve missed a few calls from English teleco numbers this last week or so”

“Ok? Do you think they’re scams? You’re beautiful Amelia but I don't think it's actually an Egyptian prince on the other end that wants to offer you 250k in exchange for your paypal info…”

“Ha ha very funny - that was one time ok and he wasn’t a Prince, he was claiming to be an investment banker and wanted to help me start up my portfolio-ANYWAY JACK I WAS 16! God just forget I even told you that story” Amelia barked down facetime, now pausing what she was doing to point at the British boy with her wooden spoon, the same way her mother would to her when she was being cheeky. All she was met with was boisterous laughter.

“Nah i’m only joking, continue with your story.”

“I began to listen to the start of one and it was a talent acquisition manager for one of the premier league clubs, offering me a job” Amelia said as she continued to stir her pasta. Tonight they were making penne arrabiata. She received no reply from the boy. Looking down to her camera to check the call was still active, she saw him looking at the camera with a serious expression.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is before I start to get excited that you’re going to be living within driving distance from me? Oh god i’ve just realised - was it from Villa? You could be even closer than I imagined” Jack started to ramble, getting over excited with the prospect of being so close to the girl that he could physically hang out with her, instead of virtually.

“Jack calm down, I didn't listen long enough to find out what club he was from. I have 5 more just like it waiting in my inbox.”

“What's the problem then Mils?” Jack could see the girl had apprehension written all over her face.

“I’m just nervous that they're going to tell me everything I've always wanted to hear. That they’re going to make me an offer I can't refuse and I have to leave my life here.” Their pasta was ready to be dished up now, so the girl poured herself a glass of red wine and got herself comfy on her couch.

“Come on, play the messages and i’ll listen to them with you, be your voice of reason,” Jack offered the girl.

“I should probably call Tyrone, you’re just going to reject every club that isn’t Villa.” she laughed before switching facetime to her laptop, moving to the floor of her lounge room and resting her elbows on her coffee table. With the phone near the screen of her mac, she began to play the messages.

_____________________________________________________________

“Hi Amelia, Shaun here from Newcastle United-” “As if you’d waste your talents at Newcastle”

“Jack! That's horrible! At least i know i already look good in the black and white striped kit”

“No, not happening. Next”

“Amelia, Hope you don’t mind but I got your number off of one of my players who knows you. Long story short, we have a position here are Arsenal” “Bloody Bukayo, needs to keep his silky mitts off ya”

“Jack, give it a rest or i’m calling Tyrone”

“Amelia White, Greg here from Aston Villa Football Club” “Get in Greggles!! That's it, stop listening, you’re taking this one”

“I need to listen to them all Jack”

“So, you’ll consider Villa?”

“I’ll consider all of them”

“You’d really go to Arsenal? Aren’t you a Spurs supporter? Shocking stuff”

“Ok maybe not all of them”

“Ciao Amelia, Mario here from Chelsea Football Club - I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. We could really use you here at Chelsea next season. Give me a call when you get a spare moment to discuss the opportunity”

“What? Nothing to say to this one, Jack?”

“Nah, sounds ok. You deserve to showcase your skills at a big club like Chelsea. And besides, you’ll have Jorginho there to look after you. Come on, next one”

“It’s the last one actually”

“Amelia, we’ve got a fantastic opportunity here at Manchester City for someone with your skill set. It would be a massive advantage to have your tactical insight to the game coupled alongside the fantastic leadership we’ve already got at the club”. “Holy shit, Pep called you himself? Kyle Walker really knows how to pull strings when he wants something”

“I am overwhelmed”

“Hey, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it, talk it over with your family. Speak to Jorgi, I know you’re close with him. And just let me know when you decide to pick Villa so i can start house huntin’ for ya”

“Night Jack, speak soon”

“Sleep tight darlin’, speak to ya tomorrow”

Part 7. | settima parte

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up. 

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years.   But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning. 

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course. 

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously. 

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the  surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.” 

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said. 

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.  

Unknown (9:32am)  Hi Y/N,  It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up.  Regards, Seokjin 

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed. 

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him. 

You (9:43am)  Of course, send the details. I trust your taste! 

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself.   Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly… 

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you. 

Seokjin (9:50am)  The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30.  Seokjin 

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother). 

You (9:52am)  I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later! 

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it. 

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely.  He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back. 

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to. 

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again. 

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious. 

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form. 

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea… 

.

.

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing. 

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man. 

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately. 

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly. 

“Hey,” you greeted back. 

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment. 

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“ 

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that." 

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway. 

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.” 

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous. 

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.  

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[chibimyumi]

Redesign Prompt RESULTS!

Alright, thank you everyone who has voted, the results are now in! Overwhelmingly our winner is Ranmao 🐈!

First of all, I need to insert a few caveats here. Unlike with Victorian fashion, I do not have years and years of studying of Qing dynasty-fashion behind me. So whatever results I show here are the product of a fortnight of reading up and meticulous studying of contemporary photographs. a.k.a. I am merely scraping the surface here. But! I do promise that everything shown here is done to the best of my ability to be responsible as a content provider.

Now without further ado, let us dive into Ranmao’s current design, the blatantly obvious inaccuracies, and how I propose to redes...ign... her outfit while keeping the original intact as much.... as possible????  Heck, this is not even worthy of being called a ‘redesign’, this is straight up designing from scratch!

Hair

Let us start with her bangs. Her bangs are in fact surprisingly accurate, as late Qing dynasty women would wear their bangs in a variety of Bettie bangs trimmed well above the eyebrows. Having sides of the bangs growing longer framing the face was usual too, though they would be cut slightly thicker than Ranmao’s. Though, we don’t know how much hair Ranmao has, so I see no reason to alter it.

Twin braids are very much associated with the “China doll look”, but they seem to have been branded into our image of the “Chinese Girl” because it was the go-to look for unmarried women in Republic China (which is many years later than Ranmao’s time, and also has more surviving images.)

In Ranmao’s time, unmarried girls would either wear the bottom part of their hair down, or have everything tied into a single braid behind them. Girls who preferred a more feminine look would often decorate the sides or the top with flowers or other ornaments depending on their wealth.

Yana’s notes say that the flower in Ranmao’s hair is a Chinese peony, which is also called the Empress of Flowers in Chinese as well as Japanese culture. I could find sources on how the peony was the symbol of the Empress of China, and how one better avoid wearing any type of peonies around the Empress herself for fear of being suspected of disrespect. But I could not find any evidence of such flowers being banned for other people, so presumably it was more an ‘unwritten code of politeness’ rather than fashion law.

Hence, I kept the pink peony design for Ranmao, and decorated them in the way Qing women would have.

Neckline

By far the most interesting thing I learned from this redesign attempt was that the “mandarin collar” - the thing that pops up first in most people’s minds when thinking about Chinese fashion - was in fact not at all common.

In this academic work on Chinese fashion history, Finnane writes that the ‘high collar’ was “not a common feature of costume before the twentieth century.” Instead, most costumes would have had a round neckline.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 93

The ‘high collar’ gained popularity in early 1900s in China after the Europeans brought with them the beauty standard for high collars, as well as slim-fitted silhouettes. The Chinese increasingly adopted this type of collar and the slim silhouette (the well known ‘china dress/qipao/cheongsam’), and the relatively many early photos that survived helped engrave this stereotype into our minds.

Sleeves

I do not think it requires any mention, but 19th century Chinese fashion did not include boleros... For many of the original designs of Ranmao I can sort of see where Yana got that image from, but this bolero-look truly beats me.

The sleeves worn in the late Qing period were relatively wide, though they were starting to slim down over time. Late Qing women enjoyed much more flexible clothing rules than earlier Qing women, and the width of the sleeves was in great part determined by personal preference, season, but mostly one’s wealth.

Needless to say, the larger the sleeves the more fabric and embroidery it would require, and thus more expensive. Also, the wider the more it would get into the wearer’s way.

I don’t know how much thought Yana put into Ranmao’s original design in relation to her function as elite bodyguard, but considering how the original has zero practicality and only serves to maximise Ranmao’s attractiveness, I have no qualms about giving Ranmao fairly large sleeves too. Besides, let us assume that Lau is responsible for providing Ranmao with clothes. Illegal money tends to fill the pockets quite deeply, I don’t think he can’t spare a few pounds for big sleeves.

Wider sleeves would expose much of ‘a lady’s precious skin’, as such a more fitted layer would have been worn underneath. (The sleeves under the wider sleeves obviously did not have to be orange-ish. This was merely coincidence that both my redesign and the visual source have this colour.)

Silhouette

The figure hugging silhouette x Chinese clothes was - as mentioned above - not at all a thing in Ranmao’s time. In fact, the accentuation of the “female curves” was considered very inappropriate if not downright ugly in the Qing dynasty.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 94

Yana’s notes mention that the thing Ranmao wears is just an European corset and that that is the only thing ‘English’ about her attire.

Well... I don’t know where the idea that Victorians wore corsets on the outside comes from, but I myself admittedly was fooled by this a few years ago too... I promise you all now however, Victorians decidedly did not wear their ‘bras’ on the outside. I think even now this look is considered rather ‘questionable’ by most people.

Instead, Qing dynasty clothes were mostly cut wide and straight, loosely dangling around their bodies offering maximum comfort and space. You feared Ranmao killing you in her corset? Now tremble before her now blessed with maximised agility.

Trousers

Well... I considered ‘translating’ Ranmao’s attire to 2020 standard like I did for O!Ciel, but that would not be Tumblr-filter approved. Skirts so short they could be mistaken for a belt are nothing too surprising today, but wearing one with a split that deep is probably a bit too revealing even by today’s standards.

By the late Qing dynasty, men and women, rich and poor alike predominantly wore trousers. Long robes (skirts) were definitely in fashion too, but they were reserved for those who could afford to not have much agility. If you were a farmer, robes would not have been your first option. Perhaps the way long skirts were viewed by the Qing Chinese was not unlike the way we see them now; ‘more classy’ ‘more feminine’ and ‘less convenient’, but not the only way to express femininity.

In these pictures below we can see relatively rich women, married and unmarried alike, all wearing trousers.

Ranmao is predominantly a fighter, and as trousers are plenty feminine in Chinese fashion culture, I don’t see why she would not choose to wear trousers instead of a restricting long skirt. Hence I gave her a pair of trousers.

Shoes

Like I said before, “the shoes are correct...” But the anklets definitely are not!

Golden or silver anklets are something that are worn by very, VERY young children in China. Even to this day it is customary among many Chinese people to gift newborn children at least one piece of pendant, bracelet or anklet, for it is believed to bring the child luck. More practically, this piece of jewellery will become the child’s first piece of property then, which can be sold later SHOULD they ever run into a financially difficult situation.

These anklets or bracelets would not be removed from the child unless they have outgrown them, which happens fairly quick. Ranmao who is probably full grown should have outgrown them at least ten years ago. Hence, seeing these things on Ranmao would probably make it look like she is still wearing diapers or bibs.

Chinese people would likewise not have worn shoes barefoot. Instead, they would have worn cotton socks which were mostly white.

DOUBLE HAMMERS

HERE COME THE WEAPONS! Luckily Yana wrote the following note or I would never have guessed what they are for my knowledge about Chinese weapons is next to nothing.

“These are【SUPER】heavy. They are weapons called 双錘 (double hammers) and they in fact exist. I heard these were used by power-type warriors.”

So, I googled 双錘 and it turns out that the type Ranmao is holding do indeed exist! But... only in fiction and theatre.

The hammers that were used in actual combat were either very thin and long, or short and plump. Such hammers were one of the most primitive metal weapons in China, and quickly fell out of favour among Chinese warriors when more practical weapons such as the metal spear, sword and bows were invented. The hammers mostly retained their value because of their weight in heroic tales and myths about legendary warriors and deities.

I don’t have the full details, but apparently according to some legends or myths, one of such big-ass hammers could deal a force of 200kg, and thus 400kg combined. Regardless of this being realistic or not, it sure does sound very cool! It is therefore no wonder this primitive weapon retains its popularity even today.

Nowadays when these hammers are used, they are either the blown up theatrical versions, or the smaller versions for the sake of preserving martial arts.

I had a bit of a dilemma as to which version to give Ranmao, but in the end I settled with the short and heavy ones because I wanted to keep the idea of this small and innocent looking girl wielding solid metal balls. Two cheer-leading sticks would simply not have the same weight, figuratively and literally.

Alright everyone! Did you enjoy my response to your votes? I hope you did ^^ Non-European fashion history really is not my strong suit, so my deepest apologies if I messed anything up.

Pray tell if I did, I am always happy to learn ^^

[thiswasinevitableid]

If you are still taking meet ugly prompts, sternclay 22 nsfw???

Here you go!

22: you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship.

Note: I interpreted "first date" loosely. Slight content warning for mentions of blackmail, including blackmailing someone into a relationship.

It’s hard to tell where the sting of gin on his tongue ends and the sharpness of the pines through the window begins. The combination would invigorate him were it not for the conversation playing out at the other end of the short bar.

“...Last time, I’m not leaving.” The bartender, a mountain of a man who Joseph would love to climb, has been dealing with a persistent suitor for the better part of an hour. They’re the only people in the place; ski season is far behind them and summer isn’t here yet.

“C’mon, you’ve got no reason to hang around.”

“Yeah, actually, I do.” The bartender finishes cleaning glasses, turns to put them up.

“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me! I’m not through with you, oughta drag you outta here by your hair you cheap, dull-”

The next word is an unkind name for men who, like Joseph, prefer men in their beds. The bartender doesn’t respond, though his hands tighten around the glasses. Damn it, the world did not go for a second war just for him to let everyday evil slide by.

“That’s enough.” Joseph stands, moving to where the other patron wobbles on his stool, “him being uninterested doesn’t give you the right to abuse him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy.”

“I know that if you don’t leave, I’ll escort you out.”

The man throws up his hands, spits at Joseph’s feet before stumbling and stomping for the door, “Three years, Barclay, you’re throwing away three years in one night, and you’re gonna regret it. I’ll make sure you do!”

“Don’t think you will.” Barclay mumbles as the door slams. He’s twisting his dishrag to the point it’s ripping.

“Three years? Good lord, I thought he was just a run-of-the-mill drunk.”

“Nope. If you can call him tracking me down every few months a relationship.”

“I’m sorry.” Joseph pulls out his handkerchief, kneeling to clean up the spit, “still, I apologize for getting in the middle of a, um, lovers quarrel.”

“Please don’t, I’m glad you stepped in. Don’t know what I woulda done if you hadn’t.” His brown eyes study Joseph more closely, “have I seen you here before?”

“Through there.” He indicates the pass-through to the kitchen, “I come here as often as I can since the food can’t be beat.”

“Thanks.” Barclay smiles, starts wiping the counter, “yeah, Dani usually tends bar after the kitchen closes but her wife is down with the flu. Only seemed fair to let her take time to look after her.”

A big heart to go with a big frame? Joseph’s in big trouble.

“You, uh, you up here for the lakes or…” He’s now directly across from Joseph, sliding a fresh gin and tonic in front of him.

“I’m a private detective, a one man operation as of 1949; Kepler’s the optimal spot for me, since it’s between the mountain towns and the eastern edge of the city. That’s a lot of people who might need help. Not to mention lots of the residents closer to the lakes are wealthy, the kind where they’re always looking for someone to trail a straying spouse or track down the pearls their no-good layabout son sold for dope.” He lets a little bit of scorn enter his voice in hopes of letting Barclay know he doesn’t always agree with his clients, but that a man has to make a living.

Barclay rolls his shoulders, then leans forward, “any fun cases so far?”

Joseph pulls off his jacket as he thinks; if Barclay’s really interested, they might be here awhile.

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

He’s an early riser, so the banging on the door to his house (and office) interrupts his breakfast and not his rest. Joseph opens it and then fights to keep it that way.

“Detective Hayes. This is a surprise.” He smiles.

“I’m not here to catch up, Stern. I’m here so you can answer one, simple question: where were you between eleven-thirty and midnight last night?”

“In the dining room at Amnesty Lodge, talking with the bartender. If you need to verify that, just go to the Lodge and ask for Barclay.”

Hayes glowers in a way he recognizes as, “this won’t be an easy case like I assumed” and turns without a word. Two officers follow him. The third, Dewey, hesitates. He’d always been a pal. Joseph shoots him a confused look.

“Guy got shot in the woods near the Lodge last night. His only known contact in town was the bartender, and everyone else we questioned said the two had been arguing for a few days. Hayes thought the cook was a shoo-in to book but, well, his alibi aligns with what you said. Plus, some ranger Owens talked to said he saw Barclay talking to someone in the dining room at the time of the murder. Guess he was walking by the window on his way to-”

“Dewey! Get the hell over here!”

As his informant scurries up the hill to join the others, Joseph steps back inside to finish his toast. He only gets through one piece before the phone rings, summoning him to the managers office at Amnesty Lodge.

Madeline “Mama” Cobb sits behind her desk, whittling with the kind of force that suggests she’s doing this in place of putting her knife to another use.

“Barclay tells me you’re a detective.”

“That’s right, Miss. Cobb.”

“Great. I’m hirin’ you to find out who the hell killed his useless ex and is tryin to frame him for it.”

He sits down, intrigued, “I thought the police were handling the investigation.”

“I ain’t inclined to trust ‘em. Barclay can’t think of someone who’d set him up, and the police don’t think he was. Yet. But I happen to know there were scraps of a shirt Barclay owns on the trees nearby and that the fella who died had this on him.”

She holds a crumpled paper out. He unfolds it, reads, “Come to the old mill at a quarter until midnight. B.” He looks up, “meant to stand for Barclay, one would assume?”

“Yep. Whoever wrote that did a decent job forgin it.”

“How can you be sure it’s fake?”

“Because I got plenty of documents where Barclay describes a time. He just uses numbers, not words like ‘quarter until.”

“Did you suspect a set-up before you lifted this from the body so the cops wouldn’t find it?” Joseph tucks the note into his inside pocket.

“Course I did. You’re new in town, but there ain’t a person here who’d say Barclay is anythin but gentle. He ain’t about to shoot someone in cold blood, even that fucker.” She sighs, takes off her hat and runs a hand through greying hair, “that boy is as good as a brother to me. I know he’s been through some rough shit. He don’t deserve to get caught up in some goddamn murder scheme. So name your price, Mr. Stern; so long as it keeps him outta trouble, I’ll pay it.”

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

He’s elbow-deep in Barclay’s dresser when the cook returns from his shift; he gave Joseph permission to search his room for signs of whoever took his shirt, but still, the other man doesn’t seem pleased with his presence.

“I’m sorry, but I have to be thorough. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.”

“S’fine.” Barclay slumps down on the bed. After a moment he murmurs, “I know Mama hired you, but is there anyway I can convince you to quit? She, the Lodge doesn’t have much cash to spare this time of year. I don’t want anyone going without on my account and, and maybe this will all blow over if I just lie low, y’know?”

“It might. But until I think that’s the outcome, I’m inclined to agree with Miss. Cobb that we should work to keep you clear of this. And” he watches Barclay stand, moving to the window so he won’t have to see Joseph rifling through his life, “I promise that if it comes down to getting paid or bankrupting the Lodge, I’ll stop taking my fee. This is a good place and, um, it clearly means a lot to you. That makes it worth some belt-tightening on my end.”

“Thanks.” Barclay stares into the woods, then looks over his shoulder, “Joseph, I-”

It’s only because the mirror is above the dresser that he sees the black barrel peek from the trees. With no time to yell, he dives forward, pulling Barclay to the floor as the first bullet makes shards of the window.

“What the fuck?!” Barclay covers his head as another shot flies over them

“I think we just confirmed Miss. Cobb’s theory!” He pops up, fires once, and drops back down. Whoever’s in the trees isn’t expecting someone armed, so in place of another bullet they get breaking branches.

Joseph gives chase, leaping out the window and sprinting into the trees. Were they in downtown L.A, hell, even if he was still in Chicago, he’d have a better chance of staying on his target. But there’s no paths, no short-cuts, and every tree looks the same at this speed, cloaking the shape in the distance. Worst of all, he discovers that instead of dead-ending at a brick wall, he dead ends at a rockface.

Oh, and his hand is bleeding. He must have cut himself jumping out the window.

It looks like his investigation just took on a bodyguard element, and his wish to spend more time with Barclay could end with them both looking like swiss cheese.

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

“You could talk to Duck.” Barclay finishes bandaging the slash on the back of Joseph’s left hand, “he works in the state park near here and knows a ton about the layout of the woods. There, not too tight?” He sits back on his heels as Joseph tests the tightness of the bandage.

“It’s great, big guy. Um, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“I don’t mind it” he winks, “pretty boy.”

His visit with Duck the next day, while informative, doesn’t give him much insight into how their assailant disappeared, especially when Duck points out that the rock face he ran across is over a mile long and hard to climb without equipment or a death wish. At least the ranger outfits him with a map with written-in details; most are about trails that are likely to be muddy (and thus hold prints) or spots where a person might be able to hide. And some hike recommendations, just because.

He tries not to think about taking Barclay on the one to a secluded lake and fucking him under the stars.

His schedule alternates between sitting in his office taking and making calls, shadowing Barclay when he’s out on errands or otherwise vulnerable (he’s spent more than a few nights on the floor of his room, that velvety baritone talking to him until they both fall asleep), and scouring the woods for clues.

A jay heckles a squirrel, which surrenders it’s pinecone and scrambles along the rocks. He’s wishing he could be so nimble when it climbs up and then...disappears. Following it, he discovers what he dismissed as endless rock is an optical illusion; the rocks above and behind align with the ones in front and below to make it seem as if it’s a flat face. But when he climbs over the bottom rock, he finds a narrow slot canyon. One big enough for a human.

Fifteen minutes of granite scratching his back later, he’s at the other side of the rocks. Smoke curls up his nose, and he trails the scent to a cabin which, according to Duck, is on a strange pocket of private property, just up a frontage road. Stranger still is the sign out front.

I.C All

Tarot, Palm Reading, and Other Psychic Services.

He knocks as wind chimes sing lazily around him.

“Come in!”

The first room is divided by a curtain, the half he’s in a rather eclectic waiting room. The dining room and kitchen are probably on the other side of the pink and yellow cloth.

Waiting for him in the next room is a man with a distinctly beatnik air about him, from his red glasses down to his brightly colored shawl and shoulder length hair. Laid out before him is a tarot deck, crystal ball, and several black candles. But that’s not what concerns Joseph.

“Before I sit down, can you ask your friend hiding in the bureau to come out?”

“Fuck” the beaura hisses, “uh, I mean, uh, there ain’t, uh, fuck-”

“It’s alright dearest, I suspect we may all benefit from this.” He gestures for Joseph to sit, “Apologies, but my hope was you were either a client I could turn away or one in search of a brief reading that I could perform before returning to more...pleasurable activities.” He grins as none other than Duck Newton steps from the creaky wooden bureau, looking like he’s been wrestling a very amorous tiger.

“Afternoon, Joe.” Duck sits on the nearby couch, “didn’t take you for the fortune tellin’ type.”

“I’m more interested in whether Mr…”

“Cold, but my friends call me Indrid.”

“Whether Indrid has noticed anyone coming and going on his property without permission?”

“I can’t say that I have, though it’s hard to do so; the walkway is guarded by Beacon, our dog, and everything but the walk up to the cabin is fenced off or, well, a massive wall of rock.”

“...Come with me.”

Soon, Duck is studying the slot canyon while Indrid worries his lower lip.

“I had no idea this was here.”

“No one did. It ain’t on any of the maps, and I never heard of anyone findin it on accident.” Duck pulls back, popping his hat on as he turns to Joseph, “this got somethin to do with Barclay?”

“I think whoever shot at us used this to get away. For all we know, the person who killed Mr. Douglas did the same.”

“To think, I encouraged Barclay to come here even more often once he told me his predicament; I thought no one could approach us without me seeing them coming. No, no this will not do at all” he shakes his head, “he needs to go see her.”

“You know he won’t, sugar.”

“He must. It’s the safest place for him. And the last anyone will look.”

Joseph looks between them, but before he can ask Indrid simply says, “You should ask Barclay about the Greenbank House. That story isn’t ours to tell.”

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

“Home sweet home.” Barclay grumbles as he and Joseph step out of the car and into the shadow of a mansion in the most exclusive neighborhood in Lakeshore. It took all of his friends telling him he should go--and Joseph assuring him it’s location meant it wouldn’t look like he was trying to run away from the scene of the murder--for the cook to agree to a stay at his family home.

“What are you afraid of?” Joseph keeps his tone gentle as they climb the front steps. His friend had simply said he had unhappy memories of the house and would rather live in a mausoleum then stay there.

“It’s more dread. You’ll see when we get inside.” He knocks on the front door. It’s opened by the least congruous face imaginable; a man with greying hair and a groundskeepers clothes. When he sees Barclay, a smile bursts across his face.

“Barclay! How are you kiddo?”

“I’m...I’m okay. It’s good to see you Thacker.” He offers a genuine smile as he opens his arms and gathers the older man into a hug. When they separate, Joseph offers his hand and introduces himself. Having an extra guest delights Thacker, and he ushers them in with a promise that he’ll have rooms ready to go in a jiff.

“How’s Maddie doin’?”

“She’s good, and she’ll still slug your arm for that nickname.”

“Good old Maddie.” Thackers cheer falters, “do you wanna go see your ma? If I didn’t know you were comin, gonna guess she didn’t neither.”

“Yeah. Yeah I should go see her. Joseph, you don’t, uh, you don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s only polite to meet my hostess.”

Barclay leads him up a flight of stairs, then down a hallway where dust substitutes for walllpaper. Waiting for them in a red and orange toned bedroom is a woman with greying, black hair and a face not unlike Barclay’s.

“Dear heart” she rises from her armchair, drawing her son to her, “you came back.”

“Just to visit, Ma. Uh, this, this is Joseph. He’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too.”

She studies him with a critical eye; Joseph thought Hayes had a judgemental gaze, but she could beat him any day.

“Hmm. The more the merrier, as she always said. How long will you stay?”

“A few weeks.”

She nods, regards the photo of another woman above the mantelpiece as if seeking council, “You’re not here for pleasure.”

“No.” Barclay rubs his arm, “I...I got into some trouble. Andrew Douglas was shot the night I broke things off with him. The cops are leaving me alone for now but someone else wants me dead.”

The woman’s face suggests she both recognizes and despises that name, “We will keep you safe.”

With that, she sits once more and picks up her book. Barclay hesitates, then bends to kiss her forehead before pulling Joseph from the room.

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

“How long ago did your mother die?” Joseph kicks his legs up onto the ottoman. Barclay alluded to her passing previously, but never gave details.

“When I was eighteen. Car accident. She went off the Kepler bridge. They, uh, they never found her, and just found part of the wreck.”

He intends to leave it there; they’re on the back porch overlooking the garden (“Thackers pride and joy”), early summer dusk on their skin and their arms occasionally brushing from the edges of their chairs. No need to kill the mood further. He just wanted some kind of context for the house and the widow within it.

“Ma never recovered. She loved mom so much that losing her was like losing a lung; she can get through her days, even enjoy them, but it will always be hard. She tried to keep mom around however she could; the whole goddamn house is the same as it was the day she died, even my room. She wanted me to stay too, but Mama offered me the job and I just...I couldn’t live in a haunted house anymore.”

Joseph tips his hand to the right, extending his fingers into the space between them. Barclay takes it and holds tight.

“I’m so sorry, Barclay. You had every right to leave, to make your own life.”

“I know.” He runs his thumb across Joseph’s knuckles, “okay, pretty boy, my turn for a tough question; why’d you really leave the police force.”

It’s not that tough a question, not when he knows the man he’s confiding in won’t go running to Hayes, “I joined the force because I wanted to solve mysteries and help people. But it turned out there was a lot less seeking justice and a lot more chasing off drunks who just needed a place to sleep off benches and harassing certain neighborhoods. Then I worked out that the chief was taking bribes from all kinds of places and was naive enough to think someone might listen to me and help me when I told them. Instead they threw me off the force. In hindsight, it could have been worse; they could have killed me and covered it up.”

“Jesus.” Barclay polishes off his drink, contemplates the ice, “glad they didn’t. Both because, y’know, world is better with you alive, but, uh, also because if they had we’d never have met.”

Joseph meets his eyes, smiling in a way that makes the other man blush, “that would’ve been a damn shame.”

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

This is turning into one of the stranger cases he’s worked, in good ways and bad. The good is that his work days, when he’s not on the phone or digging through his notes, are spent with Barclay. His friend insists on cooking, has even brought him lunch at his desk, and usually the two of them have dinner with Thacker in the garden. They read or play chess in the study, take walks through the labyrinthine grounds, and even swim in the open air pool. Barclay in his swim trunks is a fine sight indeed. Joseph wonders if he ever brought boyfriends here, ever kissed them in the blue water or let them have their way with him in some hidden patch of lawn.

But it’s not all roses and revelry. The more he roots around in Andrew Douglas’s past, and in Barclay’s, the more questions he has. Why did Andrew come and go? What happened to large portions of Raquel and Sylvia (Barclay’s parents) fortune? And who wants to kill someone with no criminal record, no known enemies, and no heirs? If it’s the same person who murdered Andrew, killing Barclay would remove their fall-guy, so that makes no sense as a move.

His best lead comes when he learns Barclay’s family and Andrew Douglas lived in San Francisco at the same time. A friend in the city agrees to do some sniffing around there for any information that might point towards their killer. Two days later, he calls back and says he’s sending Joseph a “fucking brick” of evidence in the mail.

It’s been several days and he’s still waiting. He dozed off in his room after dinner, intending to cat nap, but it seems he’s overshot; it’s after ten. At least the mail must have come by now.

“Barclay? Did anything come--you have five goddamn seconds to explain yourself.”

His friend stammers from his seat on the bed, surrounded by papers, photo’s, newsprint, and a manila envelope with Joseph’s name on it.

“I, uh, I, it isn’t-”

“This is all evidence collected for the purpose of protecting you, so if you have something you’re afraid of me finding you’d better start talking now.” He snaps, looming over the other man from the edge of the bed.

Wordlessly, Barclay hands him a piece of newspaper. It details a kidnapping, one that ends--happily--with the victim being returned to their family. Four names are mentioned, but none of the perpetrators are the man in front of him.

“I was sixteen. A stupid kid. I had this perfect life and I got a little stir crazy, a little bored, and fell in with some other rich kids who felt the same. It started out harmless. Then James, the guy in charge, decided we should dream bigger. I was so, so fucking in love with him, I didn’t try to stop him. Not right away, anyway. I...I was their look-out for that kidnapping. But I couldn’t let them keep it up.”

“You struck a deal.”

Barclay nods, “Best part is, I managed to do it without either of my parents getting wise. We moved here soon after. I thought I could put it behind me.”

Joseph takes a closer look at the paper. The byline for the article is one A. Douglas.

“He blackmailed you.”

“Not at first. He, he” Barclay takes a shaky breath, “he went to mom first. Asked her how much she’d pay to keep my name out of the papers. James had told him about me and he was going to spread the story. That’s why she was on that fucking bridge in the middle of a fucking storm; she was meeting him.”

“Oh, Barclay.” Evidence crumples under his knees as he sits to comfort his friend.

“Then he came to me; now not only was I paying to keep the story quiet, I was paying to keep him from telling Ma why Mom died.”

“She died because of a blackmailer, wet cement, and a weak guard rail. Not because of you.”

Barclay looks at him, eyes coffee cups of sorrow, and simply shakes his head. Then he crumples forward and Joseph catches him, holds him tight while he finishes his story through his tears.

He paid off Andrew for three years. Ned Chicane, owner of the Kepler Museum of Curiosities, helped him with the family accounts so Raquel wouldn’t notice anything suspicious. Whenever Andrew came around, he demanded Barclay act as his “boyfriend” for the duration of the visit.

“Everyone must think I have terrible taste in men.”

Once they establish that, as far as Barclay is aware, only Ned knows about the blackmail, Joseph cups his face and says, as firmly as gentleness allows, “From now on, I need you to be truthful with me. You said you didn’t want me putting the pieces together because you were ashamed, but all I want is to help you. I can’t do that if there are big things you’re hiding from me. Understand?”

Barclay nods, and apologizes the entire time they’re gathering the strewn pieces back into the envelope.

“Barclay?” Joseph cuts him off and eases him down until he’s on his back, “I forgive you. Now please go to sleep before you pass out from stress.”

The cook smiles at him, eyes already fluttering closed, “You’re the boss, Joseph.”

He ignores all the urges that kickstarts in him and leaves his friend to sleep in peace.

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

“Y’know, kind of wish we’d known each other back then.” Barclay looks up from where he’s helping Joseph sort the new evidence on the floor, “when I was in San Francisco, I mean.”

“It would have taken more than just a change of scene for me; my family does alright, but I’d have been way outside your circles.”

“So? Maybe then I coulda had a boyfriend who was ‘disreputable’ for bullshit reasons instead of real ones.”

“I’ve never once been disreputable.” He looks up from the photos in his hand, “and is that your way of telling me something, big guy.”

“Yes. I, uh, you can tell me to knock it off, but I, uh, I think you’re swell. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way but you said I should be…” he trails off as Joseph leans into his space,”honest.”

He kisses him once, so brief it barely counts but the larger man whimpers and tries to grab him before he pulls away.

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me to hit the brakes if you need to; it won’t change my dedication to the case.”

“I promise.” There’s no dishonesty in his face, just boundless hope and affection.

“In that case, big guy” he lunges forward, pinning him to the rug, “you’re all mine.”

An unexpectedly high whine leaves his lover.

“You like when I’m rough?”

“Uh, uh huh, so much, people always want me to be and I don’t want to, wanna be, wanna beAHHHhhnnn” he arches his back as Joseph bites the patch of skin just below his beard.

“You’re so gentle, big guy, I thought you’d go straight to making love but” another bite, another gasp, “I think I’d better fuck you instead.”

“Please.” Barclays hands glide up to cup Joseph’s face and guide him down into another kiss.

Joseph rolls his hips forward and his sleeves up as speaks, “Now that you mention it, I can see how things would’ve gone if we met earlier. I was an obedient son but not beyond sneaking someone into my room when my parents were away” he undoes Barclay’s shirt, keeps grinding against him and licking his lips as he feels him getting hard, “or maybe we met down here, and you’d sneak me into the backyard.”

“Fuck, yes.” Barclays chest heaves as Joseph cards his fingers up through the dark hair to tease his nipples, “god, if how I, fuck, feel now is a clue, I’d have been so fucking mad for you.” He makes a charming groan as Joseph tongues his nippls and then nibbles his way up to his ear.

“It’s funny” Joseph kisses his cheek, “I knew so many guys like you on the force. Not you now, used to hard work and worry, but you then; spoiled and softer than a boiled egg.” He allows himself a moment of savoring their cocks teasing each other through their pants before continuing, “always wanted to discipline them, because it was clear no one ever did.”

“Please show me how.”

“Why?” He grins down at him, toying with his left nipple until it’s bright red.

“Because I wanna be good for you, Joseph. Wanna be every fantasy you ever had.”

“...Lord god almighty how am I supposed to say no to that?” Joseph undoes his suspenders, laughing at Barclay’s triumphant smile, “you’re a dream, big guy.”

He crawls so he’s straddling Barclays face, cock dripping pre-cum onto his lips. Barclays tongue keeps peeking out from between them, but doesn’t go further without permission.

“Since this is disciplinary, you don’t get a say in how it goes. You’ll take my cock as long and as deep as I want it, because I’m superior to you and you’re here to do what I say”

“Fuckyeah” Barclay paws Joseph’s thighs, opens his mouth so he can guide the head in.

“That, ohyes, that being said, if it’s really too much, tap my thigh twice.”

Barclay nods to show he understands, but is already pre-occupied sucking his cock like he’s starving for it.

“A good start, big guy, but if I just wanted my cock wet I’d have gone swimming.” He cups the back of Barclays head in both hands, “I want something to fuck, and your face is it.”

The man beneath him moans, fucks the air uselessly as Joseph pushes further in. He finds the resistance of his throat with a half-inch to go, and decides that’s good enough. He pulls halfway out, pushes back in, repeats the process a few times before finding his rhythm. Weeks of wanting mean it’s hurried and greedy, but the resulting moans suggest Barclay approves.

“You look so good like this, Barclay. God, if you’d been some fresh-faced officer, one look of those doe-eyes is all it, shit, would’ve taken for me to make this the only discipline you ever got. Any time I needed to put you in your place or just, fuck, just needed to let off some steam, I’d do this, get my, my cock in your mouth so often you’d run out of spit and be thankful for my cum in, in it’s place.”

Barclay is groping him again, eyes bright and lips managing some upward curve as his cock forces them apart.

“Then again” he tenderly massages Barclay’s scalp, “there’s no reason I can’t do that in this universe. Oh, ohshit, Barclay-” his words desert him as he cums, the other man swallowing eagerly and sucking him clean before he pulls out.

Joseph glances over his shoulder, “Can I take care of that for you?”

“Fuck, please?”

He rolls off of the cook, stays on his side and slips one arm under his shoulders. Then he sets his palm on the monstrous bulge in Barclay’s jeans and sets to work.

“I, I should unzip-”

“No” he kisses him, “we’re surrounded by evidence that I can’t have you cumming on. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the mess you make cumming in your pants like a teenager.”

“Promise?” It’s an odd thing to say, but Joseph thinks he understands.

“I promise.” He quickens his pace, Barclay’s grunts growing louder when he does, “I’ll take care of you, big guy. I’ll look after you. You don’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.”

“Joseph.” Is all the reply he gets, Barclay already turning as cum spreads across his fly and clinging to the detective. His breath is hot, stays shaky even as his cock stops pulsing.

“Barclay? Baby, are you alright?”

“So fucking good, babe. I, I uh” he holds him tighter, “this is the first thing to make sense to me in years. Loving you, having you in my life, I get how we fit together so easily. Everything else, the murder, Ma, this person lurking around the last place that feels like home waiting to hurt me or hurt Mama or someone there, all of it, it’s so goddamn tangled I’m worried it’ll never get straight.”

Joseph rests their cheeks together, “We’ll figure it out, big guy. I promise.”

[opalsiren]

roasting the season three wedding outfits

during my ranking of every dress that rikki wears on h2o i had an epiphany: everyone at sam and don’s wedding in season three looks like crap. i would even go so far as to say that sam was the only person to look good at her own wedding. this post will mostly consist of me being petty and pointing fingers at the costume design team for squandering the opportunity to style their mains for a wedding, offering alternatives to the, ahem, choices that were made when dressing cleo, rikki, and bella. i tried to keep my selections consistent with early 2010s fashion while also in keeping with the personal style of each girl

again credit to the homies at h2o wiki for sourcing many of the below images. as always click for better views since tumblr hates its userbase. let the roast begin! we’re starting with...

cleo’s salmon dress

cleo’s fit is not the worst offender in this category by any means. however given how drop dead gorgeous phoebe tonkin is, it’s a pity that she pissed off the costume team enough sometime prior to this episode that they chose to enact revenge on by putting her in this… whatever this is. lewis’s lovestruck expression as she walks down the stairs never fails to amuse me during rewatches. the dress is ill-fitting, sitting way too low on the bust, shapeless, and poorly styled in general; what is up with the hairdo which is more mako mermaids than mature, sophisticated young adult? seriously, no eighteen year old would be caught dead with their hair styled in such a distinctly juvenile fashion. this critique also extends to the dress itself which suits teenage kim more than her elder sister. i’m not saying that cleo should have shown more skin or worn six inch heels, but something a little more grown up wouldn’t have gone amiss. i’m not mad at the salmon pink against cleo’s colouring, but the costume team have long since established greens and purples as cleo’s soul colours. this is not to say that she shouldn’t be allowed to wear any other colour. still i would have killed to see her in some jewel tones like either one of these choices:

coral pink monstrosity aside, cleo would slay in something like the purple dress with lace and ruffle detailing pictured above. it plays into her penchant for 70s boho and would absolutely suit the beachy vibe of the wedding. a simple updo and strategic accessories would really elevate the look (plus it comes in teal green too if that’s more your thing!). alternatively she would also rock this peacock green, grecian-inspired number. it suits the understated simplicity of cleo’s style, and would play up her pretty green eyes too. next!

rikki’s royal blue dress

i won’t spend a ton of time on this one since i thoroughly eviscerated it back in my ranking all of rikki’s dresses post. the tl;dr is that the colour and shape are unflattering, and even season three rikki would absolutely refuse to wear a dress with a giant bow on the front. i offered some edgier seafoam green alternatives for rikki in the aforementioned post, but our girl has a number of absolutely iconic red dresses throughout the series so i thought i’d style her in something similar this time ‘round:

above left is an obvious callback to season one’s red dress; the ruffle feature at the bodice is almost an inverse of the detailing at the hem of its predecessor. the dress isn’t too overly ostentatious, but the traffic-stopping red just screams rikki. my other choice, a hi-lo one-shoulder dress with, you guessed it, ruffle detailing, is also inspired by the iconic season one red dress. it has just enough edge to be rikki-approved but is still feminine and elegant. last and possibly least is...

bella’s black and white dress

i once said that rikki’s blue dress was my villain origin story. at the time i was joking, but this might actually be true of bella’s dress. bella, baby, i’m so sorry they did you like this. there is just… nothing redeeming about this look whatsoever, from the weird earrings and weirder bangle to the skirt which belongs on a toddler’s dress to the pattern that belongs on that of a much older woman. while the others look quite juvenile, bella’s look is simultaneously giving immaturity AND fifty-year-old art teacher who shops exclusively at desigual. why is it so difficult to style teenagers in an age-appropriate fashion? also, wearing a white dress to another woman’s wedding is nothing short of sacrilege, even if said said dress isn’t fully white. i will say that the fit is slightly better than rikki and cleo’s dresses. still this entire look is a letdown given that bella wears some of the best dresses in h2o canon. she’s my least fave mermaid but girl does rule in the style stakes. furthermore, indiana evans is such a beauty that she could pull off almost anything, but this just ain’t it, chief. my picks are:

bella wears a number of blue dresses in the series, and the aqua blue dress above is nothing short of striking. she loves a strapless moment and the silhouette is pretty too. however it’s mostly the colour that sells me on this dress for bella. aquamarine would match her eyes and crystal necklace, as well as complement her complexion beautifully. my other selection is a chiffon maxi dress in bright coral orange, a colour that we don’t see bella in much of but which would suit her perfectly nonetheless. it’s both beach wedding- and age-appropriate too!

what did you think of my selections? did you like how the girls were styled at the wedding, or would you have made better life choices? should we have gotten a cutesy shopping montage? is sam roberts the one saving grace of season three? does cleo deserve a hug for putting together her dad’s entire wedding in her final year of school while the love of her life is strongly considering fucking off to america? sound off in the notes!

[innately-pretentious]

Dating Klaus Hargreeves ❤️✨

A/N I’m back lads, and yes this is very long and super messy! Ik I’m super behind but I literally just finished the newest season of TUA and was feeling super inspired. Here are some headcanons for our favourite mess.

You probably ran into each other during one of his late night drug binges, finding him lying on the ground in your local park whilst you were clearing you head, his eyes were moving around, observing the stars in the night sky.

As you slowly approached him you became increasingly concerned, discovering that he was not only watching the stars but also yelling at the blank space next to him. You almost didn’t approach him, writing him off as another high person riding a wild trip, however, something told you to go and check up on him.

When you got next to him, interrupting his seemingly one-sided conversation, you asked him if he was alright.

Turning to you and muttering out a slightly coherent ‘yeah’, you insisted he sit and talk to you for a while, to unload whatever has got him so stressed out. You had nowhere to be and neither did he, that was how he found himself spilling the details of his extremely unique life to a total stranger until the early hours of the morning.

Nothing could prepare you for what he was about to unload, but when he is finished telling you about his family, his father, his powers, Ben and every other intimate detail he could think of, you knew you couldn’t just leave him here. After minimal persuasion on your part you drag him back to your apartment, making him some tea, putting him in the shower and getting him into bed.

Nobody had ever treated him this well, not even his own family. Now this stranger was showing him the greatest display of hospitality, he dozed off with tears in his eyes.

You watch him from across the room, this was probably the first good sleep he has had in a while. You didn’t know what drew you to this strange boy, but you were determined to help him.

He pretty much lived with you on and off for the next few months, hanging out with you multiple times a week. He discovered (with the help of Ben) his growing feelings for you, but he never wanted to act on them.

He is extremely shy initially with showing any signs of attraction towards you. Having been put down by his family for most of his life, he truly believes he will just eventually disappoint you. Ben has been bugging him to make a move for months, it is the first time he has ever seen his usually-confident brother act bashful. You would find yourself often initiating intimate acts or even talking about dating one another, due to his fear of dragging you into his mess of a life.

His insecurities do seem to fade as your relationship progresses, however, you often have to reassure him that his best is more than enough. You will always be there to pick up the pieces as long as he is willing to help.

However, when you do finally get together and comfortable, he is not shy about his displays of affection in any way! You often find that he always has to be touching you in some way. Placing his hand of your thigh while sitting next to each other, draping his arm around your shoulder, leaning into you when watching a movie, reaching for you in the middle of the night, half asleep. You almost wonder if he does it subconsciously. Pulling you into him for a quick kiss, even if it is in public. Not that you mind, you’re just glad he finally let his walls down for you.

Although he dislikes it in the moment, you make a point not to enable him. Instead you honestly ask him about his addictions and try to understand it, nobody has ever done this before. One of the proudest moments is finding him on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, holding a fresh packet in his hand.

‘Take them, I’m gonna do them and I really don’t want to.’

You teared up at how far he has come, spending the night tangled in each others limbs, telling him how proud you were as he snuggled further into your waist.

Being there for him when his father dies, even though it really doesn’t take much of a toll on him, you tag along to make sure. When you finally meet his other siblings, you truly understand the reasons behind his addiction, often being pushed aside or ignored by his family members. The people that are supposed to care about him most, it takes a lot for you to hold your tongue.

Klaus can be quite a homebody when he wants to be, one of his favourite activities is just hanging around the mansion with you.

He loves finding you in the kitchen, drawn in by the smell of you making something delicious. He will come up behind you, arms snaking around your waist, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

He also loves to play his music loud, so the two of you can scream the lyrics to your favourite songs, dancing around the kitchen like idiots whilst simultaneously trying to cook a meal is a skill you have definitely acquired during your relationship.

Ben is completely in awe of you being able to steer Klaus in such a positive direction, he cannot be prouder of his brother. You often get Klaus to be the middle man in your conversations, even though the two of you have never met face to face, you honestly believe he is one of your close friends.

He introduces you to the clubbing scene, taking you out dancing every other weekend! You notice that he believes getting ready to go out is just as much of the fun, you both take turns picking out each others outfits. Blaring your favourite songs as you paint his nails or he does your eyeliner, leaving your bedroom in a massive mess that you would worry about tomorrow morning.

Dancing together in a packed nightclub, giggling as he attempts to spin you round, sneaking kisses here and there until the lights come on.

When Sunday comes around, you are both allowed to spend the day lazing in bed. Now Klaus is sober, he sometimes finds himself waking up before you. Finding you tucked under his arm in the morning is a dream, brushing your hair gently out of your face as he watches the sun pour in from a crack in the curtain. Nothing could be more blissful.

Occasionally you will wake up alone in bed, these days always make you slightly uneasy. Deep down you know Klaus is probably just downstairs making coffee or running a bath for the two of you, a small part of you can’t help but be scared he has relapsed.

He pretends he doesn’t notice, but his heart aches knowing that you still worry about him, even after all this time.

You always catch him staring at you, he is not really subtle about it either, even if you are concentrating on an important task.

‘Klaus I actually have to work this time!’

‘Hey don’t blame me! I can’t help it if you’re the best thing to look at.”

When you find out about the impending apocalypse, you make a pact to stick together til the end, desperate to get as much time together as possible. During this time he becomes even more protective, never straying too far away from you, even following you into different rooms of to need to go grab something. If any precarious situation arises, he pushes you back, using himself as a barrier between you and the action.

With Five botching the whole time-travel thing, you both find yourself in the 1960s.

When he first arrived in the alley with Ben, he began frantically looking for you, becoming almost hysterical as he felt really alone for the first time in a long time. It took almost everything he had not to raid the local liquor shop to just forget about his predicament for just a moment. Ben is the voice of reason for him.

‘Fuck off Ben, can’t I just feel numb for once, I’ve lost her alright?!’

‘This is the last thing she would have wanted and you know it.’

It’s not until a year later you see each other again. You were revisiting the town where you first arrived in the 60s, picking up some new clothes and planning to get back on the road. Klaus, on his way to the diner for a quick bite to eat could spot you anywhere.

You were shocked when you heard a bang on the shop window, looking up and finding the same hazel eyes you would never forget, Klaus.

He bust through the shop doors, not caring that he knocked over a few clothing racks as he bounded towards you, jumping into your arms. He smelt the same, cigarette smoke masked with fresh cologne.

Landing on the floor together, laughing with tears streaming down your face, you just hold onto each other. (The shopkeeper is yelling, but this is more important than some scattered clothes!)

Having lunch together and catching up on everything you had been up to. He was impressed with you living on the road, finding various jobs and travelling across America. Although the thought of you going out there alone made his stomach flip, scared something bad might happen. When he tells you about ‘Destiny’s Children’ you wish you could say you were surprised, but you really expected nothing less. Of course Klaus would do something as extravagant as this.

That night is one of the best of your relationship. Making up for a whole year of lost time, he holds you closer, your entire body on top of his, head resting on his chest as he lazily rubs circles on your back.

When you are about to pass out you hear soft sobs coming from under you. Sitting up and holding his face in your hands, you reassure him that you’re here, you’re ok, you’re not going anywhere and you’re going to be alright. He grips onto you tighter and sobs into your shoulder, overwhelmed with emotions about how you finally managed to find each other again.

The clinginess does not end there, a year is a long time! Refusing to let go of you waist when you try to get up, always having his hand in yours, picking you up and spinning you round in the pool etc.

He takes full advantage of shopping with you in the 60s, with the fashion being almost as loud as he is. Watching him dance in and out of the racks of clothing, throwing various garments for you to try on. He loves to sneak into your changing room to ‘help’ you change into your next outfit…

When Ben is gone, you are the sole person he goes to for comfort. Holding onto each other and reminiscing about the good memories you all shared. After that day promising not to cry over him anymore, instead you would happily remember everything the three of you went through, looking back at his life positively.

[sovvannight]

Edge of Great Novelization vs. Season 1 - Episodes 8-9

My library has Edge of Great on Overdrive, so I thought it would be interesting to check it out and see how it compares to season 1 of Julie and the Phantoms, given that it’s a novelization of the season.  I’m comparing it to my memories of the show and resisting doing another rewatch, so keep that in mind.

Episode 8

The scene with Alex and Willie at the Orpheum is gone

“Oh, wait, I don’t have any” line about Julie’s security is gone

Nick doesn’t say “Sorry I had to leave early” or whatever it is that he says in the show (no need since we didn’t see the performance)

Exercising the chef ghost by making a french dip is gone

The text of Unsaid Emily isn’t there like some of the other songs are, maybe because Luke isn’t literally singing the song?

On the porch, they don’t forget and reach for each other:  “I put my hand next to hers and imagined--just for a moment--that they were actually touching.”

Luke doesn’t get a jolt on the porch

Julie’s nuclear bomb drawing is gone

No mention of the Sunset Curve shirt being bedazzled

Episode 9

Outside the Orpheum, Willie says “I won’t forget you” before poofing out rather than skating off.

the conversation is shorter, too, no “I’m sure they’re very professional,” and no mention of Willie stealing a jacket

Alex pulls up youtube; and he writes down the phone number at the last minute rather than doing it ahead of time.  Luke says “good thinking” and not that his handwriting is better.  Luke doesn’t start off by saying “Alex, no dancing”

”Luke, you want to take this?” is gone

It just says Julie dances when she gets the call, not all of them.  No “I’m swimming.”

Scene with Carlos talking to his aunt and figuring it out is gone

Scene with Trevor and Carrie is gone (also no shot of them in the audience)

Before the show, Julie and Luke don’t have a separate moment; she says the thing about thanking her mom if they see her to the whole band

When luke gives his talk, mentions looking down from above, no mention of another possibility

No mention of Carlos and the “boy band” thing

Caleb snaps his fingers to poof them--no smoke; they’re wearing “vintage tuxes,” no more detail than that

Julie’s speech in the alley is different

The guys poof into the Orpheum as one--no extra struggle for Luke, no mention of altering their outfits

After the song, Julie says “I’m gonna miss you” to the guys, and Luke says “Not as much as we’re gonna miss you” before they disappear

Julie going into the garage:  “I wondered what it was like, where they were.  If they felt happy, complete.  Because that was how I was feeling after our amazing night--even though I’d always miss them, I’d never forget them.”  Uh, really?  Happy and complete?  Does this look happy and complete to you?

Alex has a line between Reggie saying they’re not going back there and Luke’s “No music is worth making...”  Alex says “We got a taste of playing for Caleb, and it wasn’t worth it.  We couldn’t stay there.  We won’t.”

Luke is the one who calls Reggie and Alex over to join the hug.

The conversation after the stamps are gone:  Julie: “What does that mean?  Are you real?”  Alex: “We were always real.  But now, maybe...we’re here?”  Reggie: “But for how long?  Will we still be solid tomorrow?  What about the day after that?”  Luke: “I mean, I definitely don’t have the answers.  But I think the band just got back together.”

That’s where it ends - thing with Caleb and Nick the next day is gone.

[dc41896]

Perfect

Hey guys👋🏾! So I saw in the video from the recent USO live chat that Chris said if he wasn’t acting, he’d be doing something where he has to work with his hands a lot and thus here we are lol! Hope you like it😊!

Pairing: Builder!Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Slight angst, fluff

“Ohh this one is pretty! What do you think Ivy?,” you ask lying the lilac onesie against your swollen abdomen. With only a month left until your due date, you finally decided to try to organize your closet to accommodate her growing collection of clothes.

Although tiny, the amount of outfits and other supplies bought by you, your fiancé, and both sets of your family and friends warranted her own room really, but being stuck with your quaint one bedroom apartment the small plastic dresser in your closet would have to do.

“I’ll tell you this baby girl, you are definitely spoiled already.”

“And your grandparents wouldn’t have it any other way,” you hear from behind paired with the light thud of work boots hitting the floor. “Can’t blame them entirely though, me and your mom might have had something to do with that too.”

“You’re home early.”

“Yea the floors didn’t take as long as we thought they would.”

Kissing your cheek, he notices the box of diapers you were currently trying to move with your foot but not getting far. Bending down reaching for the cutout handle, he moves your hands beating you to the box before placing it with the others. “Here babe let me get that. Remember the doctor said-,”

“I know what he said Chris. I’m the one who told you what he said since you weren’t there remember?”

You didn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it did, but you also couldn’t hide your frustration anymore. He was always a perfectionist when it came to his work. From the paint to the furniture placement, and even the plants outside, he never wanted a client to walk in seeing anything out of place or thinking he didn’t care about what he did.

You understood and loved how much he cared, but with your heightened emotions and the fact that this was a pretty important time in both of your lives, him not being there broke your heart a little more each time it happened.

“Y/N, I know I haven’t been around like I want to and I’m sorry, but it’s just I really want this house to be perfect.”

“I know you do, but I’d also like for you to actually see her moving on the screen rather than me tell you what happened. Or hear her heartbeat in person.”

Grabbing your sides, he gently pulls you closer bringing his calloused yet soft hands up to cradle your face and graze his thumbs against your cheek while peering into your eyes.

“I promise you things will be different as soon as everything’s done. Then I’ll be at every appointment and by your side so much you’ll be sick of me,” he smiles.

“You really shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.” Sliding out of his grip, you make your way to the kitchen, hands rubbing the base of your belly as he follows close behind.

“It’s not my fault this all had to happen while you’re pregnant.”

“I know.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me,” he sighs, back leaning against the counter watching you remove different items from the fridge trying to put something together for dinner.

There’s silence as you chop bell peppers to sauté in the pan slowly heating up on the stove. You could feel his eyes still on you though as you moved about getting different seasonings and other tools to help make your meal, but you refused to say a word.

“Guess I’ll go shower then,” he states under his breath ready to leave so you could have the space you clearly needed.

“What’s so different about this house?”

“What do you mean?”

“Every other build you’ve done you’re telling me any and every detail about it and even a little about who it’s for,” you explain still focused on the sizzling pan in front of you. “This one, you haven’t said one thing about it other than you finished the floors today. Then you’re rushing out the room to take secret calls and working later than usual, which makes me believe this house must be something special.”

“I haven’t really had the time to tell you since I’ve been so busy.”

“...sure you’re not just trying to bury yourself in your work?” Hearing your sniffles, he walks up behind you turning you around to see your glossy eyes as tears begin to fall. “I mean I know I’m a bit more emotional and probably more annoying-,”

“Shh, stop,” he softly speaks wiping away your tears and hugging you close to his body. “You’re not annoying and I’m definitely not burying myself in my work. If I could, I’d spend every second with you doing anything you want.”

“You say that now, but I’m sure you’d think different after.”

“Nope. Never.”

Bringing your hand up to his lips, he kisses the diamond on your finger before moving to your lips making them move together as if they were part of a passionate dance.

“You’re gonna make me burn dinner. Again,” you smile resting your forehead against his.

“Sorry,” he chuckles leaving one last peck on your lips. Letting you turn back around, his chin sits on your shoulder and hand lightly rubs up and down your belly as he helps with the remainder of the meal.

———

The following week, Chris finally finished the house and couldn’t wait to give you a tour through the bare home. He was practically glowing with excitement each day leading up to the weekend, when you both agreed he could show you.

Driving through busy streets and backroads shaded by canopy trees, you eventually arrive in the driveway of a grey house trimmed in white with pillars of the same color. On the wrap around porch sat two dark brown rocking chairs seemingly waiting for someone to rest in them, while bunches of orange and yellow chrysanthemums were planted in the flower beds just below it. Carefully stepping out of the black Ford truck, with his help, a small smile forms on your lips as you look from the building to your future husband.

“What?,” he shyly asks nervously fidgeting with his hands.

“Nothing, just amazed again by what you do. And also wondering what made you chose to plant my favorite flower?”

“Guess you were stuck on my mind,” he winks kissing your lips before grabbing your hand and leading you up the steps to the door.

Your footsteps against the dark hardwood and Chris’ voice echo throughout the empty house as he takes you to every room, noting how the furniture would be placed once it arrived and asking your opinion on how it would look. Walking down the hall, he points out the master and guest bedrooms pausing in front of the last door with his hand on the knob.

“I’ll tell you now, I did this room all by myself so go easy on me okay?,” he states making you giggle.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just as beautiful as the rest of the house.” Slowly opening the door, you notice it to be the only furnished room in the house with a grey crib, dresser, changing station, and cloth rocking chair all matching in color.

“Aww babe! Why didn’t you tell me they were expecting a baby too?”

Black butterfly stencils staggered along the pink wall above the crib, seeing the teddy bears placed on top of the changing table instantly draw your hands to your stomach as you become even more excited for your own bundle to come into the world.

“I uh also got them an extra little present from us,” he states opening the top drawer to reveal a folded baby blanket covered in clouds. “Think it’s okay?”

“Yea it’s-,” you start as you notice the shine of golden letters embroidered in the corner. Stepping closer to him, Chris can feel his heart pounding in his ears as he watches you read what’s been sewn on the blanket and look at him confused.

“Why does it have Ivy’s on it?”

“Because it’s hers, along with everything else in here.”

Words seemed to be something foreign to your brain as you continued to stare at the man in front of you wondering if he was being serious.

“Wha-? How-?”

“Grandma Peggy left this land to me in her will and I always planned to build a house on it but never got around to it. When little Ivy came in the picture though, I thought now was the perfect time.”

As you scan the room holding onto the blanket, he starts to feel a bit scared from your silence.

“W-We can always change stuff around though if you don’t like it,” he stammers rubbing the back of his neck. “Like maybe the crib can-,”

Unable to complete his words, he feels your arms wrap around his neck as your lips press against his moving in perfect sync.

“It’s perfect!”

“Really? You think so? It’s okay if you want to change anything I swear.”

“No I promise I love it how it is,” you giggle kissing him again. “I love everything, thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me love. I’m gonna do anything I can for the both of you to make sure you’re taken care of, and nothing will stop that.”

“I know, which makes me feel worse about thinking you were purposely trying to stay away,” you sniffle looking down at the blanket in your hands.

“Well, it didn’t help that I wasn’t being as open as usual.”

“But still I shouldn’t have even let my mind go in that direction and I’m sorry.” Wiping your tears away, he lies your head on his chest rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“That’s in the past okay? Now we focus on what comes our way next,” he smiles to which you nod your head wrapping your arms around his waist and enjoying breathing in his scent as you both stand in the peaceful quiet.

“So you really love everything? Be honest.”

“So much that if I wasn’t pregnant, I probably would be in the morning,” you bite your lip looking up to see his raised brow and amused expression.

“Looks like you might be getting another sibling soon Ivy,” he whispers down towards your stomach making you laugh.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[imreallyloveleee]

thoughts on 4x19

aaaaand here we are! the unintended season finale. it’s fun, even though none of it makes any sense.

- Jughead’s hair looks terrible in this episode

- now that i’ve got that out of the way,

- it’s weird how completely un-invested all the kids at this high school are in any extracurriculars outside of cheerleading or sports. Betty had to put together the ENTIRE yearbook by herself? i don’t buy it. yearbook was very popular at my enormous high school because everyone wanted to get pictures of themselves and their friends in it. 

- i’m also not buying this episode’s extremely weird ret-con on Mr. Honey? like, okay, he got a couple of underprivileged kids scholarships to college, which is cool but also not really part of a principal’s job. he also a) cancelled the yearbook for the entire school because he doesn’t like Betty; b) TP’d Reggie’s car; c) said some extremely weird and potentially damaging shit to Kevin about college early on in the season, the details of which i cannot remember; d) sent them all to a counselor who both reinforced their worst behaviors and also gave a pass to multiple adults guilty of abusive parenting...do i need to go on? how was any of this “protecting” the students? the way they wrote this made me feel like i was supposed to have an “a ha” moment where all of Mr. Honey’s oddly antagonistic behavior clicked into place, and then that...never happened

- my memory had told me that Jug gets the call from U of Iowa out of nowhere, demanding he write them a story for admission, so i was glad to discover upon rewatch that no, he actually did apply to go there (for the more realistically timed spring semester, no less!)

- Jughead appears to have a bottle of orange juice in his locker. That should be refrigerated, Jughead!!!!! 

- he also has a photo of Betty in her cheerleader uniform. that’s cute, no refrigeration necessary

- if my face while writing fanfic resembles anything like Jughead’s face while writing a weird story about him and his friends murdering their teacher, i’m really glad no one’s ever around to see it

- Jughead and Archie get sooo mad at Reggie for revealing his identity in the first scene of the story, like Jughead isn’t walking around with one of his S t-shirts on under his bunny mask

- Cheryl silently reading a magazine while she babysits Mr. Honey is the most likeable she’s been since early season 2

- Jughead’s story version of Archie makes me laugh. he’s sort of just Betty & Jug’s little sidekick? like they’re clearly the brains of the operation and he just yells at whoever isn’t feeling great about murder that day

- you can see Jughead writing himself into a corner in real time when he changes the story so that Mr. Honey survives. i feel qualified to say this because it’s exactly what i do every time i get to the 3rd chapter of a WIP

- the involvement of the parents in this episode is so funny to me. all season these kids have been running businesses, having sex, sleeping in each other’s beds, making tickle porn...then the prom gets cancelled and they essentially go whine to their moms to make it come back. and then they all celebrate by drinking champagne out of coupe glasses at Pop’s while Cheryl gets her dirty feet all over a table

- speaking of dirty feet, when Betty wakes up (and adorably slings her arm over what would have been her boyfriend’s face) and finds Jughead writing in the window seat, his shoes are on. i know these people are always wearing their shoes on the furniture but this is especially egregious because it’s early morning, you haven’t BEEN anywhere, why are you wearing your SHOES jughead

- Betty & Jughead’s matching outfits throughout this entire episode send me. so does Betty’s clinginess to him. I fully subscribe to the theory that it’s at least partially driven by her guilt over the little dalliance with Archie. but it’s probably also just her being like, eee, my boyfriend’s back at school with me again! whatever the motivation, it’s extremely cute to notice it going on in the background throughout the ep.

- that Blue & Gold scene is just *chef’s kiss* times infinity. the ponytail kiss. his hands all over her legs. all i want for christmas is the version of this that doesn’t get interrupted by Kevin

- half of the scenes in this episode are just close-ups on Betty’s face where she sincerely tells him, “this is an AWESOME plot development, babe.” because we get to see the story acted out, we know that this is absolutely not true. look no further for solid proof that Betty Cooper loves Jughead Jones more than anything in the world, including reading comprehension

- when i start thinking about how/why Charles is probably behind all of this videotape stuff, i get physically tired

- my only prediction for season 5 is that we will never know who the extra people wearing masks in the videos were. they’ll just be like “Charles did it! bye” and then jump ahead 7 years to Archie dodging shrapnel in a vaguely desert-like setting

well friends, this concludes my rewatch of Riverdale season 4. it’s been fun! in all likelihood i will loop back around to season 1 and keep posting about that too, tbd. <3

[quicksilversquared]

A Christmas Liar

After Ms. Bustier mentioned the annual school charity fundraiser in class, Lila seems determined to raise funds for her own "charity", aka herself. There's no way that Marinette is going to let that fly, but how successful will she be in taking Lila down in time for the holidays?

links in the reblog

It started with a normal morning in Ms. Bustier's homeroom class.

"As you all know, it's fast approaching the holiday season, and our collège always does a fundraiser for a charity before Christmas," Ms. Bustier told the class, smiling widely. The first few cut-out paper snowflakes had appeared in the classroom window that morning, and they all knew that the collection would only grow as December went on. "So remember to remind your parents to check their emails for details soon! Our student representatives have been hard at work brainstorming what to do this year."

Marinette smiled, even as she kept drawing in her sketchbook. Jagged Stone had commissioned an outfit for his Christmas present to Penny from her, and wanted the design ready to be sent to his seamstress as soon as possible so that he could have it ready in plenty of time. He had told her not to rush, of course- "you have so much going on, and I don't want to put you behind in your studies!"- but Marinette wanted to try to get things done early.

After all, akumas could appear and eat up her free time without any notice, and so she was going to take advantage of any extra time when she could.

"Oh, a charity fundraiser?" Lila asked from the back of the room, and Marinette mentally sighed before setting her pencil down. Clearly she wasn't going to get anything done now, if she had to deal with Lila's nonsense, and her nonsense-o-meter was going wild. "That's so wonderful! Do you think that- oh, no, I suppose it would come off a little self-appreciating, never mind..."

"No, go ahead!" Ms. Bustier reassured her quickly. "What is it that you wanted to ask, Lila?"

"Well, I was wondering if maybe I could put forth one of my charities to be considered for the fundraiser's proceeds," Lila told the class, and even without turning around, Marinette could picture the way that Lila would press a hand to her chest delicately, doing her best to look bashful. Adrien's eye roll from in front of her told Marinette that her mental picture probably wasn't very far off. "But I suppose that could come off as, well..."

Ms. Bustier perked up. "Oh, how could I have forgotten that we had someone in our class who had done so much charity work before? I don't think it would come off as self-serving at all! In fact, it could add an extra connection and an element of interest to the whole thing if the school picked one of your charities. Marinette, could-"

"Student council has already settled on a charity for this year's fundraiser," Marinette said at once, not even bothering to look up. She could see exactly where this was heading, and she was going to put a stop to it. Now.

In front of her, she could see Adrien's hastily-hidden grin out of the corner of her eye.

"But this is special, Marinette," Ms. Bustier implored. "Surely they'll understand and want to support a fellow student's charity efforts! This is a pretty unique opportunity!"

"We've had multiple meetings about it, thinned our selections down, did all of the background checks and verification on our final pick, filled out all of the paperwork to submit to Mr. Damocles, and let the charity know so that we could get more information to post around," Marinette informed her, because seriously? Ms. Bustier was going to fall for it, just like that? Also, she was super glad that she had pushed for the council to make the decision early this year, because at this time the previous year, they had been working on finalizing everything still, which would have made a last-minute change like this possible. It wouldn't have been fun, or easy, but it could have been possible. "We can't change it now."

Lila let out a small sigh from the back, and Marinette turned around just in time to see her shoulders slumping. "Oh, that's really a shame, then. For a minute there, I was picturing how much good I- we could do for the children in Africa with a bit of extra funding, but I suppose if they've already picked a charity..."

Ms. Bustier glanced from Marinette to Lila. "Marinette, do you think that we could do two charities instead of one, perhaps? It would just be so nice to be able to support Lila's charity!"

Marinette was honestly going to scream.

"I'm afraid that that would make things too complicated," she said instead, politely as she could and with as little teeth-gritting as possible. "We had a couple fundraiser activities in mind- which we agreed was important, in case an akuma attack keeps people away from an in-person event- plus a couple volunteering opportunities that we wanted to offer. Plus, there would be all of the paperwork and the background checks that would have to be done to add in another charity, and that's not exactly a short process. It's a lot of work."

There was also the fact that Lila didn't have any charities, and any money they earned would- if she managed to sneak her way through their careful screening process- no doubt go straight into her own pockets.

"Oh, I could fill out paperwork so that you guys don't have to!" Lila offered eagerly. "I don't mind, it's for the kids-"

"And the email letting parents know about our fundraiser and our selected charity is already scheduled to go out today," Marinette continued, raising her voice just ever-so-slightly to drown Lila out and making a mental note to talk to Aurore to actually get that email sent over lunch. It had originally been planned for tomorrow, actually, but Marinette wasn't going to give Lila any ins. "So the deadline for any changes has passed." She pasted on her best fake smile, trying not to let any signs of a smirk through as she looked back at Lila. "It's just not possible for this year, I'm afraid. Maybe you can bring it up for consideration earlier next year."

"I suppose that's fair," Ms. Bustier agreed. She smiled over at Lila. "It's my own fault for not bringing it up earlier, it just slipped my mind. Hopefully your charities will still get plenty of support! But right now, we're going to move on to today's lesson. If everyone could please get out your notebooks, we're going to start with a quick video..."

Marinette smiled to herself as she put her sketchbook away and opened up her notebook to a fresh page. This probably wasn't the last that she would hear about Lila's so-called "charities", but at least Ms. Bustier had dropped the subject and she wouldn't be getting pressure from that angle.

Now she just had to be ready for Lila's other attempts to get her hands on charity money.

  "I am so glad that you already had stuff all finalized," Adrien said in Marinette's ear as they headed for their next class. Lila was ahead of them, surrounded by several of their classmates. "I got worried for a minute there when Ms. Bustier hopped on the Lila's charity thing."

"I'm just glad that it's a school-wide thing, not just a class-wide fundraiser," Marinette admitted, glancing around to make sure that no one was going to overhear them. She had managed to get out of being blamed for deliberately denying Lila's "charity" a chance to get more money because she wasn't the only person in charge of the fundraiser, and she didn't want anyone in their class mishearing and blowing things out of proportion. Again. "I mean, it's obvious that Lila jumped on that because I'm class representative and she wanted to put me in a bad spot, but she couldn't when I'm just one of the people involved in that process."

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. I was so sure that she was going to drop it after you mentioned the background check and verification thing, though, and then she didn't. Which is...weird, honestly."

"Not really. If we tried going forward and I was the one doing the check, she would probably just say that I was making stuff up about her charity out of jealousy or spite and that was why it failed or something." Marinette had thought the same, honestly, but it became apparent pretty quickly what Lila was up to. Lila wasn't nearly as sly as she thought she was. "I'm surprised that she didn't jump on that and complain that I was just making the background check thing up because I was doubting her. Ignoring, of course, that we want to have statistics in our flyers and posters and emails about how the money is used, and how much work they get done, and their rating by a charity watchdog. That's standard."

"Which is why she wanted to do her own paperwork," Adrien added. He made a face. "I bet that she's still going to try to piggyback off of the fundraiser somehow, or at least rope people into donating some of their own money. I already heard Rose bringing it up, and Alya mentioned something to Nino about posting something on the Ladyblog."

Marinette winced. That wasn't good. She would have to forward the link to their charity watchdog site to Alya later on, maybe under the guise of providing a resource to get all sorts of charity statistics at once to put in her posting. That didn't guarantee that Alya would look at it, of course, but it was worth a try.

(Also, she could use her throwaway account to point out the charity's questionable status, and then- well, hope that other people would see her post and upvote it.)

"She's really going too far now," Adrien said after a moment, pulling Marinette out of her brainstorming of how she could keep Lila from pocketing a bunch of charity money. "I mean, she has been for a while, especially when she tried to get you expelled, but this is just the cherry on top of a heap of awful. I just don't know... I mean, she's sunk her claws in really deep now, I don't know how to fix it. I guess I should have recognized it earlier, but..."

"Well, there's no point in worrying about what we should have done earlier now," Marinette said as they went through the door for their next class, though she couldn't help but feel a bit validated, since she had wanted to stop Lila's lies ages ago. "We can brainstorm later, if you can get away for lunch. I was going to talk to Aurore then anyway."

Adrien looked puzzled for a moment, then caught on with a grin. "Aha, right, since she's on student council too. Is she the one in charge of submitting paperwork?"

"No, that was me. She's in charge of sending out the emails to families." Marinette grinned up at him. "And I bet that we can do a bit of damage control with that."

-0-0-0-0-

Aurore was all too willing to bring her lunch over to the Dupain-Cheng bakery instead of eating in the school cafeteria. After all, she told them as they headed upstairs, her lunch was leftovers and best served warm, and the cafeteria microwave was gross.

Marinette could believe that. Aurore had already floated the idea of setting up either a roll of paper towels near the microwave so that people could cover their dishes to keep the contents from exploding all over, or going the more environmentally-friendly route of having microwave plate covers instead, which could then be washed daily in the industrial dish washers that the cafeteria kitchen had. Clearly it was a Big Deal for her.

"You said you wanted to talk about the email right?" Aurore asked finally, finishing her grumbling about someone who had apparently microwaved fish and ugh, the smell was awful. "I thought it was meant to be going out tomorrow? I have a draft that's almost complete, I was just going to review it tonight to make sure that it was perfect, but do you need something changed?"

"We had a situation come up in our class this morning," Marinette told her, leading the way into their kitchen. Her mom had left out food for her and Adrien, it just had to be warmed up and assembled. "I don't know how much you've heard about the new girl in our class..."

Aurore frowned. "Lila? The one with the questionable stories?"

Adrien laughed. "Okay, so we aren't the only ones with working brains in the school, that's good to know. Yeah, her."

It didn't take long to get Aurore caught up, and predictably, she was furious at the idea of Lila trying to hijack their fundraiser funds.

"This is going to go one of two ways, I know it," she told them, pulling out her laptop and getting it set up next to her on the table. "Either this girl is going to make up a charity- name, mission, and all- or she's going to find a charity that already exists, and then she'll claim credit for it. The first one is easy enough to disprove, because no one will be able to find anything about the charity. We could just put a reminder in the email about checking charities out before donating to them, and then enter that link we've been using. But the second one...well, she could use their rating and reputation to collect money, and then- if I'm reading her character right- keep it all for herself."

They all thought about that.

"Well, if Alya posts anything on the Ladyblog, in theory any donations would have to be electronically, though a website," Marinette pointed out after a minute. "As for in-person donations, I would say that people should use checks instead of cash, but I don't know how many people use checks anymore, and besides, that's not going to stop her from cashing them if she wants."

Adrien made a choked, horrified noise in the back of his throat. "It- it won't? How do you even know that?"

"But it might deter her, since that's a traceable crime," Aurore pointed out, her eyes gleaming. She snapped her fingers. "And as for the Ladyblog- if she's capable of creating a website that looks decent, she might give Alya a link for that. So that's still a problem-"

"-unless we notice that and bring it to the attention of the police!" Adrien exclaimed, sitting up straight. He winced. "I'd hate to get Alya in trouble, but otherwise people will be thinking that they're doing something good and helping people in need when actually, they're just giving Lila spending money. And if she told them that Lila gave her the link, then she'd get off pretty fast."

Marinette nodded. Alya would probably be a thundercloud that they had gone to the police first instead of her, but she couldn't say that they hadn't warned her. She just never listened when it came to Lila.

"So we can put in a line reminding people to check charities before they donate and to make sure that any links they follow for charities go to the actual website," Aurore finished. Her fingers tapped away at her keyboard. "My older brother is a computer whiz, so I can text him and ask about things people should look for to make sure that a site is the real deal. Then I can get that typed up and sent during study hall, so it'll go out today."

Marinette could only grin. Maybe Aurore could be hotheaded at times, but there was no denying that she could really pull through. "That would be great."

  Unsurprisingly, Lila sold a sob story to Alya about her charity's website being down at the moment, so she couldn't provide a link right away.

"We're working on it, of course, because this is the best time of the year to get donations and we're going to fall so far behind with every day we miss, but the entire system is down and our tech guy is having trouble," Lila told Alya, looking positively wilted. "It's so upsetting! The longer it's down, the fewer people find out about our work, and the less budget we have to work with next year."

"That's terrible!" Alya exclaimed, frowning, and Marinette exchanged an exasperated look with Adrien. "I just wish there was a way to help..."

"Maybe you could post about our school charity instead, for the time being," Marinette suggested dryly. "Since Lila's charity is on the table for next year anyway."

"But we need budget for this year!" Lila repeated, and- yep, she was gritting her teeth. The glare that she flashed Marinette left no question that she had been trying to set up some sort of fake website and the email the night before had thrown her off. Either she was trying to make a more convincing website or- more likely- she was just hoping to wait until the reminder to be careful had faded from people's minds. Or she had had to abandon the online idea entirely in favor of throwing a pity party for herself in hopes of getting cash donations with the help of their classmates, if that hadn't already been the plan all along. "If we wait for a maybe next year, we could go into debt and collapse!"

Alya was looking worried now. "Marinette, are you sure that the student council can't switch charit-"

"It's all set up. We can't change anything, Alya, we established that yesterday." Marinette spared a glance at Lila, who was clearly working to keep a poker face. "Maybe Max can help you with your website issues, he's quite good at stuff like that. We wouldn't want you missing out on donations, after all."

"Oh, I couldn't," Lila simpered, glancing towards Max as well. "We, uh- well, my tech guy is back in Italy, so they wouldn't be able to work together, and he's quite protective of the system. Plus we were in the middle of upgrades when everything crashed, so that makes everything more complicated."

"We'll figure something out, Lila," Alya promised, patting the other girl's arm. Marinette took that as her cue to leave, but she wasn't going to go far. She needed to be able to overhear, after all. "We don't want those kids in Africa to suffer, after all! We can brainstorm before class."

Adrien caught Marinette's eye as she came back to her seat. "It sounds like she's just going to go another way, but isn't about to give up."

"No, she's got the idea of getting money into her head, and she's not about to give it up." Marinette kept her voice low, so that no one would overhear. "Which means that we need to come at the problem at a different angle. Any suggestions?"

Adrien looked unexpectedly delighted at being consulted, but then he paused, clearly not coming up with any ideas. "Uh."

"My first instinct would be to try to warn Alya and Rose and whoever else is going to get sucked in, but we all know how well that would go over," Marinette said, just to fill in the space. "They would clamp down and refuse to listen."

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. But I like what you did yesterday, where you made it sound like you would have gone along if you could and suggested trying next year. Then everyone thought that you weren't fighting against her-"

"-and was actually willing to listen!" Marinette finished, smiling. It was an approach that Tikki had suggested, and she was glad that it had worked. Well, sort of. It had worked in the moment, but just- apparently- pushed the problem off for later. "Yeah, that was nice."

"Maybe we could do something similar now," Adrien suggested. "And offer to be helpful by providing that link still. Like, it doesn't need the website, right? Just the charity name."

Marinette grinned. "Right. And there's no way that she can get around not telling anyone her charity's name. And if she does...well, either it's made up, or she's going to pick a real charity and we can find the real website."

"And congratulate Lila on her site getting back up so quickly," Adrien added with a small laugh. "It's a pain to deal with her, but I'm actually curious about what she's planning on doing going forward. Like, how long can she play this game? She's going to run out of escapes soon enough."

"Yeah, I don't know..." Marinette trailed off as Alya slid into her seat, and she and Adrien exchanged one last look before he turned back to the front, greeting Nino as his best friend entered the classroom.

"Man, I can't believe what bad luck Lila has, to have her charity's website crash at a time like this," Alya said glumly, sliding into her seat. "Lila is stressed about it, of course, but she has so many other obligations for her other charity work that she can't go out and do a collection, not that it would be easy with her throat still recovering from her laryngitis surgery. She can't be out in the cold for more than ten minutes without it causing a ton of pain, which can't be fun at all."

...Naturally.

"I want to help, but if we don't have a working link to put on the Ladyblog, I just don't know..." Alya trailed off. "I mean, we could do a door-to-door, I guess, but that only ever gets fairly minimal donations. And there's so many people who set up near the Eiffel Tower, we wouldn't have a chance. But- oh!" Alya perked up as another thought hit her. "We could put posters up at school, so more people know about it and maybe help us!"

Yeah, how about no.

"That's actually against school rules," Marinette said idly, flipping through her notebook as she waited for Ms. Bustier to call for a start to class. "All posters posted in the building have to be approved by Student Council normally, so that the walls don't get too cluttered, but there's an amendment to that that say that if the school is doing a charity fundraiser, posters promoting other charities can't go up during that time. I think it's to keep the effort from getting too splintered and distracted."

Alya slumped. "Oh."

That was not actually a lie, though clearly Adrien thought it was, if the slight frown on his face was anything to go by. Marinette had picked through the guidelines to make sure that she knew every rule that she could use to turn Lila's attempts aside, and apparently the Student Council had come up with and voted to implement that particular rule at some point in the past.

"Maybe you could do a surprise collection," Marinette suggested. "As a Christmas gift to Lila." She was improvising, admittedly, but this would be a good way to keep Alya and Rose and whoever else was getting sucked in from asking Lila too much and giving her chances to control the narrative. "If you ask her what the name of her charity is, and then you can use the website that we were using on Student Council to look at charities- it has all sorts of stats that you could use, information about charities and their work. That way, you don't need to bother Lila for all that when she's so busy."

"Oh, good idea!" Alya exclaimed. She grabbed Marinette's arm. "You know, none of the rest of us has ever organized any sort of charity fundraiser before- if we put you in charge of that-"

"I'm already busy, Alya," Marinette pointed out. She wasn't about to go make a fool of herself collecting money for a charity that didn't exist, not when she had a million other things to do. "The fundraiser for the school is already going to take up all of my time. I can send you the link that we used, but that's it."

"Oh, but-"

"She already said no, Alya," Adrien cut in, so Marinette didn't have to. "Marinette was telling me about that entire process yesterday, and it sounds like a lot of work and planning to pull something off at the level the school is planning. Asking her to plan another thing on top of that for you, instead of doing it yourself- that's not fair to her."

"I just thought that it might be a good way to repair the bad blood between the two of them!" Alya objected, frowning. "Since Marinette wasn't very welcoming when Lila first arrived."

Marinette narrowly withheld a snort. Gee, I wonder why?

"But if you're busy, I guess you can wait to try to mend that bridge later," Alya added. She sighed. "We probably won't be able to raise as much money, though, since we don't have your experience."

"Mmm," Marinette managed noncommittally, ignoring the clear attempt at a guilt-trip in favor of checking her email on her phone. Alya really had been spending too much time with Lila if she was starting to act just the same. Hopefully she would cut that out after Lila's lies had been exposed and everyone realized what a manipulator she was.

Marinette's phone lit up with a text, and she didn't hesitate to open it at once.

Adrien: Remember, if you commit homicide, you won't be around to gloat when people discover the lies.

Marinette snorted in amusement.

Marinette: I'm going to gloat for a solid MONTH after she gets found out. I wasn't very welcoming? Try SHE was a bully from the start and I wasn't about to tolerate that.

In front of her, Adrien's head gave a tiny nod as he put his phone away, just in time to start class. Marinette locked her phone and put it away, resigning herself to what was probably going to be a week of poorly-concealed efforts to get her into the extra fundraising before Alya either dropped it or realized that something was up with Lila's "charity".

At least now she had Adrien on her side.

  The school fundraiser was going well as they marched steadily closer towards the holidays, their online portal showing just how much money had already been raised by people going through the link that they had both sent out and posted on the school site. There was going to be a bake sale before the break too, with each family asked to donate two dozen cookies for them to sell at their booths near City Hall and (courtesy of Chloe) in the Grand Paris.

Marinette was really happy. People were being generous, and it really was a very deserving charity to receive the funds. On top of that, Adrien had asked for her help in baking his family's two dozen cookies, so they would get to hang out together.

(She was going to ignore the fact that Alya had tried to convince her to make another extra two dozen cookies because Lila "wasn't going to have time" because "all of her charity work"; that attempt had fallen flat when Marinette had just point-blank asked Alya why, exactly, Alya didn't just do that herself. At least with Adrien, he was just a novice baker and was going to be actively participating in the baking, but he just wanted help to be sure that his attempt turned out edible and it was a good excuse to hang out with one of his friends.)

And possibly best of all...well, Aurore's tech-savvy older brother had pulled through for them again.

"I was looking at the email that we had on file for Lila, and something about it just didn't seem right," Aurore told them as they sat together in a private study room in back of the library over lunch. "The domain on it, to be exact, because it was '.net' instead of, oh, I don't know, something actually related to the government. And my brother agreed, so we did a little searching."

Marinette was pretty sure that her jaw was on the ground. Next to her, Adrien wasn't doing much better. "You mean she was keeping her mom from finding out about everything school-related? I wondered how she got away with skipping so much school! And she was probably emailing as her mom, too, to confirm whatever stories she was telling."

Aurore grinned. "Exactly. So we did some digging, and found Mrs. Rossi's actual email. It's almost the same, just with a different domain. So I'm trying to think of what to send that wouldn't sound weird, because obviously we need confirmation that this is the right address so we can get Mr. Damocles to change it for the school system, but I don't want to come off as accusing or anything and have her tip Lila off accidentally."

Marinette exchanged a look with Adrien as she thought about it. "Well, we could just send the fundraiser email again with a comment about how we think that maybe her email was mis-entered before and is this one the correct one that we should be using. That's pretty straightforward and it asks for a response, and she might not even think to say anything about it to Lila."

"Ooh, I like that." Aurore typed that in at once, giving it a quick once-over to make sure that there weren't any errors and that the email had been entered correctly before sending it. "So, what else is going on in Ms. Bustier's homeroom? Anything new with the not-a-charity?"

"Alya's been confused about why our watchdog site doesn't list anything about Lila's 'charity'- she decided to go for the make-one-up route, apparently- and she's still been trying to find stuff on it just on Google, but apparently no connection has been made," Marinette told them, trying not to roll her eyes. "I know she and Rose were talking about trying to just go ahead with a collection of sorts anyway, so I forwarded an email talking about the importance of keeping track of how much money they raised, down to the last cent, in a ledger sort of thing." She couldn't hold back the grin. "Which Rose is really into. So even though they're trying to collect money for Lila still, at the end she won't be able to keep any of it because there'll be record of how much money they collected."

"Which, if we get in contact with Mrs. Rossi, we can make sure that that gets paid back in full!" Adrien exclaimed, scooping Marinette up in a hug for a long few seconds. Marinette prayed that she wouldn't turn red and make things weird. "Genius!"

"As long as Rose doesn't give that to Lila," Aurore pointed out. She raised an eyebrow at Marinette's head-shake. "No? You've already taken care of that?"

"She'll give Lila an electronic copy, but not the hard copy. I suggested that she might want to hold onto that to show what she did for future charity work. Which I still think is a good idea, even if Lila's charity is a sham. It doesn't change the fact that she was doing all of the bookkeeping."

Aurore made a face. "I am so glad that Samuel is doing our bookkeeping for the non-online donations, because that stuff is not fun. It's really fiddly, and if anything gets off..."

Marinette nodded. Things had gotten off fairly early on, and she had head Samuel- another member of Student Council- complaining about having to go through everything to figure out where his mistake was. Since then, he did regular, frequent checks so that he wouldn't have to go through absolutely everything again, just the most frequent donations. Admittedly, Rose was working with much smaller amounts of money- most people wanted more information on what they were donating to than just the name and "helping kids in Africa" if they were going to toss more than an euro or two into the collections basket- but it was still good practice.

Aurore's computer let out a ding, and she pulled up the student council email at once. "We already got a response! Mrs. Rossi says that yes, this one is correct, please keep using it and thank you for catching the error and were there any other recent emails that she might have missed. I'm going to forward this to Mr. Damocles with a message to note the change in email address, just a second- and done."

"Nice job," Marinette told her, leaning across the table to bump fists with Aurore. After a second's thought, she fist-bumped Adrien, too, so that he wouldn't feel left out. "That's one more thing off of our plates."

  Their fundraiser finished right before holiday break with a silent auction, with all of the items up for purchase having been donated by parents, teachers, extended family members, community business owners, and- in the case of an array of signed CD cases and posters- Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and several of their musician buddies, after Marinette had approached Jagged Stone with the request.

And of course, everyone was invited. Posters had been put up outside of the school and emails had been sent out, reminding everyone about the time and date and their charity, plus attaching a list of the items up for auction to get people's interest.

"My mom so wanted to make it, but work came up," Lila told several of their classmates when she arrived at the auction, looking sad. "And there were several things that she was really interested in, like the-"

"Ooh, barf, I can see what you mean," Aurore said, materializing at Marinette's side and wrinkling her nose at Lila. "That's a pretty obvious ploy to get people to buy things for her, isn't it? Or at least to pitch in some of their own money to help her, so that she won't have to pay them back."

Marinette nodded. It really was disgusting, but at least now Lila was moving off with the group towards one of the items so that they didn't have to hear her. She was steering clear of the signed Jagged Stone things, oddly enough, but maybe that would be a dead giveaway that she didn't actually know him. After all, Jagged Stone would sign anything put in front of him, so her going out of her way to buy a signed item when she was supposedly on great terms with him would be pretty strange.

"Do you think her mom actually can't make it, or Lila just assumed that she wouldn't know about the auction and didn't tell her?" Adrien asked. His arm was tucked through Marinette's, though she was pretty sure that it was just so that he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. "Is the fake email still on the list?"

Aurore nodded. "Yeah, up until this morning. I cleared it off so that there wouldn't be any confusion going forward."

"And I would place bets on Lila assuming that her mom doesn't know anything," Marinette added. "She wouldn't want to risk anyone asking her mom about her charity." She grinned and pointed as she noticed someone new stepping into the school. "And look, over there."

The other two looked. There, standing in the entryway and looking around, was Mrs. Rossi. She really didn't look much like Lila, but it was easy enough to recognize her from her official embassy photo.

(Her official embassy photo, where she wasn't listed as the actual ambassador, but just one of the embassy staff, but that- well, that was an interesting little tidbit that Marinette was going to sit on for a little bit longer.)

"Oh, she's spotted Lila," Aurore said gleefully, craning her neck to follow Mrs. Rossi as she wove through the crowds. "And- whoops, Lila sees her!"

Marinette hastily smothered a laugh. If Lila's expression was anything to go by, she definitely hadn't realized that her mom was getting emails from the school and was going to be coming. She had never seen the other girl look so pale before.

"I'd ask if I should go get some of that amazing-smelling popcorn that they're selling so that we can watch, but honestly, I kind of just want to let things take their course and find out later," Adrien said, glancing down at Marinette. "There's some pretty cool items up for auction that I want to check out."

Marinette considered that. On one hand, she wanted to watch Lila's downfall. On the other... well, she had been keeping an eye on the whole Lila fiasco for a while now, and she was kind of tired of it. It would probably be a bit awkward to watch, too, and there was no guarantee that it would happen right away, and they were too far away to hear anything besides.

...yeah, her decision was pretty well made.

"That sounds like fun," Marinette told him, before glancing over at Aurore. "What about you?"

"I might go point Mr. Damocles in her direction," Aurore commented, glancing around the crowd. "Or maybe that can wait until later, since I don't want to throw everything at Mrs. Rossi at once and disrupt the auction with an akumatization." She sent them a slightly sheepish grin. "But you know I like my gossip, so..."

Marinette had to laugh. That was so very Aurore. "All right. We'll bump into you later, then."

Aurore grinned in return, and then was off. Marinette watched her go for a moment, then let Adrien lead the way off into the crowds surrounding the tables. It was amazing to be able to sit back and relax after the past weeks of planning and making sure that everything, from the online link to the cookie sale to this, was going to go off without a hitch. They were well on track raise more money this year than they had any other year, and that was amazing.

And to think that she had had a hand in setting all of this up...well, Marinette just couldn't be prouder.

It was fun investigating all of the donations with Adrien, even though- as part of Student Council and also part of the team that had photographed and logged all of the donated items- she had seen them all before. Marinette couldn't help but peek at the bids despite herself, grinning when she saw some of the higher ones.

"This is amazing," Adrien commented once they had made the rounds and had gone to browse through the assorted refreshments available for purchase. "There were a lot of nice things donated. And people are definitely bidding plenty of money."

"Yeah, some people will spend more to win the prize than it's worth," Marinette told him. "Like with the voucher for stuff from our bakery- the top bid right now is for more than the value of the voucher. It's interesting, but I think that people see it as buying the item, and then making a donation on top. Or something, I don't know."

"That's really cool," Adrien commented, then pointed. "Oh, look, Nathalie and the Gorilla are here! They said that they might show up and do some shopping. I honestly thought that Nathalie was just saying that to be nice, because she's been sick and hasn't wanted to go out, but I guess she's been feeling better lately."

"Oh, that's good," Marinette said, before a memory made her frown. "Wait, I thought you commented on her being sick, like, three months ago. Is she still having problems?"

Adrien shrugged, but he was frowning, too. "I don't know. She had been having these weak, dizzy spells like Mom used to before she disappeared for a bit before I commented on it at school, I think. Maybe whatever treatment she was getting finally kicked in, I don't know."

Marinette frowned even deeper. Nathalie had been showing the same symptoms as Adrien's mom before she vanished? That was a really weird coincidence. And for both of them- presumably both, at least- to have those same symptoms for an extended period of time?

If Mrs. Agreste and Nathalie had been related, Marinette might have guessed that it was a genetic thing. But since they weren't- again, that was an assumption- then the chances of them both separately having the same condition...

"I cannot believe that I fell for such a manipulative, thieving, disgusting liar!"

Alya materialized at Marinette's side, clearly steaming. Rose, Mylène, and Juleka weren't far behind her. Rose looked like she was close to tears, and the other two just looked lost.

"Pardon?" Adrien asked politely, but Marinette could see the amusement glimmering in his eyes.

"Lila's been leading us all around by the nose, making up stories about her life and about her nonexistent charity- and I've missed a dozen akuma attacks because I was wandering around in the cold, trying to raise money for her! I offered to make a posting on the Ladyblog so that I could put up a link to her site to raise more money! She was probably just planning on pocketing it all!" Alya scowled deeper. "I can't believe we fell for it! And aren't you even surprised?" she demanded when neither Adrien nor Marinette reacted. "At all?"

"Are we meant to be?" Adrien asked dryly. "After Marinette's spent so long calling Lila a liar?"

Alya faltered for a moment, then scowled deeper. "You- you knew, but you didn't warn us?"

"Yes, because pointing out the obvious lies worked so well the first several dozen times I did it," Marinette said, adopting the same dry tone that Adrien had used. "And I gave you the watchdog charity link to use. I rather thought that its complete lack of anything about Lila's charity might tip you off."

Alya faltered. "Oh."

"But we still gave Lila money that was meant for charity," Rose said tearfully. Juleka pulled her to her side, trying to comfort her. "And it was a decent amount, too."

"You have your log, right?" Marinette reminded her. "If you tell Lila's mom how much Lila got for her 'charity', then I bet that she can get that money back to you and you can donate it to another charity."

Rose perked up at once, tears drying up magically. "Oh, that's right! We can still put that money to good use! I'm glad you suggested that we keep track of everything, Marinette."

"Yeah," Juleka agreed. "Lila sucks, but at least we can get the money back."

"We should go talk to Lila's mom before she leaves," Rose decided. She dug in her bag, pulling out the ledger notebook that she had been using for their charity collections. "Aha! Yes, I have the amount we gave Lila yesterday written here. C'mon, let's go make sure that Mrs. Rossi knows!"

"Well, all's well that ends well," Adrien said cheerfully as the other girls headed off. "I bet this isn't how Mrs. Rossi saw her evening going, and Lila definitely wasn't expecting any of this, but at least now the adults can figure everything out and Lila can actually see some consequences. And hopefully next semester, there'll be less drama now that she'll be restrained- or gone, if Mrs. Rossi or Mr. Damocles decides that Lila staying here wouldn't be a good idea."

"Hopefully," Marinette agreed. She grinned over at Adrien. "But that's enough worrying about Lila and her nonsense for tonight. I think we should just sit back and enjoy the evening, don't you?"

Adrien beamed back. "I couldn't agree more."

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SnK Episode 70 Poll Results (for Manga Readers)

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RATE THE EPISODE 167 responses

This episode received good ratings, though it wasn’t as hype as previous episodes have been. We presume this is likely due to the primary focus on Gabi and Falco over the Survey Corps/Warriors. Overall, though, the episode was solid for most respondents. 

Beautiful😍✨

MAPPAGOAT 

Its pretty good

Alright for what it was.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING GABI AND FALCO MOMENTS WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 167 responses

The majority of the most favored Gabi/Falco moments from the episode were in the second half, starting with Gabi’s unfortunate encounter with the horse with 29.9% of the vote. Behind that is Kaya and Gabi’s argument about why Kaya’s mom had to die with 27.5% of the vote. At 21.6%, Kaya remembering Sasha was favored and at 13.2% was Kaya taking Gabi and Falco to her old home. 

Gabi's character is so real. LOVED her and Kaya's argument; the va's went all out & it made me cry

Why do ask us what our favorite Gabi/Falco moment was without the option "I don't have one?" Falco's cool and all but Gabi's story has literally been nothing but a drag to me from start to finish

Would have chosen the horse thing for my favorite moment but went with Kaya remembering Sasha instead. At this point so close to the end of the manga I'd rather focus more on moments with characters I enjoy than obsessing with a character I utterly despise having some misfortune (to put it mildly)

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING MOMENTS FOCUSING ON OTHER CHARACTERS WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 168 responses

This pie chart was a bit more colorful than the previous one, with the largest piece going to Mikasa’s headache with her flashback to the night Eren saved her (26.2%). Behind that moment, 16.7% most enjoyed Hange confronting Floch and Co. about their involvement in leaking information about Eren, 16.1% favored seeing Hange remembering Sannes’ warning. 14.9% liked seeing Mikasa and Louise’s brief conversation in the dungeon and 13.1% liked the moment with Magath and the Warriors discussing their retaliation. 

GIVE HANGE A BREAK </3

WHICH FLASHBACK HAD THE MOST EMOTIONAL IMPACT FOR YOU? 169 responses

Nearly half of respondents were most touched by the moment at the end of the episode where Kaya talks about Sasha saving her and says she wishes to become a person like her. 29.6% got most emotional over seeing the flashback to the night Eren saved Mikasa, and 18.3% were most impacted by Hange remembering Sannes’ warning.

RATE JEAN’S OUTFIT 169 responses

Jean doesn’t do anything in this episode really, but he sure did come dressed in, erm, a unique outfit. Overall most people were neutral or felt that he needs to up his fashion game. Although 34.3% altogether ranked on the higher end, feeling he’s a total fashion icon. We’re questioning the legitimacy of these claims or whether they were just being sarcastic for the fun of it. lol

WHO WERE YOU MORE EXCITED ABOUT TO SEE SHIRTLESS? 159 responses

Eren thirst won out on this question, with 70.4% being most excited to see his half naked body in the previous episode. Though Reiner stans came through for him in their support of his shirtless moment this week with nearly 30% of the vote (and commentary).

Poundtown

More half naked Reiner thx

My only disappointment is that the shirtless reiner scene wasn't longer.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE AN EXCUSE TO TALK TO YELENA? 169 responses

When asked if respondents would like an excuse to have a conversation with our chaotic bae Yelena, 40.2% said they would absolutely love a reason to talk to her. 29% aren���t sure if they would want to or not, while 16.6% were a solid “no.” 14.2% didn’t care about this question. 

Yelena is hot

AS ALWAYS, WE’RE GONNA ABOUT CUTS. MAPPA LEFT OUT FALCO’S THOUGHTS ABOUT IT NOT BEING THE RIGHT TIME TO TELL GABI HE DELIVERED EREN’S LETTERS. THOUGHTS? 165 responses

There was a brief moment in the manga after Gabi’s misfortune with the horse where Falco thinks to himself about how he’s not yet ready to tell Gabi about his involvement in Eren’s attack on Liberio. 35.8% had completely forgotten this was a thing at all, while 24.2% felt it would have been a nice thing to keep, although ultimately unneeded. 20.6% feel it wasn’t a big deal since he tells her later anyway, and 9.7% feel that this thought of his will come up at a later time. 

I honestly forgot about it but it would have been really cool to see his thoughts in a better way, if that makes sense.

MAPPA ALSO CUT THE BEGINNING OF PIXIS AND YELENA’S CONVERSATION WHERE HE ASKS HER ABOUT HER CELL, TO WHICH SHE RESPONDS IT WOULD HAVE A BETTER VIEW WITHOUT THE BARS. THOUGHTS? 165 responses

Though a small detail, a few lines were cut from Pixis and Yelena’s conversation as well. 42.4% feel that it was unneeded and feel ok with the cut. 23% thought it wasn’t necessary to begin with, and 20.6% had completely forgotten about this as well. A handful didn’t care or feel saddened by less Yelena content. 

Maybe the actress wouldn’t come in to say one line l idk

I knew something was missing

HOW DOES IT FEEL GETTING TO RELIVE GABI’S EARLY CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AGAIN? 167 responses

We get to reexperience Gabi’s evolution from a perpetuator of Marleyan propaganda to someone who learns to “understand Reiner’s feelings” and see that those she was taught to hate are just like her. 25.1% of respondents feel unbothered by her initial resistance to see things any other way as they know where her arc is headed. 22.2% were never annoyed by this facet of her character to begin with and are totally enjoying the ride. 15% love her but can’t help but feel frustrated by these early moments of her development. 13.8% have always felt annoyed by her character and so their feelings remain unchanged, and 10.8% simply stated that they had forgotten just how annoyed they felt by her at all in the early portion of this arc. 

It's annoying AF but looking back/knowing what I know now makes me more empathetic to her storyline. She still annoying AF rn, though.

Back then I was just antsy to get back to the other plot lines. But I’m enjoying this a LOT more this time around.

It's a mix of painful and Gabi I love you but you need sense knocked into you, ya know?

Always hated her, always will, nothing the anime does changes my hatred of her

To quote Eren, "I always hated you".

I feel bad for her, she doesn't deserve this

She’s so annoying but I found Eren just as annoying in the beginning and I grew into loving the character. The get the reasons for her character but boy yams really made her so fucking annoying

Gabi Braun Must Die

HOW DO YOU THINK GABI’S BELIEFS WOULD HAVE DEVELOPED HAD SHE BEEN THE ONE TO MEET EREN INSTEAD OF FALCO? 168 responses

The majority has spoken. 54.8% feel that if Gabi had been the one to encounter Eren at the hospital, her views would have mostly remained the same, as opposed to Falco who was probably a better person to put into that role narratively speaking. 24.4% don’t want to say for sure as there is no way we will ever know, and 14.3% feel that she would have had her views altered to a slight degree, but would still not have been as empathetic to Eren as Falco was.

DID KAYA TALKING ABOUT WANTING TO BE LIKE SASHA HAVE MORE EMOTIONAL IMPACT ON YOU WHEN INITIALLY READING IT IN THE MANGA, OR IN THE ANIME? 168 responses

Overall, the anime had a profound effect on the emotions of the audience. 36.9% state that they were equally impacted in both mediums, though if a side was chosen, 32.7% felt that the anime made the scene more impactful, versus only 19% who thought that Isayama nailed it better in the manga. Only 11.3% were unaffected by this scene in either medium.

PORCO AND PIECK GOT ADDED DIALOGUE IN THE ENDING SCENE, ARGUING THAT THEY MUST RETRIEVE GABI AND FALCO DUE TO THEM BEING VALUABLE WARRIOR CANDIDATES, AND THAT IT WOULD TAKE YEARS TO RETRAIN A NEW BATCH. WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THIS INCLUSION? 167 responses

MAPPA included dialogue of Porco and Pieck vouching for saving Gabi and Falco ASAP, arguing that they should get them for the sake of the warrior program and that losing their talent would be a blow, and it would take ages to train up new warrior candidates. This is most likely just their excuse to appeal to Magath while wanting to save Gabi and Falco because they care about them. 41.9% felt that their commentary added more depth to the situation and the urgency to retaliate against Paradis and get Gabi and Falco back. 28.1% were simply content to get more content of them. 18% weren’t super excited about it, just stating that it was alright, while 9.6% just felt “meh” about the addition. 

I like how they all piled on about the need to take immediate action

I want to say I enjoyed it and it added depth but thinking about it longer makes it sound like they only care about rescuing them only because their valuable warrior candidates. Like, it makes it seem like they don't actually care that much about them, even if I know that's not the case. LOL 

Any extra scene with Pieck is much appreciated!!

made me sad that they only see them as soldiers and not kids that need saving.

WHICH MOMENT FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 165 responses

The vast majority (65.5%) of manga readers are most excited to see Zackley blowing up in the anime (bye bye, poop machine!). At a distant second was seeing Eren his cell at 22.4%. Only 7.3% are looking forward to seeing Mikasa and Armin pleading with Zackley to see Eren, and Yelena and Pixis got minimal love. 

My memory is not working well, did Wit showed Zackleys poop machine or was it supposed to be shown in the next episode?

WE GOT CONFIRMATION THAT EPISODE 16 OF THIS SEASON IS GOING TO END ON CHAPTER 116. THOUGHTS? 159 responses

The plurality of respondents (42.8%) seemed a bit disappointed, but had no problem accepting this cliffhanger. 27% seemed rather displeased, but nonetheless were also understanding of MAPPA’s decision. In contrast, 10.7% looked back to the Promotional Video (which had content from up 122) and expressed their PAIN. 8.2% actually wanted the season to end on this cliffhanger, so they were rather pleased instead. We also received a lot of write-ins.  

There absolutely needs to be season part 2, i don't accept any early endings

I am... not sure yet.

As long as it means less cut content lmao

Don't really care much where it's gonna end. I just hope the pacing is good.

i read it ages ago idek which chapter 116 is

I want people to stop complaining about the trailer “lying to them”.  Also my anime only gf is going to be very frustrated with where episode 16 ends.

I thought it would end with 122 according to the preview and it would have been, IMO one of the best cliff hanger ever since all the logic of the plot turns around with revelation about Eren path shenangians. However, I think it's really fine since it allowed MAPPA to take its time to show us the story without making to much choices or compromise. It also means longer s4 part2 if there's one.

I dare you to stop at chapter 114 and fluster up all Levi fans

I am going to die waiting for Paths. 

I need to recheck chapter 116 I forgot about almost everything happened after ema encounter in 112 :D

I don't care as long as they all cover it eventually.

Chapter 119 would have been a better end, but well, I'm gradually learning to lower my expectations for this season

I just roll with whatever they give me xD only fearing Hange's farewell </3

:((((

both 122 and 116 are okay for me tbh

It's all fine to me

Someone explain this whole "ending on chapter 116" thing please

It should've been 117 :/

I was hoping for 119, but I get why they picked 116

WHAT ARE YOU MOST HOPING FOR AS A CONTINUATION? 169 responses

In a nearly unanimous vote, the large majority of respondents feel that the series is best wrapped up with a “part 2” of the final season over the potential for MAPPA to conclude things as a movie (or as movies). Hopefully we’ll have an answer from MAPPA on this front at the end of this run. :)

Another season or movie series works as long as they keep to the source material

I’m happy with either. 

I really really reeeeeeally hope it's not movies. I do not want movies! It would take literal years for fans outside of Japan to get a proper conclusion to the series. Last time people waited years for a season so many people stopped caring, moved on and the popularity took a huge hit it never recovered from. I'm worried that due to Demon Slayer's success they're gonna get greedy but SNK movies wouldn't even make a fraction of what Demon Slayer made. That series is a behemoth over there, it's insane. And I love SNK but Evangelion it is not, and people aren't going to wait and will lose interest. Just please, NO MOVIES!

Final Season Part 2 BUT with lots of time to adapt it

part two but don't call it part two XD.... let's stay in a hiatus for an anime season or 2. or more i don't care , i hope they have enough time to make the amazing job they are doing right now :) 

Series Spin-Off after Final Season Part 2 !!

A movie would be super sick but unrealistic

Whatever MAPPA decides is best

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

The scenery is a 10/10

gabi braun and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad island vacation. 

Gabi sucks

All hail the Eldian Empire

I thought it was overall really good and funny because of the scenes where falco and gabi were just arguing,, it didn’t have much blood and all but I still really liked it!

I never noticed this in the manga, but seeing gabi constantly almost give them away and falco anxiously making up excuses felt like watching reiner and bert again 😂 

Gabbbiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!! Kaya MVP btw.

Bless MAPPA for delivering on the shirtless scenes after we got robbed in Season 3. lol :p But seriously, this episode's scenery was gorgeous.

It was like the calm before the storm that's about to come with the next episode. Episode 71 will be when everything starts to violently turn

people should understand Gabi's character even more

I think Falco was very cute the whole time

Gabi beating that guard was way more brutal in the anime, but the scene of her slapping Lisa's hand away was badly done here.

It was a bit boring, but it was needed for character development

One thing I noticed about this episode is how heavily it featured female characters being influenced by other female characters/female characters in general (Louise and Mikasa; Kaya and Sasha; Kaya and Gabi; arguably Hange depending on how you identify them) which was a nice reminder that of the fact that AOT isn't one of those shows that falls heavily in the 'one token girl' dynamic. Isayama worked to include a wide variety of female characters with very differing outlooks, which clash occasionally, without it ever being about romance. 

Like most of this season (except episodes 1 and 7 maybe), I appreciate Mappa's work but that's all. I'm sad, disappointed, and I guess it's a good thing this season will end on chapter 116. Let's hope they will have enough time to adapt Part 2 and make it legendary, because this first part is good at best. Also, I totally forgot how annoying Gabi was back then. I really like her now, but geez, she was awful this episode.

Felt good to see Gabi get horsebite all over again. Can't wait to see how MAPPA extends Nicolo punching her lol

cool episode, i’m looking forward to seeing more of gabi’s development in the future episodes :))

The horror of mikasa's newly resignified memory... PERFECT. i was fearing they would use wit's romanticized scene... which worked just fine in the first season BUT NOT NOW! because the whole connotation of the memory is different. ALSO! the scenery was insane! 

Horse for President!

Damn, MAPPA's killing it on the scenery this episode. I really enjoyed the animation as well as the plot and voice acting.

In spite of the animation quality I had to give it an obligatory 1 because it was a Gabi episode, and anything involving Gabi automatically decreases the overall quality of the story

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 156 responses

Thank you again to everyone who participated!

[amphtaminedreams]

Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot

Hi to anyone reading,

Where TF has the time gone!?

After experiencing the longest January of all time (when your birthday is right after New Year, you get that between Boxing Day before NYE slump like a couple of weeks after everyone else), February has gone by in, like, 5 minutes and already we’re well into the throes of the F/W 2021 collection presentations. Meanwhile, I’m here like! Surprise! Here are my reviews of the S/S 2021 collections if anybody still cares! I mean I’m mashing it up with corresponding haute couture week reviews to fool everyone into thinking that doing it so many months later was intentional and it was totally working right up until this sentence, right?

In all fairness, I originally thought that I wasn’t going to bother reviewing S/S21 because it seemed kinda redundant given the circumstances and I wasn’t keen on the idea of collections being showcased via photo sets which is the route so many brands chose to (understandably) go down. Buuuut, the more I saw of what designers had put out there, the more I was tempted to put this post together and now here I am. The fact that designers are even able to churn pieces out during a pandemic when I’m out here like 0__0 no thoughts, head empty...it’s impressive to say the least, especially the way so many used the circumstances to inform their designs. In a way, it would be a disservice not to do a post on the season, and yeah it’s late, but given that it we are actually about to enter spring and the shows are kind of the deciders of what’s going to be “in” and “out”, they’re more relevant than ever. With plans for our way out of lockdown materialising-now is the perfect time to add that I don’t want ANYONE suddenly developing selective amnesia over how our government has failed us now that Boris has announced when the clubs COULD reopen-let this post serve as a roundup of every bit of inspiration available for our spring fits. I also want to use this opportunity to disclose how irritated I am at myself for starting the previous fashion week reviews post by declaring I was going to work through the designers in chronological order when I meant fucking alphabetical because I now can’t go back and change that. So this time, let me start properly. I’m going to be reviewing the collections in ALPHABETICAL order. Now that’s out the way, let’s do it. First, Acne:

It’s so great to start on a high, it really is, and fortunately Acne is reliably good. It’s still got that deconstructed, minimalist feel that the brand is known for but for the summer season; we can see creative director Jonny Johansson and his team moving away from the heavier pieces we saw last time round, away from upcycled bohemian curtains and towards a breezier, more season appropriate aesthetic, boujee kaftans and swimwear rebelliously hacked up and artfully rearranged, and it feels correct. The net pieces, the beachy colour palette, the oil spill-esque print (though this represents an intruder of the marine ecosystem, as a print I loveee it and 100% want more!) and the accessories, reminiscent of shells, coral and anything else you might find on the seabed, give me a hipster mermaid washed ashore vibe which completely fits with that rugged, mysterious sense of Nordic folklore references and adventure the brand has established as its foundation. If it’s a nod to some kind of new age cult that Johansson was going for, which apparently is the case, I’m guessing said cult worship sea goddesses and perform pagan rituals on the beach by moonlight, and though indoctrination doesn’t sound at all inviting, it's a party compared to scientology.

The chiffon trousers here are actually chic and seeing them styled under a blazer makes me realise done right they CAN be more than just a PrettyLittleThing summer sale piece, so I’ll store that away for outfit inspo when the time to get rid of some layers comes around. The glasses, too, are very Gucci. Flip flops with socks I don’t think I can ever come round to but-

Whilst it was a favourite of mine last season and it sticks to that same bohemian vibe with a lot of the elements I love, Ferretti lacks a little oomph this time round; it’s more stripped back, neutral, easy-going, and it is lovely, but for those same reasons it doesn’t grab my attention as much as the past couple of collections have. If you’re an influencer wanting to shoot a Joshua Tree desert lookbook this is sublime, but compared to the flair I saw in their last winter show, for example, there’s something lacking.

I’m very glad to see neutral coloured boiler suits on the runway, however; I snagged myself one off Depop the other week so I might be unintentionally ahead of the curve for once! The crochet detail dresses are nice too but very much remind me of past Zimmerman collections, or an Ermanno Scervino grab for the most high street friendly parts of Erdem SS2020, something along those lines. What I’m trying to say is that it’s definitely been there done that, even by Ferretti themselves and not in a continuity kinda way, in a kinda…this is basic and pretty so we know it will sell kinda way.

Eurgh, I wanna be one of these Alessandra Rich girls so bad.

I end up repeating myself every single time because I always love her collections but really, this is what a high fashion novice thinks Chanel is. Alessandra Rich outsold. As much as her dresses have looked amazing on people like Kate Middleton and January Jones, I’m just waiting for one of the modern it-girls to take the nostalgia-tinged femininity of her pieces and put some kind of daring, street-style twist on it; if that doesn’t happen I’ll gladly take 5 minutes of fame so I can do it before fading back into obscurity. Let me fulfil my modern first lady fantasy, reenact the croquet scene from Heathers, drape myself on a chaise lounge whilst smoking with a cigarette holder, and then throw me back into the trash where I belong. I can die happy. Also, can we once again appreciate how much more iconic the Alessandra Rich two piece made the already moment Dakota Johnson singlehandedly brought down the Ellen dynasty?

Dakota knew exactly what she was gonna do and the energy that she was gonna channel when she wore that piece and I admire it. Alessandra Rich, if nothing else, will go down as a key moment in pop culture history, and you know what? It’s what she deserves.

Whilst I do wish she’d branch out a little and try and get back in touch with the dark drama of old McQueen collections now and again, Sarah Burton has made a very recognisable Alexander McQueen silhouette and it’s beautiful; this season is gorgeous as always. A leather biker and tulle affair that’s perfect for a grunge ballet, it’s easy to avoid lamenting the excitement and theatrics of old collections when Sarah creates such consistently sophisticated pieces. Stunning.

Now, a quick haute couture detour with Alexandre Vauthier:

Compared to other haute couture collections, this is pretty toned down and by appearances alone (I know haute couture is more about meeting technical requirements more than anything else but there is a level of grandiose you expect to see) is more like a RTW collection than its counterparts. That being the case, I don’t have a huge amount to say about this one, though I do really like it-the ruched metallic boots especially. The Studio 54 vibes and the glam rock influences are clear and a lot of these pieces could definitely make it into Lady Gaga’s AHS Hotel wardrobe which is a compliment of the highest order, so there ya go. Plus, if a collection IS gonna be presented through stills, a format like this is preferable to some of the others I’m gonna talk about. There may be more exciting ways of doing it but simple allows us to see the clothes properly and at the end of the day, that’s what I care about the most!

Heading back to good ole’ RTW, we have Altuzarra; I wasn’t hugely keen on their last collection but this is definitely a step up for me and justifies keeping them on my radar. Though in some ways this seems like less of a summer collection and more of a late winter/early spring transitional one on the basis it can’t seem to decide which temperature its catering to, there’s a lot to like: a colour palette that reminds me of a Dion Lee collection, harnesses evocative of those sprinkled throughout the last few Alexander McQueen shows, and more of the utility wear trend that I’m still very much into nicely contrasted against lighter, airier pieces for an overall fresh, modern vibe. The interpretive dancewear style pieces are interesting and the woven platform sandals are the shoe of the summer but the white shirt with the cape incorporated is definitely the high point of this show and I absolutely adore it.

Anna Sui was actually pretty cute this time round. Her pieces have always been kooky, but in the past a little too lairy and occasionally cheap-looking for me. This collection, however, is kooky in more of a Melanie Martinez styled baby doll kinda way, as opposed to in an eccentric Bjork loving aunt whose idea of heaven is an all-must-go Primark sale kinda way (I know some people are going to vehemently disagree with my aesthetic preference there) and I love that. There seems to be a lot more creative direction going on, a much clearer vision of what Sui wanted to achieve, and yes a few of the looks went a bit too hard on the cookie cutter vibes but on the whole, they were more edited than usual; it seems Sui actually paid attention to the “take one thing off before you leave the house” rule this time. The staging is the perfect compliment to the doily style bucket hats and the sandals paired with frilly socks, and really adds to the whimsy of the collection, and as a whole, it really reminds me a lot of the way my mum would dress me as a toddler but styled up for a grown adult. Cute AF.

Armani RTW I was pleasantly surprised by, considering I don’t usually rate it. It’s a cool, androgynous take on retro shapes and styles that’s simultaneously fit for the hustle and bustle of the modern world. Strong 2021 Peggy Olsen vibes, and a bit muted Lacoste-I can 100% imagine Elisabeth Moss as Peggy swanning around in one of those huge minimalist houses with the floor to ceiling windows after a long day at work, though we’ll switch the cigarette for a vape because...you know...welcome to the future. And sure, maybe the vision is slightly influenced by THAT scene from Us, but whatever. As for the men’s wear, if I have to look through an endless gallery of straight white men in plain ass suits every time I do some kind of red carpet fashion review, I at least hope they’re wearing Armani. I need me some impeccable tailoring to soften the blow.

I do wonder, however, how the clothes would look on plus size models. I feel like it’s a collection that’s very catered to a person who is straight up and down, and it feels like a bit of an easy cop out not to have any kind of versatility. Say what you want about Christian Siriano but he caters to all body types very well.

I actually quite liked Armani’s haute couture collection too; the pops of colour and the intricate embroidery give me what I’ll later talk about missing from Valentino haute couture. There were still some of the frumpier pieces that I usually associate Armani with but also a lot of Great Gatsby-esque looks that I really enjoyed.

Returning to RTW, Ashish was amazing. I LOVE that there’s always some kind of unique print (this time round, kitschy illustrations) and whilst a whole maxi swan print dress may not be the most wearable for the majority of us, Ashish Gupta does bold and innovative really well. There were a few boring striped pieces in there but I adore the one shouldered butterfly print dress and I NEED that Hail Satan jumper; it reminds me a lot of something by sustainable fashion brand Minga, which is one of my absolute fave websites to buy from when I’m treating myself to some new clothes.

Azarro’s haute couture collection is full of supreme awards show afterparty fits, and I was shook to find out that Olivier Theyskens is the brand’s creative director! My newfound obsession with his pieces really had me like :O when I realised he was behind Azarro too. I loved their collection last time round, though this I’m finding a bit harder to give much analysis on because of the way it’s shot; whilst it could be a YSL perfume Vogue ad, which is obviously far from a bad thing, it comes at the cost of lacking visual clarity. That being said, from what I can see, Theyskens once again masterfully channels the wardrobe of the effortlessly cool, messy haired, smudged eye make up rock ‘n roll girl, and I think that’s someone we all want to be.

Balenciaga RTW was an interesting one for me-on first inspection, I was kinda disappointed. Without the usual drama of the bold, exaggerated silhouettes and the theatrical production of their shows, I felt it was missing a bit of the magic I’ve come to expect from them. The streetwear elements infused throughout, a departure from their typical pieces, was very hit and miss; the shearling slip-ons in particular were not my thing at all. I’d be admiring some beautiful gothic dress and then my eyes would slide down and see those monstrosities and it would bring the whole thing down a notch or two, despite bad shoes being something I can typically overlook if I otherwise enjoy the rest of the outfit. My initial conclusion: that the Balenciaga Myrtle Snow would choose as her last words this collection.

However, upon re-evaluation when typing this post up properly and knowing what to expect, I like the collection a lot. I’m getting a bit of a Seoul streetwear vibe from it, and I can appreciate that although it is a lot more trend focussed, it’s got an edgy, daring quality to it, with a lot of androgynous, utility wear elements on show. I loveee the Balenciaga chokers too and in my wildest dreams would get my hands on one before it goes the way of the Gucci belt and gets overdone and flaunted by social media influencers as a show of wealth to the point of tackiness.

At Balmain the sculpted body armour made a comeback but on this occasion, not in a way that I liked, and there war far too many neons for my taste too. No matter how many times it rears its ugly head, I find it hard to get on board because as a colour palette I can’t help but associate with Claire’s Accessories circa 2007-it has to be SO well done to avoid looking cheap, imo, and these Balmain pieces weren’t good enough for me to go against that gut aversion. A collection with 100+ looks isn’t usually a good sign and expecting Olivier Rousteing to achieve the impossible and manage to do both quality and quantity is a recipe for disaster; it’s a shame because his last collection was so original and yet this one feels like a cheaper looking rip off of other brands. It was just a bawdy display of 80s overkill IMO and if I can only find 8 outfits to include out of 100 that’s clearly not a good sign.

Bottega Veneta is a brand that the high fashion side of the internet loves that I can never 100% get on board with; I get it, they’re behind the gorgeous square toed heels, but other than that none of their collections have ever really wowed me. The chunky knitted pieces are very Miu Miu style futuristic grandma chic and as someone on the cusp of being either a millennial or gen Z (depending on which website you visit) it’s got me outfit planning for my retirement years. Utilising so much wool for a summer collection, however, seems like a choice because can you IMAGINE wearing a heavy knit in blazing sun; I almost didn’t include the collection to be honest but then every so often something really cute came long, and one of the signature crisp, classic BV pieces would be done well and so I felt I had to. Am I missing something given all the hype here? IDK tbh.

Burberry? Meh. You could also call this collection how many ways can I do a trench coat, with results of differing quality; occasionally the mix match of styles worked and I saw the deconstructed outerwear concept that Ricardo Tisci was presumably trying to go for, though it can’t come as much of a surprise that the combination of a trench, denim and leather jacket was mostly just messy and came off as a last ditch attempt to make the classic coat more interesting by just chucking other fabrics at it and seeing what stuck.

One thing I will say is that there were some really sick prints going on-the snakes in particular-and it was those prints that were really the saving grace of the collection; as I said with regards to Ashish, I like it when you can tell a brand has gone out of their way to experiment with patterns and actually incorporate illustration and graphic design into their pieces. Prints notwithstanding, though, it wasn’t a memorable collection and I really can’t wait for the day we put this whole multiple denim jean waistband trend to bed once and for all; in the wise words of Regina George “stop drying to make multiple waist bands happen. They’re not going to happen.”.

Carolina Herrera was just as I expected. Whilst Wes Gordon was a little more daring with the structure of the pieces than usual, you can still he’s still committed to designing for the wealthy, modestly dressed socialite (yes I’m talking about Tinsley Mortimer and yes, I have recently become obsessed with Real Housewives) and her insatiable need to collect more charity gala gowns than she’ll ever possibly have opportunities to wear in her time on this earth. Sounds like a great life, sure, but it’s not like it gets my heart racing when I see the looks on the runway. The most memorable piece for sure was double breasted blazer w the asymmetric ruffle; I haven’t seen anything like it in a RTW collection in recent memory.

Now onto the fucking train wreck that was Celine RTW.

It’s not even bad for a runway fashion show, it’s just like…straight-up bad. Like Hedi Slimane went back in time to 2013, took a bunch of models into my local Topshop (and I have to clarify my local Topshop rather than the flagship Oxford Circus store-RIP-because to do the same in the latter would produce far better results), picked up some cheap basics, switched the lights off, and then, finally, dressed them in the dark. There’s very few positive comments I can make so I’m just going to move on.

Chanel RTW I actually didn’t hate as much this season; maybe it’s because coming from Celine, my standards are like, on the floor, but it’s slightly better than usual. Whilst most of it was same old same old, the opening 10 or so looks and then from 40 onwards were alright. The colour contrast pieces were classic Chanel in a good way, that is to say somewhat modernised and appealing to a younger clientele as opposed to the elderly women who still see a boucle jacket as the height of fashion. The mini chiffon capes were also cute, and if it weren’t for COVID putting pause on everything I can see the Chanel headband being duped ad infinitum.

The worst part of the collection was without a doubt the pieces with the neon logo print, which I wish I could erase from my mind. At this point, with Virginie Viard seemingly refusing to make any attempt to reinvent the brand, Chanel is best when it’s subtle; that way it appeals to those regular customers who rely on the prestige of the garment and the new generation of consumers who are further branching out into experimenting with their personal style and want a quality base. But who I ask are these tacky ass pieces aimed at? Because though it appears to be an attempt to infuse a kind of youthful spirit into Chanel, it is very out of touch with what gen Z actually like, and I can’t imagine any rich old white ladies buying them either. Big shoulder shrug.

Whilst I tend to find Chanel’s haute couture collections a bit better than their RTW, this is probably on par. Still rather meh and frumpy at times, but there were some pretty, whimsical pieces in there that were definitely elevated by the staging which, I must say, was very dreamy. I’ve enjoyed the last couple of haute couture shows a lot more (the one with the library set was v cool), which were comparatively restrained with the frivolous details and the chintz, so this seems a step back. The dresses with the 50s Audrey Hepburn for Miss Dior style silhouette are lovely but obviously, as per the reference, nothing new.

Onto something much more exciting, we have Charlotte Knowles’ RTW collection, whose work has made her one to watch. I’m not as huge a fan of this as her last instalment, but Knowles’ (who I recently found out only just graduated from Central Saint Martins, making her achievements all the more impressive) continues to create clothes for a girl far cooler than myself; I know, that wouldn’t be hard, but we’re talking like, miles cooler. One of those women who can literally pull anything off and immediately make you want to try it yourself even though 9 times out of 10 that would be a bad idea-I could probably take, like, one piece and make it work but anything more would most likely just be me embarrassing myself. You wouldn’t think San Fransisco psychedelic summer of love motifs would mesh with futuristic Mad Max style biker vibes but Charlotte and her partner Alexandre Arsenault make it sexy AF, like a combo that was always meant to be. They are a dream team.

And lastly for this post, we have another collection I really liked: Chloe. Sadly Natacha Ramsay-Levi’s last collection for the brand, she truly went out on a high note, with a reliably gorgeous iteration of her sophisticated take on bohemian style. Who now, will we look to when we want to cosplay as one of the Jessas from Girls of the world? When we want to pretend we’re a rich, party girl socialite backpacking across Western Europe (along the foothills of Mount Tibidabo…) on a commissioned trip to “find herself” for the fashion magazine column she’s writing, whilst we’re actually on a budget family holiday in Spain? When we can’t decide if we’re dressing like a modern day Rachel Green or Phoebe Buffay and say fuck it, I’m gonna do both? I mean sure, I could never afford Chloe anyway and sure, I’m interested to see what Gabriela Hearst can do with the brand, which despite its loveliness is quite predictable, but it’s definitely sad to see Ramsay-Levi go when she has become a reliable source of elegance and class each season. She brings a quietly confident brand of femininity to the fashion world where the high profile design houses are increasingly dominated by men who are sometimes too focussed on being bold and brash enough to be hailed as the newest design visionary, and I have huge respect for that. She will be missed.

Now it feels right to end the post here, given that I just finished with a kind of dramatic memoriam for a woman who is very much still alive and given that I would really be playing with fire by trying to push Tumblr’s edit post feature any further, so I’ll wrap it up for now. In part 2, which will hopefully be out over the next couple of weeks, we’ll be looking at a surprisingly strong haute couture collection from (can’t believe I’m about to say this) Maria Grazia as well as some of my faves, Etro, Dion Lee, Gucci, and of course Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture. In the meantime, I’m hoping to get a post out on my favourite sustainable clothing brands and to shoot my take on the “what I would wear sat front row at X” video trend that’s been going around lately on TikTok and Instagram reels, which I know I am kinda late to the party with.

I’m also looking at starting “photo dump” posts where I basically just substitute what I would be putting on my Instagram feed as photo posts on here, all the way back to when I first started my fashion Instagram account. I know this is hardly a hot take, but Instagram has really gone to shit, and once I’ve moved all my photos from there to here, I’m probably going to be deleting my account and just keep my private personal one. I’m sick of the endless scrolling past photos of people edited to the point of being unrecognisable and of seeing faces that all conform to that exact same Eurocentric beauty standard with the exact same surgical procedures to the point that even I, as a thin, white cis girl feel disgusting (so god knows how others without my privilege feel) because I don’t have a fucking fox eye lift or whatever it is that internet famous surgeons are telling us we need for our faces to fit the “golden ratio” at the moment. I am OVERRR all the promoted posts from people who preach social awareness and equality and authenticity and kindness making money off promoting companies that rely on slave labour rather than those who make me feel uplifted and inspired. And I am VERY MUCH done with scrolling through share for share and like for like pages because I am embarrassed by the fact that my likes don’t match up to my follower count since that must mean that NOBODY LIKES ME AND EVERYONE HATES MY FACE, right!? Even though I’d like to think that mentality was something I grew out of a long time ago. Instagram, much like Facebook before it (which is no surprise since the latter now owns the former), has just become another cesspit of an app which exists solely to convince you to buy new clothes and follow the latest filler trend and blow money on holidays you can’t afford to convince everyone you’re living the good life. Like many others, I have finally come to the conclusion that the way Instagram operates now is nothing but detrimental to my wellbeing. So, all that being said, I’m moving my feed over here, to a place where I can just arrange my silly little photos into silly little collages and not care if I’m shouting into the void by doing so because they’re just a screenshot of my life that I can look back on in however many years time and think Oh, Cool! That’s What I Was Interested In Back Then! That Outfit is Timeless! Or That One Was a HUGE FUCKING MISTAKE! Because I do love the creative element of Instagram, turning your feed into a collage, picking out which colours compliment each other, posting your favourite art and your outfits and the makeup looks you’re proud of, the beautiful sights you’ve seen-I just hate how unbridled capitalism and unrealistic social expectations have once again destroyed a good thing, and caused it to stray so far from its original vision of connecting people. Here, I don’t care if I get 0 interactions on those kinds of posts, because I am putting stuff out there I am proud of that expresses who I am and that interests me, and when I put a lot of hard ass work into something that’s actually important or that benefits others in some way as opposed to indulging my own vanity, it does get some circulation and I hope that it does make a positive difference, regardless of how small. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone too much seeing my initial photo dump posts on their dashboard as I try and catch up to where I am now; you’ll probs see a mini influx of 2015 fashion and I’m sorry about that! But I don’t *think* it will be too long until I’m up to date and then the photo dump posts will be much less regular.

Anyway, sorry about the Instagram rant there at the end! If you read all the way til the end, this is a  huuuuge thank you! I hope you enjoyed the post and I will get the next one out ASAP, potentially with a few posts in between. As always, feel free to inbox me if there’s anything you wanted to talk about or suggest and make sure you stay safe. There may finally be some light at the end of the tunnel:D

With a cautious dose of optimism, and the acknowledgement that I will most likely regret saying this: bring on June the 21st UK gals!

Lauren x

[plaidbooks]

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 2

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! Skipped forward a couple years from the last chapter, and there’s a little bit of a hinting at some of Devon’s past. This chapter takes place during season 8, when Olivia was undercover in Oregon with Porter. The first bit is a blurb between the two chapters.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: panic attacks, rape mention (and a little description, but not explicit), lesbophobia, homophobia, briefest allusion to consensual sex (blink and you miss it)

Words: 8k+ 

           Devon worked with Manhattan’s SVU department a handful of times since their first meeting. In that time, she had become closer to the detectives, especially Olivia and, by extension, Stabler. She and Stabler still butted heads every now and again, but they grew to respect each other’s methods, as Dr. Huang had predicted. As for Devon and Olivia, it was like having a sister that they never knew they wanted. As much as Liv loved her team, it was nice to have a woman to talk to about personal things, outside of the two women ADAs that SVU has had. And for Devon, though she’d never mention it to Liv or to herself, she gained a new best friend that didn’t so much “replace” Emma, but filled that spot for close female friend—though Devon made sure it never made it past that “friend” point, no matter how attractive Devon found the detective. She also knew that Olivia wasn’t interested in women, so Devon didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Plus, Devon didn’t really want to get close to someone she was working with; her heart still hurt when she attempted to dissect her feelings for Emma.

Unlike Devon’s other work acquaintances, they actually kept in touch pretty well; enough so that Devon even met Stabler’s wife and family, before they got separated. Devon was rarely called to the precinct, maybe only once every 3-4 months, so the only time they really got to chat in person was either on the job, or when they randomly got to meet for a nightcap or lunch.

           It took Devon about a year to get into the rhythm of working with SVU—mostly because she wasn’t there often enough. For example, Devon always worked to protect the victims, whether they were held hostage or being trafficked around. SVU, however, was more about helping the victims, believing in their stories and helping them prove the abuser or perpetrator of their abuse. Putting the abuser behind bars. Getting enough evidence for a jury to convict them. In Devon’s line of work, the victims were being actively victimized; she didn’t need evidence, witnesses, or statements. Which is why the biggest fight she had was a year into the partnership with SVU, with ADA Casey Novak, and about testifying in open court.

           “I’m not testifying! Stop asking!” Devon had yelled, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Novak had asked once before, while they were both watching an interrogation. This time, they were standing in the middle of Precinct 16, officers and detectives alike coming to a halt and turning to watch a federal agent and an ADA duke it out.

           “I need you, though! Don’t you want to help put Ramsey behind bars?” Novak reasoned. She was keeping her voice level before, but it was rising now.

           Devon rolled her eyes. Of course, she wanted Ramsey behind bars; he was a rapist pig. But she couldn’t testify, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to go down memory lane with someone she didn’t really know. Especially not an ADA, acquaintance or not. She suddenly wished that she hadn’t helped catch Ramsey, that she had stayed in the court-free FBI, but then squashed that thought down; they had needed her, and she was glad to have stopped him before he escalated to rapist and murderer.

           “Casey,” Devon put a hand on Novak’s shoulder, noticing the unwanted attention from the officers watching and bringing her voice down. “I can’t testify. I need you to trust me on this. You’re a great ADA, you can do it without me.” It was true; Devon had read up on Novak’s conviction rate.

           Novak gave her a long look, long enough that Devon dropped her hand back to her side. She took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to tell you is that if you do not testify, then I don’t think I’ll win this case.” She let her words sink in, then added in a near-whisper, “don’t make me subpoena you.”

           Devon felt a weird twisting in her stomach; something she had never felt before. She tried to ignore it, look intimidating. “Is that a threat, counselor? Let me tell you what will happen if you don’t back off. I was offered an undercover in Iceland. Don’t make me go there until after this trial.”

           Novak’s eyes narrowed. “You’d really flee the country on a bogus mission to avoid testifying? It’s not that bad; you just sit in a box and tell the truth.” If Novak continued talking, Devon missed it. In her mind’s eye, she pictured herself in the witness box. She looked over at the defense attorney, one from Devon’s nightmares. He was distorted, his smirk too large for his face, his eyes turning black. The courtroom was a dark red color, the gallery’s faces blank, emotionless. Devon’s heart started beating faster, tears welling then flowing down her cheeks.

           “Devon?” Novak’s voice sounded leagues away. It wasn’t until Novak placed her hand on Devon’s arm that she snapped back to Precinct 16, ripping her arm away from Novak’s grip. The tears on her face were real, as was her frantically beating heart. For a moment, she thought she was having a heart attack. Her chest was heaving, she was gasping for air, but she couldn’t fill her lungs. She glanced at Novak’s worried face, vaguely noticed the detectives moving towards them. Devon turned and sprinted out of SVU’s department, pushing stunned officers out of her way. She ran past the elevator, heading for the stairs, taking them as quickly as her legs would carry. She didn’t know what was happening to her, all she knew was she needed fresh air. She made it to the bottom step before her legs gave out. She was shaking all over, openly weeping. She pulled herself across the ground, shoving herself in the corner of the stairwell, and curled into herself, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, burying her face into her knees.

           She didn’t know how long she was there, shaking, crying, clutching her chest and trying to think about anything but the courtroom, that small witness box. When she raised her head from her knees, she found Olivia sitting on the stairs by her, looking concerned. But Liv knew better than to ask; she knew how to treat victims. It took another 10 minutes for Devon to stop crying before she told Liv what was happening—not the whole story, just her and Novak’s fight and what she was feeling now. Olivia, having been through this before both with victims and personally, explained what a panic attack was and how Casey must have said something that triggered that reaction. After making sure that Devon was alright, Liv assured her that she wouldn’t have to testify, that she should go home and relax for the day. Devon and Olivia grew closer that day, and it wasn’t long until Devon told Liv the whole story.

2 years later

Apartment of Devon Motely

Friday, July 27th 6:24am

           Devon sighed as she let the hot water run over her, washing away the sweat from her morning gym workout and jog. The shower felt amazing, and she got out feeling refreshed, ready for the day. She was in the middle of drying off when her cell phone rang, the sound coming from her room. She hurried over to it, looking at the ID quickly before answering. Captain Cragen.

           “Motely,” she answered, sifting through her closet for an outfit. Better grab something loose if she was going into SVU and whatever mess they needed her for. Mobility was a priority for her.

           “It’s Cragen. Are you free to do an undercover for me?” Cragen replied.

           Devon had just finished a stint of undercover for the Feds—only a month--so she was off for the next week or two, at least until her shrink cleared her; definitely free to help out the squad.

           “Of course. How long?” she asked.

           “Hopefully only for tonight.”

           Oof, tonight? That was short notice. Well, she didn’t have any plans tonight, anyways. At least, not any important ones, unless she counted watching the baseball game and eating a pint of ice cream as important. Just “normal” things that helped bring her back to this life, not the made-up life of who she was for a month.

           “I’ll be right there,” Devon said before hanging up. She honestly didn’t mind doing some field work for NYPD; it was nice having…easier cases. Not that they were easy cases but compared to the hell that she dealt with on a near-daily basis with the FBI, it was like a walk through the park. Except for the court stuff. Devon refused to testify, but she did offer to transport, protect, and support the victims or witnesses that did testify. And, thankfully, Novak had backed off from asking her.

           It took Devon another 10 minutes to get herself ready. She was happy with her appearance, hoping that maybe the department wouldn’t change her outfit for the undercover op. She was in a scoop neck, plain black shirt and dark jeans. She thought about a light cardigan, but decided against it; it was in the 70s outside, plenty warm enough, even for her California skin.

SVU department

Friday, July 27th 7:14am

           Devon had arrived at the precinct and sought out Cragen. The only detective she encountered in the precinct was Munch, looking annoyed at being there so early. She happily waved to him before heading to Cragen’s office. Cragen closed the door behind her and he filled her in on the details. There was an LGBT+ bar that was mostly used by lesbians and bisexual women, barely any men. But there was a group of men that would show up in the wee hours of the morning, right before closing, stalk a woman that would come out of the bar, and then beat and rape her. This happened 4 times in the past two weeks, and the DA is treating it as a hate crime against lesbians. Each victim recalled one or more of their attackers saying something along the lines of, “fucking them straight.” SVU was positive that one of the men in the bar was a part of the group and would target the women from the inside before leaving and notifying his buddies. SVU was a little short staffed, so Cragen opted to call in Devon for this.

           “We’d like for you to be targeted by this group, or at the very least, find out who they are. We’ll have Stabler undercover in the bar to help keep an eye out, plus Fin and Munch on the outside, along with a temp transfer from Brooklyn, Detective Lake. You’ll be safe,” Cragen finished.

           “I don’t doubt it,” Devon replied with a reassuring smile. She trusted the detectives to have her back. Though, she was curious as to why Liv wasn’t mentioned. Did this Lake replace her?

           Cragen looked a little uncomfortable before saying, “I hope you don’t mind playing a lesbian.”

           “Not at all. But may I ask why Olivia isn’t up for it?” Devon asked, trying to dig some information out of Cragen without asking outright.

           “Uh, Detective Benson isn’t here right now.”

           What? “She’s not here? Where is she?”

           Cragen gave her a look. “I thought that you’d know better than I. The Feds came in and took her for an undercover assignment. Other than that, they’ve told me nothing.”

           That took Devon aback; she had no idea. Not that she talked to every undercover agent or their case workers. She wondered if she knew her case worker, if she could find where Olivia was if she dug deep enough. Maybe Jenkins knew where she was. Why did the FBI even need her?

           In an effort to keep the conversation light, Devon said, “Oh, so you’ve run out of female detectives to UC for you in a lesbian-dominated bar. Enter me, the only other woman you know.”

           Cragen gave her a terse smile. “I do have another temporary replacement transferring in...whenever 1PP decides to actually send her. I would, however, like to get this mess taken care of now instead of waiting for a detective I don’t know.”

           Devon let the conversation end there. She agreed with the Captain; she’d rather be doing this instead of some new detective that no one knew, or worse, trusted. As she left the office, she thought about the mission at hand. She honestly didn’t mind playing a lesbian; she was bisexual, anyways, so it wouldn’t be hard to feign interest in random bar tenets, no matter what their gender was. She thought about her wardrobe at home; did she have a more suitable outift for this? Or should she just let the department figure that out? She had until late tonight to get ready for it, but she knew the department; they liked to have everything planned out in advanced, to have their hands in everything. Plus, she still had to talk to Huang—or whoever the profiler they had on the case was—to make sure she knew what these dirtbags were looking for. She tried not to think about how terrible these men were; it was just making her more and more angry. She disliked rapists as much as the next person, but this hit close to home; hate crimes against queer women. She was getting tired of how men were treating them.

           Coming out of Cragen’s office, she saw that Fin and Stabler had arrived at work; both were at their desks, starting in on today’s crap. Then there was the new guy; at his desk talking to Fin idly. He was attractive, his tanned skin stark against his loose white shirt. He looked over at Devon and smirked. Devon greeted the others before heading towards Detective Lake. Might as well introduce myself, she thought. He was supposed to be one of the detectives watching her back tonight, anyways.

           “Detective Lake? My name’s Devon Motely,” she greeted him, holding out her hand. He took it, giving her a hearty handshake.

           “Don’t let her play you,” Fin said, jokingly. “She’s a Fed.”

           Devon rolled her eyes, looking faux-offended. “Wow, Fin. Tell him how you really feel about me.”

Fin shrugged. “Hey, he’s here as my partner. I gotta tell him how it is.” That caught Devon by surprise; Fin’s partner and not Stabler’s?

“Why did Cragen call in the big guns? Are you here for that lesbian case?” Lake asked.

“That would be correct, yes. Can you not tell I’m gay just by looking at me?” Devon retorted. Yep, SVU’s humor was definitely rubbing off on her.

Lake’s ears turned red, but Munch came to his rescue, piping up, “ah, that would explain why you can work with all these guys without getting distracted by our rugged good looks.”

“Man, no one is thinking that about you,” Fin replied, waving his arm at Munch.

Munch huffed, glaring at Fin over his glasses. “This is why we’re not partners anymore; you can’t even back me up on this.”

As much as Devon wanted to hang around and joke with the detectives, she was there to do a job. She gave them a half-hearted wave, then went to find Dr. Huang, who Cragen did confirm was the profiler on the case. She found him upstairs, pouring over files, coffee in hand.

           ���Hey George. Whatcha got for me?” Devon asked playfully, still grinning from the conversation downstairs; even up here, she could hear the guys ragging on each other. She took a seat across from him and picked up one of the files. The pictures of the woman’s injuries took the wind out of her sails.

           Huang gave her a smile and a hello before answering, “I take it Cragen called you in on the lesbian hate crime?”

           “You’d be correct.”

           He took a sip of his coffee. “How does that make you feel?” Huang knew about Devon’s sexuality, not that she kept it private. But it also wasn’t something brought up in conversation often. Actually, she didn’t know if the other detectives, outside of Olivia, knew. The joke just now was the first time it came up, and she didn’t know if they had taken her seriously or not.

           “Pissed off. Why can’t men just…leave women alone?” she asked, exasperated. “I know that it’s more than that, but god, it’s infuriating.”

           Huang nodded. He knew what she meant. “Can you keep your cool for this?”

           Devon rolled her eyes. “Of course, I can. Just, don’t hold it against me if I punch one of those men in the nose.”

           Huang smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Let’s get you up to speed.”

           They both spent the better part of the morning going over what little description there was of the men, what the victims had said, done, been wearing—all the things that could be seen as a slight against a man’s fragile ego. In each case, a man would approach the woman at the bar, though it wasn’t clear if this man was in on it or not, but it was a constant in each case. The man, described as a “frat boy but in his 30s,” would hit on the women, using pick-up lines so bad, they couldn’t even be considered pick-up lines. In all four cases, the women shut him down quickly, all of them rude to the man—a little piece of information that Devon deemed important, squirreling it away into her mind. The man would then leave, though the women didn’t notice if he went to bother someone else or left the bar altogether. Then, with times ranging between 1 and 2am, the women left. The days were different, so it wasn’t a habitual thing; they couldn’t predict when it would happen. As the woman walked down the street, heading home or to a friend’s place, they were attacked from behind. They all claimed that they were pushed into an alley and then were restrained. They claimed something would pin down their limbs and torso. Only one woman was able to tell that one such item was a baseball bat; the others claimed something cold and metallic. None of the women could tell how many men attacked them, ranging from between four to as many as eight. All of them were raped twice, and the men wore condoms. No chance at IDing them with DNA.

           By the time Huang had gone over all the details from all four rape cases, Devon needed a bath. Or a couple shots of whiskey. Or both. She felt anger, downright hatred, and a strong urge for revenge, even though she didn’t know the victims personally. That was the thing about SVU; the victim’s pain became the detective’s, or in this case, the agent’s. She fought down the feelings of loathing; they wouldn’t help her here. She needed to play it calm, collected, the way she always did in an undercover op. Thanking Huang for all the information, she headed to the department’s undercover section, allowing them to pick out her outfit and makeup. Now came her least favorite part, having them paint her face.

 Lumber Jill’s Bar

Saturday, July 28th 12:38am

           Devon was at the bar, drinking a Dirty Shirley through a straw. She had been in the bar for about an hour now, opting to get there early, just in case the pattern changed; there were a few groups of people around. Some came with friends, others had met here, whether for the first time or as a plan, Devon didn’t know. Stabler had come in after Devon had relayed that a couple of other men had showed up, though none matching the description they were looking for. Stabler had decided to sit in a dimly lit booth, going mostly unnoticed, but having a vantage point to where he could see Devon, the front door to her back.

At first, Devon wasn’t sure this was going to work; the department dressed her in a tight black tank top with a light flannel jacket, and matching tight jeans, the fabric ripped above the right knee. She looked like a man had dressed her up to play the bitchy lesbian in a bad horror film. Devon fought to change clothes, but ultimately lost the argument. At least the makeup was more subtle. It wasn’t until Devon sat down and got a couple of, frankly unsubtle looks and even some flirting that she realized they may not have entirely screwed this up.

           Devon had started her night by drinking a normal Shirley Temple—Sprite and cherry syrup—knowing that she shouldn’t drink during an operation. That is, until a beautiful brunette had bought her one with vodka in it.

           The bartender placed the drink in front of Devon, and before she could object, the bartender said, “Dirty Shirley, compliments of Lily.” She smirked and pointed out the woman sitting across the bar from Devon. The woman, Lily, smiled coyly before taking a sip of her own drink, causing Devon to forget how to breathe temporarily. Undercover or not, Lily was the most beautiful woman Devon had ever seen. And she had bought her a drink? Devon felt like a damn high schooler, sitting there slack jawed, staring at the woman. Lily snickered, snapping Devon back to reality. She awkwardly lifted the drink in a thank you before slamming it in one quick motion. She then stood up and practically ran to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face, ignoring the makeup the department plastered her with—she learned then that it was waterproof.

“Everything okay?” Stabler’s voice whispered in her ear, causing her to jump. She had the earpiece in for so long, she had forgotten it was there.

“Just a quick bathroom break,” Devon said into her mic. She wasn’t used to being mic’d up; the FBI had listening devices in every kind of accessory anyone would need. Devon’s favorite was a pair of square glasses, or a flashy gold bracelet. Tonight, though, she had the NYPD’s normal wire-up-the-shirt mic, taped to the inside of her bra. She looked into the mirror, tried to work up the courage to turn down Lily. Even if she didn’t entirely want to. It had been almost a year since the last time Devon had a partner to warm her bed; actually, Devon warming someone else’s bed was more accurate. She kept her work life and her social life—sex life—separate. She even used a fake name, a shortened version of her middle name, just so that they couldn’t find her after their one-night stand, no matter who it was. It wasn’t like she hated the thought of relationships, but she was afraid that anyone she would date may be put into harm’s way. She was an FBI agent; she had enemies. She ignored the side of her that tried to remind her that she was also afraid of opening up to people, of getting close to anyone. The last time she even entertained the idea of dating someone, they were shot in the head.

Devon mentally shook herself; she couldn’t be thinking of relationships, dating, or feelings, especially when she had decided that she was going to turn down Lily. She took a deep breath then headed back to her seat at the bar. Lily was no longer there, though. After a few minutes of searching the bar area, Devon found her sitting at a booth with three other women, laughing at whatever joke was said. God, her smile lights up her face perfectly, Devon thought before shoving the thought aside. She turned away, remembering why she was there, and took her seat at the bar again, flagging the bartender.

           She did stick with drinking alcohol, though, something Devon had never done before; she never drank while working. She vaguely noticed Stabler giving her a look when she had ordered—alcoholic drinks came in different glasses than non-alcoholic. If he had any complaints about her drinking, however, he didn’t mention it. Besides, who knows? Maybe the men wouldn’t show up tonight; it was nearing 1:30am, and no sign of the suspect. Maybe Devon could spend the night with someone; she was feeling lonely, if not sexually frustrated. Damn, she shouldn’t have gone to the bathroom, she shouldn’t have opened this door in her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted, though, when Stabler’s voice came through her earpiece again.

           “Group of six guys just came in, looking like trouble,” he went quiet while he watched them—Devon avoided turning to look, relying on Stabler’s assessment—before he continued, “looks like the leader is coming to you.” Devon mentally braced herself as a man slammed an arm down on the bar next to her, standing way too close for comfort. She could smell the Axe Body Spray radiating off him.

           “Hey honey, you look sad. Want me to cheer you up?” he asked in a way that made it sound like it wasn’t a question.

           “Was that supposed to be a pick-up line?” Devon replied. Devon remembered that the women reported being rude to the man at the bar, and “rude” was Devon’s middle name.

           The man scowled, “I don’t need a line to pick up hot chicks at a bar. Women flock to me.” Devon took this time to look at the man, carefully crafted disgust on her face—not like it was too hard to fake--and glanced him up and down. He was in his early to mid-30s with shaggy blonde hair. He was wearing a red polo shirt and cargo shorts. He almost looked like if he stepped out of a frat house, but never grew out of the mindset. All he was missing was the backwards ball cap. Everything about him screamed creep-who-was-full-of-himself-and-didn’t-hear-no…and he matched the victim’s descriptions perfectly. The fact that he came in with five other men was as much of a green light as Devon needed. She could at least get him for harassment if he somehow wasn’t their perp.

           “Uh huh. Well, why don’t you try and flock elsewhere? No ‘hot chicks’”—she did air-quotes around the words—“are going to be interested in you here. You’re not our type,” Devon said, rolling her eyes as if she were stating the obvious.

           The man’s face was turning red now. “Oh yeah? Well, no one’s calling you a hot chick,” he spat.

           “Then why are you even talking to me?” She glared at him, then, putting all the venom she could muster into her voice, dismissed him, “get lost.” The man gave her one last death glare before turning and heading back to his buddies.

           “If that’s not at least one of the guys we’re looking for, I’ll eat my jacket,” Devon whispered into her mic.

           “I’d take that bet, except I’m almost 100% positive that he is our perp. We won’t know until you leave, though,” Stabler replied. “Let me go first, wait five, then come out and take a left. Walk naturally.” As if he needed to tell Devon how to do her job.

           “You alright, honey?” the bartender asked.

           Devon put on a smile. “Yeah, that guy was a dick, though. Does he come in often?”

           The bartender glared at the door, as if the man might come back, before answering, “I’ve seen him only a couple of times, now. Him and his buddies. They seem to try and start shit with someone at the bar, but leave before I can officially kick them out. I don’t know how they always seem to come in when my back is turned.” Devon nodded. If that were true, then him and his group could very well be the rapists they were looking for.

           Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stabler get up, pay for his beer, and leave. Thankfully, it was pretty busy at this point; the bartenders didn’t notice a man sitting by himself in a mostly lesbian bar, nor the fact that he left so abruptly, even though they should’ve been on high alert after the group had left earlier. Devon sipped at her drink before hailing the bartender and paying. When she stood, she was a little shocked to feel how light her head was. She didn’t think she drank that much, but oh well. She wasn’t too far gone, just a happy buzz. She made her way out, glancing around the bar once more. She saw Lily, still laughing with her group. Stamping her lust down, Devon headed out the door.

           It was a nice night, even this late…well, early. It was a balmy 60 degrees, perfect temperature to Devon. She pulled the flannel around her in what she hoped looked like a nervous manner before taking off in a brisk walk down the street she and the SVU detectives agreed upon earlier that day. It didn’t take long until she heard footsteps behind her. She kept her pace as normal as she could; being an undercover agent meant she had the skills to act natural, but being a woman meant she had the instincts to speed up, to protect herself. It was hard fighting those instincts as she heard the footsteps moving faster, jogging after her. Fuck training, she thought as she whipped around to confront her stalker. She was stunned when she saw that it wasn’t the creep from the bar, but Lily trying to catch up with her.

           “Wait,” she said a little breathlessly. Devon fought the blush that she knew crept across her face. “I didn’t get your name.”

           “Oh, uh, it’s Olivia,” Devon replied, silently cursing herself; it was the first name she thought of. How’d she forget her own fake cover name?

           Lily smiled at her, having caught her breath. “What a beautiful name.”

           God, how is her voice this pretty, too? Devon thought. She pushed away the accompanying thoughts about what that voice may sound like in a bedroom. “N-nice to meet you,” Devon stammered out, face flushing. Keep it in your pants, Motely, she thought to herself, embarrassed that just talking to this woman turned her into a blushing mess. Devon had heard of the term “disaster bisexual” before, but never attributed it to herself…until now.

           Lily laughed and Devon thought her face would explode with how hot it was getting. “Same to you…would you like to come back to my hotel room?” Lily asked. Wow, that was blunt.

           Devon’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth as she fought against herself. God yes, was her first thought. She damn near jumped out of her skin when she heard Stabler clear his throat awkwardly in her ear. Right, she was still mic’d up, and while it was only Stabler who was talking to her, she knew that all the other detectives could hear the conversation. Great.

           “Are you alright, love?” Lily asked, concerned. She put a hand on Devon’s shoulder to try and stabilize her. Devon felt electricity through the touch as she struggled controlled herself.

           “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. I, uh, I’d love to go with you. But, uh, could we maybe raincheck until tomorrow night?” Devon asked, her voice rising an octave. Lily had only a moment where her face fell, when Devon heard more footsteps.

           Suddenly the group of six men from the bar appeared out of nowhere around the two women, Red Polo Shirt holding a bat and pointing at Devon. Well, seems like they were their perps, and that they were breaking pattern tonight; attacking two women and not blitzing them from behind. Instantly, Devon’s mind snapped back to calm, calculating, collected; her normal field agent’s instincts returning. She felt like herself again, adrenaline pumping through her veins—she felt alive.

           “You ain’t going anywhere tonight,” Red Polo Shirt announced. Devon looked around, trying to gauge the situation. They were on a sidewalk, no lights except for a couple dull streetlamps. There was a building at their backs, six men in a half circle around them. Besides Red Polo Shirt and his bat, Devon saw that only three of the other five men were armed: one also holding a baseball bat and two with what looked like metal bars. All things that could be used to hold down someone while the unarmed did whatever they wanted to the victim.

           “Get out of here, you bastard,” Devon said as clearly as she could. ‘Bastard’ was the code word that her and the SVU detectives had agreed upon before.

           “Move in,” she heard Stabler say to the rest of the team. Hopefully, they were close. But until then, it was stalling time.

           Red Polo Shirt drew Devon’s attention back to the scene when he took a couple steps closer. The other men followed suit, effectively closing the semi-circle around her and Lily. They were maybe twenty feet from the women now; close enough that the space between the men were almost non-existent. Lily got closer to Devon, and Devon shifted so that Lily was partially behind her. “You just don’t know how to not be a bitch, do you?” the man called out loudly, making his friends laugh.

           “And you don’t know how to take rejection,” Devon replied. Her whole body was tense, mind frantically trying to find a way out of here, or a way to stall further.

           Lily moved closer and whispered in Devon’s ear, “maybe we shouldn’t upset them.” Her voice was laced with fear, and Devon felt the sudden need to protect Lily, to never let fear taint that pretty voice again. No matter what happened, Devon would make sure that Lily made it out of this unharmed.

           Red Polo Shirt frowned. “See, this is what you bitches deserve. You need a good man in your life to teach you your place.” Well, if there was any doubt in Devon’s mind about this group of guys being her target, it was gone now. She backed up, and Lily followed suit until they were up against the wall. Devon’s mind flew into overdrive, trying to figure out a way out of this; if Stabler and the detectives weren’t there soon, then there was going to be a fight. Devon was confident in her fighting abilities, but even she knew that six against one was a losing battle. She was unarmed, plus the fact that she now had a civilian to protect. The two unarmed men were on either side of her and Lily, the two closest to the wall. Devon could feasibly rush one of them and shoulder her way past; that would just lead to a foot chase, with her hopefully being fast enough to outrun them until help arrived. But would Lily be able to make it out of there, too? In the heels Devon noticed she was wearing, she highly doubted she could run at all…though she had jogged to catch up with Devon in the first place. Maybe she was one of those women who learned to run in heels, in case something like this happened.

           Thankfully before Devon had a chance to find out, a cop car appeared on either side of the group, sirens and lights only going off once the group was blocked off, so as not to startle them into running. Stabler and Munch launched out of one cruiser, guns drawn, while Fin and Lake hopped out of their car.

           “Freeze, NYPD!” Stabler yelled. The two unarmed men instantly had their hands up. The two with metal bars let them fall from their hands, clattering to the ground, while they rose their hands. The other man with a bat attempted to run, only to be tackled to the ground by Lake. Red Polo Shirt cursed loudly before throwing his bat on the ground with a loud clang and raising his hands.

           “We didn’t do nothing wrong,” he called out to the detectives.

           “Yeah yeah,” Stabler replied, keeping his gun trained on him as he inched closer, pulling his cuffs from his pocket. Fin and Munch started cuffing the other men who were still standing. More cop cars arrived on the scene, officers rushing to help the detectives apprehend the suspects.

Devon walked over to Stabler, smiling, “thanks. I owe you one.”

“At least you don’t have to eat your jacket,” he replied, making Devon laugh, nerves still buzzing. Stabler gave her a grin before looking over her shoulder, subtly nodding to something behind her.

Devon suddenly remembered Lily, who hadn’t moved from her spot against the wall, still looking alarmed. Her eyes roamed over the scene before landing on Devon’s. She turned back to Stabler, taking the earpiece out and pulling the wire from under her clothes. She dumped them unceremoniously into Stabler’s hands before heading back to Lily. He gave her a subtle thumbs up before leading Red Polo Shirt to his squad car.

“Hey, you alright?” Devon asked once she was close enough.

“I—yeah. What just happened?”

Devon didn’t want to dive into the heinous details of the investigation, nor did she want to explain how she had lied about her name earlier. But she also didn’t want to lie now, either. “Long story short, I was working undercover to bust some homophobic, misogynistic assholes. And I think I just did.”

Lily looked her up and down. “So, is that why you turned me down earlier, Olivia?” Her eyes widened as if something just became clear. “Is that even your real name? Are you even attracted to women?”

Devon hated the accusatory tone in Lily’s voice, though she understood it. She also hated that she was going to lie to her once more. “My real name is Ryn,” she swallowed the nasty taste it left in her mouth--it was short for Kathryn, her real middle name—then continuing, “and yes, I am attracted to women.” Lily still looked skeptical, so Devon jokingly added, “I mean, who wouldn’t be after seeing someone as stunning as you?”

That made Lily smile. “Really? A pick-up line? Haven’t I already invited you back to my place?”

Devon’s cheeks warmed. “Ah, yes, you did. I’d also like to take back my earlier response in place of a new one.” Lily nodded, a smile dancing across her lips. “I would be delighted to go back to your place.” Especially now, with all the adrenaline still coursing through Devon’s veins.

 SVU Department

Monday, July 30th. 8:00am

Devon practically bounced into the 16th Precinct feeling lighter than she had in months. She still felt a little bad about lying to Lily, leaving early enough in the morning that Devon never even had to speak to her, Lily’s sleeping form breathing deeply in the hotel bed, clothes thrown around the room. But it was normal to Devon; form no attachments. She didn’t have the time to even think about seriously dating; work was her number one priority and hooking up when she was stressed seemed to be the easiest answer. Not only was she on-call at all hours of the day, every day, she also went on undercover cases for months at a time. How could she devote herself to someone when she couldn’t even devote time to herself? Work came first. Always.

Devon shook herself, forcing herself to remember why she was there in the first place. Stabler had texted her, letting her know that they were about to start the interrogations of the men from the bar. He had asked if she wanted him to wait for her and was elated when she said yes. I’m alright with letting these guys sweat for a little, he had written back. Devon smiled and waved at the detectives as they drank their coffee, trying to wake up. She never did understand how officers were not morning people.

“Hey Dev,” Stabler greeted as she made her way into the observation room. Devon grinned in response and looked through the glass. Red Polo Shirt was alone in the room, still in the same clothes from Saturday night. Sometimes, Stabler could be cruel, leaving a perp to stew all weekend in the cage. Not that Devon was feeling particularly bad for this piece of scum.

“He say anything interesting?” Devon asked. Even if Stabler left him and his buddies to sit all weekend, that didn’t mean that they were ignored. There were officers that worked weekends and would pay attention to anything the perps in the cage would say.

“Just a lot of cursing and complaining.” So, no confession yet? That shouldn’t be too hard to pry out of him.

“Hmph. Hopefully he’s as stupid as he looks,” she said. Just then, Fin and Lake entered the observation room, along with Captain Cragen.

He gave Devon a nod in greeting before instructing, “Fin. Stabler. You’re up.” The two detectives nodded, making their way into the interrogation room. Cragen, Lake, and Devon watched as Fin took the lead as bad cop, while Stabler took the sympathetic cop. Devon had done only a handful of interrogations in her career, which is why she enjoyed watching these guys do it. They were good; if she didn’t know Stabler any better, she’d believe his act of being a woman-hating, misogynistic bastard. Shockingly, though, Red Polo Shirt—Richard Morrisen—wasn’t confessing easily. Devon had been positive that it was going to be a slam dunk, yet Richard seemed to only be interested in screaming profanities at the detectives.

After about an hour, Cragen pulled the detectives out. They were getting nowhere, and Devon could tell that the whole squad was getting frustrated.

“Guy just won’t stop running his mouth,” Fin said as the interrogation door closed behind him. “At least he ain’t asking for a lawyer yet.”

“What now?” Devon asked. She’d never seen the detectives not get a confession before. Though, she’d only sit in on a couple interrogations; she was usually busy with another case before they finished processing whatever case she had helped them with.

“Now, we call Novak, see if we can set up a line-up,” Cragen replied.

While the detectives were setting that up—most of the time was spent getting lookalikes for six different line-ups—Devon took the time to talk with Detective Lake. Temporary assignment or not, it was always good to meet, actually meet, the people that Devon was going to be working with, even if this was only a one-time thing; something they wouldn’t know for a while.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other day,” Devon said, leaning against the man’s desk. Devon had said only one sentence to the detective, but the look on his face said enough in response.

“Nah, just caught me off guard. It’d take more than that to make me uncomfortable,” Lake replied, chuckling.

“Good, I’m glad,” Devon smiled. “Though, the thought of Munch as someone with ‘rugged good looks’ is slightly disturbing.” That made Lake laugh, his shoulders relaxing. Devon wasn’t great at making friends, but she was glad to see that she could at least make people laugh.

When he stopped laughing, she saw his body language change again; nothing big, but a clench of his teeth, his back stiffening slightly, and she knew he was nervous about asking this next question. “I mean, Munch isn’t really…your type, is he?”

Devon never understood why people were so interested in sexuality. She knew that for some people, it was an important label, a type of identity that people could spend years figuring out. But why people felt the need to ask others, especially when faced with the fact that they may not be straight, she just didn’t get. But Lake seemed to be genuinely curious; besides, Devon was a hard person to offend.

“I mean, he’s old enough to be my father. So, I’d say no, he’s not my type. I tend to look for people around my own age,” Devon said, smirking. Her use of the word “people” didn’t go unnoticed.

“Well, do you think that…I would be more your type?” He kept his cool when asking, the only signal of his nerves showing as his ears reddened.

Oh, so that’s it, Devon thought. She looked at Lake, really looked at him. He was slightly taller than her, lean but built, and very attractive. But he was also an SVU detective, someone that she may have to work with on a constant basis, which went against her one-night stand mentality.

“If you weren’t in the same line of work as I am, then yes, probably. But as it stands, I have a strict no-dating-your-coworkers rule,” Devon said, keeping her voice as light and neutral as possible. No one liked rejection.

Even so, his face fell, just slightly. “No, I get it. That makes sense.”

Before the awkwardness could continue, Novak came out of the observation room, signaling for Devon to come over. She gave Lake a small smile and wave as she went to talk to the counselor. Novak said nothing as she closed the door behind the two of them, sealing them from the rest of the squad.

“Devon, I know you’re going to hate me, but just understand that I would not ask this of you unless it was a necessity,” Novak blurted out. “I need you to testify in this case.”

“Casey--,” Devon started, but Novak cut her off.

“Listen to me. Out of the four victims, only two of them could ID any of the assailants, and even then, they only ID’d the two unarmed men as the rapists. Unless the detectives can get a full confession, then I have nothing except you tying these pigs to the assaults.”

Devon swallowed the lump in her throat. After Novak asked two years ago, causing Devon’s panic attack, Devon had been having recurring nightmares at least once a month. Always in a witness box. Always in a courtroom. Devon fought through the fog in her mind, trying to find any way out of this. Suddenly, a thought struck her.

“What if I interrogate Morrisen? He hates me, hates women; I’m sure I can get him to tell me every horrible thing he wanted to do to me,” Devon reasoned. Her brain had latched onto the idea, refusing to let it go. It was a life preserver in the ocean of darkness that was the courts.

Novak sighed heavily. “You get one chance. If you don’t get a confession, though, I’ll have to prep you for testifying.” Devon would not let that happen.

“Come in with me; SVU doesn’t  have another woman to spare,” Devon said instead of answering. Without another word, Devon led Novak to the interrogation room from earlier, Morrisen in the same seat, slumped over onto the table, clearly tired.

“Oh, so now they send the skirts in after me,” Morrisen croaked out. Then his eyes locked on Devon’s. “Wait, you’re that bitch from the bar!”

“That’s Special Agent Bitch to you,” Devon responded.

“Woah, woah, wait a minute. You mean you’re a cop? Isn’t that, uh…entrapment or something?”

Devon let out a low whistle. “Wow, that was a three-syllable word. I didn’t think your vocabulary was that enriched.”

Morrisen gave Devon a confused look. “No, it’s not entrapment. No one made you harass women at a bar,” Novak said.

Morrisen’s eyes moved over to her. “I didn’t harass nobody. Those bitches got exactly what they wanted, what they deserved,” he sneered.

Wow, this is easier than I thought it’d be, Devon thought. “Are you sure it’s what we wanted? Because I distinctly remember telling you to ‘get lost,’” she said. Let’s see if we can lead him to it.

Morrisen gave Devon the greasiest, creepiest smile that she had ever seen before replying, “your mouth said no, but your eyes were all over me.”

God, I need a nice, long shower after this, Devon thought, suppressing a shudder. “Trust me, Richard. No one wants whatever it is you think you can give them.”

Morrisen’s smile turned into a scowl as he jumped up from his seat, sending the chair toppling over behind him. Novak gave a startled jump, but Devon held her ground; she didn’t even flinch.

“You know what I gave those stuck-up sluts? I gave them just what they wanted! They needed some rough and tough lovin’ from yours truly. Once you go Dick,”—he pointed at himself—“you never go chick.”

Devon was feeling fully disgusted at this point. She looked at Novak as if to ask is that a good enough confession? Novak shook her head, and Devon looked back to this scum.

“Wow, did you think of that line all by yourself? Tell me; why did someone as…’rough and tough’ as you need a posse of five other men to help you assault those women? I mean, if that’s what they all wanted, why use a baseball bat to hold them down?”

Morrisen smirked, picked up his chair and sat down triumphantly in it. “Sometimes, I like to spread the love around, ya know what I’m saying? Those other guys may be my bros, but they don’t got game like I do. It’s kinda like doing some community service.”

Devon sat down across from him. “Oooh, so you’re the good guy in all of this, helping your bros out. How exactly do you help them?” she asked, leaning on her elbows on the table.

It took about another 30 minutes to get the whole story out of Morrisen. Once he started talking, he didn’t stop. Novak, to her credit, had taken out a small recorder, informing Morrisen that his conversation would be recorded. He didn’t seem to care; actually, he seemed to like the attention of two beautiful women listening to his assaults. By the time he had finished, and Devon and Novak left the room, they both felt sick to their stomachs.

“I think I need to bathe in hand sanitizer,” Novak mumbled.

“Can I join you?” Devon replied. She gave the counselor a small smile before asking, “so, am I off the hook?”

Novak sighed. “For now, yes. I should be able to put Morrisen and his gang behind bars for quite a while. Besides, during his confession, he also indirectly admitted to the hate crime. I doubt this will go to trial; they’ll probably all plead out.”

Devon felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. “Thank you.”

Novak gave her a long look. Devon raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for Novak to say whatever was on her chest. “Look, Devon. I…understand you have a phobia of testifying. But I want to help you through it,” Devon opened her mouth to object, but Novak continued on. “I’m not going to force you to testify, or to do anything you don’t want to. But I’d like for you to come by the courthouse one day. I think it may help you to sit in the gallery during a trial…. Or, at least come with me into a courtroom after it’s closed. No one will be there; just us.”

Devon thought about it. She was touched that Novak wanted to help her with her fear, even if it was for her own personal gain; if she could get Devon over her fear, then she’d be able to testify in later cases. But the thought of sitting in on a trial was enough to make her heartbeat faster.

“Can—can we start with the latter?” Devon asked, her voice faint. She didn’t trust herself enough to speak louder.

Novak smiled. “Of course. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Devon returned her smile despite herself.