#Getting High/ Bob's Ruse

[filmjunky-99]

d r u g s t o r e c o w b o y, 1989 🎬 dir. gus van sant

'It's Gentry. I bet he followed us when we moved. Son of a bitch... Well, I guess we'll have to teach him a little lesson, huh?' - bob

[terry-perry]

Okay i had this idea for some time. But i saw your post about wanting to practice writing Alastor. Can you do Alastor when he was alive? It’s the 1930s and he’s a radio host, i had this idea of reader being a female had to face female stereotypes still(i know in 1920s the 19th amendment was passed but women still had to face the aftermath), she wanted a job that only men could have. So what if Reader dresses as a boy, gets her dream job and ends up working alongside Alastor in his radio station. He doesn’t know that reader is a girl. I wanna leave the rest up to you! How does Alastor find out about reader being a girl and eventually probably falling in love? Like i can see Reader and Al being great friends at first. Im sorry this is long! But i want you to be creative!! You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to!

Inspired by the writing of Shakespeare, especially Twelfth Night

You watched Alastor hard at work as always preparing the setlist for the night's show. You loved how he lit up whenever he was doing something relating to his radio show. He was so passionate and full of life. It was contagious and had you wanting a fill of this life as well. Thanks to Alastor, you developed your already-formed love for music into one that could rival his.

Your love for music made you want to try your hand at radio broadcasting. Unfortunately, most, if not all, stations only wanted to hire women as secretaries - to answer calls, fetch coffee, and be at the host's beck and call. There was no way you'd be able to learn the ropes properly like that. This led you to cut your hair shorter than a flapper's bob and purchase some slacks and men's button-ups before going to Alastor's studio in hopes of being his new apprentice.

A part of you was anxious that your disguise would fool no one. Your voice was still rather high-pitched as a young girl no matter how hard you tried to disguise it. You were afraid everything about you resembled that of a woman. You tried your hardest to play it off as though you weren't quite a man yet, but also not a boy anymore. You were in that in-between stage that was neither fully a boy nor fully a man.

Thankfully Alastor bought it. He liked your spark, or rather, "Sebastian's" spunk - the male persona you chose to create for yourself. He loved your taste in music and your willingness to learn the ropes. He hired you on the spot!

Months passed since that fateful day and you'd been able to get by with your ruse with hardly any issues. Alastor had even let you take over broadcasts from time to time!

There was one problem, as of late, however.

You seem to have fallen in love with your boss.

There was an attraction towards him when you first laid your eyes on him. It felt like he cleared all the bad stuff from the air that once trapped you. His spontaneity shined through all his performances. He was always unapologetically himself, which you respected. Then there was the softer side he rarely showed, such as when he interacted with his mother, whom you had the opportunity to meet and have lunch with when you ran into the pair in town. It was endearing to watch them interact, smiling fondly at how he'd comply with her requests.

How could you not love a man who knows how to treat his mother? If a man can only give a little bit of love to his mother, how much more will he be able to love when he falls deeply for a woman who truly captures his heart?

But you weren't a woman to him. You were Sebastian, his apprentice. Whatever bond you formed in the last several months you worked together was purely platonic.

The most you could do was pine for him, gaze longingly from afar, and sigh dreamily as you watched how he prepared for his next show. You've already gotten involved in this situation due to your sense of foolishness and staying because of your love, so you carried on.

The more you got to know him, the more you felt like a deer and your wants have been chasing you like mean, vicious dogs ever since.

----

Alastor did his best to keep busy with his setlist, distracting himself from the feelings he'd been struggling with for a while now. He couldn't explain them or felt he shouldn't since something like this was equated to catching a plague. Society shouldn't blame him for being weak, however. It's just how people were made. Women love, men love, and he knew if he was a woman, he'd love Sebastian.

He wouldn't deny it. Nothing else could describe what was happening to him as he admired everything about his apprentice. His words, expressions, movements, behavior, and energy drew him in like a moth to a flame.

Also, the intense dream he had the other night that involved Sebastian made his feelings especially clear.

He didn't want to recall too much of it while in the studio, but he couldn't forget about Seb's sweet voice beckoning him: "Al, we need to be careful and hide our love." Alastor had to keep himself from getting flustered as he remembered how he would hold Seb's hand tightly, call him sweet names, kiss him passionately as if he was pulling air out of him, put his leg over his, sigh and kiss him more, and then curse the fate that made them belong in the dark.

He really needed to get a hold of himself!

Especially since the night after that, he heartbreakingly discovered that Sebastian was already involved with someone else. He had followed him back to his apartment after a late night at the studio. Seb told him he needn't bother, but Alastor couldn't let him go alone. His strong desire pushed him to follow his sweet boy. It wasn't just love that made him follow him, but also worry about what could happen to him on the streets alone in the dark. The area could be an unfamiliar and possibly dangerous journey even for those who lived there.

Alastor's love for Sebastian, mixed with fear, made him decide to accompany him in the shadows.

How shocked he was to peer up into the window of the apartment. Seb lived on a semi-high floor, so Alastor didn't get a decent view. And yet, he knew what he saw.

A woman with a boyish haircut undressing and preparing for bed.

[blorbfoosh]

PART IV - Gala of Ruse

‘Yet with tears in her eyes, the girl stood with her head high- Now a woman, who passed all her tests. And she took a bow, to the man who gave her all.. Since she’s just made for performance.’ The onyx-haired woman beside her winced slightly at the choice of words. Jeez. This Gastiel M. guy had an interesting choice of music… Rou lightly nudged her cousin, a small, reassuring smile stretching on her lips. Nillyx returned it with her own, albeit weak, and nodded. They were gonna be okay.

The duo had waltzed by the receptionist without a second glance. The cameras all were angled away from them- Kudos to Rei and Anti for pulling that off last minute. All they needed to do was get under that shimmery curtain, and they’d be in. For a showcasing, the security of the whole event was tight. What did Gastiel have to hide..?

The redhead lightly tapped the underside of a random plant, trying to poke her head around the many people milling about. Jeez. Guess they were lucky to get in like this… Rou almost felt sorry for the poor saps that lost their invites.

“Tani. The curtain.”

A light tug on her sleeve was all she needed. Upon looking closer, she saw that the shining, almost glowing curtain was made of-..

“Fuck. Strings.”

“Should we be worried? They could might as well be some tech shit that they’re showing off.”

..She was right. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be safe.

‘Yeah, no, Nils is def right. Just some holograms.’

W h e w. Thanks for that heads-up, Nia.

‘No prob, boss. Just kick this guy’s ass. Lu and I are gonna go scout the rest of the areas ahead, dropping the bombs in the back offices. Weird how a corporate building is a lab and has a ballroom at the same time, eh? For a company that isn’t even a year old, they’re prestigious.’

Rou could only hum in agreement. She couldn’t help but feel like there was more to the story. Something sick. ..But then again, that could come from her past experiences with labs. Minus her own. Haha.

———

“Mpch- See anything yet?” Ryso asked, looking over their shoulder at Rei. The teen shook her head, focusing back on the screens in front of her. Anti had to go do something, so he let her take over. Not that she minded, she knew some bits and bobs thanks to Ace, Ryso, and Anti’s teaching all combined. It wasn’t that complex as of the moment, Ryso was working on that. All she had to do was watch the cams- The ones she helped them get into. Hehehe, this was fun. It felt… Nice. In a weird way? Because she knew she could keep an eye on her aunts, and the event. And the best part? She got to hang with Ryso, Anti, and Psyche(although her mother doesn’t know that), which was always fun. Hell- Somehow, Rou convinced Sikan to go along with this. ..Actually that wasn’t much of a stretch since they all knew if it was science-y stuff there was always Sikan going around. But whatever. “Anything on you, Ryso?” The purple-haired kid clicked through a few tabs, some screens popping around them as they quickly typed something down. “Mnnah. Just the old man texting shit.” “Hah. Of course. I thought you-” “The old man fixed that.” Well, shit. Of course. Ryso’s parent, Jynx, was an expert coder. It wasn’t surprising that they’d somehow find a way to change codes in-between realms… “So they know?” “I can’t lie to Jynx. Plus, one way or another, they’ll wriggle it out of me if they ever found out.” That seemed to be the end of it, as Ryso let their screens glitch out of existence. Just as they did so, a familiar, fluffy head popped out of a mirror nearby. Anti. Her partner, best friend, and fellow sugar tooth. “Hey~! :] Anything new? Sorry I was gone so long.”

He flipped on a chair beside Rei, large paws holding a basket of treats. Psyche, who was sitting on the floor, immediately went grabby hands as her eyes spotted peach danishes. Anti chuckled, handing the pastry to the teen, before turning to the purple head. “Want anything, kiddo- Hey, you good-?” Ryso seemed agitated, their hands swiftly going from tab to tab, before groaning softly. Upon noticing her friend’s discomfort, Psyche stood up and patted Ryso’s arm reassuringly. “Hey, Rys- If you needa back out, you can. We still have Anti and Rei here. Or you can just do the thing from the house!” At this, both Ryso and Anti shook their heads. “A h- See, Psy, it’s a little complicated-” Ryso nodded. “When dealing with things like these, it’s best to keep to the same locations and devices. Because you know- Privacy and all that. Who knows if people might be trying to get to us, right now. At least if we’re all here, Anti can monitor our devices and whatnot. If I back out now, I need to stay out until I can go back in.” “..We can’t just hold private meets over the FAM.net?” “..We could, but that thing has call history, remember?” Anti sighed, his ears flicking back and forth in thought. “How long have you got?” Ryso bit their lips, a few glitches appearing around them. “Thirty mins and counting. I can stay here, but Rei’ll have to take my place once I leave. I’ll try and pop back in tho once Ma’s off my shoulders.” A new message flashed on one of the screens around Ryso, and they sighed, typing back a new reply. “What is it?” Psyche asked, poking her head around Ryso’s shoulder. “Just the old man asking if they can come here. I said it’s best for them not to, and that I’ll update them periodically until I can ESC out of here.” Anti nodded with a sigh. “That should be good enough.” ———

Matiz grunted in annoyance, trying yet again to access the foreign network that had breached his security. Ugh, they’ve got access to the cameras, the tracking system- Everything. Little pests. Didn’t seem like they did anything important, however. Well- At least not yet. He was sure that this was Fyr- No, Tani- Or was it Rou? Whatever. It was her plan. She had grown numbers lately, he had to give it to the brat. But ohhh, hunny. He just couldn’t wait for what’ll happen.

Pressing a button, he watched as the floor below began to open, giving him a clear view of his personal lab. A smaller body was strapped to an experimental table, a few IV stands standing beside it as the chemicals flowed into their bloodstream. Their SOUL hung suspended over their body, a brilliant dark teal hue painting it. Loyalty. He didn’t even have to alter it. Seemed like the boy was made just for this. Body and everything. Sadly, just not the mind.

No matter. A few months of training, and the lad had shaped up well. Perfectly, even. Just how he liked it. Now, all he had to do was wait a little bit longer. And then, he’ll be done.

“Are you ready, R30N? Cause~ It’s showtime.”

———

“Ugh, how much LONGER are these damn formality things?”

Rou mumbled, running a hand through her hair as the speaker droned on and on about the success of Woven Hues. Nilly didn’t blame her. They were here to find evidence, not listen to the backstory of how this came to place. Although- The cat must admit, it was a little interesting, listening to all of this play out.

“But of course, Mr. Gastiel wasn’t alone as he started Woven Hues. He had help from a dear friend of his, one we’ll call Lady Estrella, as per her request. She deftly wove the delicate foundation- Helping Mr. Gastiel mold it into what it is now. Without her, we wouldn’t have the framework for all of this. So please, give it up for Lady Estrella!”

Estrella. Like strings.

As the applause echoed around her, the crowd tightened around the duo. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves. There was a job to do. No need to focus on the amount of people, the amount of eyes- Dammit, Nillyx. They’re NOT staring at you.

They’re not. Stop. You aren’t the center of attention.

‘Ey, katto? You good? Cause we need to get a move on- And soon. Nia just saw a flock of guys drawing near, they’re gonna block off the area soon.’ Rou caught her eye with a grim nod. Seems like she got the tip too. The onyx-haired woman nodded softly at the stickman, watching her vanish into the shadows once more. Just as planned. Once they got out of the ballroom, they were gonna go their separate ways, to cover more ground. It was dumb, but more effective. All they needed now was information- Solid, hard evidence to back up these claims. ..Evidence to put Nillyx’s mind at ease. She hoped that Areon didn’t get dragged into this. She really, really did. But that would make so much sense.. All of it, if he did. And yet, the mere thought made her SOUL ache. To think such a young one like him, being put through experimental hell- He doesn’t deserve that. No child did. No innocent. Only the sinners… Deserve to fall. “There’s an opening. Meet you at… uh. Where, again?” “Atrium, second floor, right in the middle. Can’t miss it.” “Aye. Good luck out there, D.” Nillyx nodded, taking out her fan as she watched her cousin vanish into the myriad of people, turning her back to the stage and ducking into the hallways beyond. And lawd, if there’s one thing she wasn’t grateful for, it was the efficiency of the clothes. How do you expect to run in this thing? The heels weren’t that bad- But stars, Rou got it better. Double slits… What was Polar thinking, that wench-?! She was definitely getting a scolding later on that- But Nillyx had to give it to the stubborn woman, it did look good. Just not… Eugh. Never again. Maybe. Wait- Enough. Just-... Just go. You’ve stayed long enough. ———

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. BeepbeepbeepBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP- Garnet orbs shot open, small hands clawing at their surroundings. They were frantic, yet slowed down- Lethargic, even. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe- BreathebreathebreathebreathebREATHE- They reached out, pressing cool glass. A restraint. They couldn’t see anything through this murkiness.. They banged weakly on the glass, trying harder, harder, harder- A dull thunk after the other. How long were they doing this? It seemed all too familiar to h e r, this cycle… A cycle they were determined to break. Putting all their strength into this last push, they used their feet this time- The impact sending the glass forward. It didn’t shatter, only landing on the floor beyond with a muffled tonk. The liquid.. The serum, that held them in all this time drained, revealing bare sandy skin, air-conditioned air kissing it and chilling the small, bare body to the bone. They hiccuped, letting their feet gingerly reach the bottom of the capsule. The capsule that had been their prison for so long. The sensations were so foreign, yet so familiar. They knew this from.. Somewhere. Not trusting themself to take a step, they peeked out, looking at their reflection in the milky liquid. A sharp, scared child stared back at them. Wide eyes, garnet red. Thin face, sandy, slightly freckled skin. Pale from lack of sun for ages. How long, they didn’t know. ..wait. She. She was a she. Good to know? Who was she? Where was she? So many questions. But first- She had to get rid of this cold. She’ll get sick.. And she can’t be sick. They’ll tell her off for being useless, and send her to the cellar again- She hated the cellar. Making her run all those laps barefoot, with sacks chained to her legs, in sand- She shivered from the memory.

Was she in Mr. Matiz’s lab? She didn’t like waking up there. It was cold. But she never ended up wet or bare like this before… Wasn’t there always a spare hospit- Ah. There. Tucked neatly into the corner, just as it was before. It was a little too large for her now, but it was still covering. She ran her hands through her wet mop of reddish copper hair, and gulped- Spitting immediately at the bitter taste in her mouth. Ugh. She hated that taste. Fishy, bitter, stinky. She could taste the stench. ..she wanted water. And information. Why can’t she remember her name? Or what time it was? She must surely be in the Lab, but everything else was lost to her. The child took a few steps forward. Not that wobbly. Okay. She can go. But she didn’t want to find Mr. Matiz. He was scary.. Scarier than her father, or Xrylle when he was pissy. She hated the way he talked to her, the way he touched her when they were doing experiments. It wasn’t anything harsh, just small taps on her shoulders, arms, legs- But it made her feel icky. What was worse was the way he looked at her. Especially when she did something right. The child would rather bear the wrath than be gazed upon with that smile. It was sick, just sick. It made her feel like ice was being poured inside her spine, crawling down the bones and touching everything inside her. E w. Just- Ew. Looking around, she spotted a scalpel. Good enough. She could use that. Grabbing the blade, she made her way across, and into the hallways beyond. ——— “Oh~! This is an interesting turn indeed. Seems like the little piece of firewood found her way out~.. Wonder who’ll she encounter?” Fate looked down, grinning at the scene that played out before her. Oh, how lovely. Roulette was on her way to Matiz, just as planned, Nil-... The hanging doll on her way to her beloved child, and! The cataclyst, wandering alone. However would this play out, Fate didn’t know. But boy, was she excited to find out. She set down her cup of tea and waved the image away, just as a familiar man burst through her door. 

Her husband. Destiny. “...Fate. What are you doing.” She turned to look at him, an innocent smile spreading on her figures. “What? I’m just enjoying my tea, Desu.” Her smile widened upon seeing the enraged glint in his deep navy eyes. “Don’t. Call me that.” His usually placid voice came out in a quiet growl. Fate tutted, setting her teacup down and walking over to her husband, batting her eyes at him. “Oh~ But it’s been so long, Destiny. Can’t you forget that witch?” He closed his eyes, fists tight at his side. He was on his last nerve, and she knew that. Yet she pushed him so. Ugh. He was no fun. Fate sighed, turning away. “..Enough meddling with her children and her family. I’ve had enough.” “It’s part of my job, dear. Plus, I haven’t touched that fallenspawn lately.” “DO- Don’t call her kin that.” She scoffed, sipping her tea. “Very well. Now, if you please, do kindly escort yourself out. You are interrupting my peaceful afternoon tea. Thank you.” Destiny sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, before leaving without a word, the door closing with a soft click behind him. Once making sure he was gone, she waved her hand once more- Letting the strings construct a viewing web. Oh, silly man. She’d never give this up for the world~! A gal needs her entertainment, after all. And what better than the tales of real people? She sighed, her eyes drifting across the map lazily. The real show had just begun.

[rom-e-o]

@quill-pen

The goose was definitely a more welcome morsel than the sweetbread, in Constance's opinion. Though, it might have just been the overwhelming use of butter and spices that tempted her so. Regardless, it was incredibly delicious, and was doing wonders for filling her up.

As her date snuck up behind her and embraced her from behind, she snuggled against him in bliss, popping another piece into her mouth, bringing each of her fingers to her lips afterward.

"Bess' ex? Disgusting bloke, from what I've heard," Ethel vocalized. "Well, she obviously fancies your brother. Ebenezar fancies her too, yes?"

Constance gave Ethel a knowing look. "You know the answer to that. I think we all do."

"Even more reason for those two lovebirds to finally fly south, if you know what I mean," Ethel said. Bob elbowed her at her word choice, which caused Ethel to pivot defensively. "Oh, it's so obvious! They're obviously fond of each other! And I venture we may get some news on that front by the end of the evening."

Bob blinked through another stole bite of goose. "Oh?"

"That little distraction to pull people away from the greenhouse," Ethel said, waggling her fingers at the pair. "It was effective, but not subtle."

As the woman grabbed another slab of heavily buttered bread, Constance stared back at her in a bled of admiration and astonishment. "You knew."

"I have eight children, dear," she said, giving the redhead a light pinch. "You bet I know a ruse when I see one! Well played, however."

<><><>

Wolf had already though he'd felt the limits of elation when he'd kissed her, but after hearing her latest declaration, he found his heart soaring even higher than before.

"You love me?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave from sheer disbelief alone. He froze, but only for a moment, as he was unable to contain the wave of mirth that arose from his heart. With a triumphant laugh, he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her high above him (where he was convinced she belonged), spinning her above him before letting her crash back into his arms for another kiss.

When they parted, he was breathless. Elated, breathless, and in love.

"I love you too," he whispered, "Gods, I ... I've held the feeling in my heart for so long, but I'd always thought I was reading too much into things. That I was an old fool for thinking I could ever deserve a woman like you. That I..."

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes.

"N-No, it's not too early," he answered, "I...I think I loved you the moment you walked into my office. The first time I saw you."

He recalled the memory vividly, seeing the coal-haired Yankee with midnight eyes lighting up the room with her mere presence, and ensnaring his heart with one smile. "I knew there was something ... wonderfully different about you. You never left my mind."

And now, she never would.

"Oh, Bess, my Bess..." he muttered, "Y-Your love is returned a thousand times over. I love you. I love you so, so bloody much."

@rom-e-o

In Timeless, Adonis has invited Connie as his date to the Lord Mayor's Christmas party. Wolf was encouraged (in the end, more like dared, because brothers be brothers) to invite Bess (as merely close friends, of course) and she accepted.

Let's dress our guys and dolls up and rp a little!

Wolf:

[youzicha]

A post about the political valence of the Covid-19 pandemic commented:

Blue Tribe Facebook was always going to follow the CDC, and the CDC was always going to be at least vaguely tethered to some kind of actual reality in the sense that they were going to notice that the pandemic exists and that it was bad.

You get some wiggle room; you could get the FDA to really drag their feet on an emergency authorization, and Blue Tribe Cousin Bob might think that’s justifiable caution, and people complaining about the time it takes are libertarians who just want to hand everything over to unaccountable private interests, but you won’t convince him that the CDC has made the pandemic up out of whole cloth in order to promote some Trumpian idea

It’s a bit tangential, but this reminds me of what I thought was the most striking scene in And The Band Played On. It describes a meeting which happened in July 27, 1982, a little over a year after the U.S. AIDS epidemic was first detected:

he had flown up from Atlanta to join his boss, Dr. Bruce Evatt, and Don Francis and a gathering of leaders of the blood industry, hemophiliac groups, gay community organizations, and assorted luminaries from the National Institutes of Health and the Food and Drug Administration. The Centers for Disease Control had hoped the new evidence of blood transmission would incite the blood industry’s two major components, the voluntary blood banks and the for-profit manufacturers of blood products, to move quickly to stem the tide of blood contamination.

The CDC privately preferred launching the only available preventive measure: donor deferral guidelines, asking people who fit into the high-risk groups, such as gay men, Haitians, and drug users, not to donate blood. [...]

The hemophiliac groups immediately attacked the data that linked the immune suppression to the contamination of Factor VIII. They had read that some scientists believed gay men contracted the immune suppression simply because they were overloaded with infections. With all their exposure to blood-borne viruses, hemophiliacs also might be suffering from such immune overload, they argued. [...] Did the CDC want these 20,000 stricken Americans to go back to the less sophisticated techniques of stopping bleeding with attendant hemorrhagic fatalities? [...]

Gay community leaders were even more public relations-oriented than hemophiliacs. A New York City gay physician, Dr. Roger Enlow, argued persuasively that it was too soon to push for guidelines. Any such moves would have implications for the civil rights of millions of Americans, gay leaders noted. [...]

The agency with the authority to actually enforce any donor guidelines on the blood industry was the Food and Drug Administration. Already, the FDA was keenly aware of maneuvers for control of turf in this meeting. Some FDA regulators resented the CDC’s brash invasion of what was plainly their territory, the blood industry. Moreover, many at the FDA did not believe that this so-called epidemic of immune suppression even existed. Privately, in conversations with CDC officials, FDA officials confided that they thought the CDC had taken a bunch of unrelated illnesses and lumped them into some made-up phenomenon as a brazen ruse to get publicity and funding for their threatened agency. Bureaucrats have been known to undertake more questionable methods to protect their budgets. Given the Reagan administration’s wholesale budget slashing, this would not be all that drastic a reaction.

In the end, everybody agreed that they should do one thing: Wait and see what happens. 

This episode is typical of a lot of the AIDS failures that Shilts describes in the book, and of failures of rationality more generally: as soon as there are politics or conflicts of interest, information propagates much slower, because everybody suspects the others of lying or spinning their story.

[atypicalsenerio]

There were quite a few people running around in costume on account of the festivities, but most allowed for easy facial readability. So, while it was a lot of silliness to parse through, most of it did not prickle at his anxiety.

Save for one.

It was obnoxiously bright and looked cumbersome in its size. Big, pointed ears; a bizarre tail. A cute, goofy expression on its oversized head with big, black eyes that felt like they stared through his very soul.

He didn't like it, and he certainly didn't trust it.

It was an odd way to sneak in, of that there was no doubt, but it did guard one's identity and allow for a...strange tactic of blending in. Lloyd couldn't imagine it was handy to move very fast in, so he really didn't see the purpose of such a ruse. But, really...why else would someone choose to wear such a ridiculous thing?

Perhaps it was paranoia, of looking over his shoulder for much of his life, but it set him on edge whenever he saw the garish yellow bobbing out of the corner of his gaze.

So as the oversized -- rat? Rabbit? -- unholy chimera of unknown makeup waddled passed, Lloyd grabbed the tail of the costume, effectively arresting any forward movement after several steps. "Enjoying the festivities?" he hummed out, tone and expression pleasant to not arouse any further attention than the thing already garnered. "I don't know your reasoning for hiding your face; perhaps you've a decent one, perhaps not. You seem to be good with the little ones. I'd hope you've no plans on changing that impression."

He released the tail, walking around to the front of the costume where he assumed the person inside could see through. "But if you do, know it will be met with swift judgment," Lloyd smiled, waving pleasantly to the creature as another group of youngsters ran up to it with excited squeals.

Soren was not attached to the Thunder Mouse character, but he nearly snarled when a stranger grabbed the tail of it. He attempted a kick, resorting to violence on the spot. He missed, of course, but he still glared out from inside of the costume, not replying to anything Lloyd said.

He turned to face Lloyd, torn between snapping or still protecting his anonymity. It didn't help that Lloyd was thinking exactly as Soren would, suspecting anyone of hiding their identity. Just because he understood didn't mean he liked it.

Sometimes, animals puffed up to appear threatening. Soren's costume was already cute and round, but he stood in front of Llyod, little arms stretched out so his body formed a T, hoping the glare got across somehow.

A gaggle of small children once again found him and ran to him, crowding around to get to say hello and Soren pointedly ignored Lloyd, giving the kids a pat on the head or a high five as they swarmed around.

Whatever. As if Lloyd is a match for me.

They could duel it out sometime, he supposed.

[thedistantdusk]

Expectations

For the Hinny Christmas Fest, so kindly organized by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves​! Got this one in just under the wire! :D Thanks to @floreatcastellumposts​ and @kmi-kmi​ for giving it a look over for me! Rated a soft T for references to sex. On AO3. 

________

Molly Weasley is a lot of things. But she’s not an idiot. 

Even if she hadn’t once been a teen in the throes of a serious relationship on the heels of a war (which, incidentally, she was), she did raise seven children. Seven Gryffindor children. Seven Gryffindor children who, by default, have each thought themselves far more competent at sneaking around than they truly are.

As such, she’s fairly certain of when Harry and Ginny became... intimate... this summer. Not that she wants the details. Her interest is limited to ensuring that her daughter — that all of her children, Harry and Hermione most definitely included — are well-informed on the inherent risks of what they’re doing. The knowledge of their intimacy was just one of those things that even the most oblivious of parents would have found impossible to ignore. In the span of two days, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny went from “taking long walks in the garden” to feigning yawns and calling it an early night at 7 PM. Besides, Ron and Hermione had already been to Australia by themselves; only a moron would truly believe their nights were strictly filled with knitting caps for house elves. 

And as has been said before, Molly is a lot of things... but she’s not a bloody idiot. She knows some might expect her to maintain a puritanical stance on sex (as if she hadn’t birthed seven children of her own). She knows some might have disagreed with her stance on letting things unfold as they did. But as she’s learned over the past year, happiness — true happiness — is hard to find. 

After months of thinking she’d never see happiness on her children’s faces again, she first spotted it in Ginny’s eyes last May. Back then, it was a creeping, hesitant sort of look... the type that dipped its toes in the waters of joy for a split-second before retreating like a frightened doe. 

But as the weeks progress, she sees it more and more often — and not just in Ginny’s eyes. She sees happiness in the lazy quirk of Harry’s lips as Ginny takes his hand beneath the table. She sees it in the bobbing of Ron’s Adam’s Apple as Hermione descends the stairs in a sundress. She sees it in the way Hermione let a sandal dangle from her toe as she tilts her chin towards the sun.

By now, the four of them have coupled up properly, just as she suspected they would. It was in equal parts charming and bittersweet, but Molly knows better than anyone that there’s nothing quite like a war to rearrange one’s priorities. 

And when she considers all of that, plus the fact that certain fractals of darkness will never truly leave them (just as they’ll never truly leave her)... who would she have been, really, to snatch such joy away?

So, yes, Molly spends the summer fully aware they’re intimate beneath her roof. But after the plague of chaos and confusion and uncertainty and fear that followed their family for close to a year, she honestly prefers them beneath her roof then in a tent somewhere, filled with cat piss and loneliness. 

However — and Molly admits this part makes her a bit cheeky — she does enjoy the unnecessary pageantry they go to over the summer to conceal what they’re doing. The four of them actually think they’re good at hiding it, even as Harry rakes his eyes over Ginny’s... erm... back. Even as she Hermione parades around the kitchen in Ron’s old jumper. Even as she hears, each night, as Ginny’s feet land in the attic as Ron’s land in Ginny’s room. Alas, the whole thing is too hilarious and contrived for her to spoil, so she simply doesn’t. 

But then the girls return to school after a summer that’s both agonizingly long and tenderly fleeting. Harry and Ron find a flat together and enter training. What remains of their lives returns to normal, even though Molly feels she’ll always be picking up the piece of a puzzle that can’t be solved. 

She keeps herself busy as fall turns to winter, though. She volunteers with Ministry relief efforts. She writes to Ginny often. She makes an effort to try harder with Fleur, to rebuild her relationship with Percy, to assist George if she can, to stay close with her husband. She knows her life will forever be separated into two parts: before and after. She knows that the remainder of her days will contain a deep-seated longing that tinges her world with shades of gray. This is a unique type of pain, she knows… the sort of pain only a mother can feel. The sort of pain that takes her breath away if she lets it. 

But she also knows the best way to keep moving is to maintain the traditions that made them a family in the first place. 

So she sticks to holiday routines as Christmas approaches. Waking early. Cleaning the house. Decorating with tinsel and paper chains. Preparing for everyone’s arrival. Christmas will never be the same… not without him. But if only for George’s sake, Molly knows she needs to try. 

She suggests that Harry spend the night on Christmas Eve, just so he isn’t alone; she assumes (correctly) that they haven’t quite got the nerve to ask if Ginny can spend the night at the flat instead. By now, Harry is essentially an overnight Christmas fixture anyway; even when they do get up the nerve to ask, Molly expects he’ll continue to stay over. Or so she hopes so, anyway. The alternative still makes her feel a bit broken, but she’ll cross that bridge when it comes. 

So when Harry, Ron, and Ginny head upstairs after a night of festivities on Christmas Eve, Molly assumes they’ll be back to their old tricks. Hermione’s spending the night with her parents, but it wouldn’t be the least bit surprising if she apparates in. After all, they think they’ve got a foolproof plan that’ll last through everyone’s departure from school. Announcing she’s been aware of this plan the whole time would only spoil things… and Molly doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. Not this year. 

After a half-sleepless night, Molly rises early on Christmas Day. She continues to stick to routines, to never deviate from what she can control; today is a day that could be especially miserable, if she lets it. So when she emerges from the toilet at half past seven, she doesn’t expect to see anyone in the cold, dark corridor. From the amount everyone drank last night, she assumed their switching-bedrooms routine would be pushed back, just a bit. 

Then again, it’s not just anyone she sees in the corridor, his foot poised on the step leading to the attic. 

It’s Harry. 

Sleep-tousled, disheveled Harry — and as much as it makes her cringe to admit, he does look… more relaxed. 

At least until they make eye contact. 

For the life of her, Molly’s never seen anyone transform so quickly from chuffed to terrified. Any hint of relaxation slides from his face, his back going rigid. Harry freezes, stock-still, his white-socked foot still poised on the step, his eyes filled with the sort of blinding terror she hasn’t seen in seven months. If it weren’t for that, really, she’d find the whole thing humorous. But seeing as how she’d rather not see that look on his face again, she opts to take pity on him. 

After a bit of gentle prodding, that is. 

“Harry, dear,” Molly says softly; she’s certain Ginny’s still asleep, but it’s best not to chance it. “Wherever are you going so early in the morning?”

Harry swallows and awkwardly moves his jaw like he’s forgotten how to speak. “I’m, erm,” he starts, his voice torn between graveled with sleep and high-pitched with terror. “I’m… going to the toilet?”

Molly can’t help the smirk that crawls to her lips as she nods to her left. “You’ve just missed it, dear.”

Shit. 

Harry doesn’t say the word, but it’s written across his face, plain as day. He shifts his weight, his face blanching even more; she can almost see the wheels spin in his head as he thinks of another excuse. 

“I’ve… erm. Sleepwalked?” 

Molly’s smirk broadens to a full-on grin as she crosses her arms over her chest. Is that how he’s going to play it? In that case, she’ll keep up the ruse, too. 

“Oh? What an unfortunate affliction!” she exclaims, hoping she’s masking her amusement with feigned concern. “You’ll need to see a healer, Harry. How have you managed to make it down such steep steps in the first place? It’s remarkable you’ve stayed safe so far! In future, I really think—“

But when Harry cuts her off, it’s not with another excuse; it’s with a remark that’s hasty and blurted, but ringing with truth. He just blinks, sets his jaw, and gives her with an expression so endearing, so honest, that it makes her entire Christmas. 

“—I’m going to marry her, Mrs. Weasley,” he interrupts, removing his foot from the step as he turns to face her… and right in front of her face, the hollow fear in his eyes fades into sharp nobility. 

He draws a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, even as Molly’s head spins, even as her heart leaps to her throat, even as his words breathe more life into her soul than she’s felt in months. 

“So I’m sorry if this”— he gestures to Ginny’s room— “is weird. Really, I am. But please, believe me when I say I’ll do the right—”

But Molly has no idea if he says another word. She’s even too taken aback to correct him on the Mrs. Weasley bit. Because she can’t stand another bloody second of Harry having to justify himself… not when she’s thrilled that he’s in her life. That he’s in Ginny’s life. That he’s saved their lives. 

Not when he’s just confirmed what she’s always hoped and dreamed for: that he would truly, properly join their family. 

She’s not even aware of her feet running towards him, of the delighted squeal from her mouth as tears of joy stream down her face. All she feels is Harry relaxing against her shoulder, his arm awkwardly patting her on the back, even as she continues to jump and shriek.

“Not erm… anytime too soon?” he manages, through her hysterics. “I just didn’t want you to think—”

Oh, please! 

Molly pulls away from the hug with a sharp glare. “Harry,” she says firmly. “Of all the things I’ve thought about you, doing the wrong thing never even crossed my mind. So I’ll hear none of that. I just…” She trails off, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be so serious so fast! But of course I’m happy, dear. So happy!”

Harry gives her a fervent nod and a smile… and unless she’s very much mistaken, she can see the hint of a tear in his eye too as she pulls him in for another hug.

Marry her.

He’s going to marry her! Harry Potter is going to marry her daughter! He’s going to stand at the altar, his green eyes brimming, the cause of his scar a distant memory. Molly can envision Ginny in white, her red hair gorgeous in contrast, her face split into a smile she can’t contain. Or maybe none of that will happen. Right now, Molly doesn’t really care. All she knows is that they’re to be married... and the thought alone is absolutely beautiful, isn’t it? That something so lovely could come from a year so dreadful?

In truth, Molly did expect this — eventually. After all, she spent months observing how Harry looks at Ginny. She’s seen the softness in his eyes and the protectiveness in his jaw. It’s clear he loves her; Molly just never expected she’d be given permission to properly call him her son in the same year she lost one. 

And as she cries and hugs him, Molly is happy for two things: that her family will soon be even bigger and happier than she’d ever hoped... and that her daughter (approximately ten meters away) has always been a very heavy sleeper.

[boricuacherry-blog]

How did Michael Jackson get away with it for so long? The 'Wacko Jacko' persona was a deliberate ruse to cover a much darker truth, says Jacques Peretti as he examines his own complicity in letting the pop star off the hook.

If you keep wondering what to think of Michael Jackson's complicated legacy - is it OK to play Billie Jean at a party? Do you have to switch radio stations if Smooth Criminal comes on? - imagine how Jacques Peretti feels. He has made three films about the pop icon in the past 15 years and in this, his fourth, he aimed to build the fullest picture yet. But how many of us are brave enough to confront that picture?

The Real Michael Jackson (BBC Two) comes just over a year after the broadcast of HBO/Channel 4's Leaving Neverland, a gruelling, four-hour documentary built around the detailed accounts of two men, Wade Robson and James Safechuck, who say they were sexually abused by Jackson as children.

The Real Michael Jackson has much more in common with Louis Theroux's 2016 Savile film, in which the newly somber documentarian confronted his own journalistic failures and berated himself for not doing more to tackle a high-profile abuser who got away with it for so long. Didn't Jackson also "hide in plain sight"?

Peretti makes a compelling case that the pop star deliberately cultivated that 'Wacko Jacko' persona of the late 80s - Bubbles the chimp, the oxygen chamber, the Elephant Man bones - to provide cover for a truth that was much darker.

Savile's crimes were not on the same global scale. Peretti details the "Jackson machine", that small army of private investigators, expensive lawyers and fixers, which swung into gear during his trials, or whenever his reputation was threatened. It is an MO reminiscent of Harvey Weinstein or Jeffrey Epstein. Yet none of these other men had anything like Jackson's huge international fanbase, which, until uncomfortably recently, included Peretti himself.

"Is he a pedophile? That's the question that should be asked," Peretti says ruefully as he (and we) rewatch footage of a younger Peretti interviewing Jackson's longtime manager Bob Jones (who testified against Jackson in 2005) for one of his earlier films. "And I don't ask the question. That is a failure...that is a regret of mine."

In fairness, he is far from the only Jackson-adjacent journalist with regrets for not doing more to quiz Jackson on the rumors.

Jackson's habit of occasionally emerging from his post-Thriller seclusion to attend an awards ceremony arm-in-arm with a 12-year-old, or grant exclusive access to an interview, means there is a wealth of footage to scrutinize. Diane Sawyer in 1995 and Martin Bashir in 2003 made the most headlines - even asking him about the allegations - yet it's the softballs, including Oprah Winfrey's live 1993 interview at the Neverland ranch, which are retrospectively more creepy (although, to be fair, she did at least ask him about his sexuality). In the clip, Oprah approvingly notes one of several bedrooms on the property made up for young guests: "You have to be a person who really cares about children to build that into your architecture," she says.

Could anyone watch all this, especially after Leaving Neverland, and not have profound doubts about the professed innocence of Jackson's interest in young boys? Apparently so. J Randy Taraborrelli, the celebrity biographer and Jackson's loyal friend since childhood, continues to believe in Jackson's innocence and there were a couple occasions in his interview where you might wish he had been pushed harder. Ultimately though, the non-confrontational strategy paid off in an exchange that is enormously revealing about the nature of denial.

Peretti may not always ask the right question, but he has certainly been asking them of the right people. And now, at long last, the time is also right for genuine reflection. There are astute insights here from a variety of tabloid journalists as well as Jackson's fellow survivor of 70s child stardom Donny Osmond, and Matthew Knowles, talent manager and Beyoncé's dad. These guys weren't just there, in the distorting eye of the celebrity storm, they are all too aware of the types of games celebrities played to negotiate media scrutiny.

Is it possible to continue to continue to admire, even enjoy, Jackson in light of all that we now know? A lot of people remain very invested, both emotionally and financially, in believing that the answer to this question is yes.

[elriel-oblivion]

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

__

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter. 

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

[tophthedaydreamer]

extremely detailed mickey mouse family tree. exploring the concept of “what if all the mickeys who appeared in various shorts and movies were different people”

family tree under the cut!!!!

Medieval Era

Minstrel Mouse -- A wandering minstrel who marries the Princess of Kalapazoo.

Tailor Mouse -- Descendant of Minstrel. A tailor living in Happy Valley, during the time of the ancient monarchs. He is famous for saving a kingdom from an evil giant. After his incredible feat, Tailor is married to Princess Millicent, and the two become Lord and Lady Mouse. Unfortunately, Happy Valley is overrun and the monarchs are overthrown by their enemies. Tailor and Millicent lose their fortune and royal status, and assume the lives of peasants. Years later, the people rise up against the invaders and establish a new monarchy under the Golden Harp.

Sorcerer Mouse -- During Happy Valley’s dark ages, a descendant of Tailor trains under the great sorcerer, Yen Sid, to learn the art of magic. 

King Jack Mouse -- Descendant of Sorcerer. A peasant from the medieval times who is famous for rescuing the Golden Harp from Willie the Giant, along with his companions, Donnell Duck and Gregory Goof. In doing so, he was made King of Happy Valley by the Golden Harp, and the old royal Mouse line is resumed. 

High King Edward Mouse -- Son of Jack. Happy Valley has fallen into disarray due to King Jack’s old age and Captain Pete’s corruptive power. When King Jack passes away, Prince Edward is pronounced High King, alongside his adoptive brother, King Thomas.

King Thomas Mouse -- Edward’s adoptive brother. A poor pauper who befriends Prince Edward and switches places with him for a while. He is almost blackmailed into being crowned a puppet king for Captain Pete, who discovers the two’s ruse. Luckily, the coronation is halted just in time by Edward. Thomas is considered a brother to Edward, despite the two being unrelated.

Pre-20th Century

King Athos Mouse -- Descendant of Thomas. Happy Valley’s monarchy is dissolved during Edward’s great-grandson’s reign. Thomas’ great-grandson moves to France and establishes a new life there. Athos’ parents died from the Black Plague, leaving him to fend for himself as a street urchin in 1700s France, alongside his friends Porthos Duck and Aramis Goof. Athos and his friends become musketeers bodyguards for Princess Minnette, and he and she are married.

Robert “Bob” Mouse -- Descendant of Athos and Minnette. A clerk living in 1800s England. His grandson emigrates to America. 

Two-Gun Mouse -- Great-grandson of Bob. A gunslinger from American West.

Early 20th Century

William “Willie” Mouse -- Grandson of Two-Gun. A scrappy youngster who goes on a grand series of adventures during the 1920s-30s.

Theo Mouse -- Son of Willie. Goes on a series of adventures during the 1940s-50s.

Mid 20th Century

Michael Mouse -- Son of Theo. Becomes a film star and the namesake of “The Mickey Mouse Club”, a popular children’s show. 

Late 20th Century

Elias Mouse -- Son of Michael. Follows in his father’s footsteps and also becomes a film star. Was very popular during the 1980s-90s. His masterpiece is his short horror film, “Runaway Brain”, which he directed and starred in. 

21st Century

Wayne Mouse -- Son of Elias. A famous comedian during the 2000s. Known for his funny skits and his position as host of popular toon nightclub, House of Mouse. “Once Upon a Christmas” and “Twice Upon a Christmas” happened in real life. He later starred in children’s show “Mickey Mouse Clubhouse”, until he passed away.

Michael “Mickey” Mouse -- Son of Wayne. Is the current “mickey” from the Rudish shorts. His very first role was in “Get A Horse!” in 2013. 

[cakelanguage]

This took much longer than I thought it would, but work has been absolutely exhausting lately. I'm honestly just excited that I get to share this with you all because I really wanted to participate in Hurt!Noct Week. This is a combination of day 1 prompts: buried alive and captured by Nifleheim (at least sort of?). This is just the 1st chapter, but I figured I’d share at least this bit for now. I hope you enjoy this!

You can also read this on AO3

-

He should’ve called Ignis. Or texted Gladio that he was going to be ten minutes late to their training session. Or Astrals, accepted Prompto’s offer to walk home with him even though his house was in the opposite direction.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d strolled down the bustling streets, thinking about the planned King’s Knight session later that night. He scrolled idly through the mission details, trying to formulate a plan of attack. The last time Noctis had attempted this mission he’d been severely outclassed and had to abandon the mission lest he lose what little loot he’d been able to pilfer from the dungeon. With Gladio’s character acting as their tank, he could have Ignis on range attacks and healing. Prompto had the best stealth stats so they could have Prompto looting the place while the rest of them took care of the bigger monsters. Noctis fancied himself an all-around player so he could assist wherever needed the most help.  

Caught up in his mini strategy session, he didn’t realize he was on a collision course with someone until he ran right into them. He stumbled, juggling his phone between his hands in an attempt to save it from meeting its demise on the pavement below.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man he ran into grumbled, brushing imaginary dirt off his jacket.

The man was dressed lavishly in a wide variety of patterns and textures. His coat looked sturdy and thick like it would keep out even the harshest of cold winds. The scarf around his neck was the brightest piece of clothing he wore—the reddish-orange silk oddly complementing the man's red-violet hair. Not a sliver of the man’s skin was visible besides the tip of the man’s fingers and his face under the shade of his fedora.

He had a right to be upset even if half of him wanted to insist that the man could have moved too. He shoved that thought down and instead nodded his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” Noctis apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Yes, I figured as much.” The man squinted at him, his head cocking to the side. “Hold on a moment, don’t I know you?”

Not for the first time, he was thankful for his privacy. His father had done a remarkable job at keeping him much out of the public eye. People knew who he was, but because he wasn’t in any of the newspapers or rag magazines that most celebrities appeared in he could go through life like normal. He didn’t have to think about paparazzi waiting outside his school or people approaching him asking for something or other.

“Probably not,” Noctis said, “maybe you’ve seen me walking home before? I go to the high school three blocks away.”

Shaking his head, the man inspected his face more thoroughly. “No that’s not it. I’ve definitely seen you before.” He felt as if the man could count his pores, and Noctis shuffled backward away from the man’s heavy stare. “Have you got an uncle that works at the palace? I used to work there.”

The man gave Noctis a private quirk of his lips like he was privy to some hidden joke that only he knew.

“Oh that’s… nice?”

The man nodded absentmindedly gaze still heavy on Noctis. “Hm, you really do look familiar,” he commented. “Quite handsome too.”

“Thanks?” Noctis looked down at his uniform and his loosened tie and wondered if there was a polite way to excuse himself from the conversation. He didn’t want to be rude by walking away from the man but he really did need to get going or he was going to be later than he thought to Gladio’s training session. “Well, I’m sorry for walking into you like that, but I gotta get going.”

“Right, right, of course.” The man swept a hand through his hair sheepishly. “It’s not like I can keep the prince from his important tasks just to talk with me.”

Ice filled Noctis’ veins as his title was casually thrown out by the man who claimed he couldn’t place his face. He stared at the man, uncomprehendingly. This was starting to look like the beginning of one of Ignis’ crime drama shows. Why did the man lie? What was his angle? What was going on?

“Who are you?” Noctis asked, channeling his calm façade to the max.

“A man of no consequence, I assure you.” The man waved him off with a few shooing gestures. “Off you go, your highness.”

Noctis gave him a wary look and an awkward bob of his head. He needed to get out of here. Ready to put this whole interaction behind him, he stepped to the side of the man to continue his route. Except he didn’t get very far before a hand latched onto his wrist with surprising force.

A violent tug had him wrenching himself back around, his shoulder twinging at the sudden jerk. Face-to-face with the man once more, Noctis saw how the man’s expression was colder, harsh in the afternoon sun. His teeth were bared in a sneer—looking for all the world like a coeurl.

“Let go,” Noctis ordered, now glaring at the man who wouldn’t leave him alone. “Didn’t you just tell me to go?”

A taunting smile peaked through the man’s sneer. “Now why would I do that?” He asked.

Noctis clenched his fists and bit out another order. “Let go of me, now.” He grabbed his phone with his free hand and quickly dialed the palace’s emergency numbers. It would be mildly embarrassing if Gladio found out he’d called the Crownsguard on a regular citizen, but his SAS kidnap training was blaring in his ears. “I’m warning you, I can have you arrested.”

A soft tsk came from the man who shook his head at Noctis’ threat. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

He opened his mouth to demand his release again, but all that came out was a choked-off yelp as something heavy struck his head. His knees refused to hold up his body and he collapsed to the concrete. The skin of his palms was torn in his attempt to catch himself, but he couldn’t feel it; the sharp pain by his temple shadowed the pain in his palms.

He turned his gaze back to the blurry figure of the man, who had been joined by another figure. His brain felt sluggish, his thoughts thick in his mouth as he tried to string a sentence together. “W-what—“

“Shh,” The man shushed, ignoring Noctis’ flinch as he tenderly ran a hand through Noctis’ hair. “Good night, sweet prince.”

The last thing he saw was a fist coming at his face.

Then nothing.

He regained consciousness with a choked-off groan. He felt like he’d gone through one of Gladio’s marathon training sessions and lost miserably.

Laying still, he took stock of his body. His lip was swollen and tender as he wet his dry, split lips. The right side of his face throbbed in-tune with his heartbeat and Noctis could barely get that eye to open more than a crack. What was he supposed to do? He’d been trained on how to handle a kidnapping situation; Cor had made it abundantly clear the variations in which people would try to snatch him up. But this wasn’t just a ‘what if.’ He’d been kidnapped not even four blocks away from his school.

It was a matter of figuring out what he could do to get out of here. He still had his magic though admittedly his connection to the Crystal felt like he was trying to pull at the energy through a strainer. Like sifting through a pile of hay for the needle—all of his abilities being the needle and the presence of his magic being the hay.

But that didn’t mean he was helpless. He just needed to approach the situation the right way and he could escape. He tried to remain calm, limiting his breathing to shallow breaths to keep up his ruse. This became a fruitless act when he heard someone or something step up behind him.

A familiar voice came from behind him. “It appears our guest of honor is awake,” the man cooed. Some of the man’s nonchalance had vanished, replaced by cruel giddiness. “And how are you, your majesty?”

Like hell he was going to go along with this guy’s fake care. His pride wouldn’t let him bite out a pleasantry, instead choosing to press his steely gaze on the eccentric man. His stare didn’t deter the man’s delight in his situation which only served to make his blood simmer in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to punch the smug look off that face.

“I think you’ll find, Noctis,” the man loomed over him, nudging him lightly in the ribs with his boots, “that I have the upper hand.”

He didn’t. Noctis refused to believe it. He may not have had any weapons on him, but Noctis had dialed the emergency response number for the palace. By dialing the number he had ensured back-up would be on their way to his location in less than five minutes. Well, the location of where the call took place. He couldn’t feel the shape of his phone in his pockets, but the Crownsguard would be able to pick up on any trail his kidnapper had left behind.

All he needed to do was wait.

“What do you want?” Noctis asked, shifting his position on the floor to try and alleviate the pressure on his lower back. He could already feel the scar tissue there begin to burn and ache.

“Already wanting me to reveal my dastardly plan?” The man questioned. “How cliché.” Noctis’ face must’ve given away his annoyance because the guy clucked his tongue at his expression.

“I realize this isn’t one of your silver-spoon soirees, but it’ll serve as a good setting for the video.” He straightened and made his way over to the small set-up of�� camera equipment? “We need you to put on your best performance, your highness.” He looked up with a cold smile that sent a shiver running down Noctis’ spine. “Though do save some for the main event.”

“So you’re gonna, what? Ransom me or something?” Noctis squirmed in his binds. “Is that your plan?”

Humming noncommittally, the man continued setting up his equipment. “Or something.”

“Not much of a talker huh?” He was banking on being able to get some info out of the guy so he could shout it over what was sure to be his ransom video.

The waiting was bizarre. Despite the discomfort, he didn’t feel like he was all there—though the main contributor to this was the head injury—the quiet sounds of rustling cables and footsteps gave him peace of mind amongst the simmering unrest and anxiety as the experience faded into less immediate danger. If only he could concentrate on his armiger and summon the knife he stored there—then he’d be able to warp out of his binds and escape.

A quiet huff of laughter broke through the silence; it took him a few moments to realize the laugh came from him . It wasn’t funny, not by a long-shot. He was being stupidly optimistic, especially since his vision still wavered between doubled and covered in black splotches. He probably had one hell of a shiner too.

He wished he’d called someone to get him.  

The derelict state of his mind was brushed away as a triumphant cry echoed slightly around him. He squinted at the man who looked at him expectantly.

“What?” Noctis asked, tiredly. He had no desire to give the man the reactions he was hoping for. Actually, the other being put off by his apathy made him feel better. “Did you finally get your whole… set-up ready?”

The man had the audacity to pout at him. “Now you’re just no fun,” he complained. “Aren’t you curious as to why I’ve brought you here?”

Noctis shrugged. “Not really?” The motion caused his chains to rattle in the tight space. “Most of the guys I’ve been kidnapped by all want the same thing: revenge or money.”

“I can assure you that my reason is definitely not for any monetary reason.” The man took a step towards him. “I suppose you could call it revenge, though I admit you are simply unlucky—to be chosen by the gods.” He cupped Noctis’ cheek with surprising tenderness, brushing his thumb along his cheekbones. “You do bear a striking resemblance to him.”

A nail dug it the flesh underneath his eye and Noctis hissed, attempting to turn his face out of the man’s grip. “What a pity,” the man said, releasing his hold on Noctis. “Before we begin, I think it’s only fair that you finally be able to put a name to your captor.”

“Oh now you want to introduce yourself?” Noctis grumbled—because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life apparently.

Fortunately, the man seemed amused by his comment. “Do forgive me for my rudeness, your highness .” The mocking emphasis he placed on the title was not lost to Noctis, but he didn’t dignify him with an answer. “I’ve been reduced to the moniker ‘Adagium,’ by the royal line of Lucis.”

It sounded familiar, but Noctis couldn’t place where he’d heard it. Had the name come up in his studies? Was it a political thing?

Adagium sighed and shook his head. “I’m not surprised you don’t know of me. Your dear father is desperately trying to keep you in the dark.”

Noctis furrowed his brow. “What do you mean he’s keeping me in the dark?”

With a shake of his head, Adagium stepped back over to his equipment. “I’ve talked enough for now, it’s time we get the show started lest the party be stopped before it’s even begun.” Adagium grinned at him. “The stage is yours, prince Noctis.”

A red light blinked to life on the camera as Noctis stared into the lens. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Did Adagium want him to beg? To show whoever was watching the video that he was scared? He wasn’t. Scared that it is. Unnerved? Yes, how could he not be when he was kidnapped and tied up in some unknown location.

His captor sighed tilting his hat to cover his face and—

Adagium changed. No longer was he wearing the extravagant, pattern-clashing, textile collage of an outfit. He was in a set of armor, his face masked and hair tucked away under the rigid helmet. Noctis had only seen the armor in person once before on that fateful escape from Tenebrae as he reached desperately for Luna’s hand.

Magitek armor.

To see the man stripped of his individualism did more to bother Noctis than he expected. Something about the metal, placid expression staring at him had his stomach clenching nervously. How had Adagium done it? An illusion? But how? To his knowledge, illusion magic was typically only used by the messengers of the gods; he figured he’d already met all of them at this point with his connection to Luna.

With four jerky steps, Adagium stood beside him, a hand painfully clasping his shoulder. Noctis side-eyed the man as if he could glean some sort of direction for what he wanted Noctis to do.

Once again, Adadgium broke the silence. “Salutations, Your Majesty, Regis Lucis Caelum,” Adagium said, “113th monarch in the long line of Lucis.”

He’d somehow managed to project his voice to see like he was behind the camera again. Another impossibility Noctis didn’t know how to find an answer to.

“As you can see, I have an auspicious guest with me, one I know you’re well-acquainted with. Won’t you say hello to your dear father, Noct?” Adagium asked.

Gritting his teeth, Noctis glared at a spot on the wall. He wasn’t going to give the other what he wanted, not when he could still deny him of his game. If he could weaponize his silence, he would.

With an angry tut from Adagium, Noctis’ hair was yanked with a merciless tug, pulling his head backward and exposing his throat. He could feel the handful of hair desperately trying to cling to his scalp as he let out a small whimper at the rough treatment.

“What a difficult boy,” Adagium commented, “he must’ve been quite the child to raise. To think he’d forget his manners at a time like this.”

“Shut up,” Noctis growled.

“Oh he speaks! Splendid! Now while I’ve broken through that stony exterior, we can commence the show.”

Suddenly, a knife was pressed against Noctis’ neck. He flinched back into Adagium’s hold on his hair, but the knife followed, the edge of the blade making a small, shallow cut on the delicate skin of his neck. He was helpless, tied up, and at the mercy of his captor. And it didn’t seem like Adagium had any qualms against hurting him.

The blood that lazily oozed from the wound dripped down his neck and settled into his jugular notch like a morbid jewel. Noctis heard Adagium’s hum of approval and could feel the pressure of the knife increase slightly as if Adagium had lapsed in his awareness that he was the one holding the knife and thus in control of how far the blade entered Noctis’ flesh.

“Now, I understand why Lucis values black as a special color—it goes amazingly with blood red, wouldn’t you agree?”

He said it so off-handedly that Noctis wasn’t sure who he was talking to: Noctis, Regis, or himself. What was clear, was that Adagium had a deep-seated grudge against Lucis—the royal line in particular. But why? Was he from one of the outer nations that had been left behind when his father had to pull back the wall to just the city of Lucis?  

Adagium broke out of his musings, finally pulling the knife back enough that it was just resting against the cut. “Never mind that,” he said. “I expect you’re waiting for some kind of demand from me. Money? Some impossible wish for power? Recognition?” Noctis could hear the smirk in his voice, that deceptively playful quirk of his lips. “No, I don’t want any of those, not explicitly at least.”

What do you want? Noctis didn’t voice no matter how much he wanted to. This little video of Adagium’s seemed to be going nowhere which could be good if this was a live broadcast, build the tension maybe.

“My reason for kidnapping Noct is very simple: because I could.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Noctis’ brain stumbled to a halt. That’s it? Because he could? That didn’t make any sense, not when Adagium had brought up some kind of revenge. “What happened to your revenge?” Noctis asked. “You mentioned your reasons could be considered revenge and the gods.” He remembered the forlorn look in Adagium’s eyes before the rage had trickled back in. “You said I resembled someone, Adagium.”

He knew he was being bold, foolhardy more accurately, but his captor hadn’t revealed his name and Noctis was hoping if he brought up his aforementioned desire for revenge on film he’d reveal more of his reasoning. If the heroes in movies could get a villain to reveal their schemes, Noctis should be able to do it to Adagium.

Adagium’s grip on his hair tightened, Noctis crying out as several strands were tugged out of his scalp. “Oh Noct,” he purred, “I see you’ve decided to join the conversation.”

Noctis felt his skin crawl at the contemptuous pride in Adagium’s voice. He’d overstepped with his nosy questions.

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” Adagium said. “You remember Adagium, do you not Your Majesty? The mythical monster locked away in the dark depths of Angelgard for ages, lost to time amongst the words of false kings and fraudulent nations.”

Who was Adagium? Noctis wondered, a stray tear slipping down the side of his face towards his hairline. “Why?” Noctis whispered, afraid of the answer he’d receive but unwilling to let his question lie.

The magitek disguise rippled ominously, a black miasma seeping through the gaps of armor. Quickly, the figure of Adagium was being overshadowed by the mist. The tiny glints of gold light within the consuming shadows was what gave away the nature of the mist: Starscourge.

Eyes wide, Noctis struggled in the man’s grip. He remembered when the Starscourge had infected him as a child when the Marilith had sliced his back open and nearly severed his spinal cord. The burning agony of the scourge ravaging his body, when not even his coma brought him relief from its infection. The hushed cries of similarly infected at the edges of his mind like a web of anguish, ever-growing with each infected. Get away getawaygetaway.

His struggling was for naught as the black mirage leaned closer to him. “Why?” Adagium asked the hand that held the knife lazily dragged to the center of his chest. “Because I was saving people. Because that first false king was jealous and power-hungry, over-eager to be the one to wear the crown. And the rest,” he spat the word, “never bothered to question any of their forebears, convinced that they had always done what was best for the kingdom of Lucis.”

Noctis shook his head as best he could. “But why would they—“

“Because the gods didn’t stop them.” The knife in his hand pressed harder against Noctis’ chest and hissed at the sting of the blade. “But the time of reckoning is steadily approaching!”

With a flourish of his hand, the knife was sent away. Noctis thought it was eerily similar to accessing the armiger. “While all the pieces aren’t in their proper place just yet, a bit of ‘divine retribution’ soothes the soul.”

“What do you mean by divine retribution?” Noctis asked, his voice far quieter than he expected.

The miasma cloud seemed to grin impossibly wide, though he couldn’t discern an actual face. “I thought it would be perfect for you to atone on behalf of your forebears, Noct. And to have your father helplessly watch as he struggles to find you.”

Adagium stood behind him once more and wrapped his arms loosely around Noctis’ shoulders. “Let’s have the chosen, King of Light spend some time in the dark,” he purred, black ichor dripping onto his shirt. Onto his head. Onto his face. It was everywhere and Noctis couldn’t focus on anything else.

And then there was nothing.

[whenimgoodandready]

What role do we play in this production we call life? To us, we see ourselves as the protagonist that discovers new beginnings, the hero of the story that seeks to do good and gain the love of the people. To others, we may be the faithful sidekick who works as a foil to balance out the hero or the love interest who has yet to realize their true feelings for whom they consider “the one” or perhaps the antagonist, the villain who causes chaos and stands as an obstacle for the hero to overcome and vanquish to restore peace and hey! We could also be a background character that’s familiar to everyone that they enjoy seeing cuz of their unique and aesthetic look. Whoever we are, we are all actors that move the story along until we reach the ultimate climax to see how this all unfolds. So who plays who in this eps story? Let’s see the cast:

*Queen Banana-The Françoise Dupont School is participating in a film making project that’ll be released in theaters for all of Paris to see w/ mostly the art club setting everything up and their teacher Jean-Pierre Monlataing (Hey! Look at that! He’s finally got a name! Yea!). Been wondering what his name was since “Reverser”. Nino writes the script, Alix paints the props, Marinette designs the costumes and the starring roles of the hero and villain are Zoe and Mylene, respectively.

Our (minor) antagonist, Chloe, hears about this and demands that she be the hero of the movie (despite refusing to do anything w/ it beforehand cuz she can’t stand everyone) over her, actual hero, half-sister, Zoe, just so she can get the love and attention form the people and cuz of her jealousy of Zoe getting top billing. Chloe has a**hole producer, Bob Roth, and her father, the mayor, fund it to which Bob goes along w/ since he only cares about the money and getting back at Marinette over what happened in “Silencer” and her father, Andre, going along w/ it, reluctantly. Poor Zoe is now demoted into staff as just the clapperboard person. She said in the last ep she was an aspiring actress (and “too good” of one pretending to be a b*tch) and now in her one moment to shine, she gets hooked off stage by Chloe! >:(. Chloe acts like such a prima donna that she constantly has the script change to her delusional fantasy (ex. a giant gorilla who throws exploding bananas) and w/ that, everyone gets annoyed and nothing gets done! Marinette calls out all this bullsh*t and encourages everyone (after Chloe leaves) that they should just film their original script so that they’ll get it finished and have all their talents get the recognition it deserves.

The film is released and everyone loves it except Chloe who’s outraged that it was done w/out her as the star. Turns out, Gabriel independently funded it and there was nothing Bob or even the mayor could do about it (Huh? So fashion designer Gabe is on the high scale of money over celebrity manager Bob and political figure Andre? Guess he’s more loaded ¯\_( ಠ_ಠ)_/¯). Chloe storms off and Adrien runs after her and says she should apologize for her outburst reminding her of how he said he’d stop being friends w/ her unless she started being nicer (“Despair Bear”) and this time, he means it! But Chloe demotes him from her faithful friend (and (only-in-her-dreams”) love interest) to just a meaningless extra in her life.

It was all a ruse w/ Gabe funding the original script not cuz he preferred it better over Chloe’s, but cuz he knew it would piss her off to get her akumokized (you know what? I know that I said in the beginning of my first review for Season 4 that I’m combing the word “akumatized” and “amoktized” cuz Shadow Moth is now unifying the butterfly and peacock miraculous, but now I’m gonna use the combo when he only uses the both of ‘em to give the akumatized villain an amok sidekick. I was once again led to a false hope of things :P. Not every single person he akumatizes gets a sentimonster sidekick!) as Queen Banana w/ her sinister sentimonster Santa given gift of that giant gorilla that throws exploding bananas named “Banana Boom Boom” (and a new car). You know, that’s exactly the kinda name a spoiled rich girl would give her pet gorilla. This is a rather stupid villain form for Chloe taken from her almost made script revision for the movie. It’s obviously a thinly veiled portrayal of her former super self as Queen Bee. Why bananas you ask? Well, she had to quickly think of something else that was yellow (like bees) and apparently Chloe “likes” bananas (full of potassium I know) and cuz it’s a metaphor for her being a “second banana” to Zoe. What’s stupider is Shadow Moth even let her keep that ridiculous, utterly ridiculous name! Her gorilla goon was alright and so was the car, but her name, look and theme was not :P. Her banana gun turning people into bananas I’m just “iffy” on. Out of all her akumatized forms, this gets 3rd Place. Her first, Antibug, being a polar opposite to Ladybug, was good, her second, Queen Wasp, was her evil counterpart to Queen Bee was interesting and her third, Miracle Queen, was just “Queen Wasp w/ a crown”. Lame! That’s why it’s last on my list. It’s like a running gag that Chloe gets akumatized once per season. Thankfully, Ladybug and Zoe trick Chloe into giving her an anti-akumatizing charm, so this will end (gets spoiled by a later ep), wait, what!?

Ladybug and Cat Noir need extra help w/ this one, so Ladybug needs to give someone else the bee miraculous, but who? Who!? Oh! Is it Alya! You know cuz Ladybug originally wanted her w/ the bee miraculous and-(bursts out laughing) I’m just f**king w/ you guys! (she’s been “banana-fied”!) I know damn well who’s getting it! It was no surprise! Everyone! (chuckles) meet the new bee miraculous holder! Zoe Lee! Aka Vesperia! (trumpets sound). Yes Siree Bob! Zoe is now a part of Team Miraculous after Ladybug cut Chloe off for her willingly evil actions in the Season 3 finale and taking back the bee miraculous from her. This is what made Chloe demote Ladybug from her “best friend” role to the villain. What she hated more was “a recast” taking her miraculous and being better than her.

Bomb #8 is, of course, Zoe getting the bee miraculous and becoming Vesperia. Although, could we really see this as a “bomb”? I mean, we were already spoiled by this before the season premiered so it’s not a “Wow! Holy sh*t!” moment if you ask me. It was still nice seeing the action of it play out though. Zoe picked up on this superhero gig quickly and even sacrificed herself to make the dynamic duo finish off Queen Banana. Now then, Let me continue where I left off on the whole Chloe and Zoe issue. Ahem! I can see that Zoe’s debut to the show has met w/ some praise and adoration and its cuz, as I said before, she’s everything that Chloe could’ve been had she completed her redemption arc:continuing to be the holder of the bee miraculous, befriending everyone and being nice! They just kept Chloe as the same old spoiled brat she was in the beginning, but why would they do that when they gave us Lila Rossi who’s possibly worse!? (even if no one, but the heroes and villains, know her true self). Is it cuz Chloe is still going through her redemption? Is there something she needs to do in order to get the proper character development she needs? I mean, we all thought Adrienette would happen already, but that ship is still docked and continuing to collect so much dust that it could be a museum piece at the Louvre! When I explained this complaint to my friend, she told me that, Quote:…….“redemption isn’t always straightforward; a person may fall time and time again, but with enough effort, redemption is not too far” Unquote. I don’t know if this was the writers intention to expand on Chloe’s redemption or if there were some creative differences since I heard Astruc wasn’t as involved w/ the second season as much as we thought he was, which is why the redemption didn’t happen, but my friend was right! If we were to see the previous two seasons together, it could be a long and struggling journey for redemption. In Season 2, Chloe showed vulnerability by admitting to Ladybug it was her fault that Ms.Bustier (“Zombizou”) and her father (“Malediktator”) were akumatized cuz she let her anger get the best of her and seeing this side of her made Ladybug feel Chloe could grow as a better person and gave her the bee miraculous. Sadly, this didn’t work as it only fed her ego and made her worse (she even made herself a tacky Batman -esque “bee signal” 🤮). Season 3, she resisted akumatization out of faithfulness to Ladybug (“Miraculer”), but she did it only for the glory of continuing to be a superhero. Same thing when she saw trouble and reassured people she’ll save the day (“Startrain”), not out of wanting to help them, but who that they’ll be witnesses to her “heroic” deeds. After one too many times of Ladybug ignoring her signal and even her parents getting akumatized together (“Battle of the Miraculous Part 1:Heart Hunter”), where she could’ve been needed! Chloe felt betrayed and this was used to the advantage of the villain to corrupt her into the dark side. Her horribleness reached new levels when she lost the respect of Adrien and her own father when she kept demanding Zoe be sent back to New York. The only people she has left are her mom, Zoe and her minion friend, Sabrina. What’s it gonna take for Chloe to change? Does she have to lose everything in order to realize something is wrong with her and actually make an attempt to be good? Okay, here’s your motivation Chloe (sits firmly on a director chair, takes a deep breath w/ their hands in a pyramid form to the forehead and breathes out. Points the pyramid form hands to Chloe). You are a rival turned possible major antagonist who’s too arrogant to believe you’re awful, but has the potential to be a well loved individual. The road to this is paved with the mess you left behind and when get to your destination, which isn’t the one you thought you’d be in the end, you’ll look back and realize you have a bad sense of direction and want to start a new and better path and need a “map” and “guidance”. Okay! Let’s see this play out! (grabs megaphone and screams into it) Action!

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Bubba Bo Bob Brain and Cameo

Can I just say that I think I’m somehow getting worse at keeping the screenshot count down?

Neither the cameo nor the main episode in this post are animated by TMS, so that’s not the reason for the surprisingly high screenshot count. However, the regular episode is animated by Wang Film Production, who are the same folks that animated the very first PatB segment and have done most of the episodes I’ve covered so far, including the previous one. I can tell they’ve gotten a better handle at animating our main duo in the skit we’re looking at today, especially Brain. Wang Film Production is no TMS, but they’ve gotten very, very good at expressions. They’ve also seemed to settle into a rounded and soft design for Brain, something that they’re kind of known for among fans if I recall correctly. Pinky can still be a little…off at this point in time, though.

Moving on, the cameo that we’re starting with is animated by Akom Film Productions. They’re the folks who usually do the animation for the Chicken Boo and Goodfeathers episodes, and they usually do a pretty good job with those characters. As far as our mouse duo go, though, Akom has only done “Opportunity Knox” so far. You know, the one with the oddly nightmarish Brain close-ups. Thankfully we get none of that since it’s only a short bit.

So yes, onto the cameo in “Noah’s Lark”!

So this is actually a Hip Hippos episode, but luckily we don’t have to deal with them at all right now. The premise is the story of Noah’s Ark, obviously, but the character of Noah is done as a parody of the stand-up comedian Richard Lewis, who was somewhat popular in the 80s. The most modern and notable media he’s been involved in that people on Tumblr might know him from (or at least, what I think folks here might recognize, it can be a little hard to gauge that since both millennials and gen z folks are the main demographic of this site) are Robin Hood: Men in Tights where he played Prince John, and Curb Your Enthusiasm where he plays himself.

Noah is rounding up two of every animal to go onto the ark (which is a popular depiction of how the story goes, but is actually false: it’s supposed to be seven male and female pairs of “clean” animals of each species and one pair of “unclean” animals of the same species, but that’s as far as I’m going into that topic). He’s nearly finished the list and has just been mauled by the wolverine pair, and…

“Lab mice?...”

The fact that he’s specifically asking for a pair of lab mice raises a lot of questions that I don’t think we have time to unpack.

The pair of lab mice that he gets is, of course, Pinky and the Brain.

And Pinky is, for the very first time in the series, crossdressing, presumably to pass as a female mouse so he and Brain can survive the great flood by boarding the ark.

…This is also a lot to unpack.

“Check!” they both exclaim, although Pinky does it in a very deep voice for some reason.

Wow, look at the surprise and then hostile suspicion on Noah’s face there!

Their outfits are very 1950s, with Brain even carrying a suitcase. Anachronisms aside, these two really went all out for the “we are a normal, heterosexual pair” ruse, didn’t they? Not only is Pinky in a dress and a blonde wig, but Brain even put on a little bowler hat. Why did he feel the need to do that? Did he feel left out of dressing up otherwise? Was he afraid he wouldn’t look “manly” and hetero enough without it? I have so many questions…

“Whew! These pantyhose are killing me, Brain!”

Wow, for once it’s Pinky physically hurting Brain, even if it’s a relatively minor tug on the ear.

“I think I prefer knee-highs…”

…Pinky, you’re not even wearing pantyhose. What the hell are you talking about?

Assuming that this is just the result of an animation oversight (which, honestly, I’m certain it was), we now know that his disguise went so over-the-top as to include pantyhose which Noah wouldn’t normally see…and also it’s a type of pantyhose that Pinky doesn’t even like wearing, which implies to me that this is something Brain acquired for him.

There is just so much going on in cameos like these if you think about them for even a few seconds.

Also, I agree with Pinky. Knee-high pantyhose are much less uncomfortable to wear.

BONK!

So the mice are allowed to board and the audience is left to think that their little ruse worked, but immediately after the two run off and are out of listening range Noah rolls his eyes and says

“Who am I to judge?”

Heavily implying Noah completely saw through it and let them on anyway. Wow.

That’s the end of their cameo. Who’d have thought that this little scene would be the precursor to Brain having Pinky crossdress to disguise him as Brain’s wife so many times in the series? And who’d have thought that this very first time wouldn’t fool anyone at all?

But now let’s move on to the meat of this rewatch post:

We open to Acme Labs at night, as usual, though I’ve never noticed until now how lonely and eerie the place seems if you ignore our mouse duo.

“Pinky… I believe I have conceived my most brilliant plan to date!”

Oh boy, we have another first for today! Brain is very much a fan of using temporary mind control for his plans. It’s the method he falls back on the most, which is very interesting when you consider his various psychological issues involving having control taken away from him all his life.

“I shall use subliminal mind control to take over the world!”

“…Pinky?”

The hand-on-hip pose here is great.

“Today’s inside story is country mega-star Willie Ray Cypress!”

Uh, Pinky? Considering that this is pretty much the expression you had while looking at Pharfignewton, I am very, very worried about you looking at the Billy Ray Cyrus parody the same way.

“Don’t tell my head, my empty hollow head!~”

“You know I wouldn’t understand!~”

Same, Brain. Same. It’s just like Pinky to enjoy a song as earworm-y as this (not to mention how relevant this parody is to his everyday experience with Brain’s plans), but lord was the real song this is making fun of annoying as hell back in the day. Like, I was a small child at the time this song came out, and I still hated how often this would be played on the radio.

Luckily, Brain pounces on the remote’s off button and puts an end to the nonsense.

But oh, the look of sad betrayal on Pinky’s face is heartbreaking! I’m sorry, sweetie!

“It must be inordinately taxing to be such a boob.”

Heh, Brain said “boob”. /inner six year old

“You have no idea…”

“Pinky, do you know what a subliminal message is?”

“Something you leave on a subliminal telephone answering machine?”

Nice try, Pinky.

“No. It is a recorded message perceived only by the subconscious human mind.”

Two things here:

This diagram bothers me because my mind always interprets the way they’ve drawn the bottom of the cerebellum as the person shutting their eyes extremely tightly.

Brain using his own tail as a pointing stick is very, very cute and I love this detail.

“I have recorded such a message.”

He’s still holding his tail, aaaa!~

“Citizens of the world, you are under my control. You will do whatever I say…”

“Nice mix, but it’s not exactly danceable, is it?”

Oh, Pinky. Only you would sincerely compliment Brain’s incredibly dry mind control message and then immediately point out a flaw that has nothing to do with its purpose. Bless you, you stupid and wonderful little mouse.

I like how Pinky’s interjection startles the hell outta Brain for a moment, too.

“If people heard this message enough times, they would succumb to my control and we could take over the world!”

Notice that despite Pinky being a minor annoyance and despite the fact that Brain claims that everyone will be under his control, yet again it’s still both of them taking over the world.

“What do you think, Pinky?”

And he still wants Pinky’s input. It’s small and scattered and very, very subtle, but in my opinion this is Brain’s most frequent way of showing that he cares about Pinky. Brain likely isn’t even aware that he does it. Pinky might not be aware, either.

“I think I’m getting dizzy and I rather like it! Ahahahahahoo!~”

“Sometimes you hurt my head, Pinky…”

And yet, Brain. And yet…

“The only problem: How to get this message repeated worldwide airplay…?”

Offscreen, Pinky turns the TV back on and startles Brain again, but only for a moment.

Another great pose and expression here: Mildly annoyed, but interested and on the verge of an idea.

“I just adore Willie Ray!”

“I listen to his song twenty times a day!”

I…really don’t know why they chose to have this shot done with Brain walking over the “camera” towards the TV so we get a brief close-up of Brain’s mousey behind. It made me laugh, though, so I thought I’d share.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

I’m also kind of obsessed with this brief expression of Pinky’s I unintentionally managed to capture. It’s a bit of a smug, knowing, and yet endeared look. I’m sure it’s completely unintentional on the animators’ part, but I love the idea it gives me of Pinky knowing exactly what Brain’s thinking but purposefully saying something entirely unrelated to playfully tease him.

“Well, I think so, Brain, but burlap chafes me so.”

To be fair, Pinky, I think burlap chafes everyone. And were you thinking about doing a potato sack race? That’s the only connection to burlap I can think of that would be in any way relevant...

“Country music, Pinky. I will go to Nashville and become the biggest country music star of all time! Everyone will hear my record and my subliminal message and I will take over the world!”

In all honesty, that would probably be easier to do in the early 90s when this takes place since country music wasn’t such a…well, “dead” is a bit of an exaggeration, but country music as a genre is incredibly unpopular nowadays with the occasional notable exception. In the early 90s? Not so much.

“Egad, Brain!”

This is the most enthusiastic swoon I’ve seen and heard from you yet, Pinky.

“Oh! But no, no… It takes people years of hard work to become famous, Brain.”

Well, that or they’re born into a famous family. Or they’re just rich.

“Why, take Kathie Lee Gifford for example: She did community theatre, and—“

I actually can’t find anything via Googling about Kathie Lee doing community theatre before she became famous. She seems to have studied music and drama in university, and had a folk music group in high school, but the only reference to theatre I can find is professional musical theatre in the late 90s.

It’s possible Pinky’s right, though.

BONK!

BRAIN! …Wait, where did you even get that tiny club?

“Stop talking, Pinky, I must think.”

You… Brain, I think I’m starting to see why some fans believe you may be as neurodivergent as Pinky is, but in a different way. I can’t in good faith elaborate on that myself, since I haven’t been diagnosed as such and it would be completely disrespectful of me to do so, but if anyone wants a good little theory on that, try here.

“I have calculated every ingredient necessary to become a country music mega-star. Read me the list, Pinky!”

He’s typing by hopping from one key to another, aww!

Eeeh, the lettering work on that computer is pretty bad, though.

“A cowboy hat.”

“Check!”

“A southern dialect.”

“Check, ya’ll!”

“Nice, Brain.”

The way Pinky says “nice” here reminds me of this meme. Also, aww, Pinky’s always ready with the compliments.

“Working class values…”

“I enjoy beef jerky and the comedy stylings of Gallagher. Check.”

His visible cringe at having to say he enjoys Gallagher is wonderful. I first heard about Gallagher through My Brother, My Brother and Me, but for anyone that doesn’t know, Gallagher is a frankly terrible prop comedian whose most famous act was smashing things on stage (usually fruits of increasing size) with a large mallet that he called the “Sledge-O-Matic”, ending with smashing a watermelon. It was apparently a mildly popular bit of comedy in the south. Does that sound entertaining? No? Yeah, that’s…that’s why Brain is cringing so hard.

“A song.”

“Check!”

A song titled “A Song”. Brain, sweetheart, I think you’re going to need to put in a little more effort than that.

“A name consisting of not less than three words.”

“From now on, I shall be ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’. Check.”

I would make fun of him for this name, but honestly it’s kind of genius in its bland simplicity.

“And…a height of at least six feet!”

“Aaa--guebuh…”

Whoops. Forgot about that one, huh?

“Drat!”

“There must be some way for me to increase my height…”

Gee, if only you had a fully operational mechanical human suit just laying around.

“Hmm, let me think…”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Pinky.”

He is trying his best!

“Faster, Pinky! Faster!”

…Why does Pinky have to spin the thread? The whole point of sewing machines like this is that they’re powered electrically, Brain. Are you just making him do this so Pinky feels included?

Oh. Oh no…

Brain’s “WTF?” face is great. He’s surprised and yet not at the same time, because things like this just happen when you have Pinky around.

“You amaze me, Pinky.”

“I do my best…”

A very cute exchange.

So instead of using the mechanical human suit they usually fall back on in times like these (maybe it’s under six feet tall?), the mice instead come up with…this.

“Proceed, Pinky.”

I have to give them some credit, regardless of how ridiculous this is, as sewing denim to make a very bizarrely thin and tall pair of jeans must have been an absolute nightmare.

“Ki-yi-yippee-yi-yo. How do I look?”

I’m getting flashbacks to the similarly deadpan singing of “Camptown Races” from last episode. Brain’s really on a western kick lately, isn’t he?

“Oh, very nice, Brain!”

Your finger-framing may be focused on the back of Brain’s head for some reason, Pinky, but your pupils are definitely pointed a bit…lower.

“It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’.”

“You are my manager, Colonel Pinky.”

This is a reference to Elvis Presley’s manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who was honestly quite the bungler when it came to managing Elvis’ career. I honestly don’t think Brain’s making a subtle jab at Pinky’s competency here for once because Brain’s grasp of pop culture he’s not already interested in is surface level at best most of the time.

“You discovered me playing the guitar on the front porch of my humble pig farm. Any questions?”

“Oh, just one: When you farm humble pigs, how far apart do you have to plant them?”

“…If I could reach you, I would hurt you.”

Hey now, you’re the one that asked, Brain.

“But for now, on to Nashville!”

“On to Nashville!”

BONK!

“This is a pain that is going to linger…”

That’s what you get for rolling your eyes at Pinky’s enthusiasm.

No perilous car trips this time! Instead, the boys are getting bus tickets to Nashville.

“Two tickets to Nashville, please.”

“Ooh-wee!~ You’re a tall drink a’ water, aint’cha, darlin’?”

…Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am? Ma’am, are you flirting with The Brain?

Like, sorry, that “tall drink of water” saying is not just to point out that someone’s tall. It’s specifically for flirting with someone who is tall and gorgeous and a refreshing sight to see, like a tall glass of water on a hot summer day.

This lady is flirting with a mouse on stilt legs.

I know that Brain’s disguises are prone to inexplicably work even when by all rights they shouldn’t, but…

“Actually, I am a lab mouse on stilts.”

Brain does his usual bold and plain truth shtick and I’m a little surprised that he didn’t react to what she said beyond that. Then again, this is Brain and he’s quite terrible when talking to women in general, so maybe we dodged a bullet here.

“…At least he didn’t ask me to pull his finger.”

I’ve worked in retail and food service for years, ma’am, and if that’s the extent of your experience with unpleasant men, consider yourself lucky.

“EGAD, Bibby-boo-bop-Brain! Round trips are so exciting!”

“It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’, Pinky.”

“Right! Sorry. Zort!”

Honestly, Pinky’s version is much cuter.

“Concentrate, Pinky, concentrate!”

BONK!

“YES! This pain will definitely be with me a while.”

Brain out here looking like a bad Minecraft texture.

Hello again, Warner Siblings! Gosh, that little fringed western skirt on Dot is cute.

“’The Rowdy Ranch Nightclub’… What are we doing here, Boobie-baa-baa-Brain?”

I checked the official subtitles for this and yes, that is exactly what he mistakenly calls Brain here. We have had both of these two call each other “boob” or some permutation of it this episode.

Pinky and the Brain sure is a show that exists.

“…It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob’ Brain. And according to statistics, and inordinate number of country western superstars have gotten their start at this very establishment.”

You probably didn’t need me to tell you this, but there’s no Rowdy Ranch Nightclub in real life. There is, however, “The Rowdy Ranch”, uh, ranch in Texas.

“Egad! [gasp] Do you suppose Minnie Pearl performed here?”

“One can only hope…”

Man, Brain, you are really laying the sarcasm on thick this episode. Come to think of it, he’s been slightly more sassy towards Pinky than usual this episode as well. I suppose he’s still sore about the end of the last one. You know, for reasons.

BONK!

At least he’s getting some karmic punishment for it, I guess.

“I am a telephone repairman from this area!~”

This little ditty this man is singing has bugged the hell out of me for quite a while, as it certainly sounds like it’s a reference to something but I never knew exactly what it was referring to until just now thanks to an old Animaniacs Usenet group from way back in the day: It’s a parody of the song “Whichita Lineman” by Glenn Campbell. The writers are really giving it their all with the pop culture references this time.

“When I give the signal, play the subliminal message tape.”

“Right-o, Bippie Bebop Balloola!”

“…Sometimes you frighten me, Pinky.”

Why, though?! Despite it being a mistake it’s honestly a goddamn adorable one. Why must you fear affectionate, innocent, unknowing malapropisms, Brain? Pinky’s still going to do what you told him to.

Anyway, Brain is ushered onto the stage as a newcomer and he’s…not exactly any more eloquent than Pinky was just now.

“Howdy, you all. Here’s a little…ditty I wrote. Hope you enjoy it…you all.”

Here’s the thing: Brain’s not one to get stage fright, and while he’s not the best actor he’s still usually better than this. He was saying “ya’ll” and getting the country-isms perfectly fine beforehand, although he was still doing it in his deadpan Brain way.

Now, suddenly, after hearing Pinky cutely screw up his fake name and going on stage he’s starting to mess up. It’s like Pinky’s error is still in the back of his mind and flustering him enough to throw him off for a bit.

He gets back into the swing of things when he starts singing his song, though.

“I am a lab mouse, I escaped from my cage

Never had a job, never earned minimum wage.~”

“He ain’t half bad.”

“Ain’t half good, either.”

OUCH. That’s a little harsh. Sure, the lyrics are kinda blah but he’s a decent singer here. Really, it’s just not a genre of music that his voice fits very well.

Also, lady? You’ve got a suspiciously busty doppleganger in the back there. That’s got to be a bad omen for you.

“But you will respect me, YES, once my plan is unfurled!~

You will call me your leader, I’ll be king of the world!~”

Careful, Brain. Your complicated emotional complex is starting to show in those lyrics.

There’s some more nice facial expressions here too. I can’t really capture it with still images, but Brain’s got a very tender demeanor when he sings about being king of the world.

“Now, Pinky!”

…I just noticed that Pinky’s wearing a completely different outfit here at the nightclub than he was when boarding the bus to get to Nashville. He was previously in an all-white colonel outfit and now he’s in a more generic yet very sweet cowboy get-up. Did you make yourself an entire wardrobe, Pinky?

Another minor detail is that while Pinky’s cowboy hat is a generic tan colour (although before, it was white), Brain’s hat is completely black, which as per western film traditions marks him as a clear villain.

You and I know he’s not really a villain and is, at worst, an anti-villain…but I thought this was worth pointing out anyway.

“Citizens of the world, you are under my control. You will do whatever I say.”

I love how he does this completely unneeded strum on his guitar in the middle of his subliminal message. It's for the drama!

“Buy my record and listen to it twenty times a day.”

Corporations be like…

Who am I kidding? Corporations nowadays would have you pay a fee monthly to have a song on your phone playlist and you would never really own a copy.

“Let’s buy his record…”

“And listen to it twenty times a day…”

Lady, that doppleganger is still over there. Do you need a distraction while you sneak out the back?

This smug lil’ jerk. Gotta love him, though.

And so Brain’s cassette tapes fly off the shelves at record speed.

Man. Cassette tapes. I feel so fuckin’ old…

“I don’t know ‘bout ya’ll, but I can’t get enough of Bubba Bo Bob Brain. Let’s hear it again!”

JFC, that spittoon. Blegh! And just what do you need that rope for?!?

“Well, he’s the hottest thing to hit Nashville since my mama’s jalapeno grits! Here’s Bubba Bo Bob Brain!”

Having just recently learned what exactly “grits” is, I am very disturbed by the idea of jalapeno grits.

“I’m your biggest fan! What d’you say to that?”

Hi, Dolly Parton! I’ve gotta say that the animators nailed the caricature of 90s Dolly here pretty well. She’s instantly recognizable, unlike some other celebrity parodies Animaniacs does. It’s not just because of Dolly’s, uh…most renowned physical characteristics, either. That’s a very Dolly Parton smiling face.

Not much to say here other than that Dolly’s a sweetheart of a woman, from what I know about her, especially for a celebrity. She’s a staunch supporter of Covid relief and Black Lives Matter as well.

That said, she’s sadly—both in the 90s and now—most well known for…

“I’d say puberty was inordinately kind to you.”

BRAIN!

Well, yeah. That.

I guess now you can see what I mean about Brain not being very good at talking to women. Like, he’s definitely not ogling her here. In fact he’s just kind of…stating something he’s noticed and looking absolutely done with this whole celebrity thing. But Brain you don’t just make a joke like that about a woman’s bust size no matter how deadpan you do it, you ass!

“Haha, go on.”

She takes it well, though, just like Dolly seems to in reality.

Still, though! Brain, you retroactively deserved all those run-ins with doorframes.

Continuing on the buxom southern women thing this episode has decided to run with (seriously, what’s going on here?), we now have a brief parody of a Hee Haw skit.

“Hahahahaha!”

“Hey, Bubba Bo Bob Brain, I just got back from France!”

“How’d you find it?”

“I used a map.~”

“Hahahahaha!”

Yeah, that’s an accurate depiction of Hee Haw style humour.

“And the Country Tune Award for best male vocal goes to…”

“Bubba Bo Bob Brain!”

Here we have Garth Brooks and Crystal Gayle emceeing this awards ceremony. I had to look up who these two were supposed to be, though, since the caricatures are pretty vague this time.

“EGAD! YIPPEE! Narf! Ah hahahahahaha!”

Aww, he’s so happy for Brain! And oh, is that yet another outfit I see? And a much more appropriately sunshine-y yellow and flamboyant one at that! Pinky really went all-out for this.

Again with the tongue hanging out too, except this time it’s more understandable.

“You’re embarrassing me, Pinky.”

And you’re continuing to be a jerk, wow. Someone needs a nap or something.

“Pardon my effervescence, but your accolade is more than any bucolic mouse merits.”

“What’s he sayin’?”

“I don’t know.”

Yes, Brain just used the word “effervescence”, much like in that one Tumblr Twilight meme. To those reeling from the fact that this compares Edward to Brain via their shared pretentiousness: You’re welcome.

Also, a Brain-to-common English translation: “Pardon my bubbly enthusiasm, but your award is more than any countryside mouse deserves.” Would that have been so hard to say, Brain?

“…I’d like to thank my mama and Elvis.”

I wouldn’t thank Elvis. He was an asshole. But that’s probably not wise to say at a 90s country music award show, so I guess it’s understandable.

“Oh, how nice!”

“Well isn’t that nice!”

“I’m outside the Grand Ol’ Opry, where tonight’s concert featuring country music sensation ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’ is being televised worldwide.”

“In two words: Bubba is hot!”

I… That’s twice in this episode where a human woman thinks a tiny, big-headed mouse on stilts is hot.

Furries, come get these poor, confused women.

“You gotta know how to cut ‘em

Know how to shuffle

Know how to deal the cards, before you play Fish with me.~”

Hello, Kenny Rogers. I only know the song parodied here, “The Gambler”, again through “My Brother, My Brother and Me” and the long and hilarious conversation about it.

It’s kind of weird to have a song that was made famous by Rogers in 1978 sung like it’s a recent hit in an early 90s awards show, but ehh. Maybe the shelf life of hit country songs is a lot longer than songs of other genres.

And then you die in your sleep~

“Do you realize what will happen if the world hears my song just one more time?”

“An angel will get its wings?!”

If only, Pinky.

“NO, Pinky!”

I think all this country stuff is really getting on Brain’s nerves. He’s being snappy and irritable and lashing out an abnormal amount ever since arriving in Nashville, and there’s not a lot of joy in the minor successes he’s had so far. Like, compare Brain smiling and praising Pinky for his work during the alien encounter spoof they did together, the last episode with Brain cheerfully singing to himself when he was certain he’d win the race…to now where he’s yelling at Pinky for minor mistakes that no one but himself is aware of and being joyless and faking pleasantries and rolling his eyes at the country stars he’s surrounded by. This mouse is crabby as all hell, and I don’t think it’s just because he finds the whole country western thing stupid and below him. This is a mouse who’s done and will continue to do degrading things to achieve his goal of world domination without this much jerkishness.

I think he’s still fuming about the whole Pharfignewton and Pinky thing, and the current plan being a very rural, country-focused plan like the last one with the Kentucky Derby is just exacerbating it by reminding him of it. Like, you don’t even have to take it in the gay way I am and instead take it in a “how dare that goddamn horse take the complete attention of my friend/world domination partner away from me and my plans, this sucks and I can’t believe Pinky’s just being his usual dumbass self like everything is fine and the same” sort of way.

But the gay way makes way more sense, fight me.

…Okay, don’t fight me, I’m tired and old and I really don’t want to get in internet fights about cartoon mice.

“My subliminal message will take permanent hold, and the world will be under my control!”

Ooof! We’re back down to “my” control and not “our”. Jeez, Brain. You really are spiraling right now, aren’t you? Your attitude has quickly devolved from the beginning of this episode...

“Oh, that.”

And dang, even Pinky’s enthusiasm is starting to get deflated.

“Now, do you remember what you have to do?”

“Yes. I need to make a dental appointment. I have horrible plaque buildup!”

Pinky, you do realize that unlike a regular, non-sapient mouse you can just brush your teeth, right?

“The tape, Pinky, the TAPE!”

“Oooh, right! When you give the signal, I play the tape.”

“And now, I’d like to introduce…”

“This is it, I’m on.”

“Good luck, Booba Bip Bop Brain!”

Folks, I swear to you that I tried to get a decent screencap of Pinky slapping Brain to figure out if he slapped his back or his ass and for the life of me I could not get it. The slap goes by just that fast and I’d honestly have to go frame by frame if I wanted to get it, but my video player will not go that slow.

Either way, Brain is certainly startled by the contact but is fixated more on the continued mangling of his fake name.

“How many times do I have to tell you, my name is--!”

Uhh, Brain? Getting a liiiittle close there.

“—Bubba Bo Bob Brain!” exclaims Kenny Rogers. And oh boy are these screencaps exploitable. Again, you’re welcome.

“Yee-haw! Let’s start this hootenanny!”

Better than last time you came out on stage to sing at a show, at least.

This time the crowd even sings along with him, and they’re not even hypnotized yet. Much better.

“Now, Pinky!”

“You are under my control, you will do whatever I say…”

“I will do whatever he says… Whatever he says… Whatever he says… Whatever he says…”

A confusingly consistent detail here: Every woman in the crowd has swirly red hypnotized eyes and every man in the crowd has swirly green hypnotized eyes. Why? Who knows!

“Way to go, Blubber Boo Bean Brain. Narf!”

Heh, that hand flip.

It looks like Pinky is trying hard to suppress his verbal tic here for some reason? Or maybe he’s just realized that he’s messed up the name again and is cringing in anticipation of Brain yelling at him? Either way, poor guy… You really don’t deserve any of what’s coming.

And what’s coming? Well, given Brain’s heightened pissy attitude and his mental issues with not having things go exactly the way he wants them to, plus his obsessive need this episode to correct Pinky on this one thing that doesn’t need to even be addressed because no one else hears it, plus other repressed emotions…

“Do me a favour and forget my name. While you’re at it, forget you ever knew me!”

Holy shit.

…Now you fucked up, Brain. Now you fucked up.

Man, I hate the one thick facial hair on the dude in the middle. It’s so unsettling.

“Hey, who’s that skinny guy on stage?”

“Who is he?”

“Get him off!”

“Boo!”

“We wanna see someone famous!”

Yup. Look at what you did. You messed this up all because you were having a temper tantrum about Pinky messing up your stupid false name. You hang that head in shame. And you apologize to Pinky.

Later...

“Tonight’s inside story: A complete unknown somehow made it on to the stage at the Grand Ol’ Opry.”

“…Turn that off, Pinky.”

You know what? Keep it on for a bit, Pinky. Let Brain wallow in this humiliation just a bit more. He needs to have the lesson set in.

“I’m trying to concentrate on a better plan for tomorrow night.”

“Why, Brain? What are we going to do tomorrow night?”

“Same thing we do every night, Pinky:”

“Try to take over the world!”

Hey wait just a minute! You can’t just reuse this excellent ending from “Win Big” on this episode! Brain doesn’t yet deserve to get back to being cocky and determined after being such an ass!

Ahh well. He does get better, folks, I promise. This is just a rough patch. Brain is… He’s going through some things, I think. He’s not processing his emotions in a healthy way and it’s really coming back to bite him.

Listen, I understand this whole thing with Brain being extra grumpy and hostile after the whole Pinky dating Pharfignewton thing is largely coincidence. We don’t actually know what order these episodes were made in, after all, and the Animaniacs writers were not big on continuity.

Here’s the thing, though: I still find it fascinating that these episodes were aired one after the other…especially with a random cameo with Pinky and Brain disguised as a married couple in between. It makes for the beginning of a strange sort of arc that occasionally reminds us that, hey, these two mice are a duo and something is amiss when that duo is broken up or there is a strain put on that relationship.

I’ve read that after a while, network executives at the time tried to push for these mice to settle down and have families and for the skits and the eventual spin-off to largely abandon the whole world domination thing. They wanted it to be more sitcom-like to rival and imitate shows like The Simpsons.

That obviously doesn’t work. It can’t work. The writers, especially Peter Hastings, very much pushed back against the idea. When you have a duo of characters who fit together and play off one another so well, when the basic premise of a story is of a pair of characters working together to achieve a goal, and when those characters just mesh so perfectly and basically complete one another…trying to add another main character just puts the entire story completely out of wack and/or changes it into something unrecognizable. You can add reoccurring characters off to the side, sure. You can have a nemesis or two pop up and return every now and again. But with something like Pinky and the Brain where the main story is a small pair against incredible odds working towards a singular goal, disrupting that core relationship is going to cause a domino effect that will ruin the whole thing.

All this to say that I like this approach that’s going on here much more, even if it was completely unintended by the creative team: There is the element added of Pinky, off-screen, dating someone. It’s not something that’s brought up a lot and whenever it is brought up, Brain is irritated. We’ve seen at the end of the last episode where this development was introduced that Brain is unusually snappy, and now in the next episode he continues to be angry more often than he was before. It’s a more subtle and smooth way of seeing how these characters react if something or someone threatens to come between them, in a way that doesn’t immediately break the entire premise to pieces. Of course, it helps that Pharfignewton is…largely absent for all this and is only brought up every now and again. It’s not a perfect way to explore this kind of thing, but it’s preferable when compared to something like Pinky, Elymra, and The Brain.

However, after this episode Brain’s temper begins to de-escalate, and we won’t pick back up on this accidental “arc” for a few episodes. So to folks who are maybe a little bit bummed out about his behaviour here: don’t worry. We’re getting quite the breather next time with a very odd alternate universe skit courtesy of the Warner Siblings  messing around with character placement, as well as an entire Animaniacs episode devoted to a Pinky and the Brain skit…fantasy style!

[love-msj]

You Sent Me Flying

INVOLVED: Mercedes Jones & Samuel Evans TIME FRAME: Saturday, February 23rd, 2021 LOCATION: -: New York City, New York NOTES: Valentine’s Day. 

Mercedes eyed her phone as she typed out a response to her assistant, she tried to stay as still as possible as the woman before her completed her makeup for the night. She almost opted out of this event, for obvious reasons but at the last minute she chose to attend it. She was a highly requested guest, which wasn’t a shock, however she had caught wind and a usually invite for one turned into an invite for two. This would be their first public appearance as a supposed couple in the NYC high fashion nightlife. She was scared as hell even if she didn’t show it, her heart had been pounding her chest all day. However part of her felt that this would be a great practice run, right? Or they possible end up looking dumb ass hell in front of four maybe five hundred different notable celebrities and people alike. Exhaling softly she looked up at herself in the mirror and then towards the double doors that lead into another extended part of their Presidential Suite at the Pierre, Taj Hotel where Samuel occupied its space. 

Samuel sat awkwardly in the director’s chair. "Can we?" He said, turning the chair so he could see his profile in the mirror.  The barber worked effortlessly to shape his stringy mass of blond locks into something respectable. They wanted it all off. He wanted a half an inch trim.  They compromised and landed as something just to his broad shoulders. A win for both sides by his reckoning. Now he sat stiffly backed, as the stylist moussed his hair, placing it into a low man bun. Satisfied with his reflection. “Thank you.” He grinned kindly as he got to his feet, nervously rubbing his hand down his sides. "Umm.." He offered his hand to the stylist, a show of gratitude, wondering if a tip was in order.  "You're welcome the barber said with a flamboyant giggle.  Pointing Samuel to the bed, his clothes were neatly arranged for him. "Did you need anything else?" The barber asked, with a long thirsty look. Samuel shook his head no.  Moving over to the bed, he looked down at the suit, eyebrows raised. “This is mine? I mean for me-” He questioned as if there was a mistake.  The barber and his assistant's puzzled nods answered his question.  Without waiting for the audible confirmation, the blurted out another “Thank you.  Then waited on the room to clear so he could get dressed.

Mercedes looked away from the door, her eyes balls themselves the only thing moving as she looked back down at her phone. She hoped that watching the child wouldn’t prove to be too much for her assistant but so far so good. She trusted the woman, it was the child she feared. The thought made her smirk widely “sorry” she said quickly to the woman as she straightened up. Hopefully she didn’t give the young girl a run for her money, and with that she locked her phone and looked up again at her hairstylist began to style her hair, for them they chose something big. Loose curls and extremely full hair, which was a change from her usual silk straight hair styles she pushed for or even her usual bob. She looked at her nails, her eyes taking in the engagement ring that had finally come in. her hands were almost unrecognizable with it on, it left her feeling a series of emotions all the time and she didn’t know why. Maybe because it wasn’t real.

Samuel took his phone from his pocket and dropped down on the bed Facetiming his sister. He fingered the suit idly waiting for the girl to answer.  “Hey! Are you at least trying to behave yourself... “ He could tell she’d just put her fist on nonexistent hips.  “I’m always good. So you asking me that question is really about you.” Samuel snorted, beginning to wonder what the hell his sister's IQ was. “Whatever… but you know the drill.  Happy V-Day and don’t stay up all night.- Nope.. I said what I said.” He countered, before she could raise the objection.  “And I don’t care if tomorrow’s a school holiday.” He added, quickly. Addy sighed scowling at the man.  “Send me a picture of Mercedes. She’s going to be the prettiest woman there.” Addy said glowing. “Will do.”  Samuel said, looking towards the closed adjoining door. “I’m jealous.  You don’t want a picture of me?” Addy rolled her eyes, “No… boy’s clothes are boring” Samuel stood, turning the phone so she could see his outfit. “Woah... “ Addy exclaimed, eyes wide. “That suit is pretty.” Samuel turned the camera back around to face himself. “You like it?” he said shocked. “You have no style Sam. God.” She said, hanging up on her brother. 

Mercedes watched the woman lightly curl and tease the wig on her head and she shifted only slightly as the makeup artist applied the red lipstick on her lips. She had another assistant on standby always, life was easier that way. When the girl walked over and showed her the shoes she had picked out the three the woman offered her a thumbs up. “I like those” she said through her teeth before she asked for the time and when the girl gave it to her she said “thanks” softly. Her makeup was applied and naturally she looked herself over in the mirror she smiled a little making sure no lipstick was on her porcelain teeth. Her pearly whites glistened and she closed her mouth, making sure she liked the work she continued to look herself over. She stayed still as her makeup artist covered her face slightly with her hands and allowed the hairstylist to spray tons of hair spray. When she was finished she curled a few pieces in the back of the woman’s head, before she allowed Mercedes to stand. Mercedes did so and they all looked her over in the mirror. She turned around to check her hair out a bit, there she stood in a strapless bar, and one too many pairs of spanx. “I like it” she told the girl softly. 

Samuel was still chuckling as he stripped off his overpriced tee shirt and jeans.  Everything was new about him, but his soul. He could take comfort in that blackened stain still being intact.  Sliding into a suit that he knew cost more than his entire neighborhood shouldn’t be easy.  But it was.  "Roses?" He mumbled, shaking his head. "I am going to look like a walking flower." He stepped into the pants, toeing into the shoes as he did.  Then pulled the shirt over his lean rippled frame.  Not eating regularly had benefits, soon he would need to put in some gym time to maintain his slender yet muscular frame. He whistled with appreciation, as he picked up the red faced watch. Now this he liked. He fastened it to his arm, admiring himself in the full length mirror. One final adjustment to  the waistband of the pants, then put on the belt. He wasn’t sure who the man in the mirror was. It was certainly someone more worldly than he would ever be.  He shook off his doubts about this whole evening as he grabbed the matching jacket. "It will be fine." He told himself… then repeated it again “There is nothing to worry about.”  

Mercedes moved over towards the gown hanging up and with the help of the young girl she began to get ready, getting into the gown. Her assistant pulled it up over her hips and she allowed to rest off Mercedes’ shoulders as it should. She zipped it up for the woman, placing her hair in front of her shoulders as she did. Once she did, she bent down and rubbed the woman’s legs down with a combination of lotion and baby oil. After that, the girl helped Mercedes into her shoes, zipping them up and tying the ties of them eloquently. When the girl was finished, Mercedes walked in the shoes towards a full length mirror, the girls were pushed up far more than she activated but hey, what could she do? She looked herself over, before her assistant walked over with thousands of dollars in jewelry, the girl placed the 100+ thousand dollar necklace on her neck, her 50+ thousand dollar studs in her ear, the matching tennis bracelet, and her watch on her wrist. The woman was dripping in millions the girl thought as she looked at the woman in the mirror. “You look stunning Mrs. Jones” she complimented just taking her in fully. Mercedes looked at the girl and hid the happiness behind her lips and eyes. “As I should right?” she asked the girl brushing her off, she had to say stuff like that it came with the territory. “I just need our invitation to the after party of the party” she said with air quotes “and my phone in my clutch” she told the girl. She picked up the almost thousand dollar bottle of perfume and sprayed her neck and then her wrist, tapping both together. “What time is it?” she asked again, “I know a photographer wants to photograph me and Samuel” she told the young girl. “Yes he’s waiting near the water fountain, security is in that area. He’s going to snap a few photos and then you guys should proceed to the party. It’s 9:15” she told her thereafter. “Okay” she said “can you see if he’s ready” she asked the girl as she moved to the sitting area where a bottle of wine sat. She needed something to take the edge off a little. 

Samuel opted for the director’s chair. Feeling a bit like a kid trying not to get dirty before church. He licked his lips idly scrolling to his YouTube feed. There had to be something worth watching. Nothing stood out to him. He rubbed at his temples, trying to massage away the tension headache that was building behind his eyes. They had pulled their ruse off once. Mercedes was a lot more convincing them him, but he’d done a respectable job. Right? His eyes moved to the adjoining door as it slid open.  He rose slowly, “Is it time to go?” he asked, putting his iPhone in his pocket. 

Mercedes’ assistant looked at the man, she looked like a totally different person. He cleaned up far better than she expected, she shook her head looking away from him and nodded sheepishly. “She’s ready to go, um, they want to take photos of you two first” she said, tucking hair behind her ear as she looked back up at him longingly before she stepped away. She rested against a wall by the door as she waited for Mercedes to return from the next room. Mercedes poured a full glass of red wine, and she downed it no less. Never really taking a break once her lips touched the glass, thank God for matte lipstick. She fixed another glass full, this time taking it down a little slower before she sat the empty glass against the table trying to calm her nerves. Once she’d inhaled and exhaled a few times, closing her eyes and really settling down. She walked away from the glass and back into the room, she brushed her dress of a little in front idly as she reentered “okay, I am actually ready now” she spoke allowed as she looked at her shoes and the dresses skirt taking them both in, as she stuck her leg out through the split. 

Samuel eyebrows rose and fell at the woman’s odd behavior. “Okay…” He said, easily striding forward. He stepped over the threshold, still puzzled by the assistant's weird behavior. That was until he saw Mercedes. His mouth went completely dry and his stomach twisted into a knot.  Addy’s words ring too loudly in his ears. The red of the dress, hid and hinted, while in places completely told a story, he’d envy any man for reading. She was an absolute goddess. He felt awkward and unworthy to be in the same room with this woman.  At the same time he wanted her more than any person he’d ever laid eyes on.

Mercedes looked up and took Samuel in, damn, he looked really good. She didn’t know how the hair thing was going to work out but she didn’t hate it, which said a lot. She took in his suit that was tailored to perfection and then took in the watch resting against his wrist. Beauty, she thought to herself. She tried not to show an obvious smile as she said “good looking” a bit playfully for her. “Uh” she said awkwardly as she looked at the young girl “my clutch” she said clearing her throat a little. “Here you are,” the girl said, rushing to hand the rose sculpted bag to her. Mercedes nodded and grabbed the bag making sure it’s chain was actually on the inside of it, she simply wanted to hold the bag as is in her hand. “Okay” she said again, looking at Samuel and gesturing with her head towards the door as she picked up some dress material walking towards the door. “You can drop everything off to my home, we will leave the other party and go straight there” she said looking back at the girl quickly before she opened the door to walk out of it. 

Samuel stood stunned in the middle of the room. Mercedes had given him a compliment he did not really hear.  She then rushed off, moving on with things like the world could continue or should be normal. “Wait…” He said, shaking himself awake.  “You look..” He tossed around the average words in his mind that couldn't and won't ever be enough.  He recalled a word from his sister’s latest vocabulary test and said it without any further hesitation. “Exquisite. Like you stepped from a dream.”  hands gesturing openly to the woman still in awe of her.

Mercedes turned to the man and she nodded her head, a silent thank you. Again, he was just saying that, they all felt compelled to do so she wasn’t stupid. Did she think she was ugly? Heavens no. But compliments hardly reached her heart. She never knew a difference from people’s truths or lies when it came to her and this business. As she walked out into the hallway, she dropped the dress and allowed it to flow making her way towards the elevator so that they could meet the photographer. 

Samuel lowered his eyes, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.  He was not sad he’d said what he had. He meant it. But Mercedes' knowing dismissal meant something. This was business.  He cleared his throat and left the suite, getting to the elevator just in time. The doors opened and, as his custom, he moved to the side, holding the door back so she could enter.

Mercedes walked in as Samuel held the door open, she picked the dress up and made sure she was fully inside before she dropped it to the ground again. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, pressing the L button moving to the side. She looked down at her clutch as she gripped in her hands, long nails sparkling under the light. She shifted on her heels as they rode the elevator down and she touched her chest delicate, resting it against the many diamonds she was sporting. 

Samuel stepped into the elevator and stood beside the woman, hand clasped in front him.  She was distracting him. How the fuck? His mouth water, as her perfume found his nose. Jesus… He needed to get a handle on himself for the love of God. For the first time a simple truth came to mind, it had been weeks since he’d gotten laid and right now, his fiancé.. Boss… business partner… was a twelve course meal, and he could eat. 

Mercedes placed some hair over her shoulder as she waited for the doors to open, watching the numbers descend as they moved downward. She looked over at the man for a moment before she looked away and shifted on her heels gently. As the doors opened she picked her dress up gently and moved out of the elevator in the direction that her assistant told her to go, to meet the photographer. When she walked out the building towards the waterfall she said “hi” to the man as he approached with his hands stretched. 

Samuel nodded to the elevator attendant, swallowing hard.  He moved behind Mercedes exiting the elevator, slipping one hand into his pocket, and rested the other on his stomach. He kept his gate at a cool, casual, pace that easily matched the short woman’s purposeful stride. She seemed so professional to him despite the softness of her appearance.   He moved up beside her as they approached the photographer, nodding to the man. 

“Hi Ms. Jones, it is a pleasure. My name is Daniel” the photographer said “and you are a special guest tonight so I was just instructed to take a couple photos of you and you plus-one” he said thoughtfully. “I thought right over here before the waterfall would be amazing” he told her with a smile. “It couldn’t possibly compare to your beauty but it will be a nice background view” he said gesturing where he wanted them to stand. 

Mercedes nodded her head at the man, releasing the dress “of course” she said to him as she moved before the waterfall. She held the clutch with both hands and she looked towards the man. She wasn't one for photos, she actually hated taking them if you asked her. But they were necessary at certain points of time, this she knew, and unlike most photos taken of her around New York in this moment she couldn’t just ignore him and let him do his ‘work’ she must engage. 

Samuel shifted but understood what it meant.  A smirk came to his lips as he moved to stand near the waterfall.  The man was correct.  The backdrop didn’t compare to her beauty but just as before she didn’t even respond to his words, just agreed and moved to stand near him. He fidgeted, but moved in just over the woman’s shoulder awkwardly, like a boy at his first prom.  Truth be told. It was.  

The man looked at the two with a raised brow as they stood there, awkwardly. He ushered them to pose “maybe you could” he said gesturing to the other man as he held the camera up looking at the two through the lens. 

Mercedes offered the man a small smile as he held the camera up, she moved closer to Samuel upon the man’s suggestion. She dropped one of her hands, holding the clutch and looking directly into the lens. Adjusting her hair she looked to the man once more as snapped several pictures of them both. 

Samuel nodded, catching on to the looks they were really after.  As Mercedes moved in closer, had no choice but to place his arm around her waist. With that he tightened his grip, looking down on the woman. He wasn’t going for love.  That would come off as fake. He went with what was nature in this moment. Lust.  

Mercedes felt Samuel’s hand and she swallowed hard, she wanted to look at him but the heat rising on her cheeks wouldn’t let her. So instead, against her wishes she actually smiled brightly, showing off her pearly white teeth for a change. And when the man told them he was done, she looked up at Samuel innocently for a moment before she looked away. “Thanks” she told the man as she pulled away from Samuel and began to walk towards the direction she knew the party was being held. Walking past a multitude of bodies, that seemingly parted the red sea for her as she made way. 

In the last moments as the camera shot away, using lust died away for Samuel.  It happened the moment Mercedes smiled.  It was genuine and bright.  The look of her all a glow, gave him a directive for the evening, keeping that smile on her face. He grinned at the photographer as if he and the man were in on some private joke. He did not rush to catch Mercedes, her short steps could not take her far.  He took her arm as she moved, parting the crowd. He slid his long finger down her perfect skin and then intertwined her fingers in her. “Slow down.” His whispered leaning close to her ear. 

Looking at him she nodded her head “I didn’t realize” she said sheepishly to him, looking away as he laced their fingers. It felt so good to be touched by a man, even if it were just a touch of the hand she thought in her mind. Or was she desperate? Walking towards the entrance of the massive ballroom, she looked around at everyone and turned to the woman standing at the door that gave her a single rose. She offered the woman a small smile as she walked into the room further, a few people watched, others took in Samuel. She for the first time felt like a fish out of water, she any other day never even saw half these people in the room. They nothing more than ass lickers, but today they were in her shoes and she in theirs. 

Samuel chuckled lightly going back to his full height.  “Is tonight business or a kind of pleasure?” He asked, raising his eyebrow. He nodded to the rose lady.  His face fell a bit, as he noted the quick glances or in most cases open stares. “From the looks on everyone's faces, I’d assume you don’t often attend these kinds of shindigs.” He said, tugging at his suit jacket. 

“A little of both, some of these events I get paid to attend, while well it is a Valentine’s Day affair” she replied back to him still looking around. “No, I don’t. Especially not with a man” Mercedes replied through her teeth and she smiled at another Fashion Mogul as she passed them by. 

“A little of both…” Samuel mouthed, nodding his head. He chuckled, looking down at the woman. “Can you drink and dance at these things or not?” He asked curiously. The idea that you could get paid to party too much was unbelievable.  “ooOh… I see.” he said remembering their conversation from before.  Not bitterly but as a simple matter of truth.  “Well,” He grinned. Lifting her arm he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. “Let’s give them something to talk about.” 

“Of course” Mercedes said looking at him “they expect me to be my normal self, though I guess my normal self doesn’t really dance with people that much” she said more so to herself. “People pay to ‘party’ in the same room with me” she shrugged. “Though mostly I have a few drinks then leave, I never stay longer than 15-30 minutes” she told him. As he lifted her hand and kissed it she looked up at him, trying to keep her shock and amusement at bay as she processed his statement. “How so?” she asked  curiously, as she swallowed hard. Though he’d proven his point considering the bright flashes from photographers nearby. 

Samuel eyebrows climbed as she matter of factly said, yes to his question.  Now that was some rich people shit. “Wow… Just to be in your presence.” He whistled low under his breath, gazing into her lovely hazel eyes.  He leaned in close to her ear an excuse to breathe her in, “By having a good time with your fiancé.” He stood back, and raised a challenging eyebrow at the woman. 

Mercedes smirked at him a bit, she didn’t think about it that way often she just knew people were opportunist however factually what he said was accurate. As he leaned his close she held her breath thinking he’d steal a kiss, he didn’t which she was left to decide if it felt her longing for one or happy he hadn’t. At his words she nodded slowly another smirk forming on her lips and she said “of course” back to him. She was going to need a drink or more, along with a cold shower before the night was over. 

Samuel  looked around the well dressed crowd, “Now where is the bar? Or are they bringing around drinks on trays like in the movies?” He asked, staring to move through the crowd again.  “So, My next question is can you dance or is it just a choice not to?” 

“I am sure there are servers somewhere” Mercedes replied back to him as she gazed across the way, seeing someone that was utterly revolting to her head for her and Samuel. “Choice, by choice always” she said quickly to him as she clutched his hand tightly. “Heather” she said before the woman could speak her name first, she looked her up and down and smirked. “So nice to see you out” she lied. 

Heather Radcliff approached the only woman on the planet she despised at this present time in her life. “Mercedes” she said in unison with the woman stepping in line, she chuckled a champagne glass in her hand. “I could say the same about you hermit” she said wickedly as her eyes left the woman and looked the man up and down. Taking him in “Heather Radcliff, Editor in Chief of Marie Claire magazine” she said formally introducing herself as she held her hand out “you must be Mercedes’ assistant?” she asked him next. 

Samuel grimaced in confusion, “Huh?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.  As the woman came into frame, Samuel tensed. His face darkened at the set of insults that the woman managed to hurl in under five seconds. He gazed down, seizing Mercedes’ eyes with his own, while he let Heather’s hand linger in the air.  In a tone steep in southern charm, “If she asked me to be. That could be arranged.” He said,  thumb caressed the back of her hand again, and he was glad he’d chosen the one with the huge rock on it. After a moment, he reengaged the Heather woman. Smiling, he took her hand brushing a light kiss just above her knuckles. “I’m Samuel. Mercedes has graciously agreed to be my wife.” He said, letting the woman's hand fall away. 

Mercedes eyed the woman slightly as she threw a question at Samuel that made her nostrils flair and caused her to squint her eyes. When the man answered for them she loosened her grip on his hand a bit, calming down a little now though she wished to get away from the woman. Seeing a tray she took an opportunity and grabbed two glasses, offering him “here sweetie” she said lovingly with a smile before she looked back at Heather. “And your-”

“Husband is home, with our two beautiful children” Heather said without looking at the woman instead she examined Samuel a little more before she said. “Something you know nothing about” left her lips as she fixed the fabric on the woman’s shoulder before she walked off. “Enjoy your night” she said cutely as she moved towards another group of party guests. 

Samuel accepted the glass from Mercedes, with a mouthed, “thank you,” and a smile. His face dropped into an angry scowl as the woman said her last piece to Mercedes cuttingly, and walked away almost as quickly as she had arrived. “She’s a bitch.” He said, turning to look at the woman on his arm. “You okay?” He asked sincerely. 

Taking a sip from the glass in her hand Mercedes offered the woman a knowing smile, as she finished her sentence and threw another insult at her. Her eyes followed the woman as she left before she turned to Samuel “yes she is” she told him. “I’m fine, it’s nothing” she shrugged her shoulders lightly before she said “would you like to find a seat?” curiously. 

“So… Did you steal Heather’s man or something? She’s bitter.” Samuel grinned. Craning his neck a bit looking for an empty table. “Come on. I assume there are a pair of nifty little cards with your name on one of these tables.” He asked as they moved on further into the ballroom.

Mercedes chuckled, shaking her head, “hardly” she replied to him “just her job” she admitted. “I couldn’t help it, I am better at it than she is,” she told him. “She’s probably over there telling them I am lying about my engagement” she said looking back. At his words she nodded again taking another sip from her glass as she followed him. 

Samuel laughed out amused by her statement. “That’s what she gets.” He’d considered that. “No doubt.” He agreed, “It will be fine.” he offered, trying to be convincing in a way that would sound genuine.  He knew she was looking in the Heather woman's direction, it’s what all women did. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on her forehead. “We got this. “ 

As he kissed her forehead she smirked at him “okay” she said as they approached the tables, seeing a few seated guests she looked at them as they passed them by. “Mercedes!” a voice rang out happily behind the two. Mercedes turned to see the red head “hi, Pamela” she said to the woman as she approached she and Samuel. “Your seat is at my table, yours and your guest” she said looking over at Samuel taking him in. “Great” Mercedes said just playing the part at this point she found none of these people to be friends or even associates really. They all just shared the same industry. 

Samuel offered the woman a lopsided grin, raising his eyebrow in challenge to the less than believable ‘okay’. “Say it with your chest.” He said, doing a quick impressions of Kevin Hart. He covered his laughter as a new woman approached, taking a drink from the wine in his hand. The constant head to toe looks made the skin between his shoulder blades crawl.  He sighed deeply, lowering the glass, then  placed his hand in the small of Mercedes back guiding her towards their table. 

“You look amazing by the way” the woman said to Mercedes, it wasn’t a lie by any means it was the truth. “I would ask you who are you wearing, but I can just about guess that” she chuckled as she walked with the two. “Oh, pardon me, I am Pamela Nelson” she said to the tall fellow “and you are?” she asked him curiously. 

“Same as you,” Mercedes said, nodding her head at the woman though she was in fact wearing something from last season. That made Mercedes' skin crawl but she said nothing of course, that wasn’t her business after all. They made their way to the table and she smirked “Samuel Evans, my fiancé to answer your real question” she said taking a sip of wine. “Ladies, gentlemen” she said to the other people at the table as she stood before her assigned seat. “Oh please don’t stand up” she waved the people off. 

Samuel took the time as they moved to admire Mercedes. Smirking as the newcomer echoed his early comment. “Doesn’t she.” he added, taking down the rest of his wine in a final gulp.  Thinking movies were good trainers. He moved in behind Mercedes and pulled out her chair standing near it as he waited for her to take a seat. Now his nervous rose in the pit of his stomach. Short conversations in passing were one thing, but now they were cornered. Here goes nothing he thought swallowing his nerves. 

Pamela chuckled at Mercedes brushing her off “oh Mercedes you are such a jokester” she told her as she sat down next to her husband. “So, tell us everything! How did you two meet? I mean I didn’t know you were even dating you are so darn busy Miss” she said. 

Mercedes looked to the woman and smirked, though she wasn’t at all joking. She sat down and looked at Samuel with a smile “thanks” she said before she sat her glass on the table. “Well” she said with a chuckle, they’d talked about ideas but only one stuck. “A art gallery, Samuel is an artist” she said to them smoothly. 

Samuel nodded to Mercedes, unbuttoning his jacket as he moved to take his seat. He pulled at his collar lightly clearing his throat as Mercedes spoke his profession into existence.  Mechanic would have been a more truthful route but when in Rome. “I wanted to draw her, but she wouldn’t let me.” He said, with a chuckle. 

Vivian’s eyes glinted as the handsome pair approached. “Mercedes… What a pleasant surprise.” She greeted, in a voice husky and rich. “Down Pamela. Let her breathe a bit.  It’s clear she's been using her time…  Wisely.” She grinned giving Samuel a proper once over.  Even taking a moment to chuckle at his little joke. “You do look radiant Mercedes. I’ll attribute that to you. I suppose.” She said, all eyes on Samuel.  

At his words Mercedes looked at Samuel yet again chuckling him off, for the, she didn’t know how many times now tonight already. “He’s always joking” she said brushing hair over her shoulder as she looked across the table. “Yeah, well it is love day and it's all in the air” she gestured back to her. 

“That’s small talk” Pamela said back to Vivian, “when is the wedding, I mean. Where will it be? Milan? Paris?” she listed before she gasped “Hawaii?” she listed further. 

Samuel relaxed slightly as the table collectively laughed at his little joke. He sat back in his chair, tapping his foot under the table. 

“Everyone needs a little humor in their life.” Vivian said, rolling her eyes tiredly at Pamela.  She was interested in the answers to the woman's questions but thought a bit of tack was a better approach. “You’re an artist?  Has your work been displayed anywhere?  Mercedes has such impeccable taste. You must be wonderful.” 

Mercedes looked to Pamela and she took a sip from her glass before she sat it back down. “He haven’t decided yet,” she told her respectfully. She looked at Vivian again and smirked at her compliment as she wondered what answer he would give the woman. Did he even know enough about art to pull this off? Probably not and then they both will look like jackasses for sure. Great. 

Score one. Mercedes shut down the questions about when they were actually getting married.  Good thing too, because even he didn’t know the answers to those questions. His eyes shifted to Mercedes as he sat up clasping his hands in front of him.  “I hope my work impresses her. But sadly, not yet.  I’ve always been a great admirer of the works of Cecile Gray Bazelon and the late Joyce Pensato.  Right now I'm working with Harvey Dinnerstein.  He is preparing for a showing, hopefully I should be able to showcase one or two of my pieces. Hopefully.” 

Vivian rested her chin on the back of her hands, smirking at the young man.  Her eyebrows furrowed at the names he dropped.  Not her type of artist to be sure, but names she’d heard before.  “Impressive. You’ll have to let me know.  -Or we’ll have to schedule time to get together. Honestly, I thought you were a model.” She smiled, still admiring the man. “You should let him immortalize you, Mercedes. Let see how good he is good with his hand.”

Mercedes looked at Samuel and tilted her head “I am far too impressed with clothes I assume” she joked as she looked at him again. As he began to list off people she squinted slightly taken back Joyce maybe, the rest were actually out of her league. At his last words she plastered a smile and looked away from him, now that was a huge ass shoe to fill and gap to cover. “A mode” she repeated “he is amazing to look at isn’t he” she said looking at Samuel, that wasn’t a lie. Looking at Vivian “you know I am just so darn busy with Vogue… I am shocked we get as much time together as we do. Me sit still longer than an hour?” she chuckled. 

Pamela smirked eyes bouncing from person to person, “I know” she agreed with Mercedes. The lady schedule didn’t add room for much, they all assumed she’d be alone with her thousand dollar jewels and furs forever, or maybe she just thought that. “Wow, a marriage” she said shaking her head again “you know what comes next, a baby carriage” she sang out. “You a mother Mercedes, how iconic! A mini you strutting NYC, we have to see it” she said nodding her head. 

Samuel chuckled, biting his lip, “You said it not me. He told Mercedes, reaching over  he stroked  her bare arm lovingly, “However, I’ll  let it slide. At Vivian’s compliment he grinned, the tips of his ears to darkening. “You’re kind. I’m just a man who likes to work with his hands.” he told the group looking down at his finger.  “We’ll have to see.  Fingers crossed Cecil like me pieces. “Mercedes is going to be a great mother. When the time comes.  My sister already adores her.” He said reaching for the woman’s hand. Beaming as he told the absolute truth for the first time tonight.  

Vivian eyebrow rose. She’d actually been thinking escort. Mercedes was too driven to find anyone. It was the idle joke of everyone in the fashion industry.  ‘I never kind dear. I’m direct. If painting doesn’t work out.  I’d be glad to take some test shots of you. As a matter of fact.” she reached in her pocket and handed the man a card.  “I insist on it.  Not many men could pull off that suit.”  She exhaled, and uncrossed her legs, “I could see it.  Didn’t think our Ms. Jones wants it.  But one never knows.” she said, asking a question of Mercedes without saying the words. 

Mercedes looked at Pamela, “well you know” she said with a heavy sigh “I’ve already given birth to my career” she said to the woman matter-of-factly. “It was a hard push and pull,” she exclaimed. “However, yes we do have a tiny tot we take care of” she chuckled. “And one day who knows, I may have a child who knows” she shrugged “32 is up there….” she said, looking at Vivian. 

Samuel chuckled as Mercedes dismantled the small jabs of the other woman at the table with grace.  He only wished Mrs. Heather had been around.  Samuel reached the card, tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll think about it.” He told Vivian with no intentions of ever doing so. “She is joking.  I think adding at least two more kids would be great. I want a big family.” He interjected, watching Mercedes face for a reaction 

“Vivian, do you always keep business cards on you?” she asked slyly, before she looked at Samuel. She shook her head and chuckled “and wreck this figure?” she asked him jokingly. “I’m only kidding,” she added, looking to everyone else. “Once things are finalized and we really get to planning. Building our dream home” she said lying through her teeth. “We will, you know, venture into those neck of the woods…” 

Vivian grinned at Mercedes, then chuckled.  “For the right person… Of course.” She answered a wiry grin on her face.  “Mercedes, Mercedes… My, my I must applaud you.” She said raising her glass, “To the new Ms. Jones.” 

Samuel held Mercedes eyes, peeling back layer after layer for her clothes, “That could never be done.” He said, seriously. Then chuckled with the rest of the table, as Mercedes went on laying out a life of lies. He exhaled feeling guilty. She really did need a family. Better yet she deserved one. No matter what she thought.  

Pamela looked to the couple, oh the gossip she would tell from this conversation. By the end of the week all of NYC will know that Mercedes lucked up with a real man is actually going to marry him. Shocking. She raised her glass and smirked to herself before she took a sip. She still had plenty of questions however, but she guessed those could wait. 

Mercedes looked at Samuel, eyeing him another blush hidden behind a playful eye roll. “You mean to the same Ms. Jones, but future Mrs. Evans” she corrected with a smile. The bitch, what did she mean new Ms. Jones? Men didn’t make or break her, wouldn’t move or shake her. What the hell was wrong with these women? 

Samuel raised his glass, smirking at the expression he’d put on Mercedes' face.  “To Mercedes Jones.” He said in unison with the table. His eyes shifted to the woman beside him now she was laying it a little too thick.  There was no way in hell, she’d ever take his name. Even he thought  the idea was laughable. “Ladies if you’d excuse us.  Mercedes promised me a dance.” He said rising to his feet, he turned and offered the woman his hand. 

Mercedes sat her glass back down avoiding the actual sip, before she looked over at Samuel. At his words she smirked a little and said “excuse us” as she moved to stand up from the table. Leaving her clutch and rose behind on the table as she maneuvered with the gown. “Thank God, I was nearly sick of them….” 

Samuel nodded to the collective, smiling as he pulled Mercedes away from the table. “Wow… that was worse than meeting my first girlfriend's dad.” He said, weaving his way through the guests. At the edge of the white and black tile dance floor, Samuel turned the Mercedes and brought her flush against his form, wrapping his hand around her waist, beginning the waltz seamlessly.  “Jesus. I needed a timeout…” He breathed whispers in the woman’s ear.

“They are so annoying, judgmental pricks” she said as she looked back at the table. Mercedes followed the man’s lead and when they reached the dance floor, her breath hitched a bit as he pulled her to him. Feeling his hand on her waist she looked up into his eyes as he began to carry her, again following his lead she moved in time with him. Chuckling, she said “thanks for being a trooper” kindly. “Before you know this will all be over and you are free to do whatever your heart desires….” 

Samuel moved effortlessly around the floor.  His face fell when Mercedes spoke of the eventual end of their entanglement.  HIs eyes rose, finding different faces in the room. Heather, Pamela, Vivian. The thought of any of those women turned his stomach. “Who says I’m not doing what my heart desires right now.” He said, eyes going back to her. He smiles, spinning her out then pulling her back to him. 

Mercedes eyed him, looking over her shoulder before she looked at his face again curiously. At his statement, she squinted lightly at him before he spun her suddenly and pulled her back. She looked at him, she didn’t believe him at all, he was just saying that. Why she didn’t know however. Usually she would have had something witty to come back with but, right now, no. After a moment she finally spoke and said “because I know”.

Samuel chuckled, “You know nothing Ms. Jones.” He said, shaking his head.  “Aside from the interrogation.  I’m having a pretty okay time.” He said conversationally. “Come on. You were enjoying yourself just a little over there. Admit it.’ 

“I know all things Mr. Evans” she challenged a little, listening to him she glanced at a couple who passed by. “Is that so?” she asked him, “it’s not a bad night” she shrugged lightly. “I’ve been to better parties, but none involved a comedian like yourself Mr. Evans. Two kids?” she asked, brow furrowed a smirk on her face. 

Samuel bowed his head in conceit.  “If you say so.” He pursed his lips, “I am not sure.  You tell me.” He said, a twisted smile on his lips.  He stretched his eyes, “That wasn’t a lie.  I actually want two kids. Or more. Speaking of… Are you really going to take my name?” 

“Best of luck to that lucky lady” Mercedes replied without thought. At the question he posed she chuckled lightly “why wouldn’t I?” she asked before she corrected “why wouldn’t I take my future husband’s last name?” curiously. “Do you think I am that shallow… or self absorbed?” she asked him. “You know it’s every woman’s dream to find her Prince, marry him, and in turn become the Princess…” 

Samuel laughed, “That is cold. You don’t want to have my babies.” He said, a mock hurt on his face.  He shrugged, shaking his head. “I never said any of that. I just thought I’d take your name.” He chuckled. “Well, then that settles it. I have to take your name because God knows ain’t nothing prince or charming about me.” 

Shaking her head Mercedes licked her red painted lips, she hadn’t a clue why he had to joke around so much. There was no harm it however it could be tiring sometimes, but she assumed that was just his nature. “You are too much…” 

Samuel stared down at the woman turning his head. “I am.” He agreed.  But this was really him taking the liberty to be free. Something he rarely got to do. He bit his lips face going still, “I want you to accept something for me. Would you do that?” He asked her seriously. 

She continued to move in time with him before she asked her something that made her very uneasy. However, she brushed it off and said “okay, sure” a little hesitancy in her voice still. Despite herself Mercedes couldn’t help but to look into his eyes as she waited for his remark. 

Samuel rubbed his thumb over the bare skin of Mercedes back.  A personal gesture, but perfect for the eyes of the multitude of onlookers in the room. “For tonight stop blowing off complements. You really are the most stunning woman here tonight.” 

At his words she looked off before she looked back at him “okay” she said quietly, Mercedes really didn’t understand why he cared or why that bothered him so much. “That’s easy I guess…” 

Samuel looked down at the woman. She had everything, -was more than he’d ever be.  Yet, she was humble. Why? “Thank you.” He said holding her just a little closer as they glided peacefully into the next song.

[writerpeach]

Frustration

Twice Sana

Categories: smut, male reader, university AU

3971 words

NSFW 18+

The formatting on this got fucked up for some reason because Tumblr sucks and I don’t feel like fixing it.

Minatozaki Sana was always up to no good. The fact that she mentioned studying in a serious manner made you suspicious, but you went along with it anyways. Sana wasn't one for studying, especially not at this early hour.

You went along with Sana’s early morning ruse, as you had nothing better to do after all. Classes didn’t start for another hour, there was plenty of time to kill. Sana’s plans always  seem to involve some kind of public indecency involving nudity, intercourse, or some other act of depravity. 

Sana’s excuse was she lived in dorms, while you lived off-campus. Dorm life made it hard to find privacy, so you took all the risks you could for just a few minutes of pleasure, even if it meant a high chance of getting caught. It honestly made your private sessions in the dorm a little vanilla. 

Sana guided you down the lower floor of the University library, pretending to scan the shelves, looking for a book she insisted was real. You doubted its existence, but played along as she struggled to keep up her little charade, using no less than three different names to describe the same thing. 

“Ah, here it is, ” Sana says, stopping at a row of shelves full of dust, ones that didn’t seem to be used that often. 

“You actually found the book you were looking for?” 

“It’s not a book...but I did find what I was looking for,” Sana says, as she pins her small, tight body against your own. Her lips collide with yours, and you taste the sweet flavor of her lip gloss as her tongue finds and dances with your own. 

“Sana...you said you needed to study.” 

“And I do. I just didn’t say what I was going to study.” Sana giggles, and unexpectedly you feel her hand slip inside your jeans, down into your underwear she begins to jerk off your cock. 

“Fuck...Sana...we can’t do this here,” you say as you feel her slim fingers wrap around your dick. 

“Oh? But I don’t see anybody. If you want me to stop I can.” 

“No...I don’t.” 

“That’s what I thought. Now relax.” 

You looked around to check your surroundings as Sana began to undo your pants. It wasn’t even 9am yet and Sana already found herself on her knees. 

“Relax,” Sana repeated, as she yanked your pants and boxers down to your ankles, freely able to continue slowly stroking your hard cock as it leaked over her fingers. 

Those gorgeous eyes of hers look up at you, and without any hesitation on her part Sana gives your stiff cock long, deliberate flicks of her tongue from base to tip, lathering it up nicely with her saliva. She continues to pump your cock in her delicate hand, spitting on your shaft to wetten for her.  

“I could get used to this kind of studying,” you say with a satisfied grin. Sana gives your cock a few more quick pumps, and wanting to extend your pleasure she wraps her pretty red lips around your cock and takes you into her warm welcoming mouth.

You let a deep breath out, closing your eyes for the first opening moments of pleasure. You no longer had any worries about being caught, all you cared about how good Sana was making you feel at this very moment. 

As you open your eyes and gander down you love what you see, the familiar sight of Sana Sana on her knees, bobbing her head up and down, hungrily sucking your dick. 

Sana’s soft lips glide up and down the length of your shaft, coating it in an endless supply of warm saliva as her pretty little mouth reaches the base of your cock. She stays there for what feels like minutes, her gaze unbroken as she stares up at you with every last inch of your cock down her throat. 

“God, you’re so good at that.”

Sana’s uses her eyes to accept your compliment, giving your cock one loud, intense slurp to show her appreciation. 

She lets your drool covered cock release from her warm mouth, making sure not to neglect your balls as her mouth licks and slurps each swollen testicle loudly, using her dainty hand to stroke your cock.

“Like that baby? You like me sucking your cock where anyone can see?” 

“I love it. Feels good, feels so damn good.”

  It was too much to handle already as Sana takes your cock back into her mouth, sucking you off sloppily, using only her mouth to please you as she gripped your thighs to brace herself. 

You run your hand through her pretty blonde locks, awestruck by how such a gorgeous girl could be doing such a lewd act in public. The thought leaves your mind by a seductively deep slurp, and you feel your cock hit the big of Sana’s throat, her tongue wildly flicking the underside of your head. You couldn’t take much more. 

“Sana...I’m gonna cum...” 

Her eyes light up at your announcement, and you eagerly await next few moments, the pleasure unfolding as you were about to empty into her pretty mouth. 

You once again close your eyes as your orgasm approaches, awaiting that sweet release to take over your body. Just as it is about to arrive it suddenly it stops in its tracks as Sana abruptly removes her lips from your cock entirely, your pleasure completely stripped and taken from you at the last second. 

“Shit, I have to get to class,” Sana says with a devilish smirk on her face as she stands upright, leaving your hard cock now dripping.

“Sana, what the hell? Wait-” 

She was gone in a flash, leaving you a confused, frustrated mess with your pants around your ankles. 

None of her classes were until the afternoon, and you feel completely dumbfounded by the fact of what had just happened. 

You let out an annoyed sigh and quickly pull your pants and boxers up, hoping nobody would see, while doing your best to think of any unsexual thoughts to help soften your erection. 

Sana had played you, and you had never expected her to construct such a devious plan. You had to give her credit for turning the tables on you at the last second. 

You stared up at the clock in front of you, annoyed as if it were mocking you. Your first class started in twenty minutes, and it would take that long just to get there. Not even time to finish yourself off in a bathroom. Three long classes to go. It was going to be a long day at the hands of one Minatozaki Sana. 

On the way to your first class your phone vibrated. 

>Sana: I hope you enjoyed my little gift. 😉

>You: I didn’t. I have class, Sana. 

>Sana: Aw, don’t be mad. You’re cute when you’re so riled up. When you’re done you can come fuck my brains out, but for now you should really focus on your studies. 😛

You frustratedly shove your phone back in your pocket without any response, hoping it would be the only message she would send.

It wasn’t. 

Sana knew your schedule. At the beginning of each class she sent just one pic, perfectly timing it just as your class would start. 

The first was a picture of Sana's hand, her slick juices clearly visibly dripping off her fingers. 

>Look how wet I am, baby. I’ve been touching myself for almost an hour because you aren’t here to satisfy me so I’m going to have to do it myself. 

This was going to be a long fucking day indeed.

One class down, but you dreaded the other two. Right on schedule Sana’s next message arrives. The next image was her bent over, skirt pulled up high and her thong clad ass in plain view, a damp spot visibly soaking through. 

> Bet you'd love to spank this tight ass of mine? Make my cheeks sting until they’re bright red for wouldn't you?

Sana’s teasing was relentless. You regretted opening your phone every time it buzzed. 

The final image came purposely late. You thought she was done with her game, but half an hour into your last class it arrived. You tried to ignore it, but curiosity got to you.

It was Sana back in your apartment, completely naked in a pair of white high heels, legs spread  wide and a vibrator in her pussy, an obvious puddle underneath her crotch. You regret giving her a spare key.

>Don't you wish your cock was in my pussy instead of this cold, lonely vibrator?

You didn't respond to any of her messages, but she knew you had seen them. You frustrations only increased with every message you opened, as did the pain in your crotch from lack of release. You had to power through.

You still had an hour to go and she was killing you. 

In one final blow she sends one more message. Not a picture this time. An audio clip titled Sana needs you. It was over a minute long, and she knew you couldn't listen to it. 

Listening in the bathroom certaintly was an option, but that would just prolong her torture. You weren't going to let her win. 

The last two hours of your class felt like a week. Sana was in your head and you hated it. The only thing you could focus on was how good how lips felt as she blew you, and you wanted nothing else but to relive that incredible feeling. Mercifully your class ends, and you hightail it out of there. 

You make it back to your apartment, cautiously opening the door, unsure what surprise would be in store for you. Sana had made a trail of her clothes leading to the bedroom, at the end was her naked body on the bed, fingers still inside herself, moaning determined to keep her teasing up to the very last second.

"Did you get my messages? I haven't heard anything from you all day. l thought maybe you had to go jerk off in the bathroom. 

You give Sana a look, one of frustration and anger that says everything you needed to say. Sana giggles, as you look and see her naked body in the flesh, sheets soaked through from what seemed to be from hours of touching herself.

“You owe me new sheets.” 

“Oh? If anything your sheets are better now. Now that they’re stained with me. Now what are you waiting for? Are you going to fuck me or do I have to keep doing it myself?. I’ve been here all day.” 

You couldn’t take your clothes off any faster as Sana continued to touch herself, rubbing her hands all over her tight body. Your clothes fell in a heap on the ground, and you quickly climb the bed. 

You run your middle finger between her slit to find your fingertip covered in Sana’s nectar. 

“You’re drenched, Sana,” you tell her as you spread her legs wide for you, not even bothering to take her heels off. 

“I am. I came so many times, I couldn’t take it anymore. You just kept me waiting so long, baby.” Sana says with the biggest smirk. 

"Must have been nice," you respond, with obvious annoyance in your voice. 

You aim your cock with her wet pink lips, pressing against her warm opening, staring deeply into Sana’s lust-glazed eyes, ready to completely take her. 

“Fuck me.”

Her inviting words were all you needed. You swing your hips forward and push your hard cock into Sana, parting the wet, warm, and tight walls of her pussy. 

Sana moans at the feel of first penetration, blonde hair goes flying as she tilts her head back in pleasure. 

"Just like that baby, fill me with every inch of you."

Sana’s flesh squeezes your needy cock as you enter her deeper, and with both hands on her soft, luscious thighs you begin to fuck her. 

You don’t give her a single second to adjust to you, she didn’t deserve that after all. You bury your hard cock deep inside her tight dripping pussy, and you begin to pound away at her. 

“Oh, oh fuck! That feels so good, i’ve needed you, I’ve needed your cock inside me!”

It felt so damn good. Sana was always so tight, and so wet, especially now after touching herself for so long she was completely saturating your cock with her juices. 

You give yourself a few moments to lose yourself in the pleasure that her body was giving you while you pump in and out of her with your cock in a perfect rhythm. Her overflowing juices help to lubricate your cock as you watch your shaft enters and exit between her thighs, the pleasure on her pretty face completely overtaking her. 

“Deeper baby, let me feel all of you.” 

You do everything you can to accommodate Sana’s request, lifting her legs up and resting your forearms on her thighs, let her feet hover in the air as you fill her tight little pussy as deep as your cock will possibly go until you complete bottom her out. 

Sana’s moans increase, both in volume and intensity, letting you know you have succeeded. 

“Yes, baby, just like that! You’re so fucking deep in me, don’t stop!”

Every thrust into Sana brought a new series of moans. You savored the way she felt, the way her pussy wrapped around your cock as you fucked her. You loved the sounds she made, and the way her eyes glazed ever in pleasure. Her pussy tightened even more around you, flooded you with even more of her juices, and you knew you were going to make her cum soon. 

“You feel so big inside me, baby. You’re so deep, baby, I’m gonna cum! Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

You continue to fuck Sana as she tightens more around you, feeling her pussy pulsate around your dick to signal her upcoming climax. She was almost there, and as your own form of revenge you pull out of her and deny her orgasm at the last possible moment.

“Fuck! Baby!” 

“Two can play this game,” you say with a smirk as your run your tip between her wet folds, giving her a few gentle slaps with cock as Sana whines. 

“Ahh, please baby, put it back in me!” 

You grab her hands and pull her up until she’s in a sitting position, kissing her lips and laughing to yourself at her being to one that was frustrated. 

“We’re even now. Now come sit on this cock.” 

Sana whines again as you lay down beside her, eyes focused on her scrumptious ass as she gets up and climbs onto your crotch. She carefully places her legs on either side of your thighs with her petite back facing you, reaching behind her to grab your cock, glistening with her own juices and lines it up with her pussy. 

Sana doesn’t want to spend another second empty and slowly lowers herself onto your cock. You can’t help but stare as her pink splayed lips accept your cock, and in one quick motion Sana slams her ass against your crotch and impales her pussy with the entirety of your cock. 

Sana gasps at the intense sensation of the new position, able to take you that much deeper inside her. She settles into making herself comfortable and begins grinding on your dick, hips gyrating back and forth. Sana uses your thighs to brace herself as she starts her own rhythm, slamming her body against your own, riding your cock without a care in the world. 

“Baby...you feel so good inside me…” 

You’re content to enjoy the show for the first few minutes, lying motionless as you watch your cock disappear in between Sana’s cheeks as she fucks herself. With every enter and exit into her tight opening her pink lips grip your cock tightly, keeping you inside her as her perfectly sculpted ass bounces with every slam against your crotch. 

Sana moans lustfully every time she impales herself on you, and you grab a handful of her plump asscheek, squeezing it firmly. 

“Feel good baby? Like that cock inside? You like riding me?” you ask Sana as you give her ass a quick loud slap.

She only answers with a moan in response and leans her body back to continue riding you, granting easier access to all of her. You take advantage of this and reach around her chest, grabbing her round perky breasts and squeezing them both, feeling their warmth as you caress them. 

Sana moans louder as you continue to massage and caress her tits, now playing with and pinching her hard sensitive nipples, working the nubs in between your fingers. 

You feel Sana get even tighter, even wetter as one hand makes it way down her firm toned stomach in between her thighs, beginning to rub her swollen clit.

“Fuck, baby! I’m gonna cum...fuck...I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop...baby...please…” 

���I would never. Cum for me, Sana. Cum all over my cock.” 

Sana does as instructed. Her orgasm is loud and messy with her thighs shaking and quivering as she climaxes hard, squeezing your dick tight and pulsating intensely as a flood of her sweet juices stain your crotch. You do your best to help her ride it out, gently caressing her lower back her while aftershocks run their course over her body. 

Her body gradually stops shaking, and you kiss her back and neck while she recovers, tasting the light taste from her sweat as you pepper her upper torso in kisses. 

When you feel she was ready to continue you push her body forward. Sana gets the hint, moving her head down on the bed and lifting her beautiful ass up in the air, your cock still embedded in her pussy, not once leaving her body. 

Sana still in her post-orgasm daze looks back at you, biting her lip as she gently whispers. 

“Take me as rough as you want, baby. Use me. Fuck me. Cum in me.” 

There would be time for that, but first you take the time to admire Sana’s bent over body. Every last deadly curve of her slim petite frame sculpted perfectly, a body that could simply be described as a gift from the heavens, one that you were about to ruin in the next few moments of passion. 

“Fuck my brains out, baby. Like I said you could.” 

You grab Sana’s full hips as you begin to thrust your cock inside her again, your pace deliberately slow, savoring every moment her body swallows you inside, taking the time to feel every bit of warmth and wetness of her silky folds as you fuck Sana from behind. 

The slow pace was unbearable for both of you, and you quickly change it, moving your hands to the warm naked flesh of her ass cheeks and you begin to drill her tight pussy. Every thrust into Sana increases until you are roughly fucking her as hard and deep as your body is able to, burying your cock until her all the way to the hilt. 

“Oh fuck, baby! Fuck me just like that! Pound my tight little pussy!”

Sana gets just what she wants. With a merciless pace you rock her body wildly, both bodies crashing together as you smack against her tight ass with every thrust. The sounds of warm flesh colliding as loud as can be, Sana’s moans now almost a scream as you are fucking her with every ounce of energy that you have left.

You use Sana to fuck your frustrations of the day out, to take your pleasure from and nothing else. Her hands flat in front of her, now grip the sheets tightly as you roughly slammed your cock in and out of her willing body, her lustful moans as loud and deep as they could go, letting you know just how good she was feeling. 

You up the ante in your own way and grab a handful of her pretty blonde hair, forming a rough ponytail and pulling it back towards you as you drive your cock roughly in and out of Sana, not giving her a second to rest as you intend to take every bit of pleasure from you needed. 

You were close, and you were going to finish inside Sana. Not in her pussy, not this time. You needed to finish in her pretty mouth, the way she took away from you earlier.

“Suck my dick, Sana. And finish the job this time,” you tell her as you withdraw your glistening cock out of her pussy and lay back down on the pillows.” 

“Of course, baby,” Sana says with a smile on her lips, laying on her stomach right in front of your crotch. She takes you back into her warm mouth, tasting her own juices on your cock. 

You already feel the tingles of an orgasm already, and within seconds of Sana’s magical blowjob she pushes you right over the edge. 

“Shit, I’m cumming.” 

Sana’s beautiful round eyes acknowledge you, this time confirming that there would be no denial. She would take you all the way to the point of no return and drive you past it. 

You hold the back of her head down all the way against the base of your cock as you explode in Sana’s mouth, filling her throat with what felt like an endless amount of thick cum that was too much for her to handle as your load overflows and drips out of the corners of her pretty lips. 

Sana does her best to contain your load, helping finish out your intense orgasm, sucking you completely dry until you’ve emptied every last drop into her mouth. 

You watch as Sana swallows the huge load she has down her throat in two big gulps, giving your cock a bath with her tongue to clean up the remnants of your split semen before taking that down into her body as well. 

“Guess I’m to blame for such a huge load, huh?” Sana says with a giggle as she strokes your sensitive cock, sucking your tip a few times just to watch you squirm, letting go with a loud, sexy pop as she fully finishes what she started. 

You try to catch your breath as Sana licks her lips clean, ensuring not a drop of you goes wasted.

“Worth the wait, huh, baby?” 

“Uh huh,” you answer faintly as the very last of your energy depletes, and Sana’s naked body crashes on yours as you both cuddle and fall asleep.

[capesandshapes]

The Last Resort:Chapter 3 (Adrinette)

Summary: After an akuma attack goes wrong, Adrien finally learns Ladybug’s secret identity and finds himself falling even deeper in love with his friend. He thinks he’s finally gotten lucky when she declares to him that she’s currently in the business of falling love with anyone but her previous crush… until that crush turns out to be him. Now Adrien has to somehow convince the girl of his dreams to fall back in love with him, while keeping his own identity a secret from her. Well, if there was one thing his father taught him, it was how to multitask. Chapter Summary: A Gang That Is Totally More Concerned With Marinette's Attendance Than Anything Else  Adrien attempts to walk Marinette to school yet again but runs into three distractions. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He managed to walk her to school three times before the ruse of visiting the bakery for mere pastries was called into question. Waking her up and traveling the short distance to school with Marinette felt like a gift, one which he’d rather not share. Light conversation and frequent yawns felt like they were made for just the two of them, and Adrien lived for the moments where her half-awake body would stumble and catch herself on his hands. But, like all good things, it couldn’t last.  

Familiar red hair and a knowing smirk greeted him behind the bakery’s back door on the fourth morning. Alya leaned forward on the center countertop of the kitchen as Adrien entered, Nino struggling to stand and stay conscious behind her. Her face looked like the cat who caught the canary; Ironic, seeing as he was Chat Noir.  

“Good morning, Hot Stuff,” Alya purred, not out of lust for him, but desire for his secrets. He had no doubt in his mind why she was there. In fact, the only question he had about her sudden appearance was why it had taken so long.  

He’d avoided telling them on that first day… And then, coincidentally, the three days that followed as well. Adrien was always incredibly good at changing topics, but he never thought he would make it this far without Alya cornering him. Anything that had to do with Marinette was Alya’s business, she made sure the whole class knew that. Marinette’s once crush now becoming her pursuer ranked fairly high on the list of things that were considered Alya’s business.  

“Tom and Sabine saved you a croissant, a Danish pastry, and a banana creme eclair. They said it was your usual,” Alya informed him, pulling a small cardboard box out from under the counter and letting it fall softly on the countertop. “You know...It takes a long time for these pastries to bake and… Why, I think someone might have bought all of the other banana creme eclairs,” her devious tone left little question as to who could have done such a thing.  

He swallowed hard, not daring to reach for the pastry box. He’d promised the Gorilla that eclair during their lunch break, and he could already begin to hear Plagg’s high pitched whines in his head. No, he needed them; otherwise there was no way he’d be able to even attempt to walk Marinette to school anymore.  

“Spill,” Alya demanded, “or the pastries get it.”  

Adrien sighed, looking to Nino for some form of help. Unsurprisingly, his friend responded via nodding drowsily, his hand on Alya’s shoulder as he struggled to stay upward. Nino was never a morning person, not until he’d had a coffee or five.  

Adrien had wanted to keep things secret for a while longer, maybe manage to make it until he’d somehow wooed her. After all, it wasn’t like he could tell people the full reason for his sudden concern with Marinette. God forbid if anyone caught wind of how deep his feelings went, or that he had fantasized about a future with her. If he confirmed it to Alya, then that was as good as single-handedly telling every girl in his class, and then asking them to help him. Knowing the outlandish antics of his classmates, that was just asking for a train wreck to happen. So, he did the only thing he could; he lied.  

Or tried to.  

“Would you believe that I really like pastries?”  

Alya rolled her eyes, Nino not even trying to hide how unimpressed he was as he stood behind her. Well, it was worth a shot.  

Adrien raised his hands defensively, “okay, fine! You caught me,” he groaned, “ I’m not here for the croissants. Not that they’re not good croissants but--” He grimaced. “You win. I’m here for Marinette. I’ve been waking up an hour early and coming here every day to see her.”  

“You like her,” Alya grinned.  

“I do,” he admitted. Relief fell over him instantaneously, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to tell another human being that. More than that, how liberating telling Alya and Nino would be. He opened his mouth to divulge more, but was interrupted by Alya.  

“You, Adrien Agreste, like her, Marinette Dupain Cheng,” her voice picked up volume as she spoke, excitement bubbling over. “Adrien Agreste likes Marin--”  

Adrien’s finger rose to his lips at the same time that Nino’s hand clapped over her mouth, both young men attempting to silence the girl. Within seconds, however, Nino flinched and removed his hand, whipping it on his pants as Alya momentarily stuck her tongue out at him.  

She spared Adrien a passing glance, bobbing up and down on her feet before turning on her heel very suddenly. “I’m going to tell her,” she announced, her face painted in excitement. “She didn’t believe me before, but just wait when I tell her now.”  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Nino nearly collided with Adrien as both young men practically ran across the kitchen to block the door leading to the apartment. “Hold on there, babe.”  

“You really don’t need to do that,” Adrien breathed, “trust me, I have things covered.”  

“Covered?” Alya scoffed, “Oh, so another three years of you two dancing around each other, great.” She frowned, tapping her foot as she impatiently waited for the two to move. “Trust me. If you just give me five seconds, she’ll be all over you. You two will be on couple dates with us in no time.” Tilting her head, she continued, “So just let me through and I’ll work my magi--”  

Adrien shook his head as Nino looked to him for permission. Both boys stood up a little taller, attempting to look a bit more unmovable as she stared them down. 

“Alya, I think I know what I’m doing. I’m happy with how things are going, and I want to savor this a little--”  

“Savor?! Are you crazy? She’s trying to get over you! Someone could show up any minute and--”  

“And what?” Nino interrupted. “He has this under control!”  

“Neither of you have anything under control!” Alya’s voice peaked.  

“Alya, I need to do this the right way. I want to get to know her better, I want to spend more time with her. I want to take things slow because I love her.”  

The three almost didn’t hear the back door open, Alya’s voice far too loud as she asked incredulously, “Wait, you love her?!”  

Thankfully, it seemed that not all powers of the cat miraculous faded away when transformed. Adrien stopped himself before he responded, catching the sound of the door before anyone else. He stiffened, his jaw feeling slightly slacker as the new person came into view. With a nudge of his elbow, Nino did as well.  

Alya was the last to realize, staring at the two boys expecting an answer before realizing that their dumbstruck faces meant something. Her eyebrows knitted together as a look of horror crossed Nino, finally causing the girl to look over her shoulder.  

“Is this a bad time? Juleka asked me to drop off some things Marinette lent her.” Luka. The boy stood awkwardly in the kitchen; a warm smile painted on his face as he slowly shut the door behind him. “She’s just upstairs, right?” Evidently, He had somehow missed the conversation just moments before.  

“Any. Minute. Agreste.” Alya whispered through gritted teeth.  

*************************

“I really must be late more often than I think I am,” Marinette laughed, holding onto the straps of her backpack as she did so. The number of visitors to her room that morning had initially made the girl blush, but now she walked happily along with them, evidently finding humor in the fact that so many people were dedicated to getting her to school on time when she only had a two-minute walk. 

Beside her, Luka kept a casual pace as he walked with his bicycle, smiling at the girl as he hummed a tune under his breath. Every so often, the twos’ hips would bump or he’d reach for her back, filling the space that Adrien had existed in just a day prior. Together, Luka and Marinette already looked like a couple.  

He wanted to hate him, if only because that’s what every piece of media told him he should do, but Luka was just such a genuinely good guy that Adrien couldn’t manage it. Instead, there was only one person that he could blame.  

“You did this to yourself,” Alya whispered as she caught him staring at the two yet again.  

“Thanks,” he silently cursed himself for all of his preconceived notions of romance and chivalry. He should have let Alya tell her, he should have told her himself by now, he should have kissed her that very first day, he should have dropped his transformation and told her that he was Chat Noir--  

Luka’s hand brushed hers and she released a soft giggle in return.  

“Ugh,” Adrien groaned, he was an absolute idiot. The worst part about his situation was that, despite diving into battles against deadly akumas and getting injured countless times, he couldn’t bring himself to walk up to the other side of her and talk to her. The great Chat Noir, capable of constantly taking rejection from one woman but somehow unable to handle walking beside her when her attention was on someone else. God, he was needy.  

Nino silently mouthed a quick, ‘I’m sorry,’ at him.  

Adrien mouthed, ‘thank you,’ in return. At least it was better being with Nino and Alya as well, rather than being alone with Luka and Marinette. He couldn’t imagine watching young love unfold before him alone, especially when just yesterday he’d been scoping out spots for first dates and asking himself just what sort of flowers would properly convey his current level of adoration.  

“Is something wrong?” Of course, Luka had to be the one to turn around and ask. Of course, he had to catch a glimpse of Adrien’s self-deprecating look right before the blond could throw a fake smile on. Of course, Marinette had to stop as well, worry showing on her face. “You know, it feels like your rhythm might be all wrong today,” he began to reach for his guitar.  

“I’m fine!” Adrien immediately replied, smiling innocently. The last thing he needed was for Luka to play his guitar. Adrien might have been a model, but he’d watched enough movies to know how well men with guitars faired. “I’m just thinking right now, nothing else.”  

“Are you sure?” Marinette asked. “These past few days you’ve been really talkative, but today…”  

He didn’t want to look at her, at least not when he lied. “I’m just a little tired is all.”  

Marinette blinked, her mouth falling downwards sharply. Luka, however, seemed to accept the reasoning with a nod, turning to walk once again, his hand wrapping around Marinette’s to keep her moving.  

The nice thing about Luka was, he never pushed. The worst thing about Marinette was, she always did.  

Everyone kept walking, Luka engaging Marinette again as they entered the courtyard of the school. But Marinette didn’t pay Luka as much attention as before, her eyes downward as she fiddled with her phone.  

Adrien’s vibrated moments later.  

You know, if you want, I could start bringing your order to school with me instead. So you don’t have to wake up early Or walk with me If you want

He looked up to her just in time to see her say goodbye to Luka, her arms wrapping around the boy’s neck as she held him close. His arms, in turn, wrapped around her waist, holding her to him in a far too long hug before finally pulling away. Marinette grinned, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek as Luka got onto his bike.  

“Talk to you after school?” Luka asked. “I have something I want to ask you.”  

“Of course!”  

Adrien turned away from the two, turning to his phone as Nino’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.  

Alya peeked over at his screen from the other side of him, her voice comforting as she affirmed him, “I think that’s good, send it.”  

No. I love spending time with you, Marinette.

In the distance, he heard a ding, followed by a small gasp. If he were quick enough, he would have caught her smiling up from her phone at him. Instead, he looked back in time to see her begin to run towards her friends. Still, that was enough to make him sure that there was no way he’d give up.