#and then also her scenes in the third one

[notquitecanon]

IRL Plug and Play || Poly!141 x Fem!Reader

Summary: Third part of my Search History series (based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal minds) , the dinner party. The culmination of a month of knowing the boy's browser histories. Not much of a summary, it's pretty much dirty from start to finish.

18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warning: Fem pronouns and genitals, alcohol consumption, alcohol used during sex, porn, emulating porn, group sex, unprotected sex, tagging dub con just to be on the safe side but not really if you read the other parts you get it, Oral (M & F recieiving), fingering, penetration (F receiving) , allusions to penetration (male recieving), inappropriate use of cigar ashes. Genuinely this is just me being gross about these men for almost 12,000 words, proceed with caution. Say it with me one more time- irl this would be workplace harassment and NOT sexy. However, these are fictional war criminals who ARE sexy so we’re forgiving it. 

Original Idea First Prev My Masterlist

made a lil header for the first time these are the vibes of reader and 141 :) (not Penelope's psychical description just her vibes)

pssst see how they're all on their mics in the pics?? its cuz your the voice in their ears :)

When you pulled into a parking spot on John Price’s street thirty minutes early, you automatically feel squirmy and a little foolish. Foolish because you’d convinced yourself that you were reading too much into things. So much so, that, somehow, the boys seeking out your porn twin had circled back around to you feeling like the unprofessional one. Squirming because you’d found the video they’d all watched more than once (more than three times) in the last days of their assignment. Barrack’s Bunny Get’s Gang Banged! 

 (Of course it was a military inspired orgy video, with four men and one woman that looked almost identical to you. Because, JFC, why wouldn’t it be? Was this actress in on the torment? Was she taking requests or was this some sort of cosmic joke where the punchline was your own sexual frustration?)  

Ok, how the hell were you not supposed to read into that? 

You hadn’t been able to watch it all the way through yet, having to pause and take breaks to calm yourself down. The thumbnail alone of your doppelgänger with four sets of hands and… other extremities... was enough to tempt you put your car back in drive and go back home. Because you weren’t sure you could look any of them in the eyes, and also for the third time in the last hour, you were second guessing your outfit. 

Because what the hell does one wear to the porn-party with their boss and superiors? (Ok, maybe you should start by stop calling it the ‘porn-party’, because outside of your own finding in their browser histories, they’d yet to mention any actual porn to you in real life, but what else were you supposed to call this?)

After leaving work, you’d spent a long time debating if you needed to change and, if so, into what, and would it be delusional to put on a matching set? Johnny did say he liked seeing something soft… And were your work clothes too stiff? Was the skirt too presumptuous after that video Kyle liked titled Easy Access ? And was it just you or did your work blouse look slightly too much like the one from the office-scene Price had bookmarked? And why the hell was this all you could think about? Strewing your clothes around your bedroom like a teenager before a party, different combinations and options littering your bed and dresser until you got frustrated with yourself and your closet. With a what the hell moment of ambivalence, you’d settled on something comfortable, but switched into a lacy bralette, lying to yourself that it was more comfortable than the one you’d worn to work, and if the lacy strap happened to coquettishly accent your shoulder when your sweater sleeve slipped down your arm? Well, if it wasn’t a Porn Party, then no one would notice, and if it was, well it’d be sure to draw some appreciative eyes. 

Your car was still cranked as you sat slightly down the block from Price’s house in your casual sweater and hidden matching set, anxiously killing time by alternating between tik tok, instagram, tumblr, and oh yes,  the Barracks Bunny Gets Gang Banged video that you’d been working through thirty seconds at a time because any longer had your overheating and threatening to leave a snail trail on your upholstery. So enthralled and flustered, you’d barely thought of the fact you were quietly playing porn over your car’s bluetooth system, you’d made it to the official halfway mark, and each time you’d switched out to a different app, the ‘break’ was short lived as you went back for more, one hand white knuckling your steering wheel as if this was a particularly good movie with a plot twist you just couldn’t miss. 

So enthralled, that a sudden knocking on your window startled you so bad that you half-tossed-half-dropped your phone with a sound that could only be described as a ’squawk’  as you slammed the mute button to your car’s stereo. It was as you were turning towards the knocker, that you realized you could 100% catch a public indecency charge for this, and somehow were still only half relieved to find Johnny leaning slightly down so he could meet your gaze through your driver-side window. He had his raincoat on, and a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer as he looked in on you with a cheeky smile and raised brows. When you just stared up at him like a deer in headlights, mentally trying to figure out just how long he’d been there and if from that angle he could’ve seen your screen and how good was the sound proofing on your car…. As you ran those mental calculations, Johnny simply knocked again and this time added a downwards motion with his cigarette, requesting you to roll down the window. 

You’d never noticed how slow your windows descended as the two of you held eye contact (awkward on your side, delighted on his), until there was no longer a pane of glass between you. The cool, damp night breeze carried the scent of tobacco and some kind of Old Spice fragrance into your little car as you looked up at the Scotsman. He seem amused, but happy to see you, "Coming?" 

Your brain short circuited for a moment. Were you… cumming? You stared at him wide eyed, convinced you’d misheard him. 

"What?" Was all you managed to respond with, your brain still trying to scrub filthy, lewd images from between its lobes, like a community service volunteer cleaning graffiti off subway walls. Johnny’s eyebrows only raised higher with his signature, Can’t wait to tell Ghost about this look, as he took another deep puff of his cig. 

"Are ye coming inside, hen?" He clarified slowly with that shit eating grin after blowing his smoke away form you- what a gentleman, "Or are’ye planning to sit out here all night?" 

"Oh, right." You mumbled, resisting the urge to scrub your hands across your face to physically redirect your thoughts. Instead, you nodded and started gathering your things, "Yeah, yeah, I’m coming inside." 

"Good, Si was getting impatient." Johnny grinned, stepping back so you could open your car door after you fished your phone from the passenger floorboards and cut the engine. Si? You hadn’t head that nickname for Ghost before, hell, you still excusively called him Ghost to his face, because you’d not received permission for anything else. Simon was personal, Si… was intimate...  He watched you expectantly, snapping you out of your thoughts, and when you only responded in silent confusion, he reached inside the still open vehicle and tapped the buttons, "Window, bonnie, s'raining." 

Cheeks heating in mild embarrassment, you quickly cut the battery back on so you roll up the window and then get out. You’d always been a little scatter-brained, prone to being in your own little world, but this was getting excessive. Maybe all the porn really was melting your brain… With the windows up and double checking the car was off, you finally got out of the car. Johnny immediately took the plate of brownies out of your hand in the guise of gentlemanly conduct, but actually snuck one from under the plastic wrap before you could scold him.  

"Why so grim? Y’look like yer marching off to war." Johnny seemed pretty pleased with his own little joke, his free arm resting in the small of your back to guide you up Price’s porch step and into the house like you might run off down the street without his guidance. You were considering it anyways. 

"I don’t look grim." You shot him a look but didn’t shake off his arm, nor could you prevent the smile that was fighting at the corners of your mouth, snatching the brownies back from him before he could snag another, happy to have something to fidget with as you smoothed the plastic wrap back into place. 

"No, you most definitely do not." And there was the other sergeant, Kyle, holding the door open for the two of you. Smiling as charmingly as ever, Kyle was already taking the dish out of your hands only to hand the dessert back to Johnny to carry off somewhere else. Then, he was on you, "Glad you could make it, love. Don’t listen to Soap, you look beautiful.” “Hey! Dinnae say she couldn’t be grim and beautiful.” Soap called back, already on his way deeper into the house. 

"Such a shameless flirt." You scoffed just loud enough to drown out Johnny with your own teasing smile, a more usual routine amongst all the overthinking you’d been doing, as Gaz helped you out of your coat. Maybe you were imagining the sensuality, but you were not imagining how his touch lingered, and how his fingers grazed the fabric of your sweater as it was exposed. Hell, he was basically unwrapping your raincoat like it was the gift wrap on a present, "Don’t look half bad yourself, though." 

All the boys looked good in their civilian clothes, hell they’d all look good in anything (or nothing… Focus. Focus.). But Kyle? In his stylish and tailored clothes? He always looked he’d walked off a J. Crew magazine cover when he wasn’t on base. His burgundy sweater looked like something you wanted to rub your cheek against, soft and warm and it fit him like a glove. Gaz grinned at your little praise, not speeding up his maddeningly slow pace of peeling off your raincoat and adjusting your hair for you afterwards, which distracted you just enough that you didn’t notice the others watching his little show. One of his lingering fingers seemed to all together abandon it’s mission, instead tracing the arced lace strap of your (meticulously chosen) lace bralette strap that had fallen off your shoulder. You watched Kyle’s finger follow the flowery lace pattern for a moment before fixing back on your shoulder with an audible snap! that made you jump a little from the sting. 

This time you did see Johnny’s amused grin and slightly devious eyes as your own went wide and you let out a little yelp, snapping your eyes over your soldier at the sergeant. Gaz was quick to soothe the ouch, humming at you before you could get disgruntled while his warm palm cupped the curve of your shoulder and rubbed the slightly stinging skin softly. And if you were still reading into things (you were) you could swear it was just for him to have a reason to touch you more.

"Sorry, love, had to fix it, was bothering me." Was the only explanation offered for his actions. Once your jacket was off, Gaz hung it on the foyer hooks, it looking comically small and feminine between all four of theirs. You knew your brain was melted from all the porn when the visual immediately reminded you of the stupid video’s thumbnail picuture… the pretty, feminine actress with four huge actors surrounding her… Fortunately, Kyle tugging you further into the house pulled you out of your dirty-thought spiral. 

In the kitchen, John Price was waiting, marinating a platter of steaks. You couldn’t help the amused quirk of a smile at seeing the apron tied over his civilian clothes, an unlit cigar in the chest pocket for easy access. The captain smiled first to Gaz with an approving nod, and then to you with a teasing smirk, "Thought you’d sit out in your car all night." 

"I’m early." You defended yourself, cheeks now must be permanently stained into a flush with how easily they managed to fluster you. Gaz parked himself right beside you, leaning on the counter but standing so close that his shoulder was slotted slightly behind you, half his chest pressed to your back, distractingly proving your early guess that his sweater was, in fact, very soft.  It took the steam out of your vehement defense, "You said, eight. It’s 7:50." 

"Yeah, but you’ve been sitting out there since 7:30, love." Kyle chided. You wondered if it was the whiskey he was sipping that gave him the courage to puncuate his teasings with a slight pinch to your hip that made you squirm. His closeness kept you from slipping away as he shifted his attention to his captain, that easy going smile still on his face, "She brought brownies." 

"I know. Johnny’s already had two." Price smiled, slathering another steak with marinade and massaging it into the meat with tender but deliberate ministrations of his long fingers that, for a moment, made you jealous of a dead slab of beef. His eyes caught yours staring at his hands, chuckling as he cleared his throat, "We had something else in mind for dessert. Very sweet of you though." 

Something Price said made Kyle chuckle like it was some kind of inside joke, his fingers still on your hip, tracing little circles that were almost as distracting as… whatever the hell it was that Price was doing to the steaks. 

"Now, go off and relax. I’m about to cut onions and we don’t want to mess up that pretty make up." Price ordered, shooing you off towards his stocked bar cart, before adding quietly enough you thought you might have hallucinated it, "Not yet, anyways." 

__

Later, after you’d been supplied a drink and deposited on the couch with Ghost to watch what you were pretty sure was a rugby match (you were a little distracted by his warm arm draped over your shoulder, fingers tracing the same floral lace Gaz had). 

"Gonna have to make some more room, love." Kyle grinned, looking down at you, holding his drink in one hand and one of your brownies in the other. You looked around yourself, already sandwhiched between the armrest of the sofa and Ghost who hadn’t closed his legs even a fraction when Johnny’d led you to the couch originally. Wasn’t much room to make room with. 

"Oh, I can just-" you started, standing carefully as to not spill the drink Kyle had made for you. Before you could step away to claim the plush arm chair by the mantle (a safe distance from Simon’s thigh against yours and Kyle’s lingering touches), a strong arm wrapped around your middle and tugged you right back down. Instead of your original seat, however, it was Ghost who had pulled you side saddle into his lap, his other hand steadying the drink in yours. Gaz chuckled, taking the spot you had been sitting in, both men unbothered by your startled yelp. 

Despite the fact that Simon had forecully and silently pulled you onto his lap, when you gave him a bewildered look, he seemed not to even notice the fact you were sitting on him, his amber eyes focused on the fame playing even as his finger’s kneaded distracting little circles into the plushest part of your waist, his arm still wrapped around you like you might try and escape. And when you just blinked at him, his only offering was, "Tha’s Price’s chair." 

"Ye look comfy." Soap chided as he came around the corner with a beer and a lo-ball glass of some sort of whiskey, beer for himself and the (presumably) bourbon was given to Simon, both however, were offered to Simon, "Crack that for me, Si?" 

You watched, wide eyed and enamored, as he lifted his mask over his nose and used his teeth to crack the bottle open before taking a long swig and then handing it back to Johnny in exchange for the whiskey. You had a front row seat to the bob of his Adam’s apple, and the way a scar split the top corner of his lip vertically (you wondered if you would feel the scar if he was kissing you, focus, damnit, focus). Soap noticed your expression and the blush in your cheeks with a twinkle in his eyes, " ’s not nice to stare, bonnie." 

You stared a moment longer before forefully shaking yourself out of the stupor and taking a swig of your own drink, thankfully ice cold. The momentary pause allowed you to dip back into your usual well of sarcastic wit, offering the Scot a raised eyebrow, "You’re just jealous I’m not staring at you." 

Johnny only shrugged, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa, making his broad chest only seem broader, his grin showing just enough teeth to appear wolfish as his thigh pressed into Ghost’s and therefore the round of your ass, "Aye, maybe I am."  

"Ignore him, he’s been watching too much…" Simon started swirling then sipping his bourbon before tugging his mask down again afterwards. You knew the answer to his trail off and your internal body temp went up five degrees, alarm bells ringing in your brain. Johnny elbowed the taller man, so Simon only shrugged and finished lamely with, "stuff." 

Porn. He’s been watching a lot of porn. You all have.  I know that. You know that. We all know that. You brain chanting in time with those stupid circles he was rubbing on your hip as Johnny took the liberty of adjusting the hair off your shoulder, his voice a challenging chide,  "What’s that look for, bonnie? What’d you think he was gonna say?" 

Your mouth opened, and then closed, and you were saved from answering by Price coming into the living room, declaring the steaks were marinating so they had a while to just hang out. He gave Kyle a shoulder squeeze in passing, and offered you a warm smile before settling in his chair by the mantle. The chair you’d tried to escape to earlier. 

For a get-together planned around watching the game, it occurred to you that not a single eye was on the TV at the moment. Instead, you realized they were all on… you. Price in his chair, smoothing his beard. Simon still had you on his lap, amber eyes carefully scrutinizing your expression as you flicked your eyes over to Gaz, who was watching you- or rather the rise and fall of your chest as he pulled your legs into his lap- with a slightly cocked head, a small smile on his lips. And finally, Johnny, who’d not stopped fidgeting with your hair and the neckline of your sweater. 

Once again, you were uncharacteristically at a loss for words, squirming a bit on Simon’s lap as you tried to figure out what to say or if to say anything at all, because all that was coming to mind right now were two options. Are y’all trying to fuck me? and How’s the weather?. Both options made you want to crawl in a hole and stay there. 

"You’re quiet tonight, sweet, something on your mind?" Price raised his eyebrows, still smirking, knuckles tapping against the armrest, "Something you wanted to tell the boys, right? What we talked about in my office?" 

How were you supposed to broach the topic of their internet history, essentially admit to knowing about your XXX twin, while sitting on your superior's lap, having your hair played with, and your calves massaged through your leggings… 

"No, no. Just… enjoying my drink." You muttered, draining the rest of the beverage before leaning over to place the empty glass on the side table, which was a mistake because it just had you practically sprawled over the three men on the couch, "What game are we supposed to be watching tonight?" 

"Never mind that, hen." Johnny shrugged, clicking the TV off before tossing the remote to Price, "We’ve been into a… different form of entertainment lately." 

Yeah. I know. The problem is that I know. You thought to yourself, now not even able to pretend to watch the screen, forced to focus on all the hands and eyes on you. 

"Let’s stop dancing around it." Simon gruffed, resting his head against the back of the couch, his fingers trailing from your hip to the top of your thigh, "She’s not daft." 

"Lieutenant Riley, always the subtle one." Gaz rolled his eyes before sliding his eyes over to Price who gave him an affirmative nod, not unlike they would do in the field, and then his eyes were back on you, "So, we know you aren’t blind, love, sure you noticed something going on here." 

You weren’t sure if he was talking about what you’d dubbed the porn party or if he was just talking about the general bond between the men that went deeper than just elite squad, so you just nodded, hoping he would proceed with some more context clues… any keep rubbing his thumbs around your calf. It was not helping you focus. Kyle just grinned, his hands gently roaming up your shins to your knees and then back down, "Well, we’ve noticed something, too, love. You." 

"Me?" You parroted, half sincere half forced faux shock, that sent you further back into Johnny’s chest, the Scot who was still fiddling with your hair had also pressed his nose into the crown of your hair to smell whatever products you used. "Don’t sound so surprised, bonnie." He murmured into your hair before leaning past you to Simon, planting an open-mouthed, 

wet kiss against the larger man’s mask right beside your own face. Your mouth dried out despite just finishing your drink, tongue seeming too big for your mouth, eyes flicking rapidly between them and Gaz. You were beyond flustered, your stomach twisting in a both nerve wracking and enticing way. You didn’t know where to look, or if you should look, or look away. You didn’t want to look away, seeing Soap’s tongue find Simon’s mouth even through the cotton. Did they want the illusion of privacy and if so, how were you supposed to give them that when Simon was half groping you at the same time Johnny was lapping at his tongue 

through the balaclava? Johnny slid his eyes to you, barely breaking from Ghost, "S’alright, hen, don’t mind you watching us. After all, s’only fair." 

Your eyes widened, owlishly turning to Gaz though Simon kept you from slipping off his lap. Was that them telling you that they knew you knew? Was this some confession about finding your doppelgänger and watching enough of her content to pay off her car? He rolled his eyes at the other sergeant, his easy going smile returning when his eyes came back to you. 

"They’re so impatient." He chuckled with a what can you do shrug, as if they’d simply skipped to dessert (innuendo intended) instead of started sloppily making out with you in their lap. He quit massaging at your calves, instead using his middle and pointer fingers to trace patterns (you could swear it was a mimic of the lace pattern he’d traced earlier). Your eyes flicked over to Price, who was still just watching, leaned back in his chair, jutting his chin back to Gaz as if telling you to pay attention. Sheepishly, you turned back to Kyle, "So, we’ve… discovered this person online, and she looks… so much like you. Genuinely, love, it’s uncanny. And there’s this video she made that really caught our attention-" 

"She knows the one." "Aye, She’s seen it." 

Both Price and Johnny answered at the same time. Price, because you’d brought up the issue to him in his office. And Johnny… had apparently been standing outside your car longer than you thought and could see your screen. Your cheeks had to be glowing by now. Kyle’s smile just grew, flashing perfect white teeth at you as he leaned in closer, "Perfect, then we can skip that explanation. But once we saw it… well, it kind of got under our skin. You’ve gotten under our skin, love."  

Johnny and Simon hadn’t stopped though they had shifted and suddenly there lips were back and forth on each other, and also over your neck and shoulders as you tried fervently to keep your eyes on Gaz as he leaned closer, pulling the sleeve of your sweater off your shoulder to expose that lace strap again, "And, judging by how you’ve been acting lately, we’ve gotten under yours too." 

"Yeah. Yeah. That’s one way to put it." You admitted in a released breath, eyes flicked down to Simon who’d been kissing and sucking right at the curve of your shoulder for several long seconds, like if he wasn’t already under your skin, he’d supplant himself there personally. Johnny wasn’t going under your clothes, but his hands were tracing the line of your spine, finding the waistband of your leggings, nosing into your hair so he could kiss the shell of your ear. All while Kyle just kept that pretty grin on you, somehow putting you at ease and twisting your nerves even more. 

"And, truthfully, we could sit here talking about it all night, Or…"  And Kyle Garrick, with that unfairly, stupidly charming smile of his, made a veritable orgy sound as commonplace and sensible as going to the pub afterwork, and you found yourself dumbly nodding along to his easy words before you anxieties, logical and/or otherwise, could convince you that group sex with your coworkers was probably not the most professional way to spend a Friday night. But, damn, the sparkle in those pretty hazel-brown eyes was doing a good job of easing any worries that charming smile had missed… 

Price finally spoke up again, but stayed in his chair, "You're nodding, sweet, but we gotta hear it. Out loud. Do you want this?" 

When you looked over again, John Price was looking wholly the Captain he was. If you thought he was making a point to manspread in his office earlier in the day, now… Now he was just showing off. He looked like he was posing on a throne, legs spread, elbows resting on the arms of the chair as he settled in, watching the three soldiers and you on the couch.  Seemingly completely nonplussed by his subordinate employees’ heavy petting on his couch. 

Your internal reflection was swift. You were already getting felt up. If going into the office was going to be awkward on Monday, it was going to be awkward regardless of whether or not you cut it off at groping. You might as well let them relieve the nagging itch in the back of your mind while you were at it. So after another dumb nod, you found your voice again, "Yes. Yes. I want it. Please." 

"So polite." Johnny murmured, taking you verbal confirmation as permission to slip his hands underneath your clothes, mapping your bare skin, "And you’ll say something if it’s too much?" 

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded fervently, turning your head to try and catch one of their lips, the sweater had been stifling for the past hour, but now it was itching at your feverish skin. Johnny just smiled, helping you out of the thing. 

"Good girl." Simon nodded before his amber eyes lit up a bit, "Well, would you look at tha’." 

His fingers dipped under the lacy band of the bralette you were wearing. Johnny had already run his hands over the fabric while Kyle just whistled lowly. Price was the one who spoke up about it, "Did you put that on just for us, sweet?" 

"Just in… just in case." You nodded in a breath, leaning back into Johnny as he started rolling your leggings down, exposing the complimentary lace waistband of your panties. Another round of appreciative comments and touches, Simon’s teeth nipping at the curve of your neck again. 

"Too good to us, love." Gaz shook his head, helping his fellow sergeant get your leggings all the way off and tossing them somewhere out of sight, pressing kisses to the top of your thighs, then your knees, and finally one too the inside of your ankle. " So you suspected all along. How’d you see the video?" 

"Go on, sweet, fill him in." Price prompted with that stupid little smirk, the one that tugged the corners of his beard up. The one that made you want to get on your knees and do anything to earn one of those approving nods. 

"I-I can see the websites y’all visit." You admitted breathlessly, watching as Kyle kissed his way back up your legs, how those eyes never broke contact with yours, "I have to clear them for security purposes. I’ve.. I’ve seen all the videos y’all’ve been sharing with each other." “

All of them. So 

that’s why you’ve been so quiet, bonnie?" Johnny hummed, a smile pressed into the base of your neck, watching Simon nip at your neck, teeth digging in harder every time, making you whimper which seemed to only egg Ghost on. 

"Flattered or offended?" Kyle asked, but his smile told you he already knew the answer. Because, with you sprawled over the laps of three men, if you were offended you had a funny way of showing it. 

"I should’ve been." You gulped after breaking off Johnny’s lips for a moment, adding on, "Offended."

"But you’re not?" Price prompted, head cocking to the side as he fiddled with lighting his cigar. 

No. For better or for worse, this roundabout workplace harassment approach had really worked on you. So you just shook your head, opening your mouth as Simon pulled his mask up and caught your lips, tongue domineering itself into your mouth almost instantly. 

"So cooperative, nice change of pace." One of them hummed, but you couldn’t place it, too focussed on the fingers kneading at your inner thighs, slowly working your legs open into a spread so your knee’s were hooked over each side of Simon’s wide spread legs, which exposed the dampened gusset of the deliberately chosen panties. 

"All right, deal’s a deal, Garrick," Simon all but growled into your mouth, your eyes fluttering open to see his amber eyes watching Kyle who was smirking like he’d just gotten away with something, "You get first taste. Warm ‘er up for us." 

Oh. Oh. Just diving right in. Though Gaz was ever the gentleman, charming through and through. 

"May I?" He asked softly, waiting with his fingers hooked in the lacy waistband as he sunk to his knees in front of you. Your breath picked up just from the sight, and it was only Simon holding you to him that kept you from leaning down and catching a kiss from Kyle as well. Since that wasn't an option, you jerked your head in a clumsy nod, punctuating with the cant of your hips towards him that just made him chuckle as your panties were discarded towards the same direction as your pants. 

"Please." You whined, the tone making all of the men snap their eyes up to you, the expressions all reading make her do it again. You didn’t even have time to adjust to the cold air on your exposed bits before Gaz’s hot mouth was covering the sensitive flesh, drawing a gasp as you threw yourself back into Simon’s chest. Ghost only hooked his chin over your shoulder, lazily watching as Gaz licked a flat stripe, first dipping into your entrance, teasing a bit as deep as he could get. Your clit got a little attention from his nose bumping it, make you breathe sharp breaths with little clipped moans. But when he withdrew and  traced his tongue  back up, finding your clit and slipping under the hood, your attempts at demure noises were nixed by a sudden and echoing moan. 

"That good? Yeah, Gaz’s pretty skilled with ‘is tongue." Johnny nodded, nuzzling at your other shoulder as he watched on too, palming himself through his jeans, "Meticulous thing he is." 

"How’s she taste, sergeant?" Price asked, adjusting himself as well. Kyle surfaced for only a moment, replacing his tongue with his fingers when you whined in disappointment. 

"Better than the bloody brownies, that’s for certain." He hummed, his corners of his mouth glistening, eyes flicking up to you as he rested a cheek against the inside of your thigh. You tried to be offended at the diss to your baking skills, but as Kyle dove back in, a skillful swirl and lewd slurp killed any smart comment on your tongue, or rather on his. You weren’t sure if it was even possible to actually decipher, but you were certain he was spelling barrack’s bunny over your clit with his tongue, letter by unraveling letter. All four men seemed to delight in how your breathing sped up, how your head seemed so heavy to hold up that it flopped backwards into Simon’s shoulder. Kyle tolerated your hips rolling twice, but his chivalry ended the third time, reaching up and placing Simon’s hand at your waist to hold you still for him, while his hands kept your thighs from closing around his head. The message was clear. Anything you were getting would come from him and only him. You recalled how so many of his preferred videos revolved around control, pleasure dom, a term you had had to google. All you could do was stare down between your legs and watch him devour you. 

"If she tastes half as good as she looks…" Johnny trailed off, catching the corner of your mouth for a short kiss, his fingers tracing the lace pattern right over your perked nipples, at least Simon was lenient enough to let you arch your chest into the touch, "Right treat you are, hen." 

Your first climax was a quick thing, a full body clench and vulgar moan clawing its way out of your throat, your thighs trembling around Kyle as he licked and slurped his way through your high, collected anything you put out for him. His movements only slowing when your body relaxed back against Ghost. He gave your pussy a comedically sweet kiss before sitting up, and it was only then that he pulled you down to him for your first real kiss from him. It was tender and sweet, with the appropriate amount of tongue, almost the kind of kiss you’d give on a really good first date, if it wasn’t for the fact you could taste your essence on him, your cum making his lips slippery against yours. 

"Called dibs on that weeks ago." He grinned, breaking the kiss to watch his fingers to dip between your legs, collect some more of your wetness and pop it in his mouth, eyes closing like he was savoring a fine wine.  You watched him with mouth agape and eyes half lidded, "Alright then, Tav, surprised you held yourself back this long, go on then."

Johnny’s smile was all teeth as he descended upon you, kissing any of your slick off your mouth that Kyle’d left behind like he was getting a sneak preview. Though, for someone so often ridiculed for being impatient, he was anal about this kiss. Making sure to try every angle of his mouth against yours, then repeating his tests with tongue, and then once more splitting your attention with Simon. Ghost played along for a while, letting his sergeant explore your lips and your chest before he nodded down to the floor when Kyle’d been. 

"Keep yourself busy, Johnny." Was the clipped order, as he took over kissing you, one large hand splayed along your face to keep you drawn to him, as if you might try to get away. He had nothing to worry about, the whiplash of switching partners and desires had you craving attention anywhere you could find it. You were already putty on his lap with Johnny taking over Kyle’s place between you legs. While it was still overwhelmingly pleasurable, his actions were more sloppy than Kyle’s. His strategy was to barrage your nerves as opposed to Kyle’s precision attacks. It still had you whining and squirming, which was enough to short circuit your focus. Johnny didn’t seem to mind you instinctively grinding into his face, in fact it only seemed to encourage him. Simon’s job was to keep you from melting off his lap, which he did while his kisses became harder and harder, sometimes biting at your bottom lip, "Now you just taste like his shitty beer, you’ll lemme fix that, won’t you, lovie?" 

When you nodded, he smiled, tugging the balaclava all the way off. You didn’t even have time to properly admire how handsome he was under the thing, didn’t have time to pepper those scars with kisses or wax poetic about how all his unconventional features played together harmoniously to make him exceedingly handsome. Before you could do any of that, he’d taken a sip of his bourbon, swallowing as he watched you watch him. 

"Open." He directed, nodding when you obediently dropped your mouth open. He tipped your head back at the same time as he took a longer draw of his bourbon, holding it in his mouth for a moment before pulling your lips up to his and kissing the liquor straight onto your tongue, burning off anything and anyone else. When he’d given you every last drop, he pulled back and manually shut your mouth, "Go on and swallow for me, don’t waste it. ’s hard to get this stuff ‘round here." 

Bourbon wasn’t often in your rotation for drinks, the taste smoky and sharp just like the man that had kissed it into your mouth, but one look into Simon’s eyes had you nodding again. As you forced yourself to swallow it, the burn going all the way into stomach, stoking the fires the men had started in you. After he watched your throat bob, he nodded approvingly. 

"Good fuckin’ girl." He praised which made the burning sting worth it, catching your lips in another punishing kiss when you moaned from Johnny’s sloppy slurping. Simon hummed, finding that your mouth now tasted like his preferred pour, "Much better." 

After kissing the taste of his bourbon off you, he pulled back for a moment just to watch you whine and grind against the sergeant between both sets of your legs. After a moment of appreciation for the garment against your skin, the bralette they’d all liked so much was roughly yanked down,  the straps down your shoulders while the cups and band bunched up under your now exposed breasts. Johnny was watching from the floor, his big blue eyes crinkling and lips pulling into a smile against you, while Simon ran his hands over your bare chest, stopping to squeeze and pinch when he pleased. “Johnny- 

Ghost-" You almost shrieked not sure who to call too or thank for the electric static in your nervous system, arching your chest up into his hands, and when the movement moved your hips away from Johnny, he just took your legs off Simon’s knees and hooked them over his shoulders, keeping you firmly in place, "

Shit." 

"Language, sweet." Price teasingly scolded from his chair, still stroking his beard from his arm chair. Gaz and Simon just chuckled when you pouted through another throaty moan. Simon was nudging your cheek with his nose, skimming his teeth across you jawline between kisses that trailed fown your neck, sucking marks that would stay for weeks, always finding his way back to what seemed to be his favorite spot in the curve of your neck. “Should’ve seen the Sergeants when they first found that video, acting like they’d won the fuckin' lottery. Been wanting you for months but tha’ really sealed the deal, lovie, couldn’t even get through the first quarter before this one was panting and rutting. Like it was the first time they’d ever seen a dirty video. Ain’t that right, Johny?”  It was the most you’d ever heard Simon talk in one go, every couple of words grunted and groaned out between kisses across any skin he could reach with you sitting back against him, breath hotly fanning along your neck as he went. And when he finished the thought, he reached down between your legs and fished the sergeant up by his mohawk, leaving both you and Johnny whine at the loss of contact. Simon just laughed coldly and gave Johnny a prompting jerk, much rougher than he’d been touching you, “You gonna answer us, Johnny?”  “Aye. Aye. Knew I had to get ma’ hands on ye.” Was all he managed before diving in for another taste of you, surfacing briefly again to relay a message up to Simon, half moaned half growled, 

"This cunt's like fucking silk, I’ll tell you, Lt.” Strong hands clenching into the plushest parts your thighs holding them around his face like he was 

hoping he’d suffocate down there, "Ye gotta get in here, ain’t nothing like it."

"You want that, sweetheart?" Simon hummed, moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, "Want me in you?"

"Fuck. Yes, fuck me." You rambled which just made them chuckle at you as one of your hands when into Johnny’s mohawk and the other palmed at your breasts. Johnny moaned when you tugged at his hair, sending subtle vibrations up with his tongue that almost sent you undone again. Simon easily pushed you down his legs, still supporting you with one hand as Johnny kept going, and freeing his erection with the other. Gaz and Johnny had worked hard to warm you up, to break you in for them, but Simon’s dick threatened to break you, period. He was just as thick as John, but almost as long as Kyle, cut, veiny, with a pretty pink tip. Como se dice, how you say… hung like a fucking horse.  

He must’ve seen your wide eyes, the subtle fear in your eyes that was chased away when Johnny drug his teeth over your clit with just enough pressure to make you choke on your own spit. Ghost reached down intermingling his fingers with your folds and Johnny’s tongue, "We’ll start easy. Just the tip, lovie. Johnny’ll handle the rest for now." 

They did just that. He held his hand out to Johnny, letting the man on his knees spit into his palm and then rubbed it against his dick, before pulling you back against him once more. Before he even attempted any sort of penetration, he slid his erection through your folds a couple of times just to collect some more slick,  "You are just like silk, Johnny was right." 

He grunted into your neck with another few slippery passes before reaching down as easing the tip into you. He was thick, enough so that it stung a bit as you tried to adjust. Despite his soft voice and unusually soft eyes, Simon’s control slipped, rutting a bit before you were ready. At you uncomfortable whine, Johnny mirrored the sound in disapproval of your upset, immediately going to remedy the hurt with his tongue, servicing both you and Simon with a flat lick up Simon’s exposed length and then up to your clit to help you relax. 

"Breathe for me, lovie." The Liutenant ordered, like he was trying to be gentle with you but his jaw was gritted, trying even harder not to snap his hips against yours and bully his too-big dick into your hole, "Try to relax for me." 

You were panting, cheeks puffing with your breaths, not sure if Johnny’s tongue was helping or just tensing you up more, but God, it felt good and you weren’t going to be the one to tell him to stop. Not yet at least. You got another inch in, which earned a kiss to your neck. 

" s’all I can take right now." You breathed, reaching back to support yourself against him. 

"Better than I did on my first go, eh, LT?" Johnny grinned up before kissing up the length of Simon’s cock that wasn't inside of you, flicking his tongue over the stretched rim of your entrance that was still trying to clench around the sudden intrusion, "She’s tryin’ so hard." 

By the look in his eyes, he wasn’t talking about you. The She in question was just your pussy. Simon nodded along, hissing curses into your hair. 

"Alright, lovie, alright, no more for now." He gritted out, " ‘m gonna move now, just try and stay loose as you can for me." 

Humming in agreement, you tried to let yourself be pliant against him, feeling his hips rock, the in and out of his movements pleasurable enough to draw out a keening moan despite the less than comfortable stretch. His lips were at your neck again as he continued his thrusts, slightly steadier, growing more confident. And then it was his teeth, nipping between sucks, though his words were still growled, "That’s it, doing so good for me, for us." 

Your mistake was losing yourself in the feeling, letting your hips rock because it shattered what little control Ghost had at the moment. He sunk in another few inches, teetering between painful and pleasurable, making you cry out, nails digging into his forearms as a tear slipped down your cheek. The dig of your nails only urged him on, the nip of your teeth turning into a full bite, enough to break skin just slightly. However, the moment your cry was one of actual discomfort instead of pleasure, he withdrew completely, kissing over where he’d bitten, "Sorry, sorry, lovie, got too rough, too quick with you." 

He slowly eased you off of him, nudging Johnny off as well, still kissing at the spot he’d bitten too harshly, fingers kneading comfort into your hips and then your thigh, "Y'alright? Need to stop?" 

You took a breath, let the initial shock of the stretch and the bite fade away, let him swipe the rogue tear off your cheek, let your body readjust…. and then shook your head, signalling you wanted to keep going, pulling him by the back of the neck down to you again for a kiss. Johnny was still at your knees, massaging your thighs, watching Simon deepen the kiss as much as you’d let him, and then pushing a little further, his fingers flexing hard into you again making you wince just a little. Honestly, you could’ve endured that, hell with another couple of kisses, you could’ve enjoyed it. But this time, he cut himself off, pulling back with a slew of curses that’d send a sailor to confession. 

"Fuck, ‘m sorry, sweetheart, I’ve never been good at taking it slow." Simon growled, jaw still clenched so hard you were afraid he’d crack a tooth., thumbs easing the irritated skin he’d clenched just slightly too hard, "You’re just too perfect, can’t keep my head on straight."

Ghost stopped to think for a moment, breathing hot and heaving against you skin, before flicking his eyes down to Soap who’d stopped massaging your thighs in favor of featherlight kisses where his stubble had chafed you. You’d seen this before, the internet called it cuteness aggression. 

"Price." He called, nodding to his Captain, a signal to take over. John nodded, and after meeting your still lust glazed expression, ascertaining you were alright, seemed rather amused by the tag-in.  It seemed, despite the civilian clothes  and whatever intimacy was shared amongst the group, rank hierarchy was still firmly present, because when Captain Price finally rose from his arm chair, the sergeants and Lieutenant wordlessly moved out of his way, presenting you along the way for him as his belt buckle jingled being loosened and discarded. 

Still, despite his evident imposition, his strength was gentle as he peeled you off his lieutenant who stood, manhandling Johnny off with him to the chair. Half dazed and panting, you were grateful for his patience as he asked with only a little teasing, "Can you stand for me, Sweet, just a little?" 

And when your legs were still jelly and trembling, he just chuckled, leaking cigar smoke into your mussed hair, "That’s alright, Sweet, you just let me lay you out all pretty." 

With that, you were bent over the arm of your boss’s sofa, callous hands traced slowly down your spine and then paused at your hips, massaging your flanks much as he had his cuts of steak. Price massaged his way from your hips, over and around your ass, and then worked from outwards to the inner most part of your thighs. Finally, he dragged a flat palm up your exposed sex, and when you looked over your shoulder, he was licking his tongue across that same hand, a deep rumbling growl shaking you to your core as you watched him taste not only you, but also notes of his boys, "Sweeter than fuckin’ sugar, love. Fuckin’ perfect." 

You just stared at him with wide eyes, limply spread over the arm rest, hips instinctively pressing back into him to find more touch, more friction, more him. Words failed, only high pitched whines made it out. Which made Johnny, off to the side, chuckle. 

"Think this is the longest I’ve ever seen her quiet." The scot chided, watching with great interest as Price took another swipe through your folds, coating his cock in whatever (whoever’s) bodily fluids he collected there. 

"Maybe you should take some notes, mutt." Simon gruffed, taking a fistful of the sergeant’s Mohawk and tugging it rather harshly backwards, exposing Johnny’s throat that his teeth descended upon almost immediately. Some time between being between our legs and being in Simon’s lap, Johnny’s shirt had disappeared, his jeans still on but unbuckled and Simon was fishing his erection out. 

"Ignore ‘em." Price chuckled down to you, physically redirecting your attention by giving your clit a bit of attention as he eased himself slowly in, all the way to his base, "Y’feel even better than you taste, sweet thing, y’know that?" 

You didn’t know that, but you’d take the compliment, if you remembered it, or your own name by the end of… whatever this was. He gave one slow and steady thrust, almost like an experiment, one hand holding your hips in place, the other holding his cigar up to his lips. 

"Dessert before dinner, how about that, lads?" 

There was a moment of recall to his earlier words, "Already had something else in mind for dessert" echoed with what he just said in your fuzzy mind. You had been dessert all along, and judging by the ravenous eyes with varying degrees of satiation,  the 141 intended to eat their fill, your online look-a-like was simply a taste test. A momentary taste of vindication on your tongue- you hadn’t been reading too far into things or fluffing your own ego, this was premeditated, and your matching set wasn’t presumptuous. Still, that only lasted a singular breath, the smug vindication was phsycially forced out of you with a rough snap of his hips, the first of many from the demanding, almost brutal, pace John set for himself. 

"There’s a girl, you just take it for me," He grunted between thrusts, seemingly pleased with your little cries and moans, "Just like that, sweet, you’ll be taking Simon’s cock in no time."  

John Price’s couch was not picked out with ‘being bent over the side’ in mind. Or perhaps, you were just a bit softer than the other’s that had had the pleasure of being bent over the arm like John had you at that moment. Taking mercy upon your ribs, or perhaps just for his own selfish purposes, Kyle slotted himself underneath your front and sat you up against his chest, throwing your arms over his shoulders. While John still had your hips over the couch arm, Gaz had pulled you chest up to his, his lips finding your lips, your cheek, jaw, and breasts as he went. 

"Poor sweet thing" Kyle cooed, his perfect pearly teeth nipping at your ear while is chest steadied you against Price’s onslaught that pushed a thought our of your mind with each quick, but deep, thrust, "Didn’t know what you were walking into, did you? And now look at what a mess we made you?" 

You couldn’t tell if Kyle was mocking you or praising you, kind words and little digs were both dipped in that sugary sweet tone that just made you nod up at him with wide eyes and a pouted lip. One of this thumbs reached up and swiped a mascara laden tear out from under your eye, the same thumb dipping into your mouth and holding it open in the pornographic O-shape after Price drew a vulgar moan out with a particularly deep thrust that also managed to scoot the sofa a couple of inches. Gaz didn’t even waver, just laughed a bit as he held you steady, "Mean, innit he?" 

Another moan blocked the chance at a snappy reply, not that you had the current brain power to make one. The sergeant just took the chance to swallow your noises with his mouth over yours, kissing you and biting your bottom lip as he pulled away. With what little fortitude you had, you grabbed the collar of that soft sweater and hauled him right back up to your mouth. It was aggressive kissing. Tongue and teeth and nails, sloppy and  dirty, your noses bumping together from the force of Price’s thrusting. 

When Price adjusted your hips, it forced you onto your tip toes to maintain the angle. And while the new angle provided incentive and reward in the way of relentless pounding of that delicious spongy spot inside you, that fact only made it harder for your already shaking legs to support you. 

"Hold her fast, Sergeant." Was the grunted order as he gave your ass a smack, like he was punishing you for the indiscretion of already having you legs fucked out from under your from the other men in his living room. Honestly, How dare you? Kyle took orders beautifully. The best multitasker on the squad, as he not only, held you at that perfect angle for his Captain, but also, trailed wet, hot kisses down to your chest, locking onto one of your nipples with devious precision, only sucking harder when you cried out. 

" ‘m gonna cum-!" It was strangled and whined into Kyle’s shoulder still fisting the collar of his shirt while your other hand posed serious risk of shredding the upholstery. 

"You gonna cum on me, sweet? Go ahead, but I’m not stopping." Price chuckled through his warning, leaning over your head and pulling Gaz in by the back of his neck for a sloppy kiss of his own. 

"Go on then. Give it to him." Kule urged in that sickly sweet tone, "The captain’s working so hard back there for you, least you could do is let ‘im feel how pretty you fall apart." 

Another moan, a garbled cry of both of their names mashed together when they pushed you over the edge in tandem with a well timed deep thrust and light smack to your clit from Price at the same time that Gaz tweaked both of your nipples.. 

"You feel that Cap? That flutter?" Gaz called, talking (literally) over your head as you sagged, twitching against him, unlatching from the hickey he was sucking into your collarbone, "That’s fuckin’ magic, that is." 

"Flutter? She’s wringing me dry in there." Price groaned, his pace only slowed by the vice like grip your core had as your eyes rolled back, "Sweet’s cunt’s practically swallowing me, bloody hell, greedy thing, aren’t you?"

The only reprieve you had was Price leaning forward so his warm chest pressed to your back, his big hands circling your clit like it might encourage you loosen back up for him so he could resume his movements, "C’mon, love, you gonna answer me?" 

"Yes…" You drawled, flopping your head over so you could meet his eyes over your shoulder, that signature mirthful smile twitching the corners of his beard of as he tweaked the little bundle of nerves to correct you. With a little cry, you answered once more, "Yes, sir." 

"Atta girl." Price nodded approvingly as he took a long draw of his cigar his pinkie shaking off little bits of ash onto your raised posterior (which should’ve made you feel degraded, or maybe it did which is why it made your eyes flutter again), both at the answer and at the relaxing of your muscles allowing him to build his pace back up.  

"Hear that, love?"  Kyle’s attention returned down to you when your face dropped back down into the curve of his shoulder, "what a good pussy, taking us all so well, and she just keeps wanting more." 

"More?" You croaked out through another moan, panting and trying to count the stars dotting your vision, not sure if you were requesting or parroting in disbelief. Though with a clearer mind, you wouldn’t have been so shocked. Price had barely stuttered in getting his rhythm back up to it’s pace, riding you all the way through your orgasm. 

"Told you, ‘m not fucking stopping." Price growled with another smack to the round of your ass. Something between a moan and a cry crawled out of your throat, but tapping our hadn’t once occurred to you. 

"You can take it, love, bet you can even give us another big finish, yeah?" Kyle encouraged. It occurred to you the Gaz had now coaxed you through two orgasms, and really hadn’t even asked for anything in return from you. And while you were sure, between the four of you, someone would throw him a bone(r), you decided to take that cross upon yourself, reaching down between him and yourself and wrapping around his dick. From what you could tell, he was on the leaner side, but he was the longest in the group, slightly curved. Which gave you plenty of room to rub and squeeze, from base to his tip where you thumbed the slit, spreading the precum back down as you followed the vein on the underside. Kyle tried to chuckle through a moan, "Bloody hell, love." 

Jerking off took on a new meaning as your movements, meant to be languid and smooth, turned jerky and choppy with the force of Price’s increasing speed, his rythym stuttering as he chased his own release. Kyle leaned down using one of his free hands to roll a nipple in his fingers, catching the other in his mouth as you continued to pump him. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to come close to the edge once more, and you didn’t even have time to be proud of bring both of them over with you in tandem as your third orgasm tore through you, leaving all three of you dazed and breathless. You were vaguely aware of Gaz’s cum on you chest, kind of feeling the warm, sticky trail it left as it leaked down your front while John gave a few more lazy strokes as he softened inside of you. Though Gaz twitched hard again just watching your eyes roll back, and when Price was finally done, he gave your thighs a gentle, almost proud squeeze, watching his spend leak out for a moment before gently collecting you upright once more. With a sweet forehead kiss that contrasted so heavily from the cigar ashes and ass slaps, he gave your cheek a little pat, "Still with me, sweet?" 

"Mmmhm." You nodded, eyes only half opned as Gaz sat up behind you and sucked kisses across the back of your shoulders. You’d be wearing turtle necks for weeks. John’s attention shifted over to Simon, who you now realized had been watching the show with the darkest eyes you’d ever seen with poor Johnny taking the brunt of whatever storm Ghost had brewing. Your eyes fluttered watching the liutenant’s hand tighten around Johnny’s throat. Despite the tears on the Scot’s face, he didn’t appear to be too upset with his current predicament, in fact giving you a groan through a watery smile as Simon’s other hand tightened even more around Johnny’s leaking dick. 

"Got it all out of your system, Lieutenant?" Price asked with a raised brow, both him and Gaz still keeping you upright with gently roaming hands. Simon gave both his hands another squeeze making Johnny pant. 

"I’m solid." He nodded, surprisingly tender as he released Johnny, the sergeant stumbling off his lap.  Simon rose behind him, both men approaching the couch. You weren’t positive what ‘it’ was or why it needed to be out of Simon’s system, but Gaz nodded and pressed one last sweet kiss to the curve of you shoulder before letting Simon slide into his place. The largest of the men simply laid down on the couch, taking up most of the three-seater, efficently pulling you backwards so you straddled his lap facing away from him. 

"Nice and slow for me, lovie." Simon directed, lining himself up with your entrance after bumping your clit with his tip. Thank god for his strong hands guiding your hips down at the pace he set. Though Price had thoroughly broken you in, and you’d already partially taken Simon once, you still tensed up nervously but set your jaw with determination to do it again and get all of it from this new angle. With your back to his face, you had a front row set to the others watching hungrily. Kyle was leaning back against Price’s chest, the older man reaching around to palm the sergeant’s erection as Gaz pressed his back to Price’s front, grinding backwards. But Johnny, poor Johnny, with his cock almost purpled by Simon’s earlier teasing, rocking on his heels like he was just waiting for permission to join in, sapphire eyes bouncing between Simon’s face, your face, and the stretch of you pussy around Simon’s cock- like he couldn’t decide who was most jealous of. 

Inch after deliciously painful inch, Simon helped you ease yourself down until your ass was flush with his hips. From this angle, though Simon could still rut up against you, the pace was all your decision, making it harder for him to lose control again. With your hands braced against his tree-trunk thighs. Simon gave you a minute to adjust, to pant and try to focus your eyes. The soldier underneath you grunted, fingers flexing on your waist as he adjusted himself making you whimper and almost fall forward. 

"Si-" Johnny whined, his hands twitching forward like he wanted to help you, or maybe just touch you, his cock leaking down his leg. Simon’s voice was not as gentle to his sergeant, a gruff order. 

"No’ yet."  Before returning his attention to you, voice softening slightly, "Take your time, sweetheart, move when you want, I want you to feel good." 

Giving a jerky nod, you gave an experimental wiggle that nestled him somehow even deeper. Your moan was lodged in your throat as your eyes shut, but the movement earned a deep groan and hiss from Simon. With a deep breath, you managed to move past the acclimation stage so the actual pleasure started building again, which felt like crossing the finish line of a marathon. Next, a roll of your hips that genuinely blurred out your vision, feeling so good that our body instinctively did it again to chase the feeling. And then again, and again- head falling forward and then rolling back. 

"That’s it, lovie, find your rhythm." Simon tried to prain but it sounded more like a growl as his hands flexed again into the softest parts of your waist, his long fingers spanning so far that they kneaded into the plushness of your stomach, "Fuckin' hell." 

"Si-" Johnny whined again, drawing the clipped nickname into two syllables, this time his twitching fingers finding purchase in the arm of the sofa you’d been bent over earlier. If you weren’t so focused on Simon’s cock rearranging your internal organs, you might’ve heard the ominous creak of the fabric under his strength. When your eyes fluttered open, they locked onto Johnny’s bright blues, darkened to a stormy hue with impatient want. His Scottish brogue thickening deeply, "Ah keened you’d be better than the lass in the fuckin’ videos, so fuckin’ sweet and pretty-" 

"Alright." Simon gruffed  before his voice softened down again, "Go on, sweetheart, show the mutt some love, won’t you? He won’t shut up until you do." 

Even though the permission had been given to you, Johnny was immediately upon you. Much like Gaz, Johnny took up the job of supporting your upper body as Simon had your hips firmly in his grasp. With one knee pressed into the couch cushion, he hugged your chest to his, his hands groping and feel any part of you he could get his hands on like it was the first time he’d touched you or any other soft and pretty thing. Unlike Gaz, his mouth on your started out aggressive and when you would moan, he’d mirror the noises, groaning them right back onto your tongue. 

"And soft. Ye sound better too." Johnny groaned when Simon suddenly rutted against your rocking, leaving you crying out and digging your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. With strong but surprisingly gentle grip, your fingers were removed from his shoulders. Johnny led one of your hands in an exploratory trail down his chest, following the path of thick, dark body hair, past his abs, until he wrapped your hand around his cock which twitched even at your slightest touch. 

"So fucking soft, bonnie," he breathed, coaxing your hand into movement while kissing your other palm, before looking over to Simon, "Not a callous on her hands, Lt, dinnae even think about that." 

Simon merely grunted in acknowledgement of Johnny’s discovery, seeing as his focus was an entirely different part of your anatomy. The larger man seemed content letting his sergeant be the vocal one, sometimes rewarding you with a hiss or a strangled groan. He’d given up on letting you control the pace now that you were acclimated and half bouncing against him, rutting and grinding against you in time with your own rolling and rocking as you sped up. It was only natural for your hand on Johnny’s cock to speed up as well. 

"Sweetheart, why don’t you show him something even softer than your hands? He went through a lot for you, after all." He didn’t give you time to ask what that was supposed to mean, but you figured it had something to do the vicious series of bites and hickies on the man’s neck. You could tell Simon was moving because his cock was shifting angle inside of you, making you gasp. One of his large hands splayed against the small of your back, pressing you firmly forward and down. A sudden thrust as he applied pressure to your back made you go boneless, letting the men push your cheek first into Johnny’s stomach and then down to where your hand was still pumping Johnny’s cock. 

"Look at that, a multitasker. ’s why she’s such a good analyst for us." Gaz chided from the sidelines like he was commentating on a sports match, watching as you were stroking Johnny, holding your cheek against him while trying to catch your breath from Simon’s thrusts. Johnny helped guide himself into your mouth. It wasn’t so much length as the girth, even thicker than Price, that stretched your jaw uncomfortably. But the way that Johnny moaned sinfully above you when your nose pressed into the dark curls at his base, the way he all but melted over you like butter, encouraged to breathe through your nose and keep going. 

"Steaming Jesus, Si, I cannae last like this-" Johnny moaned, seemingly not even noticing how loud he was. Simon only laughed lowly, reaching around your thighs to dip between them, circling your clit. Your thighs were trembling, moans getting louder and less restrained, nothing about this was restrained anymore. 

"That’s alright, Johnny, neither will she, will you, lovie?" He asked with another deep thrust, "feel ‘ow she’s shaking?"  

You were shaking your head still with a mouthful of Johnny’s cock, because you weren’t going to last much longer, eyes rolling and fluttering, landing on the arm chair again where Gaz being treated as well, both him and John watching appreciatevly as Ghost and Soap had you in lopsided Eiffel tower. You were pulling out any trick for Johnny that you managed to remember between Simon’s thrusts, swirling tongue and bobbing heads. But what did him in was actually Simon’s doing. When Simon rolled his hips into you just right, hitting every good spot and giving your clit a swipe, your eyes crossed and you moaned, practically screaming around Johnny’s member, the vibrations and look on your face enough to finish him. His hand tightened in your hair, hips snapping, pushing your nose into his pelvis, and holding you there as he came with what some might call a battle cry.  After everything Simon had put him through earlier, he was pent up, leaving him cumming. and cumming, and cumming, until you had to swat at his thigh because you couldn’t take anymore. 

You swallowed what you could, taking a couple more spurts to your face and chest before Johnny crumbled onto the couch against you, kissing the taste of himself right off your tongue as Simon continued his thrusts, getting incrementally faster and harder as you proved you could handle it. The scot took over the praising and encouragement as his superior fell back into the quiet grunting and groaning against you, though you could barely make out any of the words as you approached your fourth finish. For the first time in your life you understood the phrase "fucked stupid". You were somewhat sure you were rambling gibberish accolades to the men, cries of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ’thank you’ intermingled with moans and curses that put your over the top XXX twin’s to shame. 

"C’mon, sweetheart, one more f’ me." Simon growled out, switching positions so quickly and effeciently that you didn’t even realize it until you body was pressed face down into the couch cushion, Simon still behind you, drilling into you with a pace that put mechanized machinery to shame. You weren’t even sure how you were taking it just that you were and if he stopped you might start crying, "I know you’re close, just lemme have it-" 

Johnny was back on his knees in front of the couch, catching your nipple in his mouth. And you turned your head towards John and Kyle, locked in their own encounter, and then it just snapped. Your orgasm not just washing over you, but a tidal wave crashing over you and frying every nerve a long the way. For a moment your vision whited out, the only thing you were aware of was Simon’s strokes slowing and working you through it. With your body practically vibrating with overstimulation, you let your unseeing eyes roam to to the cieling fan and let your mind wander as you floated somewhere above reality for a bit, enjoying the electric feelings between each neuron firing. Every noise and sight becoming background information as overstimulation fuzzed it all out except the aftershocks and twinges in your core. 

You weren’t sure how long it was before you came back to yourself, but you heard Johnny’s voice first, "C’mon, bonnie, float back down to us."

"There she is." Kyle cooed in tandem with the other sergeant while your cheek, "Lost you for a bit there. Alright?" 

You were more than alright, body more sated than it’d been in years, still thrumming and twitching with the aftershocks, so you just nodded slowly, trying to focus your eyes in on one thing at a time, voice slightly slurred with nothing to do with the drinks, " ‘m alright." 

"Was worried I broke you." That was Simon, who’s lap your head was in. You only offered a dopey smile and a lazily blink.

"You might’ve, but I’m ok, more than ok." You sighed with a dry laugh, turning your head so your cheek pressed to his thigh, though you noticed he’d slipped his sweats back on. 

"Si’s gotta work on being gentle, we don’t make him practice enough." Johnny teased, running soothing hands along your sides. Suddenly, a cup of water with a straw was placed in front of your face, and when you looked up it was Price holding it down to you before Kyle took it and held it steady for you. 

"Never see you complaining about it, McTavish." John teased right back, trading off the cup so he could smooth hair off your sweaty forehead, "Take as long as you need, sweet, y’did good for us. So good." 

His praise nestled deeply, right between your ribs, making you smile softly as Kyle coaxed the straw into your mouth, letting you sip on the water as he ran a caring thumb over the apple of your cheek.

— 

You must’ve dozed off, because when you woke up, you were still on the couch, but everyone else had moved around you liked you simply always been nestled amongst them. The thought made your lips curl in a dopey grin as you looked around them. Half upright and wrapped in someone’s hoodie, you were laying against Price’s chest, head tipped back into his shoulder as he worked around a plate filled for two, the atmosphere was cozy now, the electric  frantic tension from earlier had morphed into something warm and intimate. 

“Evening. Hungry?” His chest rumbled as he held the plate closer to your field of view. Two very juicy ribeyes, baked potatoes, green vegetable- the stereotypical macho man plate. John seemed all too proud of himself when you opened your mouth to accept a fork of perfectly cut bite-size steak, laughing when you hummed in approval, “There we go, sweet, worked up an appetite, yeah?” 

“Really? Thought we already stuffed ‘er pretty good.” Kyle teased, still gently swiping warm rags over your body, wiping away any evidence that wasn’t etched or sucked semipermanently into your skin, occasionally following his ministrations with gentle kisses and soft praises, “Feel ok, love? Need anything?” 

When you shook your head, gently squeezing his wrist in gratitude, he only smiled, giving you a tender kiss to the forehead before retrieving his own plate and sitting on the opposite side of Price, claiming the captain’s other shoulder for his own head.

Johnny was in the same boat as you, though whatever the hell Simon had done to him made his attention to you look like princess treatment, having obviously reigned himself in with you. Was that what Ghost was getting out of his system before coming back to you? Still, the scot didn’t seem to have many complaints after Simon sat him down between your legs on the couch, letting the sergeant lay facedown against the softest part of your stomach, where he’d nuzzled the hoodie out of the way so he could rest against your bare skin. It was then you noticed that you and Johnny were the only ones still in a state of undress which if your mind wasn’t moving at a snail’s pace, you might’ve tried to read into. 

Like you, he seemed half asleep and fucked out, a couple more bites around his neck that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been touching you. Soap’s mohawk gave you something to gently fidget with as Price nudged another bite against your lips. Simon took his seat on the floor, leaned back against the base of the couch with his head tipped back against the curve of your hip. One of his arms wrapped around the leg that Johnny had dangling off the couch, massaging gentle circles into the mans calf muscle. His other other arm was propped on his knee so he could catch your wrist where it flopped down on his shoulder. He was tender as he ran his ungloved hand over yours, massaging your fingers and comparing them to his much larger hands, murmuring himself, “No callouses.” 

“Told you, Si.” Johnny sighed almost dreamily into your bare stomach, leaning into your fingers in his hair. With the rest of the men doting on you and Johnny, Simon didn’t even retaliate or tease something back, just snickering quietly and fondly, offering straw topped water bottle to the sergeant. 

Another bite of food was offered to you, along with water, and something struck you funny, drawing a quiet chuckle out of you as you turned your face into Price’s neck to stifle the noise. It drew the group’s eyes, clearly waiting for you to divulge. “C’mon, hen, share with the class.” Johnny prompted with grin, always down for a laugh, propping his chin up on your belly so he could look at you through the valley of your cleavage, eyes shining like you’d hung the moon. 

“What’s on that pretty mind of yours?” Price rose his eyebrows, cutting another bite of meat for you. 

“Nothing, it’s dumb.” You snicker a little more, earning a expectant but amiable tug to your fingers from Simon, “It’s just all a little backwards, s’all.” 

“Backwards?” The liutenant parroted in that deep Manc accent, making you giggle a bit more, nodding against Price.

“I let y’all fuck me every which way from Tuesday, and you didn’t even buy me dinner first.”  You mused, ironically before taking another bite of one of the best steaks you’d ever had, which could be an effect of the post-sex endorphin rush, or maybe John was just a grill master. “Our apologies, sweet thing.” John rolled his eyes playfully, his apology deeply sarcastic as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“In our defense, dinner and a very nice bottle of wine were on the agenda before, but some people,” Gaz’s eyes flicked over to Johnny and Simon who didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Simon was stone faced as usual, still playing with and kissing at your fingers while Johnny just smiled into your belly, “got impatient.” 

“Hey, the first time Simon fucked me all I got was the drink mix and wet nap from his MRE.” Johnny whined which only made you laugh harder. 

“Y’didn’t ask for anything else.” Simon shrugged tilting his head to press an uncharacteristically romantic kiss to the curve of the Scot’s knee. “ ’sides, I got your mouth on her didn’t I? think I made up for it.”  And before you could question if Simon was really the one to orchestrate all of this, Price quieted you with a bite of potato while Gaz leaned over to distract you with his lips on your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

  And for the first time since you’d seen their search histories, you weren’t worried about much of anything other than when this might happen again.

 ____ 

me, who doesn’t ever really write smut: yes i will enjoy writing a fivesome with at least ten hands, five mouths, ten arms, and four penises to keep up with. 

Y’all should see the notesapp where I had to like draw out stick figures to see if what I was writing was anatomically possible. I feel like this has gotten me on some kind of watchlist. 

Taglist in Comments because there were too many of y'all!! Thanks to anyone who has commented, liked, and reblogged! Whenever I'm feeling uninspired, I just scroll through y'alls comments and they make me smile so so much!!!

[prettylilyanime]

Blooming Hearts ♡ DRABBLE 01

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: In which Bakugou not only taught you how to use the public transportation system, but also the wonders of a 7/11 (A continuation from chapter 5 / deleted scene from chapter 6)

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Authors note: This Drabble is a continuation of this chapter!

˚✿˖ Masterlist

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The train ride had been… an experience.

Between Bakugou’s attitude (which you’re learning is incredibly sassy) your near-death encounter with inertia and stiletto boots, and the fact that his hand had been on your waist for far longer than necessary, you were convinced your heart had been put through an endurance test.

Aizawa and his crazy assignments could never get this level of heart pounding anxiety from you.

But somehow, miraculously, you made it to your stop without combusting!

Which led you here.

A 7-Eleven.

The sushi spot you had been craving had been sadly temporarily closed for renovations, and this store had been right around the corner.

“Wow, this is incredible! I’ve never been in one of these before!” you gasp, eyes sparkling as you take in the rows of cheap candies, brightly colored cup ramen, and an ungodly amount of processed snacks.

So many different flavors to choose from!!

Behind you, a deep, unimpressed voice deadpans, “It’s literally just a 7-Eleven.”

You, of course, blatantly ignore him. Instead, you grab a small shopping basket—its handle slightly wobbly, the paint chipping at the edges—and immediately start filling it with snacks like a kid let loose in a candy store.

“This might just be my new favorite store!!” you announce, practically vibrating with excitement as you move toward the freezer section.

You scan the ice cream selection with growing delight, marveling at the sheer variety of brands and flavors—all for a shockingly low price.

This so beats the organic, gluten-free, sugar-free, fun-free supermarkets your mom usually had her staff shop at on your behalf.

Bakugou, who has been trailing behind you like an exhausted babysitter, watches as you pluck a pink tub of strawberry swirl ice cream from the fridge. Your face lights up at the cute graphics on the packaging.

is that a strawberry cow?! Eeek!

“I’ll get this one too,” you hum, hugging the tub to your chest like a prized possession.

Bakugou nearly rolls his eyes into another dimension. “Taught ya how to take the damn train to become a better hero, and now you’re gonna kill it all with this shitty food.”

You gasp, clutching the ice cream closer like it’s your firstborn child.

“Are you joking?!” you exclaim. “This ice cream is gonna make me feel better before I go to sleep! This is incredible!”

Bakugou snorts as you absentmindedly go to adjust your glasses—except, oh, wait.

You’re not wearing them.

Your fingers meet empty air, your contacts having replaced your usual frames for the night.

A slow, knowing smirk stretches across Bakugou’s face.

Your ears heat up. Hastily, you shove your ice cream into the basket he’s—when did that happen?!—holding and mumble, “Shut up. It’s a habit.”

He doesn’t even bother with a comeback.

He doesn’t have to.

The glint of amusement in his sharp, crimson eyes says everything.

In just one day—somehow spent mostly by your side—Bakugou has come to one solid, undeniable conclusion:

You’re just like the rest of his idiot friends.

Just blessed with a far better face than shitty hairs or dunce face.

Honestly, before today, he half-wondered if you were mute. That theory shattered the moment you started rambling in the middle of the station, your excited outbursts completely at odds with the cool, composed image you gave off.

The new you in front of him was almost jarring.

Not that he’d ever really paid much attention to you before.

You were just quiet. Unusually so. You didn’t hover around the usual class friend groups, never really stuck with the girls of 1-A. He would’ve noticed—he’s been dragged to enough forced social outings by Kirishima to be painfully aware of the class dynamics.

Yet somehow, three years into your degree, he was only just now hearing what your voice actually sounded like.

Not that you were forgettable—far from it. Your face was one of the first he recognized when he stepped into class 1-A on his first day of freshman year.

And your last name? Impossible to ignore.

Bakugou never really gave a shit either way.

But one thing had caught his attention—the way people wouldn’t shut up about you when it came to the Big Three. It was no surprise when he, Deku, and Todoroki solidified their spots. That was a given. But you?

He remembers his brows raising when he first heard your name being thrown around in the conversation. He wasn’t necessarily threatened, just... intrigued.

The media adored you. Your social accounts had more followers than any other student at U.A., and magazines were already fighting for the chance to put you on their covers.

All the while, you could barely mutter a full sentence to anyone in class.

Now, watching you stand in the middle of a 7-Eleven, holding two cans of soda in your perfectly manicured hands, he can’t help but snort to himself. You carefully scan the sugar content on the labels like it actually matters—only to immediately toss both cans into the basket without hesitation.

Figures.

“Y’know, if you’re just gonna buy both, why waste time lookin’ at the numbers?” he asks, shifting the basket to one hand as he watches your little decision-making process unfold.

You huff, completely unbothered. “It’s about making an informed choice.”

“Bullshit. You just wanted both.”

You shoot him a look but don’t bother denying it, instead grabbing a pack of Pocky and tossing that into the basket too.

You’re already fixated on the next aisle, eyes practically sparkling at the ridiculous variety of instant noodles. He’s never seen someone get this excited over convenience store food in his life.

And somehow, he finds himself following along, weirdly unbothered by all of your little quirks that would have had him rolling his eyes and snapping at all the other idiots in his life.

Bakugou clicks his tongue, annoyed at his own thoughts.

Comparing you to the extras he’s been stuck with for years? What kind of bullshit was that?

Yet, as he watches you crouch down to examine the instant ramen selection like it’s some kind of treasure hoard, he realizes—against his better judgment—that it doesn’t piss him off the way it should.

You hum thoughtfully, manicured fingers tracing over different flavors, your brows furrowing in deep concentration. “How am I supposed to choose just one?” you mumble, more to yourself than to him.

He snorts. “You’re not. You’re gonna throw at least three in the basket and pretend like you struggled to decide.”

You gasp, turning to glare at him, scandalized. “You think you know me so well, huh?”

“I know an indecisive dumbass when I see one.”

And just as he predicted, you grab three different flavors and plop them into the basket without another word.

Bakugou exhales through his nose, shaking his head. Somehow, despite himself, he follows as you dart to yet another shelf, eyes alight with childlike wonder.

He should be annoyed. Should be telling you to hurry the hell up so you can both get out of here, but instead, he just watches as you get distracted by a random keychain display near the register, fiddling with a tiny All Might figure that probably wouldn’t even fit on your fancy designer bag.

“This is so cute,” you murmur, flipping it over in your hands before glancing at the other characters on the rack. A tiny Bakugou keychain dangles right in front of you, and before he can react, you’re holding it up with a smirk.

“Oooh, look, it’s you,” you tease, shaking it so the little chibi version of him bobs wildly.

Bakugou scowls. “Put that shit back.”

You only laugh, placing it back on the hook (but in a better spot, front and center, because you think it’s actually pretty adorable).

By the time you finally reach the register, your basket is overflowing. Bakugou just stares at it, unimpressed. “Y’gonna eat all this tonight or somethin’?”

You shake your head, grinning. “No, well maybe the icecream, yes.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, As the cashier hands you the bag, you beam like you’ve just won the lottery.

And for some reason, as the two of you step back into the cool night air, Bakugou finds himself shaking his head with something that—if he didn’t know better—almost feels like amusement.

What the hell was he getting himself into?

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[rosemariiaa]

pleaseeeee! any fics dropping tng? also, i was thinking about some prompts:

It’s the third day of the Montana trip, and Azzi is officially meeting Paige’s extended family at the annual Bueckers cabin gathering. As soon as they walk in, Paige’s aunts, uncles, and cousins immediately swarm Azzi with hugs and excited chatter, saying things like, “Oh my God, you’re the Azzi Fudd! Paige never stops talking about you!” and “We’ve heard so much about you—welcome to the family!” Azzi blushes furiously, shooting Paige a look that screams You’ve been talking about me this much? Meanwhile, Paige is grinning ear to ear, her arm slung protectively around Azzi’s waist, as if to say, Yeah, she’s mine. The real kicker comes when Paige’s baby cousin is passed around, and Paige immediately turns into a puddle of goo, cooing and cradling the baby like a natural. Azzi catches her staring dreamily at the scene, and Paige whispers, “Okay, but imagine us with one of these someday,” sending Azzi into a flustered spiral while the whole family laughs and cheers them on.

It’s the WNBA All-Star Weekend red carpet, and Paige is rocking a sleek outfit, chatting with reporters and soaking in the spotlight. Just as she finishes an interview, she spots Breanna Stewart a few feet away, looking effortlessly cool as always. Paige makes her way over, and the two Huskies immediately fall into an easy conversation about UConn, the All-Star game, and life post-college. But then Stewie’s daughter, Ruby, comes bounding over, clutching a tiny basketball and tugging at her mom’s hand. Paige instantly lights up, crouching down to talk to Ruby and even showing her a few dribble moves. As they play, Paige can’t help but ask Stewie, “So, like, how did you know Marta was the one?” Stewie raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, and says, “Why? You thinking about someone special?” Paige freezes, her face turning crimson, and stammers, “What? No! I mean—I was just curious!” Stewie smirks, leaning in slightly. “Paige, come on. It’s Azzi, right? You’re not exactly subtle.” Paige’s eyes widen, and she splutters, “Wait, how did you—I didn’t even say her name!” Stewie laughs, patting her on the shoulder. “It’s written all over your face. Plus, you two are kind of iconic. And for the record, she’s perfect for you.” Before Paige can recover, Ruby tugs at her hand and asks, “Can you teach me how to shoot like Azzi?” Paige is left flustered, trying to process how Stewie read her so easily, while the cameras catch the whole adorable exchange.

It’s the middle of their much-anticipated cruise vacation, and Paige, ever the overconfident sunbather, decided to skip the sunscreen because “I don’t burn, Azzi, I glow.” Fast forward to that evening, and Paige is lying facedown on their cabin bed, groaning in agony as her back and shoulders radiate a bright, painful red. Azzi, shaking her head but unable to hide her fond smile, sits beside her with a bottle of aloe vera, gently dabbing the cool gel onto Paige’s scorched skin. “I told you to wear sunscreen,” Azzi teases, her voice soft but laced with amusement. Paige whines, “I didn’t think it would be this bad!” Azzi rolls her eyes but continues to pamper her, her touch soothing and careful. Between Paige’s dramatic sighs and Azzi’s quiet laughter, the moment becomes one of those memories they’ll laugh about for years. Later, as they sit on the deck under the stars, Paige leans her head on Azzi’s shoulder and murmurs, “You’re the best, you know that?” Azzi just smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and says, “Yeah, I know. But next time, listen to me about the sunscreen.” Paige grins, already plotting how to make it up to her—maybe with a surprise dinner or a cheesy cruise karaoke duet.

soooo you basically just wrote 3 fics for me 🤭 i love u

also guys when u send prompts add an emoji to ur ask so i can mention u in the fic when i post!!

[harmony867]

Not many people discuss Harry character development when it comes to his and Hermione relationship. What I mean is how he treats her when Ron and Hermione are arguing.

In the third book, there is the infamous firebolt incident. This is where people claim that ‘Harry ignored Hermione for months.’ The scene in question.

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly. “Honestly, Professor —”

“You can’t know that, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, “not until you’ve flown it, at any rate, and I’m afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed.”

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione.

“What did you go running to McGonagall for?”

Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.

Ron's reaction was a lot stronger than Harry's and obviously colored the whole thing. Harry would probably be angry without Ron there but there’s a contrast between their reactions.

(PoA12): Harry knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn’t stop him from being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn’t know whether he would ever see it again. [...] Ron was furious with Hermione too. As far as he was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand-new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage.

This reaction is literally the first thing we’re told about Harry’s feelings regarding the incident. Harry is obviously disappointed and annoyed by Hermione’s “interference,” but also immediately acknowledges Hermione “meant well.” (I think we have to pause and realize that this is a rather measured reaction from a 13-year-old boy who had just received the most amazing gift and had it taken away from him.) In contrast, Ron was "furious" and viewed Hermione’s intervention as tantamount to encouraging a criminal act.

And at least at the beginning, it is Hermione who places distance between her and the boys:

‘Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room. Harry and Ron supposed she had taken refuge in the library and didn’t try to persuade her to come back.’

This is what they “supposed.” They didn’t even know where she went. So, initially, we can at best fault Harry for not deliberately seeking out a girl who was actively avoiding them. (Though, the phrasing "taken refuge" suggests that had she stayed, something bad would have occurred. As the only person we see attacking her during this entire time is Ron—never Harry—we have to assume that's what she's avoiding.)

Meanwhile, we see Ron and Hermione get into arguments when they do encounter each other (e.g., over Lupin). And we see Hermione clearly feeling uncomfortable and “rushing past with her face averted” when Harry tries to bring up the broom with McGonagall. Again, we never see Harry show anger or annoyance toward Hermione. We never have Harry actively feeling like he should avoid her or ignore her or show her the silent treatment or ANYTHING. It's never stated, unlike many other times in the books when it's explicitly stated that Harry avoids someone.

And Harry becomes exceptionally busy at this time. Quidditch practice now happens five days per week, and he has anti-dementor classes with Lupin, so Harry notes that during this period he had ‘only one night per week’ to do his homework. It's not like it seems he had a lot of time to even casually encounter Hermione, who was also so wrapped up in her own schedule of taking a ridiculous number of classes.

(Note that the only scene where we see Harry having a reaction about Hermione during this time is when he's distracted writing an essay on his one night he has to do homework and can't really focus on why Hermione's schedule might be weird when Ron mentions it. He doesn't express anger or annoyance at talking about her or tell Ron, he doesn't care; he just is distracted by other things and is unable to think further about her schedule at that moment.)

After the Firebolt was returned on February 3rd, Harry immediately tells Ron that they should go make up with Hermione. It's almost like he had been feeling bad about it, but wasn't going to go against Ron (who, as we saw, was much less understanding about it). Look at literally the first thing out of Harry’s mouth:

[Ron said,] “She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I still have a go on it? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah... anything... ,” said Harry, his heart lighter than it had been in a month. “You know what—we should make up with Hermione… She was only trying to help...”

Harry just got his prized possession back, and Ron's reaction is about whether he can ride it. But Harry doesn't seem to care about that now: note the ellipses, as if he's distracted and not really thinking about what Ron's saying. Instead, we know his "heart" has become "lighter than it had been in a month." Why his heart? Because he's been estranged from Hermione, and the very first thing he wants to do is make up with her.

He appears to miss her, and there's no hint that he's still angry with her. That contrasts with other places in the books where we know Harry holds a grudge for some time and will have little bursts of anger periodically well up inside him, as when he's estranged from Ron in GoF (he literally wanted Ron to throw a punch so he could fight him) and again in DH; none of that is described here toward Hermione after the initial reaction when McGonagall confiscates the Firebolt.

And Harry's immediately noticing how tired she looks, suggesting that she might ease up on her workload a bit. Overall, his attitude is far from someone who wants to “ignore” her—he seems legitimately concerned about her:

“How are you getting through all this stuff?” Harry asked her.

“Oh, well — you know — working hard,” said Hermione. Close-up, Harry saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin.

“Why don’t you just drop a couple of subjects?” Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.

“I couldn’t do that!” said Hermione, looking scandalized.

During the period of their estrangement, on that one night when Ron brings up Hermione's schedule, we also see noted in the passage that Hermione's been stressed out and isolating herself surrounded by books. Although the text doesn't explicitly say that Harry noticed this, it's explicitly framed around him: he's struggling to complete his homework in one night per week, but "Even so, he wasn't showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione." The circumstantial evidence thus suggests he was noticing and at least somewhat worrying about her (or at least thinking about her), which gets confirmed in the way he approaches her here and offers some advice.

Unfortunately, as Harry and Hermione are just beginning to have a nice conversation about Hermione’s interest in Arithmancy, Ron bursts in and claims Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers. Ron then goes into full-blown ostracization mode with Hermione again, but Harry keeps trying to keep the communication going with her (PoA13):

Personally, Harry was sure that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and when he tried to point out to Hermione that the evidence all pointed that way, she lost her temper with Harry too.

“Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!” she said shrilly. “First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything’s my fault, isn’t it! Just leave me alone, Harry, I’ve got a lot of work to do!”

Harry’s clearly trying. He repeatedly approaches her and keeps attempting to bring her back into his circle. After the next Quidditch match, he breaks away in the middle of his own celebration party to check in with her:

“Did you even come to the match?” he asked her.

“Of course I did,” said Hermione in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. “And I’m very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday.”

“Come on, Hermione, come and have some food,” Harry said, looking over at Ron and wondering whether he was in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet.

“I can’t, Harry. I’ve still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!” said Hermione, now sounding slightly hysterical. “Anyway...” She glanced over at Ron too. “He doesn’t want me to join in.”

Hermione would never miss one of Harry’s Quidditch matches, of course. But she’s feeling uncomfortable and continuing to distance herself, even though she knows this is about Ron now, not Harry. But Harry takes the initiative and tries to break down the barriers, yet again.

And when Ron repeatedly upsets her, Harry clearly wants to do something to help her, but isn't quite sure what—and also doesn't want to cross Ron. But Ron can't stand to see Harry and Hermione be friendly: he chooses this moment to speak up about Scabbers again, resulting in Hermione fleeing.

Hermione burst into tears. Before Harry could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase to the girls’ dormitories and out of sight.

“Can’t you give her a break?” Harry asked Ron quietly.

Ron keeps this up apparently for a couple months after the Firebolt is returned. We see Harry repeatedly approaching her with olive branches, but she's upset with Ron, and Harry seems kind of stuck. At this sort of age, it's natural to continue to segregate friendships by sex, so even though he wants to make up with Hermione, while Ron is ostracizing her, Harry doesn't do more. They both finally realize how poorly they’ve acted when Hagrid has a conversation with him, and ultimately they make up around Easter (which fell on April 3rd, so after about two months).

And when Hagrid does bring it up—well, let’s look at the contrasting reactions between the two boys (PoA14):

“She’s in a righ’ state, that’s what. She’s bin comin’ down ter visit me a lot since Chris’mas. Bin feelin’ lonely. Firs’ yeh weren’ talking to her because o’ the Firebolt, now yer not talkin’ to her because her cat —”

“— ate Scabbers!” Ron interjected angrily.

“Because her cat acted like all cats do,” Hagrid continued doggedly. “She’s cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin’ through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more’n she can chew, if yeh ask me, all the work she’s tryin’ ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak’s case, mind. . . . She’s found some really good stuff fer me . . . reckon he’ll stand a good chance now. . . .”

“Hagrid, we should’ve helped as well — sorry —” Harry began awkwardly.

“I’m not blamin’ yeh!” said Hagrid, waving Harry’s apology aside. “Gawd knows yeh’ve had enough ter be gettin’ on with. I’ve seen yeh practicin’ Quidditch ev’ry hour o’ the day an’ night — but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two’d value yer friend more’n broomsticks or rats. Tha’s all.”

Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She’s got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an’ you two not talkin’ to her —”

“If she’d just get rid of that cat, I’d speak to her again!” Ron said angrily. “But she’s still sticking up for it! It’s a maniac, and she won’t hear a word against it!”

Look closely at what’s going on here. Hagrid’s framing this as how both boys supposedly aren’t talking to her, but it’s clear that only one of them (Ron) is angry, while the other (Harry) is apologetic. And when Harry does try to apologize, Hagrid waves it away, excusing Harry with his Quidditch practices. I think Hagrid’s probably also sensitive to what’s really going on here: it’s not Harry who is ostracizing Hermione—it’s Ron, specifically. Hagrid may even have seen Harry trying to be conciliatory with Hermione, or perhaps she even told him. Regardless, Hagrid’s focus here is clear, and it’s not about Harry. While Harry could have done more, Hagrid’s trying to mend stuff with Ron and Hermione, as he likely sees that both of them are distancing from each other (and Hermione’s driving Harry out in the middle).

Note that the real cause of this all is established yet again when they do make up. Ron offers to help with Buckbeak’s appeal, Hermione apologizes about Scabbers, and then all is well again. If any of this were about Harry’s anger anymore, there would need to be a reconciliation with Hermione too, but this was clearly never much about Harry. They had made up months before, even if Hermione kept pushing him away (out of her anger with Ron and her anger at Harry for “siding” with him).

The distance appears mostly created by her and Ron. So we might (and should) fault Harry for not being more proactive in making up with her earlier, but there’s not really any evidence Harry is “ignoring” or actively shunning her, even in PoA. He and Hermione are both incredibly busy during this time too, and the moment the Firebolt is returned, he immediately queries Ron about making up with her.

Given gender dynamics in friendships at this age, it’s very understandable for a temporary break like this to happen, particularly given Hermione and Ron’s strong personalities.

We can compare this to Harry reacts when he’s older after the events of GoF and OOTP and has clearly matured more. When Ron and Hermione start fighting against in HBP. To jog your memory, Ron finds out that two years ago that Hermione allegedly kissed viktor krum from Ginny and starts giving Hermione the silent treatment. He starts dating lavender in retaliation for Hermione kissing a boy that asked her out two years ago while she was single.

HBP14: Harry catches a glimpse of Hermione (as Ron is snogging Lavender for the first time) and immediately goes after her to check on her abandoning quidditch celebrations.

Harry turned away from Ron, who did not look like surfacing soon, just in time to see the portrait hole closing. With a sinking feeling he thought he saw a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight.

He darted forwards, sidestepped Romilda Vane again, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside seemed to be deserted.

‘Hermione?’

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher’s desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. Harry could not help admiring her spellwork at a time like this.

HBP15: Unlike in PoA when Ron and Hermione are fighting, in HBP Harry gets away from Ron while Ron is “busy” to regularly spend time with Hermione. (Also it shows that the people who say that Harry doesn’t like spending time with Hermione is false, he chooses to spend time with her as he does multiple times across the books)

Hermione’s timetable was so full that Harry could only talk to her properly in the evenings, when Ron was in any case so tightly wrapped around Lavender that he did not notice what Harry was doing. Hermione refused to sit in the common room while Ron was there, so Harry generally joined her in the library, which meant that their conversations were held in whispers.

HBP15: Harry runs after Hermione and tries to help when she’s crying after Ron does a cruel impression of her in class

Hermione laughed unkindly at Ron’s disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar moustache; Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing and which reduced Hermione to the verge of tears again. She raced out of the classroom on the bell, leaving half her things behind; Harry, deciding that her need was greater than Ron’s , scooped up her remaining possessions and followed her.

We see here that Harry prioritises Hermione, deciding that ‘her needs were greater than Ron.’ He spends time with her and comforts her.

Harry, again more assertively than in PoA, actively calls out Ron for being unkind to Hermione and immediately goes to comfort her.

A long way along the table, Hermione was sitting alone, playing with her stew. Harry noticed Ron looking at her furtively.

‘You could say sorry,’ suggested Harry bluntly.

‘What, and get attacked by another flock of canaries?’ muttered Ron.

‘What did you have to imitate her for?’

‘She laughed at my moustache!’

‘So did I, it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.’

We see that now Harry is way more defensive in defiending Hermione, providing way more support while in PoA he was more passive, being apologetic and reprimanding Ron but not as aggressively while now he defends Hermione for laughing ‘unkindly’ at Ron’s stupid moustache. This shows his character development, from passively defending Hermione to actively defending her, growing past the maturity he had as a thirteen year old boy.

[electronickingdomfox]

Star Trek TOS slash bits (Season three)

This is my personal rundown of all the slash scenes in TOS season three. I've omitted episodes when I didn't find anything remarkable in them.

-What I count: lingering touches or affectionate looks, clinginess, actions that show a strong concern/familiarity with each other, suggestive scenes...

-What I DON'T count: friendly gestures (like smiling or looking amused when someone says something funny), scenes taken out of context, physical proximity just because there's not enough space...

I'll try to illustrate some scenes when necessary, though screenshots usually don't do justice to it.

For season one analysis go here. For season two, go here.

Spectre of the Gun:

McSpirk The mind-meld scene. For Kirk, this was his first mind-meld, for McCoy the third, if you count the one with Mirror Spock. Actually, Spock also mind-melds with Scotty here, but in my opinion, the scenes with Kirk and McCoy look much more intimate. Almost like love scenes, while Scotty's seems a more clinical meld. For comparison:

The Paradise Syndrome

McSpirk At first McCoy is infuriated by Spock's decision to take care of the asteroid before rescuing Kirk, though then he submits to his very logical reasons for doing so (explained with rocks, so the doctor can get it). McCoy will spend the rest of the episode entering Spock's cabin every five minutes, to see if he's getting enough rest. While Spock works himself to exhaustion, trying to figure out a way to divert the asteroid and save Kirk (granted, he also wants to save the rest of the planet, but still...). Also, McCoy tries to comfort Spock, by telling him it wasn't his fault the ship was crippled, and that Jim would have done the same. For his part, Kirk isn't very worried about Spock and McCoy, but that's because he's being KIROOOK!! and can't even remember them.

And the Children Shall Lead

Spirk The famous turbolift scene. When Kirk feels he's losing command, he first grabs Spock in a panic, and then literally throws himself into his arms, in a half intimate, half awkward scene. It's only when Spock whispers "Jim" to him, that Kirk regains his confidence.

Spock's Brain

Spirk Kirk's anxiety when he discovers Spock's brain has been stolen. He argues with McCoy just because he can't replace a brain, and is determined to search the entire galaxy to save Spock, if needed. Later, when he hears Spock's disembodied voice, his face reflects absolute bliss:

Spock also says that he feels a distinct pleasure upon hearing his Captain's voice.

Spones McCoy doesn't hesitate for an instant to use the knowledge helmet to save Spock, even when warned about the possibility of it killing him. And Spock begs McCoy not to jeopardize his life for his sake.

McKirk This... this moment (nothing said):

Is There in Truth no Beauty?

Spirk At first, Kirk is all gallantry and pleasantries with Dr. Miranda Jones... Until he starts suspecting that she may have hurt Spock on purpose, out of jealousy. Then he turns absolutely nuts, accusing and threatening her, in the hopes that this will stir her conscience to save Spock's damaged mind. The whole scene is actually quite uncomfortable to watch.

Spones McCoy seems very angry and/or worried when Spock praises Uhura's beauty after his mind-meld with Kollos (jealousy?), and quickly points out that this can't be Spock. Though he's immediately relieved when Spock replies in his usual tone, proving that Spock's still there. It's noteworthy that Kollos had showed ample signs of being controlling Spock before this moment, like making him smile. Yet McCoy only reacts once Spock/Kollos starts flirting with Uhura.

Apart from this, there's Miranda's jealousy about Spock and Kollos, since she perceives their union as far closer than what she could ever achieve. Miranda is in love with Kollos, so Spock functions as a kind of romantic rival, at least in her mind.

The Empath

McSpirk It's like... the whole episode. But there are certain scenes that stand out. First we have Kirk offering himself as test subject for the Vians, as long as they leave his friends alone. Then McCoy sedates Kirk, knowing that he'd subject himself to the torture if awake. But his plan backfires, since this leaves Spock in command, and of course he wants to sacrifice himself to protect the doctor. At one point, Gem touches Spock's shoulder, and through her empathic powers she senses something in him that makes her smile with fondness; presumably, his deep love for his friends. McCoy is determined to be the one tortured, though, so he also knocks Spock out, even if the Vians had previously said that he was the most likely to die. Afterwards, Kirk and Spock gently hold the dying McCoy, with Spock touching his face, and McCoy complimenting him for his "bedside manner". Kirk tries to convince Gem to save McCoy, by all means possible, and has to restrain his strong emotions in order to break free from the force field. It's really a lot. After all, the whole point of the episode is that Gem learns about love and self-sacrifice by observing these three particular individuals.

The Tholian Web

Spirk Spock insists on staying in Tholian space, despite the danger it poses to ship and crew, for the remote possibility that Kirk may still be alive. McCoy points out the illogic in such an action, and this is one of the main causes for their disagreement.

Spones Spock and McCoy are very tense with each other in the first part. But after seeing Kirk's last message (that pretty much amounts to saying that they complement each other) they make peace, and McCoy apologizes and acknowledges Spock as Captain. They almost get into another argument because McCoy's being affected by the spatial distortion too, but he quickly apologizes again, before collapsing in Spock's arms (and how convenient that everybody else becomes crazy and murderous, yet McCoy's reaction is fainting on Spock...)

By the end of the episode, they're toasting together and have grown fond of each other. Kirk notices the change and teases them, so they reveal how difficult was working together. However, they don't give him the satisfaction, and even deny having seen his message.

For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

McKirk Kirk is very angsty and pained upon learning that McCoy only has one year of life left. But he's even worse once he learns that McCoy won't be spending that year with them, but with Natira. Apart from this, Kirk is pretty touchy whenever McCoy is feeling bad.

At times, Kirk and Natira almost seem like romantic rivals, in a competition for McCoy. Further expressed by their parallelisms: both Kirk and Natira are leaders of men, burdened by enormous responsibilities, and this position has forced them to lead solitary lives.

Spones Less evident, but when Spock grabs McCoy's arm to prevent him from getting up, McCoy looks at the hand and seems surprised and moved by the gesture.

McSpirk In the end, McCoy chooses to go back with Kirk and Spock, even if this means losing Natira. And he does so even before they find a cure for his illness! His situation is literally the same, so it's a choice born of free will. Besides, Natira knows that McCoy won't stop disobeying the Oracle and thinking about his friends as long as they're alive.

Plato's Stepchildren

McSpirk Similar to "The Empath", the whole plot revolves around Kirk, Spock and McCoy sacrificing themselves for each other. First, Kirk and Spock are subjected to the Platonians' humiliation because they refuse to leave McCoy behind. And when McCoy can't bear their torture anymore, he agrees to be a prisoner of the Platonians in exchange for their freedom, though Kirk talks him out of it. They're both also very concerned about Spock's wellbeing, after the Platonians force him to show emotions. And Spock can't contain his rage at having almost killed Kirk.

Wink of an Eye

Spirk When Deela monitors Kirk's actions, she notices that he's trying to communicate with Spock. And from this she concludes that humans are quite capable of affection. She's not speaking about "friendly affection" precisely, because she hopes that Kirk will show it to her too, and this makes Rael quite jealous.

That Which Survives

McKirk A bit of a silly example, but Kirk and McCoy probably didn't need to sleep so close together (and so awkwardly), with so much free terrain around.

The Mark of Gideon

Spirk In the beginning, Kirk looks at Spock with fondness and regrets that he can't accompany him down to the planet, which he describes as a paradise.

Requiem for Methuselah

McSpirk The final scene, where Spock makes Jim forget through a mind-meld, is often interpreted as pure K/S. That is, McCoy is nasty towards Spock for not feeling love; Spock proves him wrong by showing his love for Kirk; the end. But I think that this interpretation ignores certain elements in the story, and some things don't make much sense. In particular, the assumption that McCoy is simply being nasty. First, why would he insult Spock now? They don't even argue in this episode, there's no previous conflict between them to prompt this. Second, would McCoy really believe that Spock doesn't understand love, when a moment ago Spock showed a perfect understanding of Rayna's dilemma? ("The joys of love made her human, and the agonies of love destroyed her.") So, the way I see it is thus. There's a parallel between the love triangle of Kirk/Rayna/Flint (discussed right before McCoy's speech), and the triangle of Kirk/Spock/McCoy. Pretty much like Flint tried to extract emotions from Rayna, McCoy tries to extract the same from Spock. He's been doing it for the whole series, but it was also seen in this episode, when McCoy wanted to see Spock drunk, or celebrated that Spock admitted an emotion: envy. And here he's doing it again, with his speech as a revulsive for Spock to acknowledge his love and act accordingly. The difference is that, while Flint was motivated by selfish reasons, McCoy is doing it not just for Spock, but also for Kirk. His deep worry and love for Jim makes him wish he could forget. And it's this suggestion what finally sets Spock into motion. In a breach of logic, and probably Vulcan manners too, he mind-melds with Kirk to erase his pain. It's a complex scene, but all three characters are deeply intertwined in it, with each caring for the other two (well, except Kirk who's sleeping at the moment...).

The Savage Curtain

Kirk is absurdly in love with Lincoln, and he has this dreamy, goofy smile on his face every time he looks at him. Despite knowing very well that he's not the real Lincoln. Despite McCoy calling him on his bullshit... Lincoln is just THAT irresistible.

Even Spock admits that he too "experienced his charm"!

All Our Yesterdays

Spones And how! In the first part, Spock is constantly looking after McCoy and caring for him. When McCoy falls on the snow half-frozen, Spock refuses to leave him behind (despite McCoy's pleas for Spock to save himself), because they "go together, or not at all". Later, in the cave, Spock puts the doctor to bed and leans over him on several ocassions, mostly focused on his recovery, even if this prevents him from searching for Jim or an escape.

Once Spock begins to revert to his ancestors and show an interest in Zarabeth, is conflict time instead. In particular, McCoy's outburst at Zarabeth, and his accusations that she's lying and just wants to keep Spock for herself, sound like a bout of jealousy. As a matter of fact, it IS true that only Zarabeth is trapped in that world, but McCoy has no way of knowing that, and no proof that she's being dishonest. After this outburst, Spock pins McCoy to the wall in a very tense scene, while McCoy grabs his arms the whole time. And it's only then that Spock realizes what's going on with him.

In the end, when forced to choose between staying with Zarabeth, or going back with McCoy, Spock chooses the doctor. As he said in the beginning, they go together or not at all.

McKirk Much less obvious, but McCoy is constantly asking about Jim, and tells Spock to stop worrying about him and go find Jim instead.

Turnabout Intruder

Spirk Kirk (inside the body of Janice Lester) convinces Spock to perform a mind-meld on him, by saying that Spock is closer to the Captain than anyone in the universe, and that he knows his thoughts. Once he learns the truth, Spock takes Kirk by the wrist to accompany him outside the cell. Spock touches people more often than is usually believed, but here in particular is a tender gesture, not strictly necessary.

Apart from this, Dr. Coleman seems to still love Janice, no matter the body she inhabits. There's this scene where Janice (inside the body of Kirk) approaches him seductively, and places a hand on his shoulder. From the point of view of the audience, it's one of the most explicitly gay scenes in the whole series (and extra points for Shatner for choosing to play it that way; there was nothing of the sort in the script).

Summary

Spirk: 7 out of 24 episodes Spones: 5/24 McKirk: 4/24 McSpirk: 6/24

A big increase for McSpirk, in relation to previous seasons.

[taelophone]

Greek Brothers ˙⟡ — A tutorial. “How do I write Frat Boys?”

OK, A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY WANTED A PART 2. HERE U GO

!DISCLAIMER! Not all frats are the same, and no two people are the same. This is constructed based off of my experience with various types of brothers (and sisters) in Greek life.

Let’s go!

1. TYPES of Frat Boys

Ok, so just to start, to write frat boys in general you are automatically going to need to learn how to write borderline terrible behavior lol. There are many different kinds of Frat Boys, but the one that probably just popped into your head has blonde of brunette hair with a baseball cap, a beer in hand, and horrible manners. Probably a sleazeball, too.

We call those types of brothers Douchebags, or “DudeBros”

DudeBros are basically walking talking himbos. Sports, beer, money, hoes, sex, liquor, lie lie lie lie. Probably has a college bro accent, which TRACES BACK to a Valley Girl accent. Brush up on your Californian, cuz you can’t understand him with his mouth full of gum and his head CONSTANTLY tilted back.

These dudes are more than likely holding some sort of title at the frat. He’s probably VP, Recruitment chair, or house manager. Either way, you’ll encounter them a lot in Greek life. Reaaaallly lean into that whole exaggerated frat boy thing in your writing!! LEAN INTO IT! The stereotypes are very correct lol😭

9/10 he is probably pushing around a pledge, or having one run his errands. Some examples of how he would talk include…

“Yo, pledge, ca’mere? Get this dude some water, and then when he stops throwing up, kick him the fuck out.” ”He’s being a little bitch and there’s mad hoes around and it’s ruining the vibe, bro.” ”Yo, what’s up babes…oh yeah the bathrooms just over there…You’re Gracie’s sister, right? You guys do your makeup the same. Her makeup looks like shit.”

LEARN TO WRITE DISRESPECT!! they are so disrespectful to those they don’t find attractive and are so mean😭 He’s loud, unserious, a twinge misogynistic, and is likely to grab your ass at the party. The second kind of Frat boy, which is actually less talked about, is the Pushover. It’s exactly what it sounds like. He’s new, he’s learning to adjust to the frat, etc etc.

YOUR CHARACTER WILL HAVE MUCH BETTER LUCK COMMUNICATING WITH A PUSHOVER VS A DUDEBRO.

They don’t really get called by their name a lot lol😭 they’re often just referred to as “pledge” and lowkey are still adjusting to the party scene. He’s gonna be quieter, but will exercise his frat boy status when left alone. Literally will ONLY step into that attitude AFTER his brothers are gone.

I don’t think I need to give examples for this kind of dude, cuz he’s really just a quiet nodder.

However, this doesn’t exempt him from being a bad person. Because a pledge wants to earn respect from his brothers, they are going to make him do some INSANE shit. This is how hazing works, so now you know how to write hazing.

His brothers will make him say or do insane shit to girls, and he’s experiencing his first rush of frat power. Is actively forming into a proper frat boy, so try and highlight this by giving him a “softer” tone compared to his brothers. He’s not as loud as the DudeBro, and he kind of speaks with a mumble in his words. Probably has a really bad vocal fry going on too

The third Frat Boy, also the one Luigi falls into is the TechBro.

These guys lack one of two things; Social skills, or open-mindedness. Do not get into arguments w these men you will leave wanting to end it all.

The DudeBro’s right hand man, but not douchey and misogynistic. Is arguably the smartest person in the frat, but literally cannot stfu about his views and knowledge for five seconds. Borders on “scaring away the hoes” and “sexy smart man”

You can ALSO expect these types of men to be in positions of power. Usually a frat treasurer, philanthropy chair, or national advisor.

He’s contrastingly nice compared to most of his brothers but every now and again he will say something that raises a red flag in your mind before trying to re-explain himself better.

some examples of things they would say include…

”Hey girls. Henderson? Yeah no he went upstairs with Rachel. Can you go upstairs? No. Absolutely not.” ”What? Do we have any food? I’m not supposed to be giving you any but we have some Cheez-its in the top cabinet above the microwave.” ”*Lengthy rant about political views (usually libertarian.)*”

Now that that’s OUT THE WAYYY, let’s talk about what they do!

Frat boys actually don’t do much. They attend classes mostly, and every now and again they’ll host a rager. Most parties are genuinely open invite, as I said before, but brother-exclusive parties are literally just keg wars or chapter retreats.

Things I’ll leave you with so you’re not stuck on writing a frat-life event that’s NOT a party;

Recruitment events during rush week

Community service

Game Nights

Brotherhood dinners (sweethearts may sometimes attend these)

Greek Week Comps

[chappellrroan]

hey babe okay so I saw the first episode and let me tell u u thirsting about helly r (or helen? im guessing that's her outside name) is soo valid and justified she's very pretty and she's banging on doors screaming to get out and throwing things so I obviously admire her lol also this scout guy omg I cannot take him seriously he was a joke character in the good place it was so funny I keep thinking of him but except for that hmmm it's kinda interesting but I fell asleep like 5 times😭 why is it so slow vio why do they show stupid things like him walking through a white hallway and tying his shoelaces i guess am just used to sitcoms i cannot watch these slowpokes I hope i didn't miss anything important my favourite scene yet from just ep1 was scout sobbing in his car before going to work (haha been there done that) and also helly's video she's so animated corporates will truly kill us all this concept is wild tho but like. it's. i thought that wow i can't keep you're giving away one third of your life to a corporation and you're not even going to remember it like how can you waste it lifeis sooo precious. but then I think about all the precious hours i spent in my office formatting idiotic word documents because my seniors said the font looks bad the spacing is incorrect and how tired I was that I just came home and fell asleep and I'm like oh. i loved that line the boss lady said that humans imagined hell but it doesn't exist but the scary part is that what humans can imagine, they can create. so we all gonna die. but anyway yes that's my review of the first episode.i think i definitely missed some important things like i remember seeing some very old guy talking and suddenly he's like I'm petey and I'm like wait YOU'RE petey? where did u come from? but I'll figure it out lol maybe I didn't sleep enough last night

you'll only fall more and more in love with helly lol (also try not to get spoiled by my posts here because i need to see you react to everything a hundred percent authentic). okay in show's defence it's trying to show and not tell, that's why the first episode might seem a bit boring and slow but trust me it'll speed up by end of 2nd episode. the walking thing is show you the shift in his mannersims how outside he seemed depressed and crying while when his innie (aka the severed self) had absolutely no idea at all (the puzzled look at the wet tissue paper and throwing it) the changing of shoes because he isn't allowed to wear outside ones inside it'd have probably make his innie wonder why they're wet (i am realising this as we speak tbh, because his innie has no idea about sky sun snow weather etc) and give him a chance okay forget his previous characters RIGHTTTT it seems like a fucked up concept but if it was possible i am sure soo many companies would take advantage of it to prey on depressed/naive people. like it sounds nice as a concept but (you'll realise this as you watch) in fact is inhuman to that the other part of yourself that is consistently working. lmao that's miss cobel for you, tell me more about how you feel about her as you go on. also get some sleep and try not to be too worried about catching all the symbolism you'll get them as you go plus we have tumblr to discuss anyways mwah

[princess-charlie-of-hell]

As a Charlie morningstar lover, I love to think that everyone is at least a tiny bit in love with her. This obviously isn't supposed to be taken serious and is mostly crack

Let's start with the obvious ones: that Vaggie is in love with her is clear, she is had no problem of threatening Alastor, a powerful overlord, to protect her and even made a deal with him to make the commercial for the hotel to make Charlie happy

Talking about Alastor, he is obviously obsessed with her like in most scenes they are together, he always keeps her in eye and is touchy with Charlie. Him being a mommas boy only worsen that, deep inside he wants her to be proud of him and doesn't like sharing her attention, that is why he hated Lucifer because him visiting the hotel caused Charlie to pay attention to her father and not him

Staying by the hotel crew, Angel dust. He is not in love love with her because he is gay but do you know this feeling where you are not romantically in love with someone but still want them to do like/love you? Like he is totally platonically in love with her, her presence alone is enough to make him feel better and forget his pain from working for Valentino for a bit

The other guest, Sir pentious, also was blown away by Charlie. The princess was the first one who took him serious in hell and didn't made fun of him. She believes that he is able to change to become a better person. He fast developed a crush on her, he tries to make her proud of him by giving extra effort by her group projects and makes invention which he hopes helps people

The barkeeper of the hotel is also isn't able to resist Charlie's charm. Husk at the beginning started to spend more time with the princess because he noticed that Alastor is more friendly towards him when she is near. This caused him automatically to be more relax when he is in her presence also because Charlie had Keekee she has the habit of accidentally petting and cuddling Husk when she doesn't pay close attention to her surroundings, Husk never would admit it but he enjoys when it happens. It is also a purely coincidence that he starts purring when it happens and the radio demon is near

The maid of the hotel is more open to her affection towards Charlie. She enjoys whenever Charlie snaps and goes complete demons, she usually is more interested in bad boys but the princess of hell is the exception. Nifty gives Charlie sometimes bugs as presents and workes extra hard when she is near to show the princess what a great housewife she is.

That was the first part maybe i am going to make a second and or third part depends on my motivation. Just out curiosity, what are some of your favorite Charlie ships?

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Autopsy of a Scene: "Ellen meets Professor Von Franz"

Context

Victorian society (early 19th century): views on sexuality, especially female; women seen as innocent and naïve (infantilization); marriage and motherhood as a woman's destiny;

Victorian medicine: Ellen's supernatural gifts (trance mediumship) medicalized by Victorian doctors as "hysteria" and "melancholy".

Ellen and Count Orlok backstory

In the prologue of “Nosferatu” (2024), we are introduced to teenage Ellen crying, and praying for "a guardian angel, a spirit of comfort, spirit of any celestial sphere... anything..." to come to her. She is 15 years old, as confirmed by composer Robin Carolan in an interview. She’s considered a “child” in the narrative at this point because the concept of “teenager” and “adolescence” didn’t exist in the 19th century: a person would go from “childhood” into “adulthood” without anything in between. The concept of “teenager” (as a phase between being an actual “child” and an “adult) was only created after World War II.

Why is Ellen crying and calling out for “anything” to come to her? What’s the context? The answer is in her first scene with Professor Von Franz (more on that later).

Ellen didn't merely "summoned" Count Orlok: she was the one who brought him back from the dead, and cursed him to be a strigoi. His corpse was dead and rotting since the late 16th century (that's why he calls her "his affliction", as in "disease"; "sickness" or "plague"). And this isn't only confirmed by Orlok twice, and by Ellen herself, when she cryptically says it to Professor Von Franz ("I wished..."), and when she reveals to Thomas: "I have brought this evil upon us."

This is the first time Orlok appears to Ellen, at her bedroom window, asking for entrance. Windows are connected to strigoi myths from Romanian folklore; where it’s said when strigoi rise from their graves for the first time, they return to those they have loved the most, because they wish to relive their lives together. The strigoi is said to appear at their loved one’s windows, asking for entrance (probably the origin of “vampires need to be invited in” lore). The strigoi usually torments them until they are dead, too (which is also what we see with Orlok and Ellen’s characters in this film). And there's a immediate recognition from Orlok's part ("You... you..."): he not only knows what Ellen is (enchantress), but who she is.

Ellen’s window in “Nosferatu” (2024) also has another reference: the “Wuthering Heights” inspiration, with the theme of “Catherine’s window”. In this novel, windows (and doors, too) are usually connected with Catherine and Heathcliff’s separation, and his inability to reach her. In “Nosferatu” (2024), we also see this with Ellen and Orlok: in the prologue, Ellen’s window is wide open (when she meets and develops a relationship with him), then it’s shut (separation) until the second and third act, when she asks him to come to her (reunion). It’s Ellen who grants or denies Orlok access to places, including to herself.  

We are probably dealing with reincarnation themes in this story as well, with Ellen possibly being Orlok's wife (since Bill Skarsgård confirmed Orlok was married and had a family), or the lover/bride he didn't get the chance to marry. Robert Eggers has confirmed he's a ancient spirit ("Orlok is an ancient noble, predating even the foundations of the Romanian Empire") so, we already dealing with reincarnation here because Orlok is a corpse from the late 16th century, with a whole boyar and vovoide backstory, the sovereign of a Transylvanian county (count). He's a Pagan worshipper of Zalmoxis, after all, he learned the secrets of immortality, life and death.

Linda Muir, the costume designer, also revealed in one interview that Orlok remembers lilacs from when he was alive; which isn't surprising since these flowers are native to the Balkans, but they are also the visual narrative device that symbolizes Ellen and Orlok's connection in this film: if Orlok associates these flowers with both his "human life" and Ellen, what is this supposed to mean? And even Ellen herself associates lilacs with Orlok, and it's a scent she is very fond of. Ellen also understands Orlok speaking Dacian (in this film it's a reconstructed language, fictional but well-researched), even thought it's an extinct language which hasn’t exist in spoken form for over a millennium and a half, and she's German. How come Ellen understands Dacian?

However, Orlok being in the "darkest pit" (O’er centuries, a loathsome beast I lay within the darkest pit") means his soul was deemed unworthy of entering Zalmoxis' kingdom after his 16th century life, or he couldn't enter it, for some reason. Instead of ascending (and preparing for his next reincarnation?), his soul appears to have been stuck in some sort of limbo, and when Ellen summoned him, his soul returned to his former body, cursing him to be a strigoi, a walking corpse who feeds off the blood of the living. "Loathsome" in Old English (which is what Orlok speaks, being from the late 16th century) is also connected with another word: "grievous" as in "grief".

“Your passion is bound to me […] I cannot be sated without you. Remember how once we were? A moment. Remember?”

The use of the term "sated" in this context can have a different meaning of "satisfied" (food and lust). In Old English, it's connected to the verb "sit", which means rest or lie. "I cannot rest without you"; which makes sense with their covenant being about them together ever-eternally in death, in the Afterlife. Orlok can’t find peace in death without Ellen's spirit by his side.

Either way, Ellen and Orlok end up developing a sexual relationship (lovers), as he symbolizes her sexual awakening in this story. As Ellen reveals to Thomas during her "possession scene": "At first it was sweet, I had never known such bliss." Then, Ellen tells him "yet it turned to torture, it would kill me" which is a reference to both her medicalization by Victorian society ("torture"), and their covenant ("it would kill me"), because she has to literally die in order to be "one with [him] ever-eternally", after all ("you are not for the living").

However, and even though Ellen end up marrying Thomas, what she and Orlok had never left her her mind/heart, as ilustrated by the lilacs around her (wedding dress, her perfume, and even her gowns): the lilacs (and Ellen's window) are the visual devices (visual storytelling) that represent the yearning between Ellen and Orlok.

Ellen's Medicalization

Victorian society was sexually repressed and Victorian doctors were obsessed with demonizing sexuality (especially female) to the point endlessness pathologies were theorized about it throughtout the 19th century, and it was during this time period the notion of “paraphilias” was created.

In the early 19th century, the ideal Victorian woman was a model of virtue, purity and modesty, and being a wife and a mother was a woman's destiny. Female sexuality was seen as a plague and a monstrosity in need of containment, which is what many literary critics see in “Dracula” by Bram Stoker (one of the main inspirations for this film), where the physical figure of the “sick woman” is one of the principal ways in which female sexuality manifests as a contagious disease, through the portrayal of Lucy Westenra and her degeneration into vampirism.

"I am disposed to recommend that she sleep in her corset. It encourages the correct posture, calms the womb, and revives circulation. And if her stirring escalates, you can always tie her to the bed. I'll increase the eter."

The Victorian characters patronize Ellen Hutter; she’s blameless because she’s “sick”, she has a “disease” she’s not able to control. Anna says she’s innocent, and a “sweet Romantic”, and believes her "hysteric fits" are caused by her husband's disappareance (because a woman's life revolved entirely around their husbands, and they didn't had "inner lives"). Thomas dismisses her premonitions as a consequence of her "melancholy", too.

Ellen is perceived as ”blameless of her malady” by the Victorian characters because Victorian women were expected to be innocent, ignorant and naïve about the world. And if a woman wasn’t innocent, she should pretend to be, which is what we see with Ellen, as she infantilizes herself before others ("Everything I say sounds so childish") and accuses Orlok of corrupting her innocence and being "a villain", even though she was the one who summoned him (and cursed him to be a strigoi), and she's also the one who grants and denies him access to places, including to herself.

The average Victorian woman wasn’t allowed to be educated nor possess knowledge outside of the domestic. And so, Ellen supernatural gifts aren't recognized by the Victorian characters, and later she will be seen as a victim at Orlok's hands, because, being a woman, she has no agency of her own.

And this medicalization is connected with the symbolism of Ellen's corset in the narrative, which was confirmed by costume designer Linda Muir in an interview with "The Art of Costume":

"One example of costume design serving the plot, as you mentioned, is Ellen’s corset. I came across a particular style called a fan-laced corset during my research, which I’ve also referred to as a “self-tying corset”—though it doesn’t actually tie itself! This type of corset can be tightened from the front, allowing the wearer to adjust it independently.For Robert, this design was ideal. When Ellen is in the throes of her supernatural connection with Orlok, the men around her—Sievers and Harding—try to impose control by tightening her corset. Because of the fan-laced design, we can see her anguish and convulsions, as well as the men’s oppressive actions, without needing to obscure her face or body by laying her prone. This moment is a perfect example of how research and storytelling can come together harmoniously in costume to enhance a scene."

The Victorian characters force Ellen to sleep with a corset, tie her to the bed and drug her with opiates, to restrain and control what they call “hysteric fits” and “epilepsies”, caused by her “melancholia” (depression) and “hysteria” (“wandering womb”, deeply connected to female sexuality), which are, in fact, her mediumship (which is what Professor Von Franz will recognize in her).

What Victorian doctors are trying to contain is Ellen's nature, her mediumship, and also her sexuality. Victorian society sees her nature, her true self, as a dangerous disease who needs to be stopped. As female sexuality in the Victorian era was seen as a plague and a monstrosity in need of containment, and "the threat of female sexuality" theme from the "Dracula" novel.

Ellen meets Professor Von Franz

Professor Von Franz agrees to examine Ellen, and once he arrives at the Harding household, it’s clear he disagrees with Dr. Sievers methods. He orders Sievers and Harding to untie Ellen, and notices she’s drugged. Sievers confirms he has been using opiates (probably Laudanum, because it was widely used during the 19th century). Ellen immediately sees he’s not like the other Victorian doctors, and is hopeful.

"Untie this child at once! […] Untie her! […] Drugged?"

Von Franz promises he’s there to help and asks Ellen about her childhood. Here, Von Franz isn’t physically examining Ellen, he’s performing a psychological analysis of her.

Important detail here: Ellen is drugged, and that's why she's speaking this like in this scene. Dr. Sievers gave her a "opiate"; which is can be any opium-based drug (Laudanum was a misture of opium and alcohol; or morphine; heroine, etc.).

"Dr. Sievers tells me you have had these spells since childhood. Would you describe them to me."

Von Franz asks Ellen about her childhood to determine if she has any subconscious trauma. " In medical terminology, "spells" are sudden and recurrent symptoms (not "magical spells").

“I know things."

Ellen confirms she has been a somnambulist ("these spells") since infancy ("I cannot always remember them. As if my spirit wanders off. Sometimes it was… it is like a dream") and, then, she speaks of her supernatural gifts: “I know things. I always knew the contents of my Christmas gifts” and she had a premonition of her mother’s death (“I knew when… that my mother would pass”).

"I was his little changeling girl."

Then she talks about her father; "Father… he would find me in our fields… within the forest… as if – I was his little changeling girl." Ellen's father called her “his little changeling girl” as in European folklore of children kidnapped by fairies, elves or demons and a substitute child being left in their place, because she enjoyed playing and being in nature. When she was supposed to be indoors (domestic sphere).

However, this started to displease him as she grew older, and Ellen being a teenager would rebel: “but as I became older it worsened… Father dispraised me for it…” As Ellen was growing into a woman, her playing in the woods was no longer acceptable for a young lady in Victorian society, so, evidently, her father wouldn’t allow it, anymore ("dispraised me for it"). As it was expected of her, Ellen should learn how to be a proper lady, and future wife to a respectable husband.

"I frightened him. My touch."

And, as she was getting older, her father stopped giving her physical affection, as well, because that would be inappropriate. "I frightened him. My touch": this indicates Ellen probably wanted to hug her father (or something of that sort), and he would recoil from her touch. And this hurt Ellen, deeply.

"Then a presence…"

She talks about when she summoned Orlok next, when she was 15 years old, without outright saying it: "I was so very alone, you see and… I wished for comfort… then a presence… and the nightmares, the epilepsies." To Thomas she will say: “I sought company, I sought tenderness, and I called out…”

Robert Eggers tells us in one interview: “She's [Ellen] an outsider. She has this understanding about the shadow side of life that is very deep, but she doesn't have language for that. She's totally misunderstood and no one can see her," he says. "Because of this gift, in her teenage years, she ends up reaching out to this demon lover, this vampire, who is the one being who can connect with that side of her. But then that other, sensual, erotic world is connected to this evil force, which only increases her shame.”

Ellen begins having what the Victorian doctors call “epilepsies” and "nightmares" when she starts to communicate with Orlok. As Von Franz will determine next, these “hysteric spells” are, in fact, “trances”: Ellen’s mediumship and her communicating with the spiritual realm (which doesn’t involve Orlok, specifically).

And as Robert Eggers tells us Ellen’s sexuality is connected with Orlok. In the Victorian era married heterosexual sex was the only socially acceptable sexual expression, and everything else (masturbation, homosexuality, prostitution, etc.) was considered deviant, and labeled as “sinful” and “evil”. In the early 19th century, women's sexuality was owned and controlled by their husbands, and was seen as a marital duty for male pleasure alone. Women were believed to have no sexual pleasure nor desire, at all, hence Ellen's shame. Being a woman, she isn't suppose to have these yearnings, nor enjoy it (this applies to Orlok because he's not her husband).

Then she talks about the episode when her father found her naked, and threatened to have her institutionalized: “At last Papa found me once laying… unclothed, I was… my body… my flesh… my… Sin! sin, he said… He would have sent me to someplace… I shan't go… I-”

"Sin! sin, he said…"

Here, Ellen uses the term "Papa" instead of "father" (as she used before), because she wants to showcase innocence and naivety: she's talking about sexual matters in the presence of men, and, like Robert Eggers tell us, she's deeply ashamed of this. The subtext here is clearly masturbation ("sin"). Especially because this will ressonate with other scene in the film:

And with what Ellen says next:

"It all ended when first I met my Thomas."

Unlike with Orlok, her sexual desire for Thomas is socially acceptable, especially because she probably wanted to marry him right away (which was common back in the day). "From our love, I became as normal." Her sexuality was integrated within marriage, as Victorian society decreed, and so, she cuts off her connection with Orlok. Which again tells the audience, Ellen does have agency over her whole deal with Orlok.

And, indeed, we do see Ellen happy with Thomas at the beginning of the film. They are newlyweds, fresh out of their honeymoon, which means sex (historically necessary to consummate marriages). However, Ellen clearly has a high sex drive, and she wants more. But Thomas has to go to work.

And later, at the Hardings household, Friedrich asks Thomas when will he and Ellen have a baby ("And when will you two newlyweds –?), and Thomas replies "When I am no longer a pauper." In a time period where contraceptives weren't the standard this means abstinence.

"Yet these visions and night wanderings have returned to you?"

"Night wanderings" is a reference to Ellen's sleepwalking (somnambulism). And Ellen says "He left on a fool's errand. I fear for him so." Because she knows he went to Orlok.

Now, we have to go back in the narrative, because Ellen has premonitions, and she knows Thomas will be sent away: "He has the position already. He’ll send him away." This "he" is Herr Knock. And she's correct, because that's what happens, and her mind goes back to Orlok, as he looks at her window.

Later, and before leaving for Transylvania, Thomas gifts Ellen, a bouquet of lilacs, which was a popular choice because it evokes feelings of young love and innocence; however, lilacs remind Ellen of Orlok; as we see her connecting these flowers with archetypal Death (Orlok), and not with her marriage to Thomas. And she has a over-the-top reaction because it's as if Thomas is confronting her with her "shame", her dirty secret. Here, Robert Eggers is reshaping a cult horror classic to his own vision, because in the 1922 “Nosferatu”, Ellen’s character also asks Thomas “why did you kill them... the lovely flowers...?”. But in the 2024 adaptation, this scene has an entirely different meaning.  

And now things are about to get dark, because we have to talk about the "maiden's token".

Before Thomas' departure, Ellen cuts a lock of her hair, and places it inside of her heart-shaped silver locket. She then gives it to her husband, apparently for good fortune on his travel. These sorts of gifts were considered a sign of love and devotion. However, during the Victorian era, it was also common to keep locks of hair from deceased loved ones in pieces of jewellery, especially lockets, which is another symbolic connection with Death (Orlok).

The scene where Ellen cuts a piece of her hair is also eerie, and she does this in front of her window (Orlok). She knows Thomas will be sent to him. And when he's is in Orlok’s castle, the count notices his “maiden token”, and asks to see it. As he opens it, and smells it, he immediately notices the scent of lilacs on Ellen’s hair. To Orlok, this is a confirmation of Ellen’s yearning for him.

“You are fortunate in your love.”

Orlok keeps the locket for himself, because he knows it’s meant for him. And this interpretation is also supported by the “Wuthering Heights” inspiration behind this story: after Catherine’s premature death, Heathcliff goes to the chapel to see her coffin. He places a strand of his hair inside of her necklace-locket, for her ghost to haunt him. It's Ellen's locket that gives Orlok access to her, again (not the "divorce papers" he tricks Thomas into signing in exchange for a sack of gold). And this is why Lily-Rose Depp says: "I don’t think she’s [Ellen] a victim at all. Because she’s kind of calling the shots the entire time.” It's the “Leptirica” (1973) inspiration (confirmed by Robert Eggers).

"Your husband is lost to you. Dream of me... Only me."

And this is also the explanation for this dialogue, when Orlok accuses Ellen of being "false", and "so you wish me to prove my enmity as well?" ("enmity" as in "hostility" and "antagonism"):

Thomas is a part of the Victorian Point of View of this story, and he's "love": Victorian love was meant to be chaste, modest and restrained. The opposite is Orlok: passion, erotism and "animalistic impulses" (sexual desire), which the sacrament of marriage was suppose to repress and contain (especially in women). And in this narrative it did, for a while. In this story, Thomas is already "doomed by the narrative" in being unable to not give Ellen what she wants and craves; which is why Ellen asks Professor Von Franz this question:

"Professor… My dreams grow darker, they sicken me. Does evil come from within us or from beyond?"

And he'll only give her the answer to this on their final scene together, in the third act of the film.

[ladybugpowermakeup]

Ooh ooh! I've thought about this extensively, excuse my ramblings.

First of all, we need to understand what our stage looks like and what it will need to create these illusions. So for starters, our stage will be separated into 3 levels. On the bottom level is the stage itself. This is where we see ships, most mortals, and a lot of the fight scenes. Then, there are two (okay technically three) more platforms that span the length of the stage, two that make the middle level and one that makes the top level. Connecting the two levels is a staircase in the center. Basically, it'll look like this.

The scale isn't great, but you get the idea. The second level (the two platforms) are for all kinds of things: The Trojan walls, the homes of a lot of demigods, Penelope's room, and Athena's quick thought location to name only a few. The third level is basically only for the gods or those who are holding themselves as important as the gods (and are about to get smacked down for it). This is a callback to actual ancient Greek theater where the gods would always be lowered onto the stage from above! One note, there is a small gap between the back of the platforms and the scrim - this'll be important for some practical effect things later.

The other thing we will need is a flying apparatus and a similar mechanism for moving small objects like ribbons or costumes in a way that looks magical. This will be used for Zeus so he can fly, for Poseidon so he can look larger during Get In The Water, and some of our bigger monsters like Scylla, as well as some smaller effects. I want to clarify that I actually have never worked with these, so it might not be feasible, but this is a base idea that can be more practically put into use by actual theater techs.

Okay. So the first big hurdle is how to do the cyclops. Honestly, it's pretty simple: You just have a costume that makes the actor in it look larger than they are - basically, the actor's head is in the chest of the costume and the head is a good two feet above the rest of the cast. Then you have another actor behind the scenes doing the voice and the actor onstage is moving the mouth, like a really elaborate puppet show.

Then we have Poseidon throwing all the ships around until Ody is left with just one. For this, we're going to have to suspend our disbelief for the sake of theater, but we will have a way to get the same kind of effect. Basically, the ship in on the main level of the stage and there are parts that are detachable, so as the men are singing "Captain, captain", the parts of the ship they're literally on are being dragged offstage (I'm not sure entirely how this would work from a technical angle, but I've seen theaters do this kind of thing before so I know it's possible.)

Then we have Circe turning the men into pigs. Again, we're going to do a little suspension of disbelief. Basically, Circe will appear on the middle left platform, which will be equipped with a semi-sheer curtain (which will be used a few other times in the show). She will come out from behind the curtain and hold it open for the men to enter. They disappear offstage, and at that point you could honestly just rely on narration and lyrics to imply that the men are pigs at all, you don't need to physically see it. Then at the end of Other Ways, the men all come onstage again to join Ody.

For Scylla, it's going to be a little more complicated. Since she's a monster with 6 heads but is also portrayed as complex and a parallel to Ody, we're going to have an actual actress playing "Scylla" and then 6 other "heads" that are independent of her in a sense. The scene starts with Scylla the actress on her own, no heads or anything, sitting on the top of the stairs, looking down/not at the audience. Just being creepy. The ship is on the main stage, of course, and it comes to center stage just in time for the dramatic tempo change.

When Scylla says "Hello", it's the first time the audience sees her face and she has creepy reflective eyes in some way. Then, six... basically creepy black wind socks, rise up from behind the platforms. These are the heads, and they will (if this is technically possible, which I think? it might be?) be on wires that are connected to actors. So when the heads move, they go straight to the actors with the torches and they can be "dragged" offstage and then released to go back to Scylla herself and then eventually back down below the platforms again.

In both songs Zeus is the big bad for, he's going to use our flying machine to raise him up while he shoots lighting at his victims. This is both Thunder Bringer and God Games. There's not a lot more technical stuff in those songs, so we'll move on.

And finally, for Poseidon in Get In The Water, we're basically going to be using two things. Our flying harness, and ribbons/cloak that represent his water form. A little bit like Elphaba in the stage version of Wicked, we're going to dim the lights and he will have a long cloak/cloth connected to his flying harness that represents his water form, and other ribbon type things on wires to be "flung" out across stage. So when we have his "No", the flying harness raises him and the wind begins to blow the cloak around to make him seem bigger, while on his "DIE", the ribbons will star flying around on the wires and several of them will envelop Ody, since we can't have Ody pushed into the water.

Then, when we have all our friends from the underworld singing, they will all come out onto the platforms/stage and their role will basically be to (metaphorically) pull him out of the water by pulling the ribbons. Anticlea, Polites, and Eury will all be untangling the ribbons around Ody, and the rest of the men will be pulling the other ribbons, and through 600 Strike, instead of an anime jetpack fight scene, Ody will basically "unravel" Poseidon's Kaiju form with the help of his friends and loved ones until Poseidon finally falls and loses his cloak. This would be tricky from a costume design standpoint, but my idea is that you could have it all be tearaway, so as the song goes on, he loses more and more of his "water" until he finally falls and he and Ody can confront each other in that scene we all know and love.

Anyway! That's my ideas - it's very long, I know, it took me about a week to fully put it all into words. But I hope if nothing else you got a kick out of it!

i love epic but like. how are they gonna put any of that on stage?? like scylla? charybdis? circe turning the pigs back into people? like how is that gonna get done??

[elizabeth-mitchells]

the movie title:

what i see:

[honestlyitsjustsam]

favourite moments of bg3 -> (5/?)

[scribefindegil]

Obsessed with the POV choice in Imperial Radch as well, both because Leckie does some really wild stuff with how expansive the strict first-person is able to become due to the worldbuilding and who her narrator is, and because it's SO entangled with the central thematic concepts of identity. In the first book flashbacks when the narrator is still a warship, "I" can encompass so many things, and sometimes explicitly refers to different facets in the narration--is "I" Justice of Toren, or One Esk, or a specific segment, or Breq narrating from twenty years in the future? "I" isn't simple, isn't unified, and while this is most literal and obvious with Breq/One Esk/Justice of Toren and Anaander Mianaai's split factions it's true constantly throughout the work at every level of scope. Individual characters struggle with internal conflicts and hit their breaking points--what is it that makes someone decide they have to disobey orders and make a stand or they won't be themself anymore? How do you know who you are if you've been forcibly changed (Tisarwat) or if the world you knew has moved on and become unrecognizable (Seivarden)? How does a character on a colonized world navigate the split identity that comes from the pressure to assimilate to the dominant culture? And then there's the Radch writ large, all the Radchaai so deeply invested in the idea that there is only one true concept of Radchaai society, of civilization, but of course there isn't! It changes based on location and over time, and Breq muses that the Radchaai empire would be largely unrecognizable to the isolated sphere of the Radch itself. In these books, even if you aren't the last remnant of a destroyed spaceship and its legion of bodies, "I" is such a complicated concept and the narrative never lets you forget it.

[wickmitz]

what do you think mitzi’s type in men is?

hmm, this is a fun little ask! especially since her love interests, on a surface level, couldn’t be more different. we have :

zib : former long term boyfriend but not quite … they were very loose with labels, as we know from outside information and the way zib lives life in general. but despite this, whatever feelings fostered between them were intense ; enough so for him to stick around years later, resigned to a chained down lifestyle simply because he doesn’t want to leave mitzi. he’s very loyal in that sense! even if it’s not a conventional type of loyalty. we know that before bitterness seeped inbetween their bond that zib took good care of her, while also being a complete mess of a person ; someone perpetually scared whenever physical conflict is concerned and being a musically inclined man who very much treats himself as a free spirit, with a morbid philosophy and feel towards life. he’s got a major tortured artist aesthetic!! is a little gripped by melancholy and nostalgia … zib is a lot of things, and ambitious is surprisingly one of the many puzzle pieces that make up dorian zibowski.

atlas : ruthless gangster, has an eerie presence that frightens even the people closest to him. he is prone to a more quiet disposition ; never speaking and always a blot of unremarkable grey. but he is an opportunist! someone who can manage a business and take advantage of shortcuts and loopholes to become even more successful … basically he is wealthy and uses his assets well. but all of this is done with a manner of distance, leaving even those closest to him never having the full picture of who he was. it’s also worth noting that mitzi and him had eventual problems, which caused her to seperate. also perhaps has a heart of some kind, but whatever love he possesses is hidden under layers of blood and mystery.

wick : well-to-do bore, and i say this with all the love in the world for wick! but compared to previous paramours he’s rather clean and talkative … there is a constant earnestness to him that bleeds out, an honesty and a more conventional sort of kindness. he doesn’t hide behind smoke and mirrors and there’s never really a front he puts up around mitzi -- or his investors for that matter, hence why he’s treated as an ‘outsider’ so to speak. he is an alcoholic who loathes the details of his job but is more than passionate about the job itself and makes this everyone’s problem … he is a little helpless, in the sense he’d die without someone there to make sure he functions … and is, like zib, perpetually afraid of conflict. can be a little wishywashy and can come across as uncaring due to his cheeky tone … but he’s loyal and caring, with a hobby for the unusual ( bugs and rocks lol ) as well as being able to look past the gossip mill and see the actual mitzi may as he knows her, someone who’s going through a rough time and is either too kind or classy to be a brutal killer. he is hypocritical, a little snobby, and rather forward with mitzi too. kind of a flirt when he wants to be!

something that immediately stands out to me when looking at this lineup is that mitzi doesn’t enjoy a violent man. i don’t think she loathes someone who can so brutally or clinically remove others from this earth, but if she were to go for someone they’d usually be sweeter in a sense. it meshes well with her old personality and kinder heart, perhaps brings it out in her, and that sort of levity and breeziness is more enjoyable than, say, being fully aware of the dangers that lurk around every corner because the man you’re beside is prone to bringing it. she also enjoys more talkative types, someone who’s less quiet and demure and serious, and is keen on her men having a hobby they care deeply for ; some sort of long term goal to work towards doesn’t hurt either. and because of some scenes in the comic, i’m a firm believer that mitzi wants someone who can make her smile or laugh with ease, whether because they’re ridiculous by nature or genuinely funny! she has a sort of funny bone herself, enamored with gallow’s humor and darker jokes, so having someone who either a.) reacts hilariously in the face of her jokes or b.) who can return that energy with teasing or their own brand of silly is desirable. everyone could use a good laugh or two, a sense of joy injected into the bustling life they all live, and this all ties back to mitzi being more drawn towards the less stuffy types of men.

so atlas seems to be an outlier when it comes to her type in many ways, hence the later problems they apparently had in their relationship even if she did love him dearly. but, of course, atlas did have something very appealing to her that zib had failed to give, which she rather fondly recalls in the comic page vestige. whether zib likes acknowledging it or not, mitzi wasn’t as gungho about their normad life as he was … or, at the very least, when she lived another life besides that one, she realized she had a preference! and atlas gave her that path, that knowledge that she wanted something else, and seemingly for the very first time in her life … she felt like a proper lady, a feeling that clearly meant a lot to her. it wasn’t just the dresses or the wealth, it was the constant eye of atlas who could have any dame he wanted, but fancied her his wife regardless. it was having someone so respectable looking, dressed well and groomed well, being able to see her as something other than a sweating, exposed girl in a bawdy dress. atlas’s seemingly polite treatment towards mitzi was enough to garner her affections in spite of everything else, so i think she enjoys that now in others, ; folks who treat her as though she’s a woman in high society, men who don’t gawk at her or make lewd remarks immediately … she probably prefers the courting process now and the quaint dates ( that she doesn’t pay for, mind you ) that come along with it. she just -- likes mutual respect, i think. and who doesn’t? she’s been through a lot to get to where she is now, even if it’s a bad predicament, and she’d like for that to amount to something. some sort of acknowledgment, some kind of recognition.

however, it’s worth mentioning that her views on romance and all that it entails have been warped since the death of her husband. such a loss would change how anyone approaches their dating life, if they were to even have one afterwards … after all, mitzi’s whole problem is that she doesn’t want to move on from atlas and has thus completely romanticized him in her head, to the point that she earnestly believes she’ll be miserable forever without his presence. any problems she had with atlas have long since been erased by her tortured mind, leaving her with a profound misery she’s wallowing in. i think she believes herself as incapble of romantic or sexual inclinations nowdays, leading her to view the advances made towards wick as a necessary ‘evil’ for the sake of atlas may and little else -- when she genuinely does like sedgewick to a degree, and wouldn’t go on dates or kiss a man unless some part of her honestly wanted to do so. ( i also think she was attracted to wick somewhat even while married to atlas, but that’s besides the point ) so this is all a rather complicated affair! she is vulnerable and weak, is too aware of herself and the criminal underbelly squeezing in closer … add this on top of her still heavily grieving and having no one she feels she can talk to, you have someone who is rather changed. mitzi is so far removed from herself and who she truly is, or was, that there’s no doubt it’s affected her type ; now she’ll settle for anyone if they’ll just help her, and even then she’d be dispassionate if romantic entanglement of any kind was involved in that relationship. it’s not something she wants right now, and honestly, it all seems scary and daunting … besides atlas, zib was the only other man she’s ever loved enough to stay around for, so she’s never faced a loss like this before. has kept zib throughout all the turmoil and changes -- so this is, as far as we know, her first major loss where it concerns matters of the heart. it’s not shocking she’s so messed up after it, especially given how fresh it all still is. all of this rambling is to say that mitzi’s a little more stingy and cagey then she used to be about love or sex, and she has a lot of inner battles to face before she can fall for someone and be sure about it. needs to thaw, i think, and she would require patience and understanding from anyone who actually wanted to be with her. mitzi could move on with time ( i do not think she’s the type of widow who’d never date again! ) but it would take quite some time to do so. well, in a world where she’s allowed / is able to heal anyway!

while her type would probably remain the same, i could see her wanting a serious relationship more than she did prior to the death of her husband. has no energy for the loopholes, or the rationalizations, or the fickle nature that can grip someone’s heart. she has matured in a lot of ways since her band days and would take comfort in frivolous things like labels and promises of a future, together, as lovers. while what she had with zib was nice and is cherished alongside the freedom to do as she pleased while on the road with the band, i don’t think she misses it. having the stability and assurance of an actual relationship, with all the hardships that come with it, would be better suited for her. as long as she’s treated like an equal of course! i don’t think she’d be keen on her partner hiding anything from her, even if it’s meant to protect her, due to where that put mitzi when atlas was killed. she’d rather know and be disgusted, or worried, or scared than to not know about something at all until it’s too late … again. naturally patience and compassion would also be of importance, as would the usual things she loves like loyalty and a passion for something in life. and while never required, she’d be happy if the person possessed even a singular musical bone in their body! she still thinks artists, particularly musicans, are sexy after all … likes the angst and brooding that comes with it, the slight flare towards the dramatics … as long as they can handle mitzi in her pitiful entirety and do, to some degree, care deeply for her and will compromise … i think she could find some happiness wherever. bonus points if she can live comfortably for the rest of her days too, lord knows she’s tired of the constant battle of hucking and bargaining.

but yeah! mitzi’s love life is vast and complex and i definitely see her as someone who is more flexible in type than other people are. though there are similarities between her suitors if you really look! anyway, i hope i was able to briefly touch upon this subject because my shipping brain loved your question and kinda went into overdrive, alas. tldr ; her ideal type is wick sable. sorry. once wick learns an instrument the wedding is back on!! … i’m kidding lol. well, mostly <3

[chloecherrysip]

There's a huge universe out there, with a lot of galaxies.

[kacievvbbbb]

Look Challengers is very mishanks coded I don't know what to tell you, but it is. And you might say Kacie; Which homoerotic boy is Shanks? Who is the third person in the relationship (buggy maybe)? Would Mihawk need to have an injury? Isn't it a little more nuanced than that? All very important questions, all very valid points but all totally irrelevant.

Because Mihawk is very Tashi Duncan coded and this scene

is very young MiShanks coded.

While this scene is very after breakup but before make up coded.

And that my friends, that's what really matters