#blond dick at yale

[fan-girl-moments]

Ohh...the amount of feelings I had the minute I finished watching Gilmore Girls... But some time has passed and overall I really think few first season were enjoyable. It gave me this comfy vibe of watching a TV show that you can just chill with. But then more situations happend that I just couldn’t comprehend.. Naming just a few: Rory and Dean having s*x while he was very much married, Richard and Emily acting all high & mighty around Lor’s who was very much capable of handling her own life. And...the ending for LANE KIM! I mean..wtf was that??? Hello?? LANE DESERVED BETTER STORYLINE !!!

[margareturtle]

Jily is so rory x logan coded

[truncheonpress]

Touché, blonde dick at Yale

[butchjess]

people give alexis bledel shit for being expressionless or whatever as if this doesn't clearly read as amusement . Which makes the scene 1000 times funnier she is so tickled at jess calling logan The Blonde Dick At Yale she doesn't even look mad this is the face you make when an insult is so accurate it's funny and ur trying not to laugh so as to not make the situation worse. the line delivery too. so much amusement put behind one word. Jess. if anything this is why they’re soulmates bc she is the only person in the world who thinks he's hilarious. She's perfect to me.

[witchersmistress]

Hot Rage

Hello my darlings!! well here is the part that some of you have been waiting for... i'll be honest here, i felt like i could do better with it but i didnt want it to feel cheap and half done

Trigger Warnings: Anger, Some bodily damage, August just being a Dick

Word count: 4K

August POV

I open Baron’s door and pull up short. Lo is sprawled on her back across the California king, her arms wide and her blonde hair fanned out around her while her legs stretch up the upholstered headboard. Her skirt pools around her hips, exposing long, tan legs. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask. She sits up, throwing her hair back like a fucking stripper and curling her legs on the bed beside her. “Oh, hey, August,” she says, like she didn’t sell me out to a snake.

“Why are you in my brother’s room?” I ask again, my voice hard. “Unlike you, your brothers didn’t kick me to the curb” she says. “So, I’m hanging out. What does it look like?” “Do you really want me to answer that question?” She runs her fingers through her blonde strands, bleached from a summer on the beach, and straightens her spine. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m still in college,” she says. “While you and Dawson go traipsing off to the real world, I’m stuck here for another year before Yale notices me.” “And letting two guys take turns with you all year is going to get you noticed? I’m not sure you understand how college admission works.” “Fuck you, August. Just because Harper ran off when you dumped her, that doesn’t give you a license to make everyone else as miserable as you.” “You sure about that?” I mutter, unable to hold onto my anger when she’s looking at me with such unflinching, raw hurt in her eyes. Baron emerges from the bathroom and nods at me before dropping into his recliner. “What’s up?” “Get her out of here,” I say.

 It’s easier to be a dick through him. “She’s not welcome here anymore.” Baron raises a brow and reaches for his cup of suckers. “What did I ever do to you?” Lo demands. I could tell her, but I don’t want to do it in front of Baron, so I don’t bother. “Go home,” I say. “I need to talk to Baron.” “Nobody told me there was a party going on,” Duke says, stopping in the doorway. “Where’s the beer?” He swings open the glass door of Baron’s minifridge and pulls out a handful of bottles. “That’s why I’m here,” Lo says, shaking her hair into place and reaching for a beer. “Your parents are so much cooler than mine.” “Forget it,” I snap, smacking Duke’s hand away when he holds out a beer. “Hold up,” Baron says. “What do you need?” “To know when a video was shot. I’ll come back when you’re done running a train on Lo.” “Ooh, is this about Harper’s porn site?” Lo asks, swinging her legs off the side of the bed. I glare at her. This is what I get for letting her in, for letting myself use her to fill a hole another girl left in my life.

 She’s wormed her way into everything, and I can’t extricate her from the hundred little places she’s cemented herself. Insults don’t work with her. She’s oblivious or unperturbed by words. “What?” Duke howls. “Harper has a porn site?” “I just need to know when it was filmed,” I say, glowering at Baron. “The rest of you can leave.” “Fuck that,” Duke says. “I want to see Harper doing porn!” “Come on,” Gloria says, taking his arm. “I have the link. I can show you.” “Show him that shit and see what happens,” I growl. Lo raises a brow and takes a sip of her beer. “So, I can stay?” I glare back at her. Why am I protecting Harper?

She either filmed that before we met, and she’s a fucking liar, or when we were together, and she’s a liar and a cheater. Or, she filmed it recently, and she’s not sitting around thinking about protecting me, that’s for damn sure. “Whatever,” I grit out. “Stay, you fucking dyke.” Gloria smirks at me and leans into Duke, who puts an arm around her. “We just want to help,” he says, giving me a sloppy grin. “Right, Lo?” “Exactly,” she says like some smug bitch who just bested me. At least this way I can control what she sees. I know she can’t afford to watch even a minute of the video on her own, but she’s not above using Duke to get what she wants. I pull it up on Baron’s computer while he slides to his second monitor to watch. “Apple cream pie?” Gloria says, crossing her arms and looking over my shoulder. “Clever.” “Damn,” Duke says, giving a low whistle. “A grand a minute? She sure thinks highly of that worn out pussy.” “Shut up,” I snap, turning to Baron. “Can you tell when it was shot?” “If she’s getting that for the video, you think she’s getting more for the sex?” Lo asks. “Dude, that’s not how porn works,” Duke says. “That’s how it’s legal. You don’t get paid for sex. You get paid for the performance.” Baron shakes his head and pulls his sucker out of his mouth to talk. “You can’t access this. It was a live feed streamed to your messages. All these were. Once the show’s over, it’s over. He may have recorded them while he was fucking her, but you only got the live stream.” “I can’t believe she sent you those,” Gloria says. “That’s fucking cold. What did you do to the poor girl?” That’s a question I will never answer. I always meant to wreck her, just like we did Mabel.

But if I found out Mabel was doing porn, I’d shake my head and maybe laugh, thinking we really ruined her for other guys. Harper isn’t Mabel, though. “It could be someone else,” Duke says, but there’s no conviction in his voice. We all know it’s her. Even if someone got the exact same tattoos as Harper, she wouldn’t have a body like that. “Yeah,” Lo says. “That’s not her OnlyWords handle. Maybe someone else sent it. Which of your enemies would send you something like that to fuck with you? Colt?” That’s not a question we’re going to answer when she’s in the room. Baron scrolls up through a dozen thumbnails she sent me this summer, none of which I watched. “Here’s a recorded clip.” He pays up, pops the sucker in his mouth, and starts the video. He goes to work, doing his magic to dissect whatever coding is behind the video, not even watching the screen. I can’t watch, either. When I see the dick come out of the guy’s pants, I think I’m going to fucking lose my sanity. “Turn it off,” I snapped.

The minute runs out before there’s a dick in her, but it’s no better. I already saw five minutes that I can never forget. I can feel myself slipping away, under the surface where it’s calm. Baron watches me for a second, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll lose it like I did when I saw that sadistic fuck Colin coming out of our house. But I’m in control, just like he is. Duke’s too busy feeling up Gloria and dumping beer down his throat to think right now, but Baron’s sharp. He knows what this means. “What can you tell?” “It was filmed this summer,” he says quietly. For a minute, none of us speak. Even Duke’s finally gotten serious, his face sober as his gazes meet ours. She’s alive. I don’t know what I expected, something welling up inside, rage or relief, but nothing comes. I knew she was alive. Some part of me always knew. I didn’t go wander the swamp thinking I’d find her bones. I didn’t sit under the tree where we left her to mourn her each evening. Maybe some fucked up part of me was waiting for her to return, to tell me I had it all wrong or at least explain herself. It wasn’t something rational. Of course she’s not going to go back to the place we tried to kill her. She’s not me. But some unconscious part of my mind must have been waiting for that. An explanation as to how she could do that. How she could have fooled me so hard. Something to convince me she wasn’t like all the other Darlings. But she is. She played me, she took her punishment, and she moved on with some other guy. And now, she’s trying to destroy me for what I did to her. She knows me so well that she knows even after what I did, I can’t let her go. She knows she still has claws in me, and she’s going to make me pay until she drives me over the edge.

I tried to kill her, but she’s the one who will succeed. She’ll keep going until I’m dead. Then she’ll be satisfied. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think she filmed that,” Gloria says, looking at me with something way too fucking close to pity. “That’s obvious. The guy is holding the phone,” Duke says, gesturing to the thumbnail left once Baron rejects the prompt to put in another thousand to keep watching. “I meant, that’s a dude’s homemade porn,” Lo says. “Not a girl’s.” I narrow my eyes at her. “What, you make porn now? Since when are you the expert?” “No,” she says slowly. “Stop being a dick and I might tell you.” I cross my arms and glare down at her. “Explain.” “I’m just saying, a dude’s going to get all up close and personal with the act of penetration. Like that.” She gestures to the screen. “If it was Harper trying to make you eat your heart out, she’d give you something less crude than a closeup shot of her lady business. She’d give you her face, some inviting smiles or come-hither looks. She’d drive you crazy, make you wonder if she’d go through with it before she got to the killing blow. She’d want you to see her face when he put it in.” “Dude, you’re evil,” Duke says, pushing her away. Gloria grins like he just gave her the highest compliment and takes a swig of beer. “There’s plenty of tease in the live video,” I say. “He’s rubbing his dick all over her. And she’d never show her face. She’s more obsessed with college than you are.” “I stand by my reasoning,” she says. “Even if she wasn’t showing her face, she’d still tease. She’d undress for the camera, touch herself, let you see her climbing on the dude. This is just fucking.” “That’s the good stuff,” Duke points out. “See?” Gloria gestures to him, widening her eyes at me. “I rest my case.” “Or maybe she’s not making porn for you, Lo,” Baron argues. “Maybe she’s a pro and knows what guys like.” “Hm, I doubt it,” Gloria says. “I mean, I suppose it’s possible. But I’m willing to bet a guy is behind that screen name.” “You need to leave,” I say. She’s probably right, but I need to talk to my brothers now, figure out a game plan. I know what they’ll say already, though. The problem was taken care of. She didn’t die, but she kept her mouth shut. It doesn’t matter where she is or what happened to her as long as she didn’t go to the cops or make trouble for our family. It’s fine. She disappeared just like Mabel. She’s gone. That’s what we wanted, after all. “Walk me home,” Lo says. “And I’ll go quietly.” I grit my teeth, but she just sips her beer and waits. I yank the bottle out of her hand and shove it at Duke. “Let’s go.” I grab her by the back of the neck and haul her out of there. I’d let her walk her ass home on her own if I trusted her not to lurk and snoop.

 She’s worse than Harper when she gets something in her head. When we step out into the baking August heat, I give her a little shove toward her house. “This is the last time I’m walking you home,” I snap. “Fine,” she says. “I knew it would be.” For a minute, we stalk along beside each other, neither of us speaking. “You told her, didn’t you?” I ask at last. “Told who what?” “Don’t fucking bullshit me, Lo,” I say. “She knew, and there’s only one person who could have told her.” Gloria’s eyes widen, and she visibly gulps. “I…” “Don’t,” I snap. “I don’t want any excuse. I just want to hear you say it.” “I’m sorry,” she blurts. We stop at the end of her driveway. She stares up at me with her big blue eyes shiny with crocodile tears. Fuck her. She doesn’t get to cry about fucking betraying me, trying to make me feel bad. I have to ball my hands into fists so I don’t reach out and choke the shit out of her. “Say it.” “I didn’t mean to,” she wails, a tear spilling down her cheek. I hold up a hand. “I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth except a confession,” I say. “So until you have that, don’t speak to me. Don’t text or call. And don’t let me see you in my fucking house.

My brothers are too good for your conniving, low-class, fake-ass family.” I hit her where it hurts—her family’s financial situation. She’s not the only one who knows secrets. I know they’re all on scholarship because they can’t afford Georgia State. Hell, Dad sponsored their scholarships last year. I know that everything about them is as fake as the manicured lawn and custom landscaping outside the house they inherited from an uncle because they were destitute. Gloria swallows and wipes her tears away, squaring her shoulders and facing me like the tough chick she is and not the sniveling little bitch she plays to get sympathy. “I told her,” she says. Her voice is weak, barely above a whisper. But I respect her for having the decency to say it to my face. “I know,” I say. “And now you can be dead to me, too.” turning on my heels, leaving her standing at the bottom of her driveway, strolling back to ours, the sun beating on the pavement. 

The phone in my breast pocket starts to vibrate. Pulling it out and answering "Walker '' I snap at the person on the other end " Hello.. Mr. Walker.. it's Ann, the property manager over at 217 Lancaster Drive” Shit right, I'd forgotten about her house i haven't been there in weeks. “ Yes, apologies, what can I do for you Ann?” i heard shuffling on the other end of the line “ I need to make an alteration to the grocery order, most of the produce and meats have gone bad” not really caring at this point “Yes of course do what you need to do, i'll be by in a little while” 

More shuffling over the phone, “Good sir, very good, it'll do the young lady here some good to have some company” I stopped in my tracks “What young lady Ann?” but she had already hung up the phone. Racing back to my driveway, I hop in my Range Rover and take off like a bat out of hell to find out who in the hell she was talking about.

Harper’s POV

 I looked back over my shoulder at the prestigious façade of the CIA one last time before climbing into Mr. D’s truck. It feels surreal in a different way from when I’d walk in August’s world. Now, it just seems unreal altogether, like coming back for a ten-year reunion, a different girl in a different decade than the one I was when I went here. No one else has been here since the evacuation. I just had to talk to the admin, who are here getting ready for everyone to return. Even though most of the surrounding buildings have been cleared to go back to work, our building  doesn't return until the first of September, so there was no chance of running into anyone I know. I pull up onto the side of the road in front of my house, since Ann’s car is in the driveway. She’s halfway out the front door, struggling to haul a mountain of grocery bags inside with both hands.

I hop down and go to help her drag the haul inside. “What’s the occasion?” I ask. “Are you having a party?” She stands up and flicks her hair out of her eyes, leaning a palm on the edge of the counter and surveying me. “I didn’t buy all this,” she says. “ My employer had it delivered” She laughs as I shrug and start putting away groceries. If Mr. D wants to feed me even though I didn’t return his truck, I’m not about to complain. The bags are full of stuff I’d never buy—instead of discount hamburger, there’s steak; instead of instant rice, it’s quinoa; instead of canned green beans there are bags of fresh vegetables I never ate before living with Mr. D and sure as fuck don’t know how to cook. What do people even do with artichokes? When I’m done putting stuff up, I head back out to grab the packet of stuff the admin gave me to look over and fill out. I’m not motivated the way I used to be, when I wanted to leave Georgia, but it’s as if I’m coming out                                           of shock. My brain is still moving slow, processing things in a disjointed way. Which explains why I’m three steps out the front door before I see what’s waiting for me. My heart stops in my chest.

August Walker is standing by the Escalade.

 My brain balks for a second, as if it can’t comprehend this vision out of my worst nightmare and fit it into reality. Instinct tells me to turn and run back into my house, to slam and lock the door, to crawl back into the bed that I never should have left. He’s here. Everything I did was for nothing. Mr. D was never going to risk showing his face to the world to expose the Walkers. He just sat there in his apartment with me all summer, doing nothing. I should have known August was untouchable. I should have known the Darlings had already lost. I should have known I was the only loser left in the game. But here’s the thing about someone taking everything you own—your body, your soul—and destroying even the darkest, most hidden parts of it. There’s nothing left for them to break. So I don’t run back in the house. Because fuck August Walker. Fuck them all. I’ll drive over him if he tries to stop me. I march straight up to the truck, the muddy splatters on the sides somehow endearing instead of sloppy. 

August just stands there watching me approach, his expression almost wary, like I’m some demon risen from the dead after he watched the life drain out of me with his own eyes.

I suppose I am. “What’s the matter, never seen a girl in a truck before?” I ask as I unlock the door with the fob. “Or do you think I’m a ghost?” “Why the fuck are you in that truck?” he asks. “Maybe it’s mine,” I say. “A whore needs her wheels.” “That’s not your truck,” he says, glaring at me from hollowed out eyes with shadows under them, like he hasn’t slept in days. “What, you know every vehicle in Georgia?” “I know every Darling’s vehicle,” he counters. “And why are you dressed like… That?” His gaze travels down my body, and I have to fight the urge to cover myself, though there’s nothing sexual in his look. It’s an examination, as detached as Baron’s assessing gaze. I was just going to get something from the back seat, but I know I won’t be able to walk back inside and act normal. Not when he’s here, when he can find me so easily, come back for me. I might act tough, but inside… The screams I can’t force out in my nightmares are playing on repeat, the time loop I never visit spinning at breakneck speed. I need to feel bigger, more in control, to have something solid to hold onto.

 I climb up into the high seat, so I’m taller and surrounded by steel, and I turn to face him. “What’s this about, August? You’re afraid that since I lived after you tried to kill me, again, that there’s a witness to what you did? Don’t worry, even if I went to the cops, I’m sure your brothers and the rest of Georgia States’s football team  would back them up and say they didn’t rape me that night.” “What are you talking about?” August demands, stepping toward the open door of the truck. My entire being recoils, and my heart beats once, so hard I have to press my fist to my chest to keep from crying out. He stops, watching me with that dark, brooding gaze. I force myself to speak like I’m not smothering on the air itself. “Even if I filed a report, and could afford a lawyer, who do you think a jury would believe?” I ask quietly. “One whore from the bad side of town, or the entire football team full of golden boys from Georgia State?” His jaw clenches, and he rests a hand on the open door. It’s not a threatening pose, but all I can think is that I can’t close the door now. I’m trapped. 

My body is screaming at me to scramble across the seat, jump out the far door, and run until my heart explodes. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. “It wasn’t the whole football team,” he says, his voice low, a stitch between his brows like he’s genuinely confused. “You know that. You rode in the car with us. It was just the twins.” “Until you left,” I whisper, wishing I’d never engaged, that I’d turn and run the other way when I saw him waiting at the truck. We stare at each other for a long moment, and the rest of the world seems to fall away—the buzz of crickets, the stifling afternoon heat, the smell of exhaust and baked asphalt. “Harper…” August says at last. His eyes, his voice, are so full of the pain that always got to me. I thought it made us kindred spirits, that we were both battling some inner darkness. Now I know the truth. Nothing can help him. His evil knows no bounds. I’m not the demon. He’s the demon, the one who possessed me and stole my soul, leaving nothing behind. I’m the empty shell of a girl, all that’s left after the demon gets what it wants and moves on to the next victim. “No,” I hissed, turning to kick his arm off the door.

I put all the force I can behind it, and he actually winces, rubbing his arm as I reach for the door handle. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’re a sick, broken man, and now I’m broken, too. I will never recover from what you did to me. You don’t get to make yourself feel better about it now.” I slam the door in his face and fumble the keys into the ignition, my heart racing and my hands shaking so hard it takes three tries to get the truck started. I don’t look to see if he’s clear of the vehicle. I slam on the gas, and it lurches forward, powerful and dangerous. It’s not enough, though. I’m like August in his big, bulked up body with his little shattered soul hiding inside. I still feel small and helpless inside the huge monster. I’ll never feel safe again. When I get to Mr. D’s, I sit in the garage and punch the steering wheel until my knuckles bleed, and for the first time since it happened, I let myself cry. 

[siriusist]

Jess, returning with the iconic line: Who should I address this to? The blonde dick at Yale?

Also Jess, topping it two minutes later: WhY DiD YoU DroP oUt of YaLE???!?

[fearsomeandwretched]

"You should send me a copy."

"And where do I send it? The blonde dick at Yale?"

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

I have… so many issues with the revival but it was perfect that Jess was the one to give her the idea to write a book. They had such a profound impact on each other. If only they had gotten back together after he got his shit together and she ditched the blonde dick at Yale 🥲

I really tried so hard to come at it with a new lens and fresher eyes lol. I will say the recurring theme of Jess helping Rory get back on track and the two of them mutually believing in one another’s inherent goodness and success in life is 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

[girlsloveamystery]

Jughead Jones sat across the street from the blonde-haired beauty, watching as she laughed at something Kevin said. He was loathe to even know Kevin’s name but during the timeframe of studying the blonde – Betty Cooper – Jughead had learned about all of her friends. The redheaded quarterback home from college for the summer, Archie Andrews and his girlfriend, Veronica Lodge. The two were Betty’s closest friends. Jughead learned that Betty’s favorite color was periwinkle blue and liked eating sundried tomatoes but not sliced carrots. She wrote with her right hand but did everything else with her left. She had startling green irises and hair the color of honey.

Her mother was a neurotic woman who calorie counted and smacked Betty a time or two if she brought home anything less than A. Betty was valedictorian her senior year and was taking some local classes at the community college while saving to go up to Yale. She had an older brother and an older sister, Polly, and Charles. She was scared of heights and hated the color pink. He had more but those were the basics. He and his best friend, Sweet Pea Connor spent the last three months learning everything there was to about Betty Cooper.

Why, some would dare to ask. And the answer to that question was simple: they wanted to know the girl they were kidnapping. Back up and rewind, right? The next brave person would dare to ask why they were kidnapping America’s Sweetheart. Well, Hal Cooper, her father, borrowed some money from FP Jones, a dick of a man. And the idiot didn’t pay him back. He borrowed money and then lost it all again. Hal had a gambling addiction.

[ajoytobeheld]

New Haven

October 13th, 2010

Today we are in New Haven, CT

I am currently logged onto the internet network known as YaleGuest and I feel like a imposter. Lets face it kids, I was never going to make it to Yale (for starters its too far away from Cardiff) but I can wonder around the campus with the Jean Paul Satre gift someone foolishly gave me and pretend for a while cant I? I wont ever read Satre, i know my limits, but  I figure intelligence works like osmosis, the knowledge from the other students and the book will collectively seep through my pores, into my brain and give me the ability to wax lyrical about all things post (modernism, structuralism, anarcism, secret etc)

Anyway, tour continues to chug along nicely with a lovely couple of days being spent in Philadelphia in which we went to the indoor food market, The Mutter Museum (conjoined twins in jars!) and saw Perfume Genius in a tiny chapel framed by thunder and lightning.

We performed in Johnny Brenda’s on a incredibly impractical stage and my increasingly chirpy mood was nearly threatened by a man shouting out “You looked better when you were Blonde!” at me whilst I was tuning up. I thought about explaining to him that blonde hair was really expensive and hard to upkeep but i figured that would be a really long retort so i settled with “I liked you better when you had hair,” because he was bald.

This was cheap a shot and didn’t even make much sense because we had never met before, but I had to say something to combat the fact he thought his comment was an okay thing to shout at me.

I continued tuning up and he added “your still hot though,” so I felt better about pointing out the fact he was bald.

He did try and buy me a drink afterwards to apologize, but he still seemed confused as to why I didn’t appreciate his commentary on my evolving style. Whilst I do not care whether this man preferred having masturbatory fantasies over me when I had bleach in my hair, I still get slightly thrown by such a comment, I am as insecure as the next person and sometimes I am not in the mood for that kind of rudeness (especially before a show).

I liked being blonde, I like being a brunette but I do my hair for myself, not for anyone else (apart from maybe Tyra Banks if I was on ANTM) and just because I am on a elevated platform in front of you (that stage was really high) does not mean you have more of a right to shout something negative at me.

Dick.

Rant over, anger out, now I can concentrate on happier things like new episodes of HIMYM

Anyway below is some pictures of some stuff from the last couple of days, including us on a bus, hope everyone is okay and that

Ellen x

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Literati: Jess with a huge smile on face when the kiss ends

"What is with that smug face?" Rory asks, laughing a little.

"I feel like I'm allowed to be a little smug," Jess tells her.

"Jess."

"You kissed me and the blond dick from Yale is standing right behind you," he smirks.

"Jess!"

"I'm gonna kiss you again," he tells her. "Not because he's standing there looking like somebody stole his favorite toy. But because I want to. Yea or nay?"

Rory struggles for a moment, trying not to smile. "Yea."

[hrwinter]

How about one where Kara turning the tables by flexing her biceps/showing off her back muscles and abs

Lena’s never cared much for tennis. Her family owns some billion dollar thing-or-other, but she hasn’t ever actually made a public appearance or attended a match. Despite her last name being inked on every bright yellow ball, a classic, universally recognizable ‘L,’ Lena’s historically been more invested in completing her engineering PhD. And decidedly less interested in sunlight and hand eye coordination. She does just fine pouring a martini, thank you.

��Lena, you simply must come,” her brother begs one sunny afternoon. They’re lounging poolside at their vacation home for spring break.

“It’s the semi-final of the National City Open. We’re invited to sit in Sara Lance’s box seats, and she’s playing a local.”

Lena shoots her brother a sidelong, maligned glaze. She lifts her scientific journal back up.

“Remind me why we’re sitting in the Swede’s box? Isn’t that a touch anti-American?”

Lex leans across his pool chaise, and Lena blocks his appealing face by turning the page.

“I’ll get you all the RumChata champagne you want. There’s a whole tent.”

Lena’s magazine stays up. She reads the same sentence 8 times.

“Fine, bottle service, a whole booth,” he raises.

Lena hates it when Lex gets this way, she can never say no.

She looks up. “It’s not far from here?”

“Twenty minutes,” he endears, eyes rounded and hopeful.

Lena groans, shutting her journal.

—

The jubilant air of anticipation before the match is more exciting than Lena will ever admit, dead or alive. The massive stadium is filled with a chatter of all stages of inebriation, both quiet and loud. Lance has three other celebrities in her box (she’s a popular player) and even Lena knows who two of them are, which is impressive given the “hobbit cave” Lena lives in at MIT.

“Seriously, I worry about your vitamin-D levels,” Lex mocks, but Lex doesn’t know dick-all about Vitamin D, or any vitamin for that matter. His primary study at Yale was pretty girls.

Currently, her brother is sucking down a strawberry laden glass of Moet & Chandon at the speed of light while charming the Princess of Morocco or whoever.

Lena rolls her eyes, glancing back to the court, adjusting her blocky sunglasses. She’s reaching the first stages of uncomfortably warm, the slight flop sweat forming at her brow under her wide brimmed sun hat most unwelcome. If she gets a sun burn, she’s going to flay Lex alive.

Maybe wearing all black was a mistake.

“Are we going to a wake?” he’d asked before they left. “Are you trying to suck all the light out of the desert?”

If only.

Down on the court, the players do a coin toss and begin to warm up. Lena hasn’t really taken a proper look at Lance’s opponent. It’s another crisply tan, All-American looking blonde. Lena dismisses her as fairly run-of-the-mill until she notices that the player is taller than Lance, taller even than she looked in the match guide. Six feet, maybe? She’s perfectly toned, too. Well-muscled. An honest to god Amazon.

Those arms, Lena thinks, they’re bulky. She can see the line of muscle across her shoulders ripple as she takes her ground strokes. She hits so hard, the ball strikes the strings in a whip crack, and there’s an answering flush in Lena’s body that has nothing to do with the sun.

She misses her drink straw entirely when she goes to take a sip, mouthing at thin air.

“Distracted, are we?”

Lena nearly jumps as her brother presses his face conspiratorially to hers.

“Shut up,” she replies in her imitation best of cool reserve, not taking her eyes off the other player.

She doesn’t need to see the smirk on his face to know it’s there.

Feeling suddenly and infinitely more invested, Lena does some quick research on her phone. How is the game played? How do you win? What’s this player’s name?

Kara Danvers. 22. Up and coming. Won junior Wimbledon. Single.

The only thing more impressive than her serve, apparently, is her thousand watt smile. Her teeth are the blinding white of a tooth paste commercial model.

When the match starts, Lena can’t tear her eyes away. She sits in a monk-like silence. A meditation on the beauty of movement, if you will. Kara breaks Lance’s serve, takes an early lead. She’s about to close out the set.

Lena’s learning all kinds of jargon. Who knew tennis could be interesting?

At the changeover, Lena stows her sunglasses and makes Lex go get more alcohol, preferably a vat of vodka brewed in a bucket of ice. When he’s gone, she notices Kara standing rather than sitting at her bench. She’s facing Lance’s box, too, instead of her own, and her eyes connect with Lena’s. Even at the short distance, Lena can see the baby blue of her irises, clear as the desert sky. She’s soaked in sweat, downright glistening, and Lena watches her throat bob as she drinks from a water bottle. Kara plants one hand on her hip, and Lena swears she flexes her bicep. Lena’s traitorous eyes track the movement, and when Kara drops the bottle, she has the absolute nerve to smile.

Lena finds herself clapping for the wrong player not two games later.

“At least, try to give the barest impression you’re cheering for Lance,” Lex chides in a whisper. “Or we’re never getting invited back again.”

Lena doesn’t care.

In the next round, Kara does something similarly soul destroying at the baseline. While waiting on a challenged call, she glances at Lena and pulls her shirt up to wipe her face, not breaking eye contact. It grants full view of what are positively mystical abs. Her obliques. Words for other anatomy that are entirely forgotten.

Lena’s brain goes into an early dementia. Lex belts out a full on laugh.

Lena becomes extremely intoxicated during the next forty-five minutes, in more ways than one, while Kara Danvers makes short work of Lance. During the post win, on court interview, she’s humble and appreciative, though honestly it’s a miracle that Lena can hear anything at all through the haze of her seismic attraction and the absolute roar of the crowd.

They clamber over each other in a craze to get at the signed balls Kara launches into the stadium. For the last ball, however, she aims directly for Lena in Lance’s box.

It has to be a massive social faux pas to do this in Lance’s box, but that doesn’t stop Lena from reaching out, anyway. She surprises even herself by snatching the ball out of the air with one out-stretched hand. She hasn’t caught a ball since second grade.

She turns it over in her palm to find a phone number and a quickly sharpied heart.

Fuck.

“God, I hope this makes the match highlights,” Lex looks down at the ball with glee. “Mother is going to kill us.”

[missroller15]

i saw your literati taylor swift connections (which i loved!) and one of my fav songs for them though it’s not taylor swift is this town by niall horan.

Yesterday I thought I saw your shadow running round/It's funny how things never change in this old town/So far from the stars- this old town? stars? you mean stars hollow niall??

And I want to tell you everything/The words I never got to say the first time around/And I remember everything/From when we were the children playing in this fairground- okay jess tells rory he loves her in like the town square ish place where the winter festival takes place (fairground) and he never told her during their relationship

I saw that you moved on with someone new/In the pub that we met he's got his arms around you- literally the fight in the bar with blonde dick from yale and rory and jess

and finally the chorus which literally makes me cry-

Because if the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you/ Drive highways and byways to be there with you/You still make me nervous when you walk in the room/Them butterflies they come alive when I'm next to you- drive highways and byways is the infamous car ride for ice cream and rory going to new york to see jess. the butterflies set apart literati from the other ships

Over and over the only truth/Everything comes back to you- 😭😭 doesn’t it always come back to them???

help the brainrot is contagious

STOP IM SCREAMING YESYESYESYESYES

This Town 100% reminds me of literati, I will literally play it sometimes b/c it reminds me of them. 😭

The connections you made are so true!!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

You still make me nervous when you walk in the room, them butterflies they come alive when I’m next to you - This. This makes me dkdjdksndmszmsm aka malfunction b/c the fact that Jess was the only boyfriend of her’s to actually get nervous and lose his “cool” around her really did set them apart too. 😭

The first one you made I never thought about, with the stars line and stars hollow, that one is good ugh. A few lines from Niall’s song ‘No Judgement’ reminds of them too- like the lines:

When you’re with me, no judgement / You can get that from everyone else - Rory’s POV of Jess b/c she was one of the only people to see his potential and not just everyone’s immediate judgement of him.

You don’t have to prove nothing / You can just be yourself - This matched to me b/c Rory always felt the most openly herself with him and didn’t have to accommodate as much (like *cough* Dean *cough*) or change herself so she could be chosen (*cough* like with Logan *cough*)

Now, I’m gonna spend the next week analyzing Taylor AND Niall for connections. Thank you very much!!! <3

[stephsxcorner]

“ Where do I send it? The blonde dick at Yale?”

[country-club]

Games #4

#1/#2/#3

*Gif not mine* Wordcount: 2.456 (oops) Warnings: drinking

> In which you go swimming with the Pogues

It has been a couple of days since you’ve been out, either with Rafe or Sarah. You had been focusing on picking the right college, you had been accepted in a few colleges in North Carolina. The plan was for you to go to Yale next year. Connecticut wouldn’t have been such a long drive from your hometown. However, it is a 10-hour drive from Outer Banks. And that means living on campus. You hadn’t yet received a letter from Yale. Maybe it got lost in the mail or sent to your old address? Could be. You weren’t sure where you wanted to go, but Yale was not your main focus, it was your stepdad’s plan and your mom agreed that it would be great. Even if it meant barely seeing you and probably paying double to study out of state. You had already written rejection letters to almost every college you got into so far, except for Duke University, just in case you didn’t get into Yale. Duke was a 4-hour drive, but at least you didn’t have to move to another state.

“Y/n?” You heard a girl’s voice, along with a knock on your door.

“Yes?” The door opened and Sarah stepped inside. You greeted her.

“Your dad let me in.” Sarah took a look around your room. “I like your room.”

You thanked her and got up. “What can I do for you?” Sarah grinned at you.

“The Pogues are going for a swim, want to accompany me?”

“Let me put on some proper swimwear.” It was nice outside, the sky is clear and the sun is hot. You put on a swimsuit, a dress and slippers. “All right, let’s a go.” Sarah and you biked to the cut, where the boys and Kiara were already waiting on you on John B’s boat. You parked your bikes and sprinted over to the boys.

“Good to see you again, y/n.” JJ smiled as he reached you his hand to help you on the boat.

“Ditto!” You took his hand and got in. Sarah hopped in as well. Everybody sattled down and John B started the boat.

“How have you been?” Pope asked you.

“I’m alright. My stepdad’s trying to get me to look for a dorm room.”

“Moving out already?” JJ asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

“If there’s any chance I’m getting into Yale, but I doubt it.” You kicked your feet around. “I don’t even want to go to Connecticut.”

“Impressive, Yale is definitely a Kook place.” Pope laughed at you. “Did you skip a grade or something?” You nodded.

“4th grade, plus I’m almost 17 so-“

“So you’re gonna throw a huge party to celebrate?” John B looked proudly, stopping the boat in the middle of nowhere.

“Perhaps.” You kind of wanted to change the subject. “Anyways, it’s summer so no time to think about school.” You laughed, taking of your dress, kicking off your slippers and jumping into the water. Very spontaneous.

“Damn right.” Kiara followed your lead and jumped in as well. The rest followed, while John B threw out the anchor.

The six of you dicked around in the water. The water was cold to your skin. After a while you climbed back onto the boat, tying your wet hair out of your face. You wrapped your towel around your shoulders, sitting down in the boat. You watched as Sarah wrapped her legs around John B’s waist, who struggled not to drown. The boat started hanging to one side, startling you. JJ climbed up the boat, his wet abs looking glorious with the sunlight reflecting on them.

“Y/n! Stop drooling!” Kiara yelled, holding on to the side of the boat. You reached out for her hand and helped her inside.

“I was not.” Kiara winked at you, knowing fully well you were checking JJ out. You rolled your eyes at her, though you must admit; you had fun with JJ a couple of nights ago.

John B, Pope and Sarah climbed on the boat and sat down. You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked over to see JJ offer you a beer, which you took. You thanked him and opened the can. Sarah put on some music. Kiara stood up, pulling John B up with her to dance. The other boys got up as well and soon Sarah followed, dragging you on your feet as well. The boat was swaying around, and beer was spilling. Sarah took your hands and spun you around, which led to you bumping into JJ. You apologized to the boy, who just laughed it off and tried to dance with you. You must admit, he looked really handsome.

“You’re doing it again, Y/n.” Sarah whispered. “You know you can just talk to him, JJ doesn’t bite.” You shook your head and sat down.

“Guys I’m feeling like food.” JJ announced.

“You’re hungry, JJ.” Pope looked disappointed at the blonde boy. However, everybody agreed with his statement and John B started the boat again, heading back to the cut. You picked up some pizza and more booze, as you were running short on beer. You spent the evening at John B’s place, eating pizza in hammocks and getting to know more about the Pogues. Pope told you about his future plans and wanting to go to college, so you had that in common. After a couple of drinks, Pope also told you he’s got a thing for Kiara. You acted like you wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t told you. You knew.

It’s 10pm, seeing how it’s Friday and it is summer, you figured your parents wouldn’t mind you staying out. You texted your mom to let you know just in case.

JJ came up with the idea of playing truth or drink. Which turned into truth or dare and drink. You had to start. So just to be save and out of interest, you asked Sarah what the last movie is she watched. She looked at John B, who whisperd something in her ear.

“Right, The Edge of Seventeen.” She says. “I would hate to be in her shoes and having your best friend dating your brother.” Sarah eyed Kiara.

“As if I would ever want to be with your brother!” She exclaimed. They’re talking about Rafe. You somehow could imagine yourself being with Rafe.

“Hmm, JJ, who’s the last girl you slept with?” Sarah asked. That went from 0 to 100 real quick. JJ grabbed a bottle and opened the cap.

“You know he doesn’t remember that shit.” John B laughed at his friend. You were confused, but before you could ask, JJ opened his mouth.

“That, or, I just respect Tourons enough not to brag about them to my friends.” Everybody burst into laughter. “Yeah, no, I was out of it.” JJ started laughing as well. You were looking at him, but immediately stared back to the ground once he made eye contact.

“So, JB, have you done it on the boat yet?” JJ playfully asked his friend. John B looked at Sarah and took the bottle from JJ.

“Kie, fuck, marry, kiss, the Pogues.” John B said after swallowing the shot. Sarah shot her boy a look.

Kiara rolled her eyes and sighed. “I guess I’ll fuck JJ, marry Pope and kill you.”

“Hey I said kiss, not kill.” John B said, offended.

“I know.” Kiara looked very pleased. She then turned to face you. “What was your first kiss like, Y/n?”

You felt the redness on your cheeks. It was very embarrassing. You reached for the bottle and got booed by JJ. You looked up at him, took a shot and opened you mouth. “I was very much under the influence of alcohol and luckily don’t remember much of the embarrassment that is called my first kiss.” It was quiet for a second. “Anyhow, Pope; what is the biggest lie you have ever told your parents?” You managed to change the subject.

Truth or drink only lasted for a couple of rounds. Things escalated as time went by and you were laying in the hammock with Sarah and Kiara, watching the boys show off. You joined Sarah and Kiara, who were talking about the hatching of the turtles. Sarah asked if you would join them once they would hatch. Of course you would. You were interrupted by John B, who had a fabulous idea to continue your game of truth or whatever you were currently playing.

“So, everybody has to stand on one leg and the person who loses first has to do 5 shots, the next 4, the one after that 3 and so on.”

And on that note, you were all standing in a circle on one leg like a bunch of flamingos. With you all being very tipsy and wobbly, the game didn’t last long. Pope was first to drop, you were next. The two of you shared the bottle and played jury. Kiara and Sarah were the last left standing, opposite of each other. They were desperately trying to get the other to drop. Sarah tried blowing Kiara’s way, which made everyone laugh and Kiara drop. You handed the bottle over to JJ.

“What’d I win?” Sarah asked happily.

“Me.” John B said, before lifting Sarah up off the ground and placing his lips on her.

“Get a room!” JJ yelled at the couple.

“We will once you fuck off.” John B replied. JJ laughed it off. Sarah struggled to get out of John B’s grip and walked over to you once she did.

“Hey, y/n, I think I’m going to stay at John B’s tonight, will you be okay on your own?” You nodded, reassured her you’ll be alright and told her to have fun.

“Can we at least finish this bottle?” JJ asked, taking another shot. John B waved to JJ, before heading inside. Kiara decided to head home, rejecting Pope’s offer to walk with her. The three of you hang around for a while. It was mainly you and JJ who emptied the bottle. The alcohol really started to kick in and everything felt 10 times more funny than usual. You weren’t usually a clingy drunk, but JJ’s shoulders were very inviting. So, you rest your head on them. Pope got up, needing to take a piss. JJ looked over his shoulder to make sure Pope was out of sight.

“I got another truth for you.” Your eyes met. “Do you want to kiss me?” You must have had too much to drink. Who asks such a thing?

“I’ll drink.” You decided. You wanted to but you barely knew him and didn’t want to ruin your awesome summer.

JJ held the bottle upside down. “You’ve already had a couple.”

You bit your lip and looked away. You felt JJ’s finger under your chin and turned you head back. “I, I really –“ You were cut off by Pope, asking you if you were ready to head home. You told him you were coming. “I would really like to hang out with you sometime.” You said, standing up. JJ pulled himself up as well.

“Sounds good.” He smiled. You pulled him in for a hug and kissed his cheek. Drunk kissing isn’t really your thing. It’s sloppy, tastes disgusting and you barely have control over what you’re doing.

Pope’s place was on your way home. He was riding your bike, you on the back. “Sure you don’t want me to tag along?” He offered.

“You’re too nice Pope. I’ll see you around.” You gave him a hug and went on your way.

You were swinging over the road and didn’t see that sharp anymore. Suddenly your shadow became very long and dark. You heard a car from behind you and decided to scoot over to the side. The car slowed down and drove next to you. Maybe you should have asked Pope to drop you off. This is why you don’t go out alone at night because some creep-

“Y/n? Why are you alone?” Rafe rolled his window down. You stopped biking and stepped of.

“Nice to see you too.” You leaned against the car, trying not to trip over your own legs. You were dizzy and tired.

“This feels familiar. Get in, I’ll drop you off.” You tried to refuse at first, but you were longing for a bed and were a bit lost. Rafe put the backseats down and placed your bike in the car. He helped you with your seatbelt and sat down. “I’m guessing Sarah isn’t coming home for the night?”

“Nope.” You started playing with the radio. “Why are you so nice to me?”

Rafe was quiet. “Did you have fun?” You nodded, rolling down the window to stick your head out of it like a dog. “Dude you’re gonna get flies in your face.” Rafe tried not to yell at you.

You turned to face him. “Why are you out alone at night, you were stalking me weren’t you?”

“I was not, in fact, I was just picking up something from a friend.”

“Alone at night at the cut?”

“Yes.”

And it was quiet again. You didn’t understand this tall, broad, beautiful blue-eyed boy. There was this weird feeling in your stomach. You were hoping it wasn’t the alcohol acting crazy. Though butterflies didn’t sound great either. “Hey Rafe,”

“Yes, Y/n?” You noticed he was driving quite slowly. As if he wanted the conversation to last longer.

“what was your first kiss like?”

“It was fun, I guess.” You must have given him puppy eyes. He sighed and continued. “It was my first year of Kook academy and there was this girl who liked me, so we hung out, kissed and then she told everyone we were a thing. I didn’t really mind, I also wasn’t really into her.” He said. He sounded so pure and honest. Something you wouldn’t expect from someone like Rafe. Who is someone like Rafe? Kiara wouldn’t want anything to do with him and the Pogues said some bad words over the evening about him. Your eyes felt heavy.

Rafe must have been too focused on telling you the story, he didn’t notice you almost falling asleep. “Y/n? Can you get to bed yourself?” He asked as he pulled up on your driveway. “Y/n?”

You mumbled something that sounded like a ‘yes’, but he didn’t believe you. Instead he drove the car back to his place. “C’mon kid, let’s get you to a bed.” He helped you out of the car and inside his house. You enjoyed holding his arm and walked with him upstairs.

The last thing you remember is Rafe shushing you, you falling down on a bed and cocaine?

#5

Hey guys, thanks for reading and liking my stuff, means a lot to me. I also get extremely happy when you ask me to tag you so feel free to :3 Hope you dont mind this being a Rafe X reader / JJ x reader fic ~Taglist~ @emmalvei-blog @sunwardsss @julialucena5​ @popesscholarship​

[riversbeauties]

starter call !!!

Like this for a starter from blonde dick @ yale Logan Huntzberger from Gilmore Girls