oh please quick you are perfect

85. Wake up in the middle of the night and have sex. Then, go back to sleep.

Word Count: 1,166
Written by: @lovelynemesis

Originally posted by carpelunam

You were slowly roused out of sleep by a cool metal hand running up and down your bare thigh. You opened your eyes to see you were laying on your right side, facing the wall. You looked down to see Bucky’s hand softly massaging your thigh. You half rolled over and looked over your shoulder. Bucky smiled down at you where he was propped up on his right arm.

“How long have you been awake?” you asked him as you reached up your left arm and scratched the stubble on his face. He kissed your temple, “Not long. I’m sorry I woke you. I couldn’t help myself.” He looked sheepish, which made you chuckle. You both listened to the soft whirring sound his metal arm was making as he traced the edge of your panties with his fingers. He leaned down to your ear to whisper softly, “You just looked so soft and warm. Your shirt had ridden up, showing me a peak of your ass.” As he spoke, he kept tracing those fingers along your panty line across your left cheek and traveled down. You moaned lightly when his fingers dipped in between your thighs. You shifted your legs to give him more room. He pressed his fingers against your pussy through the lace.

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Caffeine (pt 9)

Originally posted by angel-in-slow-motion

Member: Exo Chen/Jongdae

Type: Smut/Fluff/Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to the side as he continued examining your features from across the table. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table as his brows wrinkled in scrutiny. You shifted in your chair, your eyes flickering from his to Jongdae in the kitchen to his elbows on the table to your own hands in your lap, trying to feel less awkward. It wasn’t working. 

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anonymous asked:

Fluffy headcanons about the boys adopting a puppy with their S/O? ;u;


Noctis likes dogs okay, even if he isn’t really used to them (beyond Umbra). So it’ll need some convincing and reassurances that you’ll find one you both can take care of  and both of you like.
He’ll be no help at all at the shelter beyond “I like that one” because it curled up in his lap and promptly went to sleep.
He’s not gonna want a big dog, but if you can find a pretty chill medium dog he’ll be happy, especially if it’s low maintenance, friendly and likes pats.
But once he learns to take care of the thing, he actually will do a good job. He’s got a calm sense of control that the dog seems to respond to and he doesn’t mind getting grotty when it wants to roll in the mud.
But walkies? Walkies are the best. But he’ll always feed it food from the table and let it into the bed. Always. They’re nap buddies now.

Prompto would go bonkers over the idea. Are you kidding? Getting a pupper together? Heck yeah! He’d happily go with you to the shelter and help you pick out the perfect pup. he’ll have a weakness with dogs with sad eyes but he’ll gladly go with a more energetic pupper.

And oh man, is he gonna spoil that dog. It’s gonna have some great toys, walkies like everyday AND THE PHOTOS. The dog will get it’s own picture album complete with costume pics and selfies with Prompto. Prom is gonna be a great dog wrangler, especially if the two of you play with it together, train it together and have puppy snuggles.

Gladio will want a young pup so he can help rear it properly. He’d rather a bigger dog over a small lap dog, something that can help protect you. But if you convince him, you can maybe get away with a loyal medium sized breed that trains well. Not a giant wolfhound. But if an older and wounded dog catches his heart, something brave and calm, he’s taking it home.

He’ll expect you to train the dog together and be consistent. He’ll be firm, but encouraging with you and the pupper and will happily take it on runs every morning. He’ll even help clean up the puke and little accidents if you don’t get to them first. But ultimately, he wants you to be happy and he wants the dog to be a companion to you while he’s gone. If it’s skittish being a rescue, he’ll be a good calming presence and will happily carry the dog in his arms to soothe it during storms.

Ignis prefers cats really but if your heart is set on a canine companion, he will be with you every step of the way. He’ll research breeds and training programs to help find the right match and will visit every shelter you want to to find you the perfect match. Iggy won’t mind an older and more sedate dog to take care of, so long as you feel confident you can manage it. 

He’ll help with upkeep and feeding and now and then treat it to a new toy and a nice relaxed walk. But be quick with the name unless you want your dog to have something ridiculous like “Ser Woulfinton Reginald the Third”. Oh also when you’re not looking, iggy will gladly wrestle with a smaller more playful pup. Take pictures. Please.

taekook fanfic rec #1

PLEASE feel free to recommend me any of your favorite BTS fanfics (any ship), because I will read them. Also, please let me know if you liked any of the stories I recommend!

IMPORTANT: All of the fics I rec will be on a scale of 8 to 10. (8- really good, happy I read it.  9- amazing, I loved it! 10- perfect, one of my favorites. [*]= top fave)

I hope you love the stories as much as I do! As always, happy reading~

1. Dating For Dummies

Summary: in which twitter is evil, jeon jeongguk is a bit tsundere, park jimin is satan and kim taehyung may or may not have a boyfriend.

Side Couples: Yoonmin, Namjin

Length: 12k words. Oneshot.

No warnings.

AU: Non-idol

Review: THIS WAS CUTE. And funny. And omg. It was a cute read, but the characterization was a little…off? You get over it pretty quick. I enjoyed it!

My Rating: 8.5/10

2. King of the Library, Knight of His Trade

Summary: Moral of the story? Don’t fuck with Jeon Jungkook or else you’ll end up ruining your perfect attendance to chase his coattails. 

Side couples: Suga x Jin (that’s a new one for me lol)

Length: 47.4k – 20 chapters (on Asian fanfic) (no chaps on ao3)


AU: College

Review: OH. MY. GOD. IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THIS PLEASE STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND READ. IT. RIGHT. NOW. Okay. Okay. I’m calm. This is probably my all-time fave Taekook fic or at least in the top 3. I stayed up till 3am to finish this amazing piece of perfection.

My Rating: 10/10

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Library Love - 1

Bucky x Reader :)

“Y/N ! Come on !”, my bestfriend Natasha whined, as I walked in between the huge bookshelves.

“Nat, you knew it would take time !” I hissed, giving her a glare.

Nat rolled her eyes at me, and pretended to browse through some book.

“So boring ! Can’t you just use the internet for your research ? This place is killing me !” Nat said, yawning.

“Natasha ! Im here to study !” I said, trying my best not to raise my voice.
“Why did you come in the first place?”

“I had nothing better to do!” Nat said, shrugging.

“Hm. You can go if you want, Nat” I said, pulling out the book I was looking for from the shelf. “I’ll be fine”

“Of course you will be” Nat said. “But Im not leaving without you”

“Alright ! Be quiet then” I said, walking towards one of the big benches in the middle of the room, my eyes fixed on the book.

“Y/N, watch out !”

Well, Nat was too late to inform me - I walked straight into something hard and fell back. I screwed my eyes shut at the impact, and felt a pair or arms around me, blocking my fall.

I opened my eyes and gasped.

“Oh God” Nat’s voice had a touch of relief in it.

“Are you alright ?”

That was a new voice. I looked at the man in front of me, who was holding me, a look of concern on his handsome face.

“I-” I stared at him.

Those blue eyes.

“Y/N” Nat’s voice brought me back to reality again.

Thats when I noticed that I held my book tightly against my chest with one hand, and my other hand was on his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt crumbled under my tight grip.

I quickly let go, blushing.

“Are you alright, Y/N ? ” He asked again. Thanks to Nat, he knew my name !

“Yes, Im fine. Thanks for, um, -” I said, feeling the heat rise to my face.

He smiled, and said, “You’re welcome”

I smiled back, almost fully smitten by his good looks.

Nat was on my side by now, her hand squeezing mine tightly.

“See you around then” I managed to say, wanting to escape from this situation.

“See you” He said, and with a nod to Nat, he walked off.

Just as he was out of our sight, Nat burst.

“What the HELL was that ?!” she said, eyes wide.

“What ?” I asked, sitting down on the bench.

“See you around ?” Nat asked.

“Its not like I will be seeing him or anything” I said, feeling a bit of regret in that.

“Exactly !” Nat said. “Did you see him?!”

I raised my eyebrows at her.

“You already have a boyfriend ! You shouldnt check out other guys ” I said, with a grin.

“I checked him out for you, moron!” Nat said, shaking her head. “I cant believe you let him leave like that !”

“What are you trying to say?” I asked, closing my book, and looking at her.

“You should have talked !” Nat said. “Asked for his number or something!”

“Sorry, no” I said, “I dont do that”

“Hence your single situation!” Nat scoffed.

“Hey, Im totally fine with being single!” I argued.

“No you’re not !” Nat shot back. “That guy was perfect ! Did you hear the way he said your name ?”

“Yes” Was all I could say. My name never actually felt that good. Hm.

“Well, good thing you have me as your bestfriend !” Nat announced, with a grin.

“No, I dont like the sound of that” I said, shaking my head. “ Nat, whatever you’re thinking - DON’T”

“Oh please” Nat said, giving me a bored look. “I wonder if hes gone… Just wait here!”

Nat was too quick for me. She sprinted across the room in split second, and I sat staring at the direction she ran.
And a certain dread came over me.

                                  * * *

“Nat please tell me you didnt do anything stupid” I said, sitting on my bed, feeling totally burdened.

“Y/N, for the hundredth time ! He wasnt there ! I didn’t meet him !” Nat said. “I swear !”

I nodded.

“I wish he told me his name” I wondered out loud.


Nat had a wild look on her as she said that.

                                * * *

I was at the library in my usual time, and I walked towards the librarian to return a book.

I almost lost my breath, seeing HIM standing there.

“Hey!” He said with a smile. “Y/N?”

“H-hi” I said, feeling a lump forming in my throat. “You work here ?”

“Only helping out Mrs.Christie” He said, with a smile.

“Oh, thats nice” I said. “How long have you been doing this ?”

“Well, I started last week” He said. “That same day”

“Oh…” I was so afraid if Nat had done something that I skipped coming to the library a whole week.

“Bucky” He said, taking the book from me.

“Hm ?”

“Bucky Barnes. My name” He said, his smile widening.

“Well, you know mine right ?
Y/N  Y/L/ N” I said, smiling back at him.

He laughed.

“Thanks to your friend” he said.

“Yep, thanks to her”

We met almost regularly after that. He was a very fun person to be with, and he was slowly creeping into my heart too. I was not ready to admit it to myself, even. Thats when Nat found out.

“I cant believe how primitive you two are !” She sighed. “You dont even have his number !”

“Stop it, Nat” I whined, trying to wrestle her out of my bed.

“Seriously, Y/N” She said. “You gotta woman up, and make a move ”

“Not happening” I said, shaking my head stubbornly.

Nat exhaled loudly, giving me a dirty look.

                              * * *
Over the next couple of days, I didnt have much time to talk to Bucky. As disappointing as it was, I had an assignment due that very Friday, and there was no way I could fall behind in it.

After a long day of reading and typing, I was finally ready to leave. I felt a sudden shiver, when I saw that library was almost completely empty - was everyone gone ?

I raced to the desk where Bucky usually worked, and let out a sigh of relief to see him sitting there.

Bucky looked up, and smiled.

“I thought I got locked in” I said, leaning against a bookshelf.

“Wont do that to you, now would I?” Bucky asked, with a grin. “Pretty busy these days, I see”

“College work” I said with a shrug. “Just too many assignments”

Bucky nodded understandingly.


TAGS !! @learisa , @axelinchen , @msdrmarvel
Connor McDavid #3

Anonymous said: Can you do a Connor mcdavid imagine where you’re his wife and you have 3 kids and you’ve been going to see the playoff games and after the wins you go see him and celebrate the victory at a restaurant where your kids are all happy and energetic!

A/N: all these kid imagines lately have me feeling some type of way (I LOVE KIDS) hope y’all liked it :)))

Word Count: 1,729

Originally posted by puckducky

“Who wants to go congratulate dad?” You questioned while clapping your hands and standing from your seat. You desperately needed to stretch your legs after sitting there for the past 60 minutes, nervously watching the game, despite the fact the Oilers had a 2-goal lead the whole time. One more win and they were Western Conference Champions.

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{ 15 June 2017 }

i am attempting to learn some complex analysis… for my own edification and, more pressingly (and perhaps more honestly) because it’s one topic that is really kicking my ass in math subject gre prep. anyway, my friend and i were just talking about this a couple weeks ago wrt how to remember the angle sum identities, so i thought it was funny that it popped up within the first few pages of this textbook (gamelin, if you’re curious)

oh, and just a real quick brag: i got perfect scores on my final exams in both differential equations and programming languages, AND i got the top score (over 100%, because there was an extra credit problem) on the final exam in topology, a class that was about half grad students. so!!! i’m pretty darn pleased!!! ya girl got straight A’s!!!!

anonymous asked:

Oh my god please write a drabble for ssh Oikawa in a dress if you have time it would be amazing

Okay, just a quick drabble! because I can’t resist this prompt
Also used @artsytigersol12​’s Oikawa dress design as reference because it’s perfect and I’m obsessed with it - hope you don’t mind! (´ ♡ `)ノ

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Daddy’s Good Girl -Stiles Stilinski smut (clue’s in the name)

- Okay, this is probably going to be a fail, but I tried, I promise, i hope it’s okay, anon…

Seriously, holy shit I need to go to my local church. Pretty sure this is also like the longest I’ve written? Yep, really need jesus here.

Request: HI HEY HI I really love your writing and was wondering if you could maybe write a stiles daddy kink smut where he catches you like touching yourself idkkkk but yeah if you could I really would love you forever

Warning: smut and daddy kink, so idk read at your own risk

Also, thank you for saying you love my writing, you made my day :)


With everything going on, you and your boyfriend Stiles hadn’t had lots of- let’s call it alone time. You hadn’t been out in a while, and even if you found yourselves alone somewhere, Scott was personally going to make sure you couldn’t do anything but talk. Meet your and Stiles’ best friend; Scott the-cock-block McCall. He was probably the only one unaware of his new nickname.

“No, don’t worry, we’re going on a date today, he totally won’t be anywhere near. We’re spending all night together,” Kira told you with a smile as you both made your way outside of school. Scott was going ot steal Stiles for a little bit to talk to Derek and Deaton, something about another supernatural disaster of course, but after that, you and Stiles could finally enjoy a night in together. You were all pretty exhausted so there was no way you would go out. Plus, the sheriff was on night duty, so you would have the night for yourself.

You weren’t entirely sure about Stiles, but you definitely wanted more than just a date tonight, after about seven months of dating and longer of knowing each other.

“Thanks so much Kira,” you smiled.

“No problem, I know exactly what he can be like,” she chuckled before pushing the doors open.

“Ladies,” Scott smiled as you reached the Jeep and bike. The boys were going to drive you to the place of your dates and then visit Deaton before they were yours for the whole night.

“I’m sorry about-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shook your head with a smile before closing the door to the jep and watching Scott and Kira drive off.

“You know it’s not just going to be a dinner tonight, right?” he asked before pulling out of the spot and then driving towards his house.

“It-it’s not?” you asked, trying with all you could to hide the relief in your voice.

“No, it’s not,” he reached over and squeezed your hand before resting his own on your knee. “So you’ll be a good girl, right?” he asked, looking over at you at a red light.

“Y-yes daddy,” you nodded, stopping yourself from doing anything else like biting your lip, knowing he wouldn’t like it.

“Good,” he smiled a little before putting his hand onto the wheel and perhaps speeding just a little bit to your house. “I’ll be here as soon as possible,” he told you before you’d get out and you only nodded. “And Y/n,” he stopped you form opening the door, making you turn back, “don’t touch yourself, wait for me, okay?” he told you sternly. You couldn’t help biting your lip at that and nodded. The thought of what was going to happen when he came back already filling you with pleasure.


“Okay what?” he asked with a smirk.

“Okay daddy,” you added and his smirk turned into a grin before he let you leave.

You rushed into the house turning back in the door to wave. Immediately, you leaned against the door, sighing out from the wave of emotions he made you feel. In the past, Stiles was his sarcastic self who joked all the time and you always had a good time with him, laughing a lot and constantly happy, but now. This was a new happiness. This was a pleasurable feeling coursing through your veins and you weren’t sure if you could wait for Stiles with nothing to do and nothing to take your mind off what he made you feel.

Nevertheless, you tried to make your way up to his room and threw your stuff down, closing his door behind you. The Sherrif was already at work, probably a double shift…

Only better for you, really.

You sighed out as you sat onto the bed, leaning back and pulling your phone out. You pulled up your texts in a second, knowing that you could ask for permission or just go ahead and pray he doesn’t find out.

You decided not to ask for permission and already slid your hand down your body, slipping it below your skirt and touching yourself over your underwear. You knew you shouldn’t have, but the fact that he wouldn’t even know and that you could still feel good, as well as the thought of what he would do if he cauht you turned you on beyond belief. You couldn’t help yourself.

At moments you tried to stop yourself, but what really helped to ocmpletely freeze was when the door slammed open and Stiles stood there, breathing hard as you clamped your legs shut and pulled yourhand out.

“H-hi,” you stuttered, scared of what he would do now. You’d never felt this way before. It was enticing.

“I told you not to do one thing,” he said, dropping his bag to the floor and shutting the door before leaning on the bed and climbing his way up to be face to face with you.

“I’m s-sorry,” you said as he grabbed the hand previously under your skirt and looking at your wetness on your fingers.

“Sorry what?” he asked, pulling an eyebrow up, still holding your hand by his face.

“I’m sorry daddy,” you whispered out and he smirked before placing your fingers into his mouth before pulling them out.

“Better,” he said once your hand was covered in his saliva instead of you.


“I think you should be punished, don’t you?” he asked as you swallowed, hard, before knowing you would have to nod. “Good,” he sighed out before pressing his lower half against yours, making you whine a little. “No, you can’t talk or make a noise,” he told you, so you had to hold back the next whine on it’s way. “Well done. And you’ll only cum when I say so, got it, sweetheart?” he asked in a whisper before pressing his lips to your neck and you nodded. “Good girl,” he whispered right into your ear before pressing a kiss to your lips before pushing his tongue into your mouth and starting to unbutton your shirt while your hands started to take a wander, pushing his usual plaid shirt down his shoulders before he allowed you to take them off fully before pushing at his tee shirt as well. He grinned before pushing your shirt down your shoulders and then off, not letting you take his own shirt off.

After staring at you for a few seconds, he launched his lips at yours again, encouraging you to mess with his now grown out hair and just go crazy, to just enjoy yourself.

So that’s exactly what you did.

“Daddy-” you gasped as his lips found your sweet spot and he let out a low moan at the sound.

“I said don’t talk,” he whispered, grinding his crotch into yours, the friction sending an exciting shiver up your spine as you arched your back, pressing your bra covered chest into his fully covered one, making him groan, pushing his hands behind your back and holding you close to him, his lips connecting to yours roughly, no argument for dominance as he unclasped your bra before lifintg his torso and pulling his shirt over his head as you threw the bra onto his shirts on the floor.

You couldn’t have him just lying on you, you needed friction. So you lifted your legs and linked your ankles behind his back and he chuckled before properly putting you down and grinding his hips onto yours before one of his hands carressed your sides and lifted your skirt up, his hand pressing down where yours was just minutes ago. He teased your core, making you bite your lip in the kiss to not make a sound, but you still had to push your chest into his, which made him groan himself before he unbottened and unzipped his jeans, yourself helping with pushing them down.

“I asked you not to touch yourself,” he said quietly, making him just that imidating, but you really couldn’t care anymore. You were so in need of his touch, anything. It was becoming ridiculous. “So why do the one thing I asked you not to do?” he asked, which you took as permission to talk.

“I need you,” you whispered, which he dind’t really take. “I needed you, but you weren’t here,” you whimpered as he slowly pulled your underwear down your legs and then pushed your legs apart, his breath hitting you lightly. “Oh my God,” you moaned. “Please daddy, I’m sorry, I need you, I’ll be a good girl,” you whined as his light breath hit your core in waves as he chuckled. “Daddy,” you moaned again, feeling yourself almost dripping.

“Only cum when I tell you to,” he said, looking at you as you nodded quick, hoping that agreeing would get you relief. It seems your prayers would be answered.

“Please,” you breathed out and that seemed to do it. His fingers were soon pleasuring you in all the perfect ways. You’d only gotten here once, and Stiles seemed to remember everything about it since all of his movements sent pleasure right around your body, making you moan and whine before he had pushed his own underwear down, slipped on a condom and entered. From then on, both of you were gone. The room was filled ot the brim with your moans, the slapping of skin and the heavy breaths and words you exchanged. This wasn’t your first time and Stiles knew it, but he wanted you to remember it. While wanting to achieve his own high, he wanted to pleasure you so much you wouldn’t ever want anyone else, but also wanted to punish you.

He did it.

He edged you, not allowing to release until he knew you couldn’t hold it, which was punishment enough but you were not ready for the euphoria after. You both came down from your highs before he fell next to you and pulled you ontop of him, hugging your body close to him.

“You’ll be good for daddy from now on, right?” he asked, panitng a little.

“I’ll be daddy’s good girl,” you nodded, pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

- Holy God I’m so sorry if that was bad. I’ve not read lots of daddy kink stuff to be honest, so I’m not sure if that was even okay… If it’s not what you wanted, send me a message and I’ll correct it as I can. -


hale monster sweets

For Jen’s prompt here [x]

The guy is back again. Derek watches curiously from his counter, idly keeping an eye on the teenaged vampires trying to decide on a type from the blood popsicle selection. The guy outside the store is a little pale and lanky, with a cute upturned nose and a sprinkle of moles on his pale face, not that Derek didn’t notice the first time he stopped in the middle of the bustling street to stare at Derek’s store sign, which he wasn’t supposed to be able to do.

With a bright-eyed smile the guy tells his two friends something that Derek isn’t able to pick up through the various wards that protect his shop from the mundane world, even with his werewolf hearing, and the floppy-haired boy with the uneven jawline takes the hand of the brunette girl and they walk on, laughing and waving back at the guy, who is now staring resolutely right at his door, hands in his pockets, a curious look on his face.

The bell above the door rings jauntily and the guy sweeps into the store, eyes dancing merrily over all the sweet displays. Derek tenses up, because he can’t smell a whiff of the supernatural off the guy– not the scent of a wolf, that long-dead acidity that vampires seem to exude, the electric sharp tang of banshees or even the saccharine whiff of the fae. The three vampires seem to notice too, and one of the girls’ nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath as the guy walks by her.

“Here, we’re having a sale on all Type B,” Derek says, grabbing the pops and hastily ringing them up. Fortunately the vampires seem more interested in the sale and leave right after making their purchase, leaving Derek alone with the human–he must be human, the way he’s staring at the shelf of chocolate-covered pixies and the tray of slightly shimmering caramel cobwebs below it.

“Can I help you?” Derek asks, biting his lip.

“You don’t look like a hipster,” the guy says with a cheery smile.

“A what?” Derek frowns, crossing his arms.

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“Hey Dipper, c'mere! You got to see this!” Bill’s whisper cut through the cold November air as Dipper plodded over to him, looking at what his friend was excitedly pointing to. Sitting mere inches away from the two of them was a grey rabbit, it’s brown eyes staring at them emotionlessly.

Dipper stared quizzically at Bill. They saw wildlife up close all the time, how was this one any different? Bill didn’t seem to notice, staring at the animal with the biggest look of awe and wonder, which only grew bigger as the rabbit hopped closer to him and nuzzled against his legs.

The little human bent over and gently picked up the rabbit, gasping as he petted it’s fur. “It’s so… precious…” Bill looked down at the rabbit before looking up at Dipper, his eyes now wide with pleading. “Can we keep it? Please?”

Dipper paused. Taking care of a rabbit was a big deal, and Bill would have gotten in huge trouble if Penta had found out that he had been taking care of him, much less a rabbit.

But Bill looked so happy with the little creature in his arms. One more addition to their little family couldn’t hurt…

Dipper nodded, smiling as Bill squealed with excitement. He was immediately dragged along as Bill started planning how they’d accommodate their little friend, what it’d eat, how it would survive the winter.

“Wait!” Bill shrieked, stopping suddenly. Dipper had to scramble over his legs as not to run over his friend. The human lifted the little bunny up, bringing them eye to eye with each other. “What should we call you?”

Dipper thought for a moment, then tapped Bill on the shoulder, signing six quick letters.


Bill’s eyes widened once more, then he grinned as he turned his gaze from his friend to the rabbit. “Bun Bun! That’s perfect!”

“Bill, Dipper and Bun Bun! Family forever!”



Okay, with that out of the way… here’s that writing piece for that really nicely drawn picture you sent me God knows how long ago! I don’t remember everything from your Guardian AU, so I’m sorry if I got anything wrong, but one of my personal headcannons is that after Bill tries to teach Dipper English, they both discover ASL and decide to use that instead, hence why Dipper is mute the entire time.

I hope you love this Auntie Echo, and I can’t wait to see more from you in the future!

Love ya, RT


This was super fun to do!!!! thank you so much for doing this with me!! and i love that idea of him using sign language aa!! i love bunbun this is so cute 10/10

i did love it!! so much!!cant wait to see more from you too friend!!!!!

You’re on We Got Married as a couple but you both actually have crushes on eachother (GOT7)

JB: -you were so nervous when you saw that he was going to be your ‘husband’, he saw your blush as you started to babble about how sorry you were around him and be so shy about it. You were stopped by him, he gave you a small smile- “don’t worry Y/N I’m really nervous too. You’re much prettier in person and my heart sped up”

Mark: -he was so nervous because you were the first girl he’s really liked in a long time and the fact you were going to play his ‘wife’ and he heard that you had a crush on him from others but he never thought he’d actually get to meet you. But he was greeted by a shy and blushing you- “are you as nervous as I am? You know about this”

Jackson: -he was trying to hard not to make a goof of himself infront of you but he tripped and sent himself crashing to the ground, he wasn’t expecting your cute blush as you held your hand out for him which he took. He didn’t let go of it when he was finally up- “so um how about we um get something to eat wifey. You, me, and a camera crew sounds romantic right?”

Jr: -he was in heaven his crush was cooking for him and you were trying your best to make it good.  He watched as you walked over to him and told him to open up his mouth, carefully you fed him and he gladly took it- “this is amazing Y/N pretty and talented all I could ever want”

Youngjae: -he was nervous about it, it was officially day two of being ‘married’ you two didn’t mention to eachother about the crush on the other but you told it to the producers in private. They had set up dorky little dates for you two when the cameras weren’t running- “I like this Y/N it’s amazing and this is cute you know you and me for real alone time. I’m just running my mouth and I’m going to shut up now”

BamBam: -it was your first ‘date’ for the show and all you guys wanted was simple ice cream, but ended up getting stopped by a few of your fans who wanted to take a goofy picture with you. You looked at BamBam as a blush covered your cheeks, you weren’t fully ready to embarrass yourself infront of him but at the same time you didn’t want to disappoint the fans. He thought you got more perfect after that- “yup I plan on making this a real marriage. She’s perfect”

Yugyeom: -you both were kinda on there as a joke since you were so young and shy they thought you would work well together, he was bragging about it to the other guys that he was actually able to do something with his crush. While you were nervously walking towards him with a quick heartbeat- “oh god she’s coming over right now. Do I look good? Good, go away please” 

It’s Just Pretending

Based on this post by @thedreamhasended

This is the first of (probably) three parts

Part 2

Part 3

King Edmund the Just wasn’t scared of much. He’d fought wars and led armies. He’d created a spy network and narrowly escaped some sticky situations. He understood firsthand the inner workings of royal courts, his own and his enemy’s. One thing he would never understand, however, was women. It wouldn’t be far off to say that, although he would never admit it, some women even scared him.

Princess Harmonie of Terebinthia was one of those women. It wasn’t that she was a bad person. There was probably good in her heart. However, only a few minutes with her would leave Edmund in terrible need of a few hours alone to recover. Unfortunately for Edmund, Princess Harmonie had decided she liked him.

For this reason, two days into her stay at Cair Paravel (a stay that threatened to last a number of months), Edmund found himself seeking refuge in Susan’s study.

“Ed? What are you doing in here?” Susan was surprised to find her younger brother sitting at her desk doodling.

“I’ve taken up drawing.” Edmund held up the parchment. “What do you think?”

Susan eyed him suspiciously. “I think you need to tell me why you’re really here. Are you hiding from Princess Harmonie? She’s looking for you.”

“Oh drat.” Edmund crumpled his drawing and sighed. “I need your help Susan. I think Princess Harmonie likes me, and she just won’t leave me alone!”

“So, what’s the problem? A pretty girl likes you?”

“Well I might’ve told her that I was courting someone else so that she would leave me alone but I’m not courting anyone else and I need someone who will let me pretend to court them for a couple of months until Princess Harmonie goes home because I can’t keep up the illusion that long without someone to court. Hey! Stop laughing!”

It took Susan a moment before she calmed down enough to speak. “Only you Edmund Pevensie!”

“I just need you to find someone who would be in a fake courtship with me for a little while. Please Susan?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”


“LUCY GUESS WHAT!” Lucy looked up as Susan burst into her room.

“Did Edmund and Y/n-”

“No. But Edmund just asked me to find someone to be in a fake courtship with him for a few months so that Princess Harmonie would leave him alone.”

Lucy squealed just a little. “REALLY? Quick! Get Lady Y/n now! Before he changes his mind! Oh this is so perfect!”


 Susan was much more composed as she entered her own study a little while later.

“Edmund, I think I have found someone for you to pretend to court.”

“That was quick.” Suspiciously so. Edmund shook his head. I suppose I can’t say no though, considering the mess I got myself into. “Who is she?”

Just then there was a knock on the door. Susan called for them to enter, and a curious Y/n stepped into the room.

“Queen Lucy told me you wanted me in your study?”

“Yes, thank you. Edmund has a favour he needs to ask.”

Before Edmund could protest, Susan was out the door.

“Oh- okay, so…” Edmund motioned for Lady Y/n to sit, and she took a seat across the desk from him. “Listen, this is the situation. As you know, Princess Harmonie is staying for a few months. Well I might have told her that I was courting someone so she’d leave me alone, but I’m not courting someone, and it will only be a matter of time before she finds out. This is a strange request, but I was wondering if you would let me pretend to court you. I wouldn’t be real, just acting, just until Princess Harmonie goes home.”

By look on Y/n’s face Edmund could tell that it had sounded even more strange out loud than it had in his head. He wasn’t expecting her to accept, and was starting to plan a way to disappear (I wonder if King Lune needs a stable boy) when his thoughts were interrupted.



“I’ll let you pretend to court me until the Princess goes home.” Y/n wasn’t entirely sure why she was agreeing to this. “As long as it’s just pretending.”


~The Next Day~

Peter and Edmund were dueling before breakfast when he decided to bring it up.

“So Edmund, since when were you and Lady Y/n courting?”

“What? Uh, we’re not courting, Peter-”

“I don’t disapprove! I think it’s a good match, I just wanted to know when you were planning on telling me?”

“Well, uh, actually she’s just letting me pretend to court her for a while.”

“What? Why?”

“To practice?”

Peter wasn’t convinced. “Come on Ed, not even you are clueless enough for that. Do I have to ask Susan what’s going on?”

“Okay fine. I told Princess Harmonie that I’m courting someone so that she’d leave me alone, so now I’m stuck pretending to court Lady Y/n until she goes home so she doesn’t find out I was lying.”

“What?” Peter threw down his sword. “Edmund Pevensie, Princess Harmonie is our guest, and an important one at that! This is so childish of you! What if she finds out?” He shook his head. “If she finds out, Narnia’s relations with Terebinthia will be ruined. For Aslan’s sake what is wrong with you? Can’t you just let the girl have her fun for a couple of months?”

“Come on Peter, if she was following you around wouldn’t you want to escape? She’s so-”

“Don’t bother with excuses Edmund. Just don’t you dare let her find out.”


“Y/n!” Y/n turned around upon hearing her name and saw King Edmund striding towards her.

“I’m glad I finally caught you. I just wanted to give you this.” He brought out a beautiful silver bracelet. “It’s, um… it’s a symbol of our courtship. I know it’s just a pretend courtship but if we’re gonna convince people that it’s real I thought I’d better… well you know, make it realistic. So, uh, see you at dinner I suppose.” Edmund smiled awkwardly and handed her the circlet of silver.

She smiled to herself as she watched him walking away. Who knew the Just King could be so awkward and shy?

Oh Aslan, she thought, what have I got myself into?

You’re Here

Part 2 of A Memorable Trip

Y/N knocked on the door, feeling a thrill of excitement run through her.

Practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, she tried her best to wait patiently for the door to swing open in front of her. And when it finally did, revealing a very surprised Caspar.

“Y/N?!” She jumped towards him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here? How are you here? I’m so excited you’re here!”

Laughing, she pulled back to look at him.

“Are you going to leave me on the front step, or invite me in?”

“Right. Of course. Come in!” Caspar shook his head in disbelief as he moved to the side, allowing her to walk in.

“And I’m here because going six months of only seeing you boys via Skype or FaceTime was just not enough.” Y/N replied, looking around his flat. Standing in the middle of his living room, she turned to face him. “I missed you guys. So I took some holidays and booked my flight.”

“I just…wow.”

“I know.” She smiled, shrugging. “But so far, you’re the only one who knows I’m here. It’s kind of a surprise.”

“Joe doesn’t know you’re here? But you two tell each other everything.”

“Not everything.” Her smile turned a little sad.

“I knew it!” Caspar exclaimed, bouncing towards her.

“Knew what?”

“That you liked Joe.”

“How?” Y/N was so surprised that she wasn’t even able to deny it, which only made Caspar’s smile grow.

“I just knew. Oh this is going to be so good. He hasn’t really stopped talking about you since we got back. I know you guys talk daily, but he’s been ridiculous. And Oli and Will will be excited to see you too!” He started rambling, pacing his apartment as he spewed out different ideas on how to break the news to the other two boys.

“Caspar, calm down. I only just got here.”

“Well I know that, but I want to see Joe’s reaction when he realizes that the love of his life is here!”

She blinked at his words, although Caspar was oblivious to it and continued to talk to himself.

“What did you just say?”

“That we should have you jump out of a box?” Her tall friend asked, looking at her confused.

“No, about Joe…”

“Oh, right.” He smiled at her, finally stopping his pacing. “Joe likes you too. A lot. He just didn’t want to tell you before we left because long distance. For the record, I tried to convince him otherwise.”

“He…he likes me?”

“Very much.”

Y/N felt her heart race at those words, and she smiled over at Caspar. “Well, then let’s figure out how to surprise him. I don’t want to wait any more!”

The two decided on a simple plan. Caspar was heading over to Joe’s anyways that evening, since all the boys were gathering. He simply would sneak Y/N in, and she would surprise them by appearing.

But when it came time to actually put the plan into action, they had some issues. Because Joe decided to answer the door in person, resulting in Y/N having to jump between the closing elevator doors before he saw her.

After some quick improvising, they did manage to finally get her into Joe’s place, and now the boys were hanging in Joe’s living room, drinking and hanging out.

“We need a lad’s holiday!” Jack suddenly called out, and Caspar’s ears perked up at that. This would be the perfect way to bring Y/N out. He pulled his phone out and sent her a quick text to be prepared, before rejoining the conversation.

“Yes, please. I’m tired of London’s cold weather.” Joe groaned, tilting his head back.

“We could go to South Africa.” Josh suggested.

“Oh, or Greece. I wouldn’t mind heading that way.” Oli jumped in.

“What about LA again? That was fun.” Caspar glanced over at Joe, watching for any reaction.

“I don’t know if we could top your guys last trip there,” Jack smirked, sipping on his drink. “With how much you talked it up…”

“We just lucked out on a tour guide.” Joe shrugged, but the smile on his face told a lot more.

“Ah yes, Y/N. When will we get to meet this elusive woman?” Conor asked, looking between Oli, Caspar, and Joe.

“Ooh, elusive. I don’t think I’ve ever been described that way.” Y/N smirked as she walked into the room, placing her hands on her hips.

“Holy shit! Y/N!” Oli reacted first, jumping up from the couch to pull her into a hug.

“Surprise!” She laughed as her and Oli stepped away. “I’m in London!”

Caspar looked from her to Joe, smiling at the surprised look on his face.

“Well, Joe. Go say hello!” Caspar reached his foot over to nudge Joe, jolting him out of his surprise. As Oli moved to sit back on the couch, Joe stood from his spot and made his way over to Y/N, still speechless.

“Hi.” She said to him as he stopped in front of her.

“You’re here.” Was all he managed.

“I am. You told me to consider coming to London. And I did.”

“You’re in my living room.”

“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes. Realizing Joe wasn’t going to make the first move, she reached up and kissed him.

Joe blinked at her after, the smile growing on his face.

“You flew all the way to London to do that?”

“No, I flew to London to see my three friends. But then Caspar revealed some new information to me earlier today, so I came over here to do that.”

“Wait, Caspar you knew she was coming?!” Joe spun around to gawk at his friend while Y/N giggled, slipping her hand into Joe’s.

“No! I didn’t. I only knew she was here when I opened my front door earlier and she was standing there.” Caspar defended himself, but he still had a huge grin on his face. “But I did help sneak her over here.”

Joe shook his head before he turned to look at Y/N again, smiling down at her.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” She smiled back before Joe dipped down to kiss her, just a quick peck on the lips.

“Well!” Jack clapped his hands, making the couple jump. “That was fun to watch unfold. But I think some introductions are in order!” He grinned over at Y/N as everyone laughed.

S3 E7 Game, Set & Murder Recap

S3 E7 Game, Set & Murder Recap

Like most of you out there, my expectations for this episode were high. Really high. Being the penultimate episode of the season, it had a lot to live up to in my book with Murder in the Dark and Dead Air occupying the position previously. And to be honest, I’m not quite sure it hit the target. Grumbles to follow. Nevertheless, it had some of the best moments of the entire season as far as I’m concerned and that has to count for a lot. I was also pleased to see Daina Reid back as Director in the opening credits (this is her 4th MFMM adventure, including Murder in the Dark), so hopefully, the “long shots” we were all lamenting from last week are through. I was in desperate need of some face time.

And, my god, did we ever get face time. Quick, Nathan Page: make 100 different expressions that make you look like at least 20 different men while exactly pinpointing the mood and feeling of your character in that moment with perfect symmetry to the rest of the cast. Oh, and can you please ensure that each and every one is arousing to the point of knicker-dropping madness? Yes? Perhaps throw in some inspired choices of hand gesticulations? No problem? Brilliant! We knew you were the man for the job! Seriously. I almost feel bad for the guy. I mean, even the writers know how much his “strong, manly fingers” are getting to us at this stage of the game. Because they are freaking taunting us with that knowledge. Not fair, Producers. Nathan, you are an exceptional actor. Truly. You have a gift. You are not a piece of meat. But, my god… those hands. It’s just not fair.

And after weeks of non-stop murders and mayhem, it appears that time actually does pass quietly in 1929 Melbourne because it’s been 10 days since Frank McNabb took a dive off the roof of The Grand. Thank goodness. Having to solve another murder case while planning and holding a charity tennis tournament, flummoxing a smitten Detective Inspector and generally tripping the light fantastic might be a little much even for Miss Fisher. Not having to parent Jane must also be quite a relief. (Read: Where the fuck is Jane?!?) Based on The Globe’s printed tabloid photo of The Honourable Miss Fisher and her ball boy dated August 31, Belinda Roswell was killed on the afternoon of August 29th. The calendar in Miss Fisher’s kitchen moves to the month of September mid-episode. By my count, the episode spans a very realistic four days of investigating with loads of costume changes, including a glorious number of fluid, white ensembles - not the least of which was modeled by the Inspector (looking decidedly Un-Inspector-y at long last) and a beautiful evening gown worn by Dot. It’s no wonder this episode was Marion Boyce’s favorite. Everyone looked positively delicious. Later on, we learn that the Sydney Cup took place the week before and that Ms. Roswell was receiving payments over the last two weeks.

My theme of this week’s episode, brought to you by noted tabloid photographer and all-around skeeze, Fredrick Burn, “I’m getting sick of toffs acting holier-than-thou when they should be thanking me for the exposure!”  Exposure. The revelation of something meant to be kept a secret or likely to bring judgment. Now in the case of a murder mystery genre, exposure is pretty much the name of the game every week because the detectives must suss out their killer. But in this episode, the idea of exposure goes far beyond identifying the killer. In every instance, the thing that is threatened to be or is exposed has the power to ruin lives, to topple fortunes, to bring an honourable man to his knees. Constance Burrows fears that her pregnancy will be exposed and ruin her career. Stanley first worries that his affair will be exposed and then that he will lose his wife over the exposure of her crime. Angela Lombard is afraid that exposure of her red-blooded ways will cost her a lucrative endorsement deal. Dot and Hugh are exposed in a compromising position that threatens to overturn the newly made peace with their families - not to mention the shame it brings upon Dot. The fact that photography is used as the trigger point for all of these threats plays very well considering the ideas of film and flash exposure, the pop! of Burn’s bulb punctuating every shot. But, some threats don’t require the tenacity of the paparazzi. Some are simply innate. The exposure of Phryne’s ultimate weakness, for example. She isn’t the least bit bothered by Burn’s illicit snaps. It’s her arachnophobia that’s her undoing. It’s the same for Jack. The exposure that threatens him has little to do with film. He does everything in his power - including using Miss Fisher’s fear against her - to keep from exposing just how overwhelming his physical desire for her is becoming.

I’ll not spend much time on the opening sequence as it’s been made very clear that a number of bloggers share Phryne’s fear of spiders. I will say that while they’re not my favorite creatures in the whole wide world, I’m not particularly scared of them… And I was crawling out of my skin - actually averting my eyes waiting for poor Belinda Roswell to put her foot in that shoe. Jesus! I think a year came off my life for that moment. The subsequent CGI shot (not gonna describe it - if you’ve seen it, you know the one I mean) didn’t bother me near as much. It was the anticipation - as is always the case with this damned show - that was killing me. But, I don’t care because… HUGH’S BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think I was almost as excited as Dot to see that sweet face in the back door glass. The shot of Mr. Butler giving the “scram!” gesture to Bert was beyond perfect and Dot’s immediate reaction of joy tempered by justified irritation (about fish, LOL!) was exactly what I wanted… But then, it all seemed very anti-climactic. After all that. After absconding for weeks. After his mother calls him a tyke and kicks him out of the house, all he had to do to fix the situation was threaten to marry a fast Protestant girl? I was soooo disappointed. I wanted more. They almost made it up to me. Explaining his promotion, Hugh tells Dorothy, “The Inspector told the top brass that if they didn’t give me the promotion, he’d resign.” My first reaction to this was: Awww!! But then, it began to bother me. A lot. Especially later when Jack receives the call from the new Commissioner. In fact, most of my issues with this episode come down to the writing. Look, I know that Jack adores Hugh and is committed to his principles. But the last time he was willing to risk losing his position on the force, it was over the murders of young girls. It hardly seems likely that he would threaten to quit now because they wouldn’t give his constable a promotion. Though perhaps after a few weeks with Constable Martin, desperate times called for desperate measures. We know he can be a bit of a shit when necessary, like when he took over the Sanderson case from Sergeant Crossley or when he made to call the Chief Commissioner after his case was assigned to O'Shaughnessy. Jack isn’t afraid of the power play. It just seemed ham-handed. Hugh could have said, “The Inspector told the top brass that I was indispensable to the force. Said they’d be made fools of if they didn’t give me the promotion.” In fact, I think he just did. There. All better. #headcanon

We join Phryne - where she has taken over Aunt P’s estate for her tennis tournament - and meet her longtime friend and tennis coach, Stanley Burrows and his new wife and tennis pro, Constance. There’s something close to perfection in, “Aunt Prudence can’t abide ball sports.” One of the best lines of the show. Phryne makes an off-colour remark about the couple spending their honeymoon on the tennis court which underscores the tension of the newlywed couple - who we find out later is having very little in the way of marital relations. The first tip off to exposure comes as Dot asks Constance for her autograph. The picture she proffers shows the athlete lunging for the ball on a particularly windy day. “I’m practically naked!” she laments. Phryne, by comparison, is not bothered by the least by the photo and (while it’s clear that she is not fond of the idea of trespass) we learn that her method of dealing with the press is to “dance” with them rather than cultivate animosity. A sentiment that pays off when Burn publishes a decidedly un-racy photo of she and Jack - as compared to Dot and Hugh’s - with a rather sweet tagline.

Upon discovery of the body, Phryne sees enough to wait for the cavalry and plays it off, telling Jack she’s happy for him to be the “scout” in this case. Jack inspects the corpse of Constance’s practice partner, Belinda Roswell, and poses that the attack came from a you-know-what (hereinafter referred to as “the murder weapon” for you sensitive types) and because Jack has quite the handle on wildlife of all sorts, (lest we forget from the genus viscum), he thinks it odd because none of Victoria’s eight-legged inhabitants possess a venom strong enough to kill that quickly. Cursory research shows him to be correct - and even though there was a species of funnel-web that frequented Melbourne at the time, its venom was not considered fatal. It’s revealed that the shoe containing the murder weapon actually belonged to Constance - not Belinda - making her appear the intended target. As Phryne searches through the victim’s belongings, the murder weapon makes an appearance forcing Phryne up on the wall in a state of absolute terror. I was actually surprised that no one else had a bit of a reaction. I mean, how many people - phobia or not - would be so calm when faced with a murder weapon that large. Someone (I’m looking at you, Hugh) should have flinched just a little. But, no. To make Miss Fisher seem even more ridiculous in her reaction, they all held their ground and simply stared at her in dismay. It’s nice to know that she still possesses the ability to shock Jack, though - he seemed rather stunned to see her so unreasonably vulnerable.

Evidence all packed up, Jack sends off his Senior Constable and proceeds to taunt Miss Fisher about her reaction. “Well, I’ve finally found your Achilles heel, Miss Fisher - fear of arachnids.” Considering all the teasing Phryne has done in the past, I can’t really blame him for seizing the opportunity. When has he ever managed to have the upper hand? Speaking of hands… Jack wiggles his in a menacing gesture and Phryne eyes it with wariness. She attempts to downplay the revelation with bravado, “I’m not afraid, I just like to know where they are.” But Jack’s seen too much to be fooled and in a moment of incredible spontaneity, he crawls his fingertips up her shoulder to call her bluff. Phryne just has a way of bringing out his playful side… The “Beep, beep” in Murder at Montparnasse, insisting he see her home just before they both drop from the pier in Dead Man’s Chest, snatching the evidence just out of her reach in Dead Air. But this… well. This is playful touching. And while there was nothing indecent in Jack’s intention, it was most definitely intimate. Can you imagine him doing that to Miss Williams? No, of course not.

Her reaction is both instantaneous and unexpected - the memory of the murder weapon emblazoned in her mind. I doubt Jack would have ever attempted it, had he thought she would leap into his arms like that. But the Inspector finds himself being clutched by a wide-eyed, heart palpitating Phryne. That frame of her face over his shoulder… the hairs curling at the back of his neck… Oh god… and then Burn calls out to them to get his shot and we see that Jack’s hands are there to steady her, one inching higher over her hip to her waist… one at her back. Once again, we are forced to wonder what might have happened had they not been interrupted. When ABC released that particular promo shot, it was evident that they were just toying with us. But, I can’t say I minded because the situation immediately reverses on Jack. When faced with the tabloid photographer, it’s Jack who loses his cool while Phryne remains calm. Before he can say anything else to antagonize Burn, she quiets Jack by placing a finger to his lips. The contact is enough to stun him into silence - even as one arm remains around her - and the power tips back to Phryne as she sees the effect, gnashing her teeth at him to inflame him further. Despite her phobia, she is the victor in his game.

But it appears that Burn isn’t satisfied with capturing Miss Fisher in a salacious photo because he’s still skulking around the property, clicking off while Hugh brushes leaves and dirt from the back of Dottie’s coat. Toffs aren’t the only ones he enjoys exposing. I imagine that after all the dust settled from the Sanderson case, papers were paying a pretty penny for photos that compromised police officers. At the Morgue, Mac shows off her own considerable knowledge by identifying the murder weapon as a species native to Sydney, explaining that there is no way it would have chosen to stow away because it prefers “moist places.” Phryne grabs her throat in revulsion because, like the rest of us, she simply cannot abide the word, moist. I love that the doctor is completely unphased by Phryne’s reactions - they’ve been friends long enough for Mac to know where all the bodies are buried. It turns out, this isn’t a simple case of woman vs. wild. And it appears that Belinda may not have been the intended target. When Constance is questioned as to who might want to hurt her, she and her husband both exclaim, “Angela Lombard.”

Walking down the dock, Phryne fills the Inspector in on the finer points of the current women’s tennis circuit and he manages to keep a neutral expression as asks her about her passion for the game. “I have many passions, Jack,” she retorts. Well, it’s more of a passion for righting social injustices because while the men get sponsored to play all over the world, the women must pay for themselves. But, I can’t help but look back and think just how delighted Jack must be by this news. One of many shared passions. It turns out that Ms. Lombard is the reigning women’s champion and has been for a few years, going through a nasty divorce from her rich husband and bothered by the fact that Constance is primed to take over as Number One. Phryne has chartered the luxury steam yacht, the “S.Y. Ena” for her charity cocktail party and also so Ms. Lombard has a place to stay while in Melbourne. It was only due to pure curiosity that I was googling how steam yachts were named that I came across the fact that the S.Y. Ena is a real ship - built in 1901. If you’re from Sydney or Melbourne, you probably already knew that. But as I’m not, my jaw fell open! According to the website, which you should most definitely check out (steamyachtena dot com), it states: More akin to a piece of art than a sea-faring vessel, the 113-year-old treasure, described as “flawless and without equal”, is widely regarded as the world’s finest. Her gleaming brass and gold are complimented by warm radiant varnished timbers. With luxurious fabrics, etched glass murals, timber carvings and sophisticated appointments adorning her cabins.  It’s not hard to see why she spent so much of her life accessible only to society’s elite. Can’t you just see Phryne taking Jack out for a spin in it… next season?!? Glorious indeed!

Aboard the Ena, we meet Ms. Angela Lombard, looking very glamorous sunning herself on the deck. It would have been incredibly helpful to know at this point that Angela was supposed to be American. Couldn’t they have slipped it in when Phryne was telling Jack about her? It would have saved me endless minutes of confusion, trying to figure out if she was drunk or just had a really bad accent. Bad accent as it turns out. One of the other issues I had with this episode was Angela’s manner of speaking. Beyond the forced expressions like, “dumpy dame,” her execution, using a myriad of inflections, had what should have been an intriguing character coming off more like she had multiple personality disorder. Is she an elite sportswoman, a gangster moll or Betty Boop? (Anachronistic, I know.) What I did like was the juxtaposition of she and Miss Fisher. Angela Lombard is a young, privileged, modern woman who, being from America rather than the far off Antipodes, is much closer to the trends. Her outfits are more glamourpuss than flapper, reflecting the 30’s bombshell that was poised on the cinematic horizon. But even with her wealth, she’s not nearly as refined as Miss Fisher - the latter’s penchant for breaking and entering notwithstanding. Where Phryne is bold, Angela is brash and it’s refreshing to see the difference. Not to mention Jack’s reaction to it. Anyway, Angela has an alibi… a handsome young tennis player named Terence Lawson. Do you think it was Terry’s familiarity with Miss Fisher that won him a first class ticket to questioning down at the station? LOL! Rather unfair treatment considering Ms. Lombard was the original suspect.

Under questioning, it seems that Terence remembers the time he and Angela left the court a bit differently than she (two o'clock as opposed to midday) and that there might be something more personal between he and Constance Burrows - Connie - than just tennis. I love this segment of the interrogation that reflects interestingly upon the two detectives:
Terence: “I was keen on Connie, like all the other blokes, but all she was interested in was playing tennis.”
Jack: “Must have hurt your pride.”
Terence: “Not particularly. I had plenty of other options.”
And Terence Lawson is not the kind of man to forgo those options - always having an eye for the ladies. Jack, too it seems, has plenty of other options as Phryne is beginning to realize. She had to deal with the thought of a possible reconciliation with Rosie not long ago, then she met his old friend Concetta and now, it’s obvious that Angela Lombard thinks her Inspector is the caterpillar’s kimono.

Constance denies having any involvement with Lawson and waxes poetic to Phryne about the game of tennis. Another reflection. Even though Phryne is much more well-rounded in her interests and passions, I can’t help but think that Connie’s enthusiasm mimics Phryne’s feelings about solving a case: When I see the chalk outline of a victim or hear the shot of a round being fired from a pistol and I smell that coagulated blood, my cunt almost aches for the exhilaration of it. The first clues are also dropped about Constance’s “cold,” her dress being a bit too snug at the moment. What? Then why the hell would you pack it? And what does that have to do with being sick? Things like this bother me way more than they should. Moving on thanks to Fredrick Burn’s invasion of privacy. Notice that Phryne doesn’t put her fingers to her friend Stanley’s lips to keep him quiet when shouting at the menacing photographer. The incident jogs Stanley’s memory and he tells Phryne that Constance made a formal police complaint against Burn last week in Sydney, making Burn a potential suspect who happens to be facing other charges.

Exhausted from their day, players and detectives alike must have tucked in for a well-deserved slumber. They’ve been pulling an awful lot of all-nighters lately. The next morning, Senior Constable Collins sheepishly presents a newspaper to his boss. While I’m certain Jack reads The Argus regularly, I’m sure he couldn’t be bothered with a rag like The Globe - much less the “Out and About” section, LOL! It turns out that Burn might actually have a soft spot for Miss Fisher after all. Perhaps he appreciates her dance because the picture is not nearly as damning as it could have been and the byline is actually rather sweet. The interlacing shots of each of the detectives’ reactions was one of my favorite moments of the show. Jack is looking rather sober, anticipating the reaction from his superiors and Phryne is positively giddy, exclaiming to Dot that Burn “has captured our best angles.” I think she’ll be clipping that one out for the scrapbook, don’t you? Nestled in amongst all the other clippings from the cases she and the Inspector have solved. The new Commissioner, however is not amused, ringing Jack’s line and forbidding him to solve cases with a civilian. I know this call was necessary as a plot-driver but, it didn’t sit well with me. Why would the Commissioner care? Granted, the photo’s caption mentioned Phryne’s profession as a private detective and identified Jack as Inspector (not even his formal title, thank you very much) but, this seemed to me to be a personal matter - not a professional one. Would his boss really care that much? Is the Victoria Police’s reputation so much in the shitter that someone would bother to look twice at this photograph? Not to mention forbid him to solve crimes with her - which surely would have a negative effect on their clearance rate. I thought Jack had enough clout to get his man promoted. Why wouldn’t he just tell the Commissioner to bugger off? On second thought, considering how he managed to circumvent the order… I suppose he did.

Phryne bounds down the stairs, brimming over to tell him about the charges Burn is facing in Sydney. She stands before him completely open in little more than her pyjamas and kimono, a stark contrast to the last time she faced him at those stairs dressed similarly, clutching at her clothes in vulnerability because she thought he had chosen Rosie. “Sign this,” he tells her and there was something about the way she snatched the pen as he held on to the cap that I just loved. She obeys his request without question - without doubting him for a second. Only after it’s official does she ask him what she “just agreed to.”
“You are now a special constable of the Victoria Police Force.” I’m not even going to lie… I was grinning from ear to ear, thinking of how she practically begged him to make her a constable at the Green Mill so she could help search the club’s clientele. Phryne, naturally, is delighted.
“How wonderful! Don’t I get a certificate or something?” LOL! More for the scrapbook! But even better than her asking for a tangible record of the honour was Jack’s amused smirk. He thinks she is adorable. Of course he does. What’s more, he knew she would ask… so his expression is somewhat self-satisfied in his accurate prediction.

“I’ve been saving this since I was ten years old… for Buffalo Bill. But you’ll have to do.” Are they are determined to make me gag on my own sentimentality? I can never get enough of these little insights into Jack. Can’t you just picture him as a lad? Riding his bicycle through Richmond, a ragged dime novel of The Buffalo Bill Stories stuffed into his back pocket, dreaming of becoming a lawman in his own right. And the badge. The badge! Procured as a boy and kept safe for all these years. Treasured. Do you think he swung by his flat to pick it up on the way to St. Kilda? Or had he been carrying it around in his pocket? A talisman. My god, there are so many stories to be written from this little tidbit! He’s been saving it to give to his hero - Buffalo Bill. A person larger than life, braver than all others, determined to right the wrongs of the world with more daring and determination in a little finger than most people have in their whole body. Sound like anyone else we know? Yes, I suppose Phryne will do very nicely. And she’s rightfully touched, as he pins the badge to her.

So, here’s my problem: between the “you’ll have to do” / “we’ll have to make do with each other” and the pinning of the badge / pinning of the swallow brooch, the concentration of the meaning is threatening to become diluted. In an effort to ensure that does not happen in my mind, I propose that the language of making do is really the only way Jack can lightheartedly convey that Phryne is, in fact, the only one who will do. He’s using their comfort with teasing and banter to ease the blow of a very deep sentiment. As for the brooch, it was symbolic of her past, the importance he saw in returning something cherished to her and his pledge to stand by her. The badge, however, is symbolic of his past, and in giving her his treasure it proves his belief that she has what it takes to stand by him. All that being said, the next time I see Jack Robinson pinning something, it had better be Phryne’s wrists to a wall. When Dot inquires as to Miss Fisher’s whereabouts, Mr. B tells her that she has “just gone out with the Inspector.” So, Jack waited for her as she got dressed and ready to embark on the day’s detecting. This isn’t important as much as it is positively darling to consider how his eyes must have lit up at the sight of her coming down the stairs, proudly wearing his badge next to a diamond brooch. Each bearing significant worth.

But it’s clear that she plans to have fun with her new found status as she announces herself in a baritone voice outside Mr. Burn’s studio. He thinks it’s out of retaliation for the “Love All” photo but they cut him off at the pass - neither bothered enough by this particular exposure to even merit its mention. The words Burn uses to describe his subjects are crass and dehumanizing - hardly akin to the “gift” he called Miss Fisher: toffs, whinging cow, piece of skirt, stupid bint. Add to that his little pornographic sideline and you’ve got a recipe for major suspicion. Burn takes off and the detectives give chase, Phryne using her super powers to hurl a trash can lid with enough force to bring him down. << Insert Jack Robinson eye rolling gif here! >> Back at the station, we learn that the charges pending against Burn are for obscenity. Shocker. But I laughed out loud when he tried to appeal to the Inspector’s base nature. That’s not going to win you any points, Burn. Neither is publishing that pic of Hugh and Dot. “A handful of fun."  If you’ll pardon the pun, my cheeks were burning for Dot.

So, it turns out that Dot, while letting out Mrs. Burrows’ too-tight evening gown, unearthed some evidence that proves that she and Terence Lawson were an item. When confronted, Terry’s over the moon and Constance attempts to downplay it. She reveals that they had a love affair that she attempted to hide from the press and her new husband… but he’s already well aware. Despite Terence spreading himself around anything with a two X chromosomes, his affection for Stanley’s wife was just too obvious to ignore. Cue the eel. What? Yes… well, Ms. Lombard was staying on the water. So, suspicion turns back to Constance’s on-court nemesis and Phryne sends Jack to go and deal with her in the hope that Angela’s interest in the handsome detective will lead to the exposure of some new evidence. Well, it leads to some kind of exposure, anyway! You know, I was waiting all this time for Phryne to razz Jack about that photo. Perhaps there was just a little too much truth in the byline for her to confront him with it. But that doesn’t stop Angela Lombard. In fact when the Inspector’s intentions are portrayed as less then honourable, she’s queuing for the line. "Are you exclusively Phryne’s ball boy or do you spread yourself around?”

Say all you want about Phryne’s innuendos, her remarks seem the height of sophistication next to Angela’s. Though, her boast that when a man’s with her, “he tends to get confused” had me on the floor. And I love watching Jack react to her forwardness, proving that he can volley right back. He is not Hugh - forced into a fit of embarrassment when confronted with a woman’s sexuality. This undeniably attractive woman is throwing herself at him, stroking in his tie in a way that has me yelling “Don’t touch that!” at my computer screen and the only effect she can manage is to extract an amused smile. Finally, she admits to paying Burn to upset Constance - the bootlegged Lumberjack whiskey her giveaway. Unsportsmanlike but hardly illegal. When Jack sidesteps her offer of joining her in the pool, she cajoles him into untying her sundress. I suppose that voice is meant to be seductive - but mostly I just find myself wanting to drown her and steal that fabulous hat.
Jack looks away. Not to avert his gaze in my view - but to check he’s not being watched. Probably equally afraid of being caught by Phryne as Fredrick Burn. With the coast clear, he focuses he attention on Ms. Lombard’s bare back, the strings of her halter. Following them up to the knot and deftly undoing them - all the while careful to never touch her skin. Good heavens. At least the hot water bill will be low this month. “See?” she teases. “That wasn’t so haaarrrrrddd.” And Nathan Page, master of the hand gesture, is perfection as he stands there, hands clasped over his… Well… Perhaps it was a tad hard.

Phryne and Dot have retired to The Esplanade in order to get ready for the cocktail party and we join them as Dot is recounting her shame over the photograph. Her mother’s reaction, Hugh’s mother’s reaction, Father O'Leary. Good thing Father Grogan’s been put out to pasture - he’d have her ex-communicated. Poor, sweet Dot. “You must stand proud and laugh it off,” Miss Fisher tells her, insisting she come to the event and hold her head high. It’s the height of irony later when Phryne can’t laugh off her own exposure as Jack taunts her with the “important evidence” in the glass jar. Speaking of which…
Oh hell. Another murder weapon. Avert thee eyes, oh fearful ones. This one’s crawling up Phryne’s sleeve. I will bet anything that Essie Davis did these takes with a live um… murder weapon. Serious props. And then… MAGIC.

This is one of those moments when having such a talented ensemble cast elevates a moderately funny scene to one of absolutely sublime heights. Phryne, having trapped the murder weapon under her diaphragm, is still visibly shaken while attempting to hold on to a shred of pride. Jack must take the threat on Phryne’s life seriously while being amused beyond belief at her quick thinking… and the fact the trap in question was, naturally, close at hand. Not to mention the fact that he’s back in her bedroom. Dot is wringing her hands and decidedly looking NO ONE in the eye. And Hugh does Hugh as only Hugo Johnstone-Burt can - flummoxed until the realization of what the rubber item is turns his expression to one of pure mortification. Later on, when Phryne tells Jack that every woman has her limit in terms of modesty. Funnily enough, we find that this was one of hers. Hugh’s writing up the police report and needs to know what to call it. Does she say “diaphragm?” Nope. Remember how proud she was to tell Dot that it was for family planning in Cocaine Blues? Well apparently, “internal device” is as far as she’s willing to go on record with the Victoria Police. And then I’m in stitches again as the murder weapon inches across the floor under its cover. Dr. Stopes surely never envisioned this. I sure hope Phryne has a spare because there is NO WAY she’s putting that back up her happy place. I’m imagining Mac telling the story of the spidephragm with glee at cocktail parties for many, many years to come.

Jack suggests it was Stanley but Phryne cuts him off, spotting a torn piece of clothing on a nail in the window sill. With the beastie trapped or not, she doesn’t dare place a foot on the floor where its crawling - so she leaps like a monkey from furnishing to furnishing to retrieve the evidence. Jack shares more with her - an envelope from a serious letter Ms. Lombard was reading. Lawson, Lombard, Burn… the pool of suspects is still considerable and he wants her to let him conduct a search of her party Phryne refuses - recalling Rosie’s disinclination to have a “police presence” at her event. Instead, she’ll search and Jack can… Phryne looks meaningfully at the ensconced murder weapon. But there is no way in hell Jack is going to touch Phryne’s diaphragm. Not right now. And certainly not in front of Hugh and Dot. “Collins!” he orders. And it only gets better as a beleaguered Hugh has little choice but to scoop it up, touching as little of the device as he can manage. Good man. He certainly earned that promotion. By the way, did anyone else notice that the Sarcelle was not hanging in its usual place? Where has it gone? Has anyone spotted it elsewhere in the house? Just curious.

Phryne and Dot arrive at the S.Y. Ena, fashionably late, of course as the party is in full swing. I suppose Burn was invited with the hope that he could be caught in cahoots with Lombard but I find it incredibly distasteful that he was there considering how badly Dot already felt. She looks absolutely lovely in a sparkling red gown - a gift from Miss Fisher no doubt - as she attempts to hold her ground, trusting in Phryne’s word that this will make her feel better. It doesn’t - though a bit of eavesdropping does seem to take her mind off things. Angela is holding court, airing all of her dirty laundry in a way that makes her seem very interesting to her subjects if only for the novelty of hearing a woman swear like that. She addresses Dot’s photo in The Globe and toasts her in earnest for being “one racy dame.” Dot does not look the least bit flattered. But it’s interesting that all of the “racy dames” at the party are wearing red. Besides Dorothy, Ms. Lombard is a siren in a glamourous silhouette that is far ahead of the trends and Phryne oozes sophistication a black beaded gown that is very much on trend (albeit not ahead) with a dazzling blood red beaded wrap. Before we get too far, it’s also fun to point out that there was an error in consistency when shooting Phryne in this outfit. On board the Ena, she is accessorized with the diamond knot and waterfall necklace and a diamond cocktail ring.  But in Jack’s office, neither piece of jewelry is anywhere to be found. These little gaffs only make the show more interesting for me. It’s a bit of a game to spot them - and come on, nobody’s perfect.

After witnessing Constance Burrows mopping up her gown and Burn chasing after her, clicking away, Phryne manages to find the letter that the Inspector witnessed Ms. Lombard reading at the pool. She is forced to charm her way out of getting caught red handed by Terence Lawson and as he packs his things, she sees that one of his shirts are torn… making him look like he was responsible for placing that last murder weapon in her room. She has to play off her intent gaze when he notices by coming on to him and even though he’s been enjoying Angela Lombard’s hospitality, he returns her sentiment with interest. Angela is not thrilled to find her own ball boy, Terry, cozied up to Miss Fisher. Especially when she failed arouse the interest of the Inspector. Of course Phryne doesn’t know that, so Angela covers her own feelings of inadequacy by attempting to make Phryne jealous, using the Inspector’s familiar name and intimating that far more was shared between them than a simple chat:

“So, did I mention that Jack and me had a swell talk this afternoon?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“He sure knows how to unhook a gal’s dress. Must be those strong, manly fingers of his.”

Regardless of Phryne’s feelings about this little tidbit of information, she isn’t about to let Angela win this game. This is Jack Robinson we’re talking about. And I’m quite certain Phryne has given a lot of thought to just exactly how he might unhook a (lethal) dress.

“Well, it’s so much better when he does it with his teeth.” From your lips to god’s ears. I’m not sure what I loved more, the Step-Off Bitch delivery or the fact that Phryne believes Jack’s mouth to be even more talented than his hands.
Meanwhile, Dot overhears a disturbing conversation between Constance and her husband, Stanley that also mirrors some jealousy. Stanley’s worried she will run off with Terence Lawson because she was so loathe to have sexy times with him after they were married. She claims it was the tennis. He thinks she’s not that into him. Ding! Ding! Ding! Tell him what he’s won! Dottie’s practically bursting to tell Miss Fisher the news but the Inspector’s Special Constable must report for duty with the latest evidence. Lawson gets hauled in for more questioning and he very believably denies having anything to do with trying to hurt Constance or Miss Fisher.

In his office, Jack reveals that the murder weapon Phryne secured in her “bedroom” wasn’t capable of murder at all. (Bedroom, people. Jack will never, ever call that space a boudoir! LOL!) And she argues with him. This is the first time that Phryne is actually more concerned over her safety than he is, thanks to her fear. He holds up the evidence and she freezes. When he proffers the jar - even with his desk between them - she leaps up onto the chair and NOW we see a possible reason for the raised mantle in Jack’s office. I’d love to know if it was to get the best possible visual in this scene or to give Phryne a place to brace herself as she shrinks back in terror. He tells her that it was far more likely to be a practical joke than a murder attempt. And where she had only hours ago told Dot to “laugh it off,” she tells Jack that she “fails to see the humour.” But oh my god, that FACE! Nathan, you are magic. He is giving serious Sad Clown Face! For those of you might be coulrophobic, I am warning you: do NOT freeze frame in the middle of that pout. All he needs is a stick of greasepaint, oversized shoes and a red rubber nose before all my Jack Robinson dreams are shattered. Fuck the spiders, Phryne. What the hell have you done to this man?!?

She asks if he’ll get rid of the practical joke but he’s having too much fun at her expense. “It’s important evidence, Miss Fisher,” he teases. But he obviously hasn’t learned his lesson because she turns the tables on him once again. This time, by hiking up her dress all the way up to her garter to reveal the letter pilfered from Ms. Lombard’s things. Now it’s Jack’s turn to freeze. His expression as she tells him that he won’t get to see it until the joke disappears is reminiscent of both the fan dance and the revelation of the Sarcell painting - but only just. Jack is far more confident these days and recovers so quickly. After hiding the jar in his desk, much in the same way one would relinquish a weapon - he quirks his mouth at her, gesturing to her in a come hither motion that I have watched far too many times for me to still be allowed to walk the streets alongside sane people. Tit for tat. It’s her turn. And she doesn’t disappoint, making a show of lifting her hem and sliding the letter from its hiding place - Jack never taking his eyes off her. And she uses very similar words to Angela Lombard when she asks, “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?”

The Mormon shoe contract was another one of those elements that was played with too heavy a hand. “Zollinger… A most Mormon sounding name.” Seriously? What does that have to do with anything at this point except being a poorly planted seed? Another line of dialogue down at the tennis courts later would have been a better way to go. Whatever. Just roll the come hither again and I’ll forget any complaints I might have had. I call it Robinson’s Dementia. Additional side effects include daydreaming, drooling and frequent nocturnal emissions. Anyway, he letter gives Angela a serious motive for doing Mrs. Burrows in and Jack claims not to have been made aware of any of it during his interview. “Was that before or after you helped her out of her dress?” Phryne asks - not waiting for an answer as she warns him not to get caught by Burn. So in revealing to Jack that his moment with Ms. Lombard was, indeed, exposed, Phryne reveals that she was bothered by it. It’s not a particularly bad headspace for Phryne to be in. In anything, I think it only increases her attraction to him. Jack, for his part, seems to be enjoying the attention thanks to his new found lightheartedness. While he pretty much ignored Miss Fisher’s exaggerated pick up lines in Cocaine Blues (modest by comparison to Angela’s), he’s now all coy smiles when a woman is open about her interest in him. And look at the smug expression that plays on his face as she sashays out of his office! He hates to see her go but he loves to watch her leave!

Back at the Fisher ranch, Stanley Burrows is waaay too disappointed that Lawson hasn’t been arrested and in an effort to snoop on Constance, his affair with the deceased Belinda Roswell is exposed by means of a nude photograph of her that he was keeping.  The next morning (an almost unheard of Day 3 of the investigation, the detectives confront Burrows. (And, she’s back in that beautiful robin’s egg blue jacket she wore the morning after Jack spent the night in her bed - this time accented with periwinkle and grey instead of red.) She asks Stanley if he was in love with the woman and he denies it - saying it had nothing to do with love… and surely Phryne would know that. I’m not entirely certain if Stanley was implying that she should know that he was too deeply in love with Constance to even consider it, or that he knew her to be familiar enough with the sensual pleasures of life to realize the difference. Either way, Phryne is not impressed. Neither is Jack. When Stanley pushes his friend, Jack steps in to dismiss him before he can put Phryne in an even more compromising position - she is still acting on behalf of the police. But, I thought it was rather gallant of him, too. Mostly because I found Stanley’s attitude completely disgusting. Now, the target of the killing shifts from Constance back to Belinda and Phryne considers that her good friend may have had something to do with it. Jack hasn’t forgotten her reaction to his locking Mac up and I think he is surprised to find that she isn’t blindly loyal to her friends. Mac simply wasn’t capable of murder. But Stanley… she’s not so sure. They resolve to go back over Belinda’s things and because the nude picture was clearly taken by Fredrick Burn, he will need to be questioned again. But Phryne knows she can dance with the snake far more successfully than the Inspector and concocts a plan that Jack can go to his grave without ever knowing about as far as I’m concerned… Not that he would be surprised. During her little game of strip-interrogation, Phryne discovers that Burn was paying Belinda on the side to take illicit pictures and that Belinda found a way to parlay her talents into a larger fortune elsewhere, her last meeting being with Constance Burrows. I did love that Burn was getting rather worked up during the photoshoot, both Angela and Phryne figuring out that the man was rather susceptible to a woman’s many charms. And using the privilege Jack bestowed on her, she confiscates that film. It will probably end up in the fireplace but I can’t help think that she would be tempted to develop a frame or two to slip into an unsuspecting man’s pocket.

Phryne confronts Constance and believes she’s about to hear a tale of jealousy in which Constance finds out that her husband has been cheating on her with her practice partner. But what she gets is so much worse. Constance wasn’t interested in meeting Stanley’s needs and asked Belinda to seduce her husband. Constance’s marriage is one of convenience in which Stanley is a decent man, rich enough to support her beloved tennis. For a woman who doesn’t believe in marriage, Phryne gets awfully judgey about the situation. How is this any different than the way women have been supporting themselves since antiquity? It’s not. So, then, it’s really not about the marriage per se. Nor is it about sex or dalliances. This is about toying with a person’s heart - which Phryne has always been very careful not to do. The day of Phryne’s tournament arrives (Day 4) and we find Constance looking flushed and ill. Dot suspects a fever but Constance brushes it off, remarking how warm it is in the room. But when Phryne arrives, dressed in her tennis whites, the air is distinctly cold. In fact, it’s downright frigid. Constance scurries off under the disapproving gaze of her hostess but Dot doesn’t see what’s between the women - she is concerned for the tennis star’s health. Jolted back to form, Phryne begins to wonder once more if someone isn’t trying to kill Constance… she’s had a fever for days… Could someone be poisoning her special brew of tea?

Awaiting Mac’s report, Phryne is perched in her favorite place on Jack’s desk. I’m just going to say that in terms of sheer hotness, this scene ranks right up there with, “If you really want a Roman Soldier…”
But this one is far more oblique, making it all the more delectable. Staring off as she thinks out loud through the latest developments, she’s oblivious to the fact that her exposed legs are deeply distracting the Inspector. He averts his eyes and attempts to get on with work, flipping through his file. After all, it’s the fourth day and they still haven’t managed to crack the case - time is running out. But he looks again, unable to keep his mind on the job. He can’t help it and quickly grows frustrated by his own lack of control - as evidenced by his grimace. Consider that Jack had very little problem maintaining his composure when confronted with Ms. Lombard’s bare flesh. Consider that he can be passionately kissed by a beautiful Italian woman and remain unmoved. And now consider that he cannot even glance at Miss Fisher’s stockinged knees without feeling himself come completely undone. His passion and physical desire for her is reaching a breaking point. At this point in their relationship - when both parties have made it abundantly clear how much they care for the other - he knows that if she reads the unbridled lust in his eyes, he’s done for. The exposure of his greatest passion. And certainly not in his office when he should be concentrating on catching a killer rather than tearing through the fine silk with his teeth. He can’t take it anymore. He slams the file closed and resigns to defeat.

“Would you…” he begins, looking up at her in that way, his hand gesturing in a way as if trying to grasp from thin air just how to put this… “Get off my desk, please?”
She’s actually completely innocent for a change when she asks, “Why?” Oh sure, she knows the effect she has on him when she tries. Case in point, the letter in the garter. But in this case, she was doing nothing at all to be provocative and doesn’t yet understand the long, hard truth of the matter..
And in rather the same self-preserving manner that he once told her that he was a grown man, unlikely to blush at the sight of a little bare flesh, he all but begs, “Just… Remove yourself, Miss Fisher.”
Until then she really had no idea what was going on because she was so absorbed in her thoughts about the case. But now that she knows, she’s certainly not going to make it that easy for him. “I’m quite comfortable, thank you.”
And so, Jack does the only thing he can to preserve his dignity. He brandishes the jar containing the practical joke and she practically teleports to the other side of the desk.
“Not fair, Jack,” she clucks. Perhaps not but effective nonetheless. Jack deserves to win a few rounds, doesn’t he? But what’s so great is that neither ends up taking offense. I imagine that they both playfully brushed it off after sharing a knowing smile. When we next see them again, they have resumed inspecting Belinda’s things in hopes of discovering anything that will point them in the right direction. Which of course, they do and it does. The false bottom (because of course) of Belinda’s luggage is where she kept numbered photographs of Angela Lombard being intimate with Terence Lawson.

Meanwhile, Mac calls to report that the Constance’s sage tea showed no signs of poison and Dot and Hugh are once again confronted with more exposure as Burn threatens them with taking another lewd-looking photo. And anyone who thought they might be above making out with Hugh Collins would be damned if they themselves weren’t sorely tempted as the Senior Constable shows his mettle. And it turns out that in order to put the incident behind her, what Dot needed wasn’t a fancy cocktail party or to consider that anyone who knows her would know the real truth. What she needed was Hugh.

Lombard comes clean to the detectives and admits that Belinda was blackmailing her for the photos. She couldn’t risk that her love life would be exposed to the god-fearing Mormons - potentially costing her the shoe contract. Much to her delight, she produces the illicit photo to show to Jack - no doubt hoping that what he sees might entice him. But there’s still one photograph missing as Jack and Phryne attempt to work it out in the stands, watching Ms. Lombard beat a very ill Mrs. Burrows. Inspecting Angela’s photo, Phryne notices Mrs. Burrows captured in the shot fussing with her dress. She puts it all together.  Her sage tea - sometimes used as a digestive aid but also to stem excessive milk production, her unwillingness to bed her husband straight away. Constance hasn’t been spilling things on her dress - she’s sopping up the wet spots. Well, at least I’m not the only one. Constance Burrows was hiding a pregnancy. She admitted that she went away after breaking up with Lawson - to clear her head. But what she really did was give birth. Unfortunately, she was suffering from threatening mastitis and it gave her away. Could she have trained and played with a condition like that? I think so. She is an elite athlete so besides being in prime physical shape, her determination to compete far outweighed any physical symptoms she might have suffered. I’ve seen cyclists ride up mountains in Tour de France stages with broken collarbones. Hell, half the world just watched as Aussie Jason Day competed in the US Open while suffering debilitating bouts of vertigo. It was the murder itself that I found convoluted. Why would Constance kill Belinda if half a dozen other people knew about the pregnancy, figuring for hospital staff and the adoption broker? Any one of them could have exposed her and ruined her career. And why wait until you got to Melbourne to do it? (Well, I think that was because she had hoped that Phryne’s friendship would provide cover.) Then, you’ve got Stanley - supposedly Phryne’s close friend - who turns out to be the one who planted the practical joke in Phryne’s room, knew his wife had been the one to kill Belinda and kept quiet about it, attempting to frame an innocent man out of jealousy. Bah! But there’s three minutes left in the show… plenty of time for another bout of Robinson’s Dementia, so let’s have it.

Ms. Lombard can’t let the opportunity of bedding Jack Robinson pass without giving it one last try. “If you ever get tired of Miss Fisher and wanna play ball with me, I’ll give you the best game you’ve ever had.”
As if he could ever imagine himself tiring of Miss Fisher. As if he could ever imagine anyone surpassing what he and Phryne will be capable of when they finally do get down to playing ball.
“I think we both know that’s a challenge I won’t be accepting. Goodbye, Miss Lombard.” Of course they both know. He isn’t Stanley Burrows - a man who is so in love with his wife that he attempts to cover up her crime and yet, so easily compromised by unfulfilled lust that when Belinda seduces him, he readily gives in to his desires. No. Jack Robinson does not work that way. He will not be taking Angela up on her offer just because he’s backed up. But god love him, he’s just so damn polite about it - even though he’s not letting down a woman who is in love with him. Angela wants him for one thing and one thing only.
And the little smirk he wears proves that the flattery is good for his soul. But there is only one woman with whom Jack wants to play. And he wants match her … Love All.

The closing soundtrack is incredibly poignant. “When You’re Smiling” was recorded in 1929 by Louie Armstrong (even though it’s the King Oliver version that plays):
When you’re smilin’ keep on smilin’… The whole world smiles with you
And when you’re laughin’ oh when you’re laughin’… The sun comes shinin’ through.

And what could break the clouds and make the sun shine through, but hearing Jack Robinson laugh? Thank you, Producers, for granting one of my top wishes for Season 3. I’m so incredibly grateful, I’m not even going to fuss about the crappy overdubbing job.

Presumably after locking up the Burrows, Jack darts home for his tennis whites and joins Miss Fisher in a rather unusual wrap up to their case. They’ve been doing things quite differently for a while now. First Jack brings her wine, then they drink lemonade, we last had a waltz and now it’s time for a serve. So we meet up with our two crazy kids literally playing ball, giving great game on Aunt P’s tennis court. And they are adorable. Nathan looks a natural on the court, which should come to no surprise to anyone. The man possesses a preternatural grace and an athletic physicality that would make Roger Federer envious. Not to mention the fact that he can make a sweater vest seem the sexiest piece of clothing ever invented. But it’s Jack’s demeanor and appearance that are the most striking. No overcoat. No jacket. No tie. His collar undone and his shirtsleeves rolled up. Nothing to hide behind. Because there’s no reason to hide anymore. What he feels has already been exposed to her. So there’s no reason to not to laugh, not to smile, not to relax and enjoy. Jack Robinson is alive again, folks. And wearing white pants. Is that a tennis ball in your pocket, Jack? Or are you just happy to see me? When he stretches back to serve, it’s revealed that Jack does in fact own a belt - a small detail I was ridiculously overjoyed about. Don’t judge. It’s the little things.

And it’s the next two little lines that absolutely say it all where these two are concerned:
“I aced you, Miss Fisher.”
“You just caught me off-guard.”
Are we still talking about tennis? Jack Robinson has indeed caught her off-guard. Just as she has managed to infiltrate his life, he has managed to infiltrate hers. They have to make do with each other, after all.

I loved how earnest Phryne was her compliment, “You’re actually quite good, you know?” And we see the Jack from Queenscliff, the one who strides up the beach in confidence, the one I believe is quite at home with his body’s abilities. He shares that he learned while he was at the Police Academy. Put that into your fan fiction pipe and smoke it. While I don’t believe it was formal training, I have to assume that the cadets were encouraged to keep fit and knowing that the Police Association had clubs for training and boxing, there may have been a group who played tennis and a young Jack was keen to learn. Don’t care. Jack’s in white pants with his forearms bared. I’m going with it. He uses the segway to rib her about the lack of detail in her police reports… Can you imagine Phryne having to process paperwork?!?… and formally retires her from her station as his special constable.

“I see,” she says, not surprised in the least and grasping for something in her bag. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your badge back, then,” and holds it out for the taking. Surely, he wants it back. He’s kept it since he was ten for fuck’s sake.
But he looks at it, sizing it up. The treasure that, as a boy, he imagined only being able to part with if it belonged to his ideal partner.
“Well,” he considers… the decision made. “No.”
She looks up at him to find that his expression has sobered.  "No, I think you’ve earned the badge.“ And even if his voice takes on that deep rasping quality that makes us weak in the knees, it’s not sappy or saccharine. Nor is it condescending. She has earned it. Earned his respect. Earned his admiration and trust. Earned her place by his side and sometimes (ok, mostly) in front. And I love that he tells her this before any attempt to use his mouth  - verbally or otherwise - to convey his other feelings toward her. Because their relationship was built on this.

And goddamm it, he’s pinning the shit to her again!! Isn’t it bad enough we only get 8 episodes? Do you have to shoot a nearly identical frame of something we’ve already seen? But as I’ve said, his giving her the badge to keep is not about love. This is about respect. There’s no flourish the way there was with the swallow brooch. It’s professional, almost militaristic - as if he were bestowing a medal of commendation. Which, in his way, he is. And to drive the point home further, look at his stance. Toe to toe with Miss Fisher, Jack’s hands are clasped gently behind his back in a completely open and earnest posture. As opposed to the naughty way he was holding them after undoing Angela’s dress or the way we always see him stuffing them into his pockets. So I can’t be too mad. And anyway, I’ve already admitted that I’m afflicted with a debilitating disease and the next bout’s going to be a doozy. Because my god, look at that smile…

Cheers everyone! Only one more to go! And by the way, Acorn has started taking pre-orders for Season 3 on DVD/Blu-Ray if you’re interested.

The Hug and the Sexy Discretion Shot

Thank you to @what-left-unspoken​ for posting about this and making me realize I was not going crazy. I had idea going since I saw the episode, I screamed when if faded to black and it had an establishing shot. This is just insane. This is the original post. Go look at it. 

Let me humor you for a minute.

We saw Mycroft and Lady Smallwood alone, in a room (not a bedroom though). They put on their coats. She invites him for drinks. Mycroft is confused.This is coded. This is two people, a man and a woman, getting dressed. Everyone is taking this as code.

And we saw this:

They hold. Fade to black. Establishing shot from outside 221B (with a camera panning from the sky to the fucking window, I cant). They are putting on their coat. They talk for a while. John invites Sherlock to eat cake. He says yes.

“You never see anything anyway. They always, uh, turn the camera, and… play music and… y'know, the wind blows and then the curtain moves. You don’t see anything."— Frustrated viewer, The Truman Show (from tvtropes)

This is called a Sexy Discretion Shot:

Two characters have been talking, talking has turned to kissing, and as kissing starts to turn to… other things (and clothes start coming off), the camera suddenly decides to look elsewhere. The view pans away as itfades to black or rests upon an intimate but innocuous object like a burning candle, the curtains of the open window or the door being closed. (x)

Now. I’m not saying they had a shag on the living room floor. But it was CODED that way. It’s way more sexually coded than with Mycroft and Smallwood. They are hugging (Mycroft and Smallwood didn’t even TOUCH). There is a fade to black and an establishing shot. Why? We don’t need an establishing shot. We KNOW WHERE WE ARE. This is how they do in movies that can’t show sex. Kissing, fade to black, stablishing shot and get on with their day.   Honestly, if this was on the 40s/50s/60s it would be enough to assume they have had sex. Well, everyone is assuming Mycroft and Smallwood might have and THEY WERE JUST PUTTING THEIR COATS ON!!!! 

But it’s the 21st century, so I’m not saying it is what happened. But it is supposed to evoke that. Its supposed to take us to that mindset subconsciously. This is a romantic relationship. 

Is this not enough for you? Oh, please, keep reading

Keep reading

Afraid - Bucky x Reader

Originally posted by 107th-infantry

Summary: Reader has a thing for Bucky (who wouldn’t?) and is really shy and afraid to talk to him because of this.
Requested by Anon.
Notes: This will be written and posted from my phone so the formatting will not be perfect -sorry!

“(Y/n)?” Steve asked, cooking lunch in the kitchen, “Will you please go ask Bucky to come up for dinner?”

 You froze, heart rate increasing. 

“Is that not okay?” Steve frowned. 

“Um. I just… feel really sick. I think I need to go to the bathroom.” You did a quick little wave then sprinted off.
It wasn’t a complete lie. The thought of talking to Bucky made you so nervous you really did feel sick. Steve was going to think you were such an idiot. Oh god what had you done. 

A few minutes later you left the bathroom to go to the kitchen.

“Feeling better?” Steve asked, sitting down for lunch with Bucky and Sam.

 Bucky gave you a wave and a call of “Hello!” once you’d nodded at Steve’s question.

Your throat closed up, keeping your words captive, not allowing them to escape the bonds of your lips. So instead, you merely waved, turning away before they could see the flush in your cheeks. You quickly grabbed a drink then left the room, Bucky’s eyes following you as you left. 

 Deciding to try calm down, you went down to the training room. After ten or so minutes of training alone, Bucky joined you. The two of you sparred together in silence until Bucky suddenly stopped, a sigh on his lips.

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” He asked. 

You sucked your lips in, choosing your words carefully, “I do want to talk to you." 

"It’s like you’re afraid of me. I never expected that from you.” He leant against the wall, his expression conveying his hurt. 

“No! I’m not afraid of you." 

"It seems like you are. Don’t lie, (y/n). You’re afraid to talk to me aren’t you?” Bucky folded his arms across his chest. 

“I’m not afra- Okay, I am but not because of what you think." 

"Why then?” He asked, eyebrow raised. 

 You couldn’t say it and Bucky seemed to understand that.

“You uh… do you kind of have a thing for me?” He asked awkwardly.

You flushed red and a rather unconvincing denial slipped your lips as you lowered your head. You heard Bucky’s laugh and then his finger was under your chin, bringing your gaze up to his. 

“It’s okay. I have a thing for you too. That’s why I was so mad when I thought you were afraid of me.” You smiled, quickly replacing the shock with joy. Bucky mirrored your expression then pressed his lips to yours.

anonymous asked:

Should you really be talking about hickys since your more likely to get bitten by a poisonous spider or get beaten to death then ever have someone give you one

oh one second i need you to take a quick break from fantasising about me getting beaten to death (impossible btw, i am too strong) - when you wake up to a mysterious figure in your room i need you to do me a favour and not scream, its just me removing your teeth and hammering them into your pelvis in a perfect recreation of your natural dental pattern to artistically represent how hard you were sucking your own metaphysical dick while you were typing up this ask. please respect my artistic endeavors

anonymous asked:

A scenario were tsukki comforts his s/o because of her phobia of thunderstorms?

//reminds me of when tamaki tried to help harui calm down during a storm bc she had a huge phobia for them, but anyway you got it anon


Thunder roared as the wind and rain raged unforgivingly against your home. A flicker of lightning struck, illuminating the windows and you buried yourself deeper into your covered, clutching onto it for dear life. You wondered when Tsukki would come home, if he came home. The storm was bad that he was told to stay at his workplace rather than go home because the roads were too dangerous.

You longed for his warmth. His long arms and legs tangled with your own under the sheets that you shared every night.

The thunder rumbled loudly and you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to imagine him there. His sweet soothing words whispered into your ear as he held onto you tightly, rubbing small, intricate patterns into your outer thigh. And it was as if he was actually there. His warmth, suddenly surrounding you and you immediately felt at ease as his lips kissed the corner of your mouth and his body was pressed against yours.

“…sorry, I wanted to come as soon as possible, but the roads–they were so bad, I’m so, sorry [name].”

“Tsukki?” You whispered.


You slowly opened your eyes as you shifted your body to face him. And there he was, raindrops rolling down his cheeks, chin, lips and full, blonde lashes. His eyes full with concern and regret because how the hell could he leave you alone in the middle of a terrible storm. It really was him.

You buried your face into his neck, as you sobbed softly and he let out a sigh as he ran his long fingers through your hair.

“I’m sorry, [name].” He repeated.

You placed a gentle kiss to his collarbone. “It’s okay.”

And it was–for the most part. If he hadn’t been soaked to the bone it would have been perfect.

“Hey, uh, Tsukki, do you mind maybe changing into dry clothes? You’re wetting the bed and, well me.” You spoke.

A devilish grin on his face that made you regret your wording. “Oh, did I make you wet, [name]?”
You felt yourself squirming under his fixed gaze. Those golden hues were really doing a number on you.

“Just, change–please.” You sputtered, getting off him as he chuckled. He quickly shimmied out his wet clothing and you watched as he peeled off each article. His slim, lean body turned to face you and he gave you a quick wink before putting on a shirt and pajama pants. You were slightly mortified as you hid under your blankets once more, earning another low chuckle from him.

“So bashful.” He teased, nuzzling your clothed neck. You mumbled a sound of protested and he smiled as he pecked your cheek, wrapping his arms around you and pulled you to his chest. A small smile on your face as you felt rested in the comfy position.

“Thank you, Kei.”

He hummed in response as he engulfed his face into the nape of your neck. The sound of soft rain pattering against the rooftop, coupled with Tsukishima’s even breathing was giving you the beginnings of that familiar hazy feeling that enveloped you just as much as he did. Storms weren’t that bad when Tsukki was around.