#Della smiling at Paul when she comes in!!!!

[theperrylleluniverse]

FIRST OF ALL I LOVE PAUL SO MUCH IM SCREAMING

Second of all, THEY ARE SO POLYCULE I CANT EVEN

Third of all, PAUL CALLED PERRY A BIG SOFTIE

[goinginsanebyloveau]

(OOC) Hello, my audience! I'm DoctorQuacks and I'm the creator of this AU featuring my OC, Kapono Ashira. I serve as the creator, artist, and writer of the series but I do accept fanart from you guys.

What is Going Insane by Love?

Going Insane by Love is a romantic-tragic-horror AU series based on the series DuckTales (2017).

It follows the story of a gay romantic relationship between the richest duck in the world, Scrooge McDuck, and a yandere musician, Kapono Ashira. For some reason, the people who oppose Kapono’s insane obsession with keeping his partner Scrooge, would be threatened or occasionally “disappear”.

Starting with Goldie, when Scrooge introduces her to him, Kapono sees Goldie as a distraction, a person who was in the way. He knew she also liked Scrooge, but not in the same way he loved. So, after the show, Kapono lures Goldie... And she disappeared... No one knew what happened to her but Scrooge was affected by it.

However, Kapono comforted him and assured him that everything is gonna be okay. When Kapono’s girlfriend, Madeline Renea “disappeared”, his love for Scrooge grew more common and more obsessive.

Although Scrooge didn't have any feelings for Kapono, he ended up liking him. After all, he was still hurt by Goldie’s “disappearance” and Kapono was so kind to him during those hard times. When they reunited, Scrooge had fallen for him, completely unaware of Kapono’s unusual smile.

Officer Paul Quacker saw what Kapono has done. He fully manipulated Scrooge, one of the few people who believed Kapono had done something to Madeline, into falling in love with him.

Officer Quacker tried to immediately arrest Kapono for what he had done to Madeline Renea and Victoria Ducksoa, but Kapono thought it would be a good idea to let Officer Quacker reunite with the women he made “disappear”.

Years later, Kapono was still beloved and retired as a musician. Although most people loved Kapono, he did have some grudges against the friends and family of Scrooge McDuck. Most were comfortable and trusted Kapono Ashira while the rest... They were either uncomfortable with Kapono, wanted to get rid of him, or just scared of what he’ll do with him...

As for Scrooge, he was in love with Kapono but was frightened by his insanity. He knew how crazy Kapono would be when it comes to love but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Not to mention the sudden disappearances of the people Kapono comes in contact with.

However, Kapono already knows what happen to those people...

Who is Kapono Ashira

Kapono Ashira is a Christian musician well-known for his jazz music and his guitar skills. His character is mainly inspired by The Stupendium. The reason why I made him a yandere is from the amount of yandere media I found on the internet. From what I saw, there weren't enough male yandere and one of the yanderes I saw was nothing more than a sadistic kuudere. So, from some info I got for Kapono and a fanfiction commission made by @backgroundshipper, I decided to create an AU where Kapono replaced Goldie and has Scrooge all to himself.

Kapono’s personality is usually kind and caring, but when it comes to love, Kapono would turn cold and sadistic, sometimes causing most people to disappear.

As for the relationships towards Kapono:

The triplets would be creeped out by Kapono’s insane obsession for their uncle Scrooge.

Donald hated Kapono for being involved with Della’s disappearance and was threatened by him if he tries to get him away from Scrooge, he'll make him join Della.

Webby wanted Kapono gone, not for threatening Beakley a while back but for obsessing over Scrooge as if he was his possession.

Launchpad... Well he trusts Kapono...

Gyro has an adopted daughter named Glendy Gearloose and saw how insane Kapono is. As a result, Gyro is willing to protect his daughter from him, even if it means that he'll die protecting her.

What will I post in this page

Well, I would repost some of my art relating to Kapono, any fanart from people, and maybe some fanfics from them.

Can anyone post here?

As long if they followed the rules, yes.

About Ask the Yandere Musician

You are allowed to ask Kapono any questions as long it's:

Doesn't involve any NSFW

It's related to the AU and DuckTales

Nothing too disgusting (no fetishes)

Not homophobic/transphobic

And no, YOU CAN NOT ASK KAPONO ABOUT RACISM OR ANYTHING RACIST

Not a proship

And please... Be patient for your questions to be answered.

[perry-mason-della-street]

Chocolates For Della - Chapter 7

A Perry Mason Fanfiction

Genre: mystery; hints of romance

Warnings: not for children under 10 years of age (injury and threats)

Dedicated to: @muir2244-blog, @nicoles-story-corner, and @goldenteadust, Thank you for following me!!

Not quite up to my usual standards...

___________________________________________________

Perry took Della to her apartment. After helping her unload, he called Paul Drake.

"Paul? Perry. I have a request to make," Perry quickly told him the full story, particularly the knife in the flower, "I have a job: put a man keeping a watch on Della. I'm trying to talk her into staying home until we find this guy."

"Alright. Are you at her apartment?"

"Yes."

"I'll be right over."

~~~~~~~P+D~~~~~~P+D~~~~~~~~P+D~~~~~~~P+D~~~~~~~

Paul knocked on the door.

"Come on in."

Paul came in and looked over to where Della was resting on the sofa. She smiled at him, but he could see she was worn out.

"Well, Della, someone has been picking on you, I hear," Paul sat on the arm of the sofa.

"I guess so," she sighed.

"You are going to be a good girl and stay home, nice and safe until we find the guy bothering you, aren't you?" he spoke like protective big brother.

"If you and Perry think it's best, I'l do it, even though I don't like it."

"That's our Della!" Paul cheered and Della couldn't help but laugh.

"I have a detective sitting at the end of the hallway. He's going to keep an eye on you, making sure no one is being a bother. If you have to go anywhere, he'll be your escort."

"Alright, thank you!"

Paul and Perry went out into the hallway, getting ready to leave.

"I found out that the flower was left sitting on the front desk. The nurse on duty stepped for a second, then found it sitting there when she returned. A typed note said 'Della Street'. No leads on the typewriter yet," Paul lit a cigaret.

"I'm going down to talk to some of the florists in town and see if I can find anything. You'll let me know if anything comes up?"

"Absolutely."

"Talk to you later," Perry left.

Neither of them realized that a telegram was just arriving for a "Miss Della Street".

Author's note:

My goodness, this story keeps growing in my mind! I'm not sure if I'm even half way through yet! Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think of this story so far down in the comments!

~Anne B. Mae <3

[gay-otlc]

Little Miss Perfect

Summary: Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward, straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful. Straight A's are most successful. Straight forward is fastest. Straight girls are the most perfect. And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight. Ae doesn't get a choice.

Little miss perfect, that's me

Content warnings: Internalized homophobia, homophobia in general, cursing, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, lmk if I should add more.

Word count: 3143

(Read on AO3)

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight path, I don't cut corners

Biana Amberly Vacker is beautiful, and smart, but that's hardly a surprise. Even before ae was born, everyone knew ae would be beautiful, and smart. Ae's a Vacker, after all. Ae wakes up early to straighten aer hair and stays up late to study, so ae's tired all the time, but ae's gorgeous and ae's at the top of aer class, so does it really matter?

Ae takes life one day at a time, one step after another, because if ae slows down or turns around, everything ae's running away from might catch up with aer.

So ae doesn't do that. Biana keeps following the straight path and hopes the road ahead of aer doesn't wind too much. Make sure every step leads aer to perfection.

I make a point to be on time Head of the student council

Not only that, but Biana's on time for everything. Aer parents make sure of that, but ae probably would be even without their help- Biana likes to plan ahead. Or really, ae doesn't know for sure whether ae likes it, or if it makes ae feel trapped. But at least it saves aer the confusion and terror of an uncertain life. Whatever the reason, ae makes little notes in aer planner for all aer appointments.

And bigger notes in aer journal for the rest of aer life.

Make it through Foxfire.

Manifest an ability.

Get a respectable job.

Marry a respectable boy.

Have children.

Step four... doesn't seem so great, by which ae means downright nauseating, but that doesn't matter. What ae wants doesn't matter. And anyway, this will probably be what ae wants in the long run. Ae's just not old enough for boys yet. Plenty of time for that in the future.

Ae'll be on time for every step of aer perfect fucking life.

I don't black out at parties I jam to Paul McCartney

Biana doesn't break rules- mostly because ae's afraid of how aer father would punish aer. Either way, ae's never snuck out at night, never spent time with the classmates he said were beneath aer, never wore something he said showed too much skin, never ate more than ae was allowed to. Every single one of his rules, ae followed.

If that meant not going to Marella Redek's party because her mother was too "strange," even though everyone else was talking about how fun it would be, ae wouldn't go. Ae would just miss out. Fun.

Ae heard that at the parties, they played human music. What would that even sound like? Fitz knew- he got to go to the human world all the time, but Biana didn't. Still, after incessant begging, aer dad let aer listen to one song, by a human named Paul McCartney. It wasn't bad. Quite good, in comparison to elvin music. Still... ae wished ae could listen to more.

Of course, ae wouldn't. That would be disobeying aer dad. And ae didn't do that. She always had to be the perfect daughtaer.

If you ask me how I'm doing I'll say... Well, hmm

Lying wasn't good, of course. Ae shouldn't lie to people who asked how ae was doing.

But ae couldn't admit to being anything less than perfect.

So ae'd just mumble.

Perfect until proven otherwise.

I was adopted when I was two My parents spoiled me rotten

Okay, so Biana isn't actually adopted- but for years, ae thought ae had been. Always out of place in the perfect Vacker family, because everything comes so effortlessly to them, they're exactly what elvin society wants without any struggle at all. And ae... wasn't like that. Too loud, too argumentative, not quite ladylike enough. Not smart enough, ae needed to work harder. Not pretty enough.

Not interested in the right people.

But when ae learned to stay quiet, keep aer head down, and follow all the damn rules, aer parents seemed to like aer better. Well, Alden did. Della always appreciated aer, however quietly, slipping aer little pieces of mallowmelt behind Alden's back even when he told aer that ae had to be thinner. Whispering compliments into aer ears after Alden scolded aer so much his voice was hoarse from screaming and aers was hoarse from crying.

And when Alden was proud of aer, she would get everything ae wanted. All the pretty dresses. All the sparkles and sketchbooks and sewing kits. Trips to Atlantis or Eternalia. Anything ae wanted, to reward her for being Little Miss Perfect.

Often I ask myself, "What did I do?" To get as far as I've gotten

Some of the time- who the hell is ae kidding, it's most, if not all, of the time- Biana feels like... ae doesn't deserve aer last name, or aer popularity, or any of aer privileges in life. Mentors at Foxfire practically revere aer and aer peers bend over backwards to be liked by aer.

Ae is so fucking sick of it.

Why aer? Ae wants to scream the question at every single person who treats aer differently. Why is ae the one to get that treatment? Ae had never done anything important in aer whole fucking life, ae didn't do anything, and all this praise should go to someone far more perfect than aer.

A pretty girl walks by my locker My heart gives a flutter

Biana is, unfortunately, very well known at Foxfire, and ae thought ae knew everyone else too. But ae's never seen this girl before, because ae would know if they had. It would be impossible for past Biana to have seen this girl and not remember her.

She has dark skin, even darker than Biana's, and long dreadlocks pulled into a knot and streaked with blue. Biana thought ae was used to the beauty of elvin girls- they were all quite pretty- but this girl, holy shit, ae was not prepared to see this girl. Her flat nose and full pink lips and turquoise eyes are all so beautiful. Biana's heart pounds and flutters around her chest like it wants to fly out and meet this girl, and aer breath catches.

Maruca Chebota, as ae later learns, is perfection.

But I don't dare utter a word 'Cause that would be absurd behaviour For little miss perfect

The pretty girl continues walking, seemingly unaware that she's thrown Biana's world wobbling out of orbit. Biana wants to call out to her, to yell, to make sure she doesn't walk away and make it so that amazing high, those butterflies and awe and something ae can't even describe, seems almost like it never happened.

But there are a lot of people in the hallways, and they're already staring at aer far more intensely than what ae would describe as comfortable, ready to judge each and every thing she does. Running to catch up with a girl because she's pretty? Not normal. Not normal for any elf, but especially not aer.

Biana silently watches her turn around a corner into a different hallway and out of aer line of sight, wishing ae could have been a little less perfect. Just for one second.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, I can't risk falling off my throne

Dear Maruca,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you lately. I'm sorry I can't talk to you. You haven't done anything wrong, I promise.

It's just... you're dangerous. To my heart, my... my reputation. My throne.

That's not quite true. You're not dangerous to most people. You're just dangerous to me. Maybe you're fine, and I'm just too fragile. Too imperfect.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something I don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What if we did love each other? Bravely. Boldly. Unapologetically.

What if I pretended it wouldn't topple me off my throne; or pretended I didn't care?

No. That's stupid. I shouldn't sacrifice all that for love.

This isn't even love, anyway. I don't know what love is, but you aren't it.

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful.

Straight A's are most successful.

Straight forward is fastest.

Straight girls are the most perfect.

Little miss perfect That's me

And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight.

Ae doesn't get a choice.

One night my friend stayed over We laughed, and drank and ordered

And straight girls would like Maruca, sure, but not in the way Biana does. Not in that all consuming, heart wrenching, feels like ae's floating and falling and spiraling all at once way. Just in a... a friend way. A normal way. Because the two of them would make perfect friends, and anything other than that would end in fiery disaster.

So Biana makes friends with Maruca. Friends. They talk about their Universe class, and play splotching together in PE (Maruca wins; Biana gets distracted by her braids), and horribly bake mallowmelt together. It burns.

Maruca is... fun. It's fun to be friends with Maruca. Ae invites her over to Everglen for a sleepover- Della is overjoyed that Biana is finally making friends- and they have a fun time. Playing games and talking about useless shit and going to go bother Fitz and his friend Keefe.

It doesn't need to be anything different, Biana tells aerself, again and again. It's perfect like this. It doesn't need to change.

Something about her drew me in What? It's totally platonic

Biana can't stop staring at Maruca.

She feels like gravity, a star, and ae feels like a planet. They work perfectly together, orbiting around and around and around. If Maruca smiles, Biana's mind races to solve the mystery of how exactly that smile would taste on aer lips. It tastes good, ae thinks, though that's a stupid thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Maruca asks. "You have this goofy smile on your face, and you didn't hear the story I just told."

Biana turns bright red. Of course, ae can't say I was thinking about your lips on mine, because that would sound... weird. Ae has to keep it platonic, because they'll never be anything other than platonic, and it's not like ae wants that either. Ae swallows, and finally says "You. I'm really glad we're friends."

Platonic friends. Perfect, platonic friends.

That night was so exciting Her smirks were so enticing

"Yeah, I'm an awesome friend," Maruca says, flicking one of her intricate braids. Biana's eyes linger on it a little too long.

Ae clears aer throat and quickly deflects the conversation, still blushing. "You are. Do you want to go downstairs? It smells like something's baking."

"I would be honored to go eat some of your mom's amazing desserts, m'laedy," says Maruca, extending a hand with mock formality. Her gorgeous lips are pulled into a smirk. Biana's breath catches; ae wants to freeze this mental image for eternity. Cautiously, ae takes Maruca's hand in aers.

Skin touching. Holding hands.

It's stupid, it's a cliche, but it does feel like sparks shoot across aer skin as Maruca wraps her fingers in Biana's and starts walking downstairs. Aer stomach flips around excitedly.

Then ae crashes and burns. They are friends. Both girls. Friends don't get this excited about holding other friends' hands. Biana rips aer hand away and stuffs it in aer pocket. Maruca looks a bit offended, but Biana clenches aer jaw and looks down.

It hurts, but ae has to be perfect. No exceptions.

Hours speed by like seconds Then, what happens is iconic

Once they get over the awkwardness of that moment, they slip right back into the fun they were having before. Della's ripplefluffs disappear quickly, and the two of them go back into Biana's room to keep talking. Biana shows Maruca aer sketches- ae hasn't really shown them to anyone before, Alden thinks a Vacker should have a more noble profession than designing fashion- and Maruca tells Biana that ae should dye aer hair.

Alden is going to kill aer, but for once, ae isn't thinking of that. Della would probably say yes, but the two of them decide it would be more fun to sneak out, so they light leap to Slurps And Burps as quietly as they can, in silent giggles the whole time. Maruca decides to re-dye the blue streaks in her hair, and Biana opts for violet. They go back to Biana's room and laugh more. Biana wildly thinks this is the most fun ae's ever had.

It's perfect, even if ae isn't.

She takes a sip, I bite my lip She tells a joke, I nearly choke

Aer stomach is sore from laughing, and ae still can't stop looking at Maruca. She's so pretty, something ae could stare at forever if ae had the chance. The longer ae looks, the more ae notices little details, like the way her braids fall against her shoulders, and how she has barely visible freckles splattered across her nose, and how her hand brushes against Biana's every so often. It's warm, and smooth, and perfect.

Maruca is a masterpiece of a person.

Currently, Biana's fascination lies in how her lips curl around the straw of her lushberry juice. It’s disgusting and wrong and so thrilling as Biana imagines kissing those lips.

No. Stop thinking about that, Biana commands aerself, biting aer own lip to draw aer attention away.

"Biana? Bi? You listening?"

Ae turns red. "Yeah, sorry!"

"Alright, so I was reading about cowboys, except I read it as cowgoys because it was really late, which implies the existence of Jewish cows. So then the thought 'Bar Moo-tzvah' came into my head and I can't stop thinking about it."

Biana snorts; the joke is funny enough on its own, but the cute little smile on Maruca's face and the way her eyes light up nearly make aer choke.

“Shut the fuck up, brain, let me be the perfect Vacker,” ae muters, too quietly for Maruca to hear.

She braids my hair, I sit there Blacking out for the first time

Maruca says Biana's newly violet hair looks beautiful- ae needs to fake a coughing fit to keep from squealing- and asks to braid it. Biana nods, and lets aerself get lost in the feeling of fingers weaving through aer hair and brushing against aer head.

Aer eyes close- ae doesn't know when, but the room around aer disappears and all ae can feel is fingers and this all encompassing, overwhelming love ae seems to be drowning in, blacking out everything else.

Next thing I know, I lose control I finally kiss her but oh no

Without making any conscious decision, Biana spins around, cups Maruca's face, and gently presses aer lips against hers. Their flat noses touch, eyelashes flutter against each other's cheeks, lips kissing. Kissing. It's fast, and sweet, and wonderful. Biana feels aer world aligning perfectly, like this is the way everything was meant to be, and there are fireworks shooting across aer skies.

Biana smiles against Maruca's lips.

I see a face in my window Then my brain starts to go

Everything happens at once.

Maruca yelps and pushes aer back. The door swings open, revealing a shocked Fitz. Fireworks vanish, as quickly as they came.

Biana's world shatters.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, you can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

That kiss was amazing.

But it's too risky to do again.

I'm sorry.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something you don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What do I know about kissing? It's not like I have anything to compare it too, besides that one time I kissed Keefe on the cheek because I thought I was supposed to. No, because I wanted to. Because I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him and I didn't want to kiss you.

I don't know what kissing is supposed to feel like. Or what love is supposed to feel like.

It'll be better with a boy. It has to be better with a boy.

I'll know love eventually, and it won't be with you.

You shouldn't love me either.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na You can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you-

No.

I hate myself.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love You don't even know

Dear Maruca,

Or maybe I love you.

I don't know.

I probably don't.

Because I can't love another girl, right? I have to be misunderstanding what love means if I think I can love a girl.

I don't know love. But it can't be you.

Rewind, induce amnesia Deny the truth, that's easier

Fitz tells her what to do- pretend like it never happened. That's what Alden told him when he kissed Keefe. Biana snorts humorlessly at that; two fucked up Vacker children. But ae follows his advice. Forget about it. Pretend it never happened. Never address it with Maruca; or speak to her again, really. Pretend, pretend, pretend.

Ae's been pretending aer whole life.

Life continues on, and ae pretends to be okay. Maruca makes friends with Stina, and Biana makes friends with the new girl. Sophie Foster. Sophie is nice enough, but she's not Maruca. She can't replace Maruca. No one can fucking replace Maruca, and no one should have to- ae just fucked up aer only chance with someone that wonderful. But ae pretends Sophie is enough, pretends ae's not heartbroken.

Pretends, pretends, pretends.

Pretends to be perfect.

You're just confused, believe her When she says there's nothing there

Biana talks to Maruca once.

They both apologize in the same breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened-"

"That was weird, I'm sorry-"

"I don't like you, I was just confused."

"So was I, kissing girls was just something I thought I'd try, a bit of a phase."

"No, totally, it's not like I really like girls or anything."

"Nah, that'd be weird."

They never speak again. There's nothing between them. Biana tries to believe what Maruca told aer. Ae doesn't.

“You're just confused,” ae repeats to aerself. “You're still perfect.”

It's never worth it When you're little miss perfect

Dear Maruca,

Maybe someone else can love you. Someone who doesn't have to be little miss perfect.

[fandomwritings-cm13]

The Case of the Missing Maid (A Paul Drake Fic) -- Chapter 4

Pairing: Paul Drake x OC (Maisie Sciortino)

Summary: Maisie Sciortino is on trial for the murders of those in her closest circles, with none other than the Perry Mason representing her. What will the verdict be?

Warnings: lots of dialogue, most likely inaccurate courtroom proceedings (I’m watching the show while writing so hopefully it’s helping!)

A/N: This is more of a filler chapter, more action in the next chapter

Word Count: 943

“I know it’s not much, but Bradley really hammered home how fidgety you get when you’re stressed,” Della says, holding out a small bag to me.

I take it from her, though confused, and open it. Inside is a pillow case, some embroidery needles, and some embroidery thread in a variety of colors.

“Ms. Street, I-... I don’t know how to thank you,” I say. “I really appreciate this and you bringing me appropriate clothes. I’m afraid I didn’t think to pack a bag when I left with Lieutenant Tragg.”

“It’s quite alright, Ms. Sciortino. You had been through a lot.”

I nod slowly. 

“Well, you should get ready to head into court. The matron will be in shortly to escort you out.”

“Are you sure Mr. Mason-”

She grabs my hand firmly and looks me in the eye. “You should trust Mr. Mason. He knows what he’s doing, even when it looks like he doesn’t.”

I nod quickly. “Thank you, Ms. Street.”

She smiles again before stepping out of the holding cell they’re keeping me in. I watch her walk away but don’t move from my spot, waiting for the police matron to come into view. She does a mere moment later, unlocking the cell door and opening it. I step out of the cell and walk with her as she keeps hold of my arm. 

My gut drops as we enter the courtroom, but I do my best to keep my back straight as we approach where Mr. Mason is already seated with Mr. Drake and Ms. Street. I see Bradley and Harriet both seated behind Ms. Street. Further down the row are both of my parents, two of my older brothers, and my nonna. My heart aches both in joy and sadness. Joy at knowing my family, especially Nonna, is present and near. Sadness as knowing that Harrison isn’t here and far away.

I take a seat on the chair between Ms. Street and Mr. Mason, fiddling with the zipper of the bag Ms. Street brought me moments ago.

“All rise,” a man says, standing near the bench.

I stand as Mr. Mason and Ms. Street do and watch the judge take his seat. Once he’s seated, everyone takes a seat again. I settle the bag in my lap and unzip it as Mr. Burger begins his opening statement. I can barely listen with how my heart races in my chest and beats loudly in my ears. Unable to bear it for a second longer, I pull out the pillow case and set it in my lap then pull out some green embroidery thread. I thread some into a needle and use my teeth to cut off enough for me to use then tie it off.

“The defense will forego making an opening statement at this time, your honor,” Mr. Mason states.

I glance up and around the room for a couple seconds then look at my lap and begin embroidery some flowers by the open end, beginning with the stems and leaves.

“The prosecution calls Madeline Hooper to the stand,” Mr. Burger states.

“Before we begin you questioning of this witness, Mr. Burger, there is something I’d like to address,” the judge says. “Mr. Mason, what exactly is your client doing?”

“Calming her nerves,” Mr. Mason answers. “She has trouble focusing when feelings get overwhelming for her.”

“I see, and this… won’t be a distraction or disruption in my courtroom?”

“Not at all, your honor.”

“Then I will allow this… unusual behavior. Proceed, Mr. Burger. Call your witness.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

“Ms. Madeline Hooper to the stand please,” the bailiff calls. “Ms. Hooper.”

Heels click against the wooden floor as she approaches the stand. There’s a pause as she is sworn in, but the clicks continue as she takes the stand.

“Where do you work, Ms. Hooper?” Mr. Burger asks.

“At the post office off Marigold Avenue,” she answers.

“How well do you know the defendant?”

“I’d say quite well.”

“Why is that?”

“She comes into the post office quite frequently to purchase packing supplies and to mail packages.”

“How frequently?”

“She mails multiple packages at a time four times a year, sir.”

“Four? Why four?”

“Objection,” Mr. Mason interjects. “Calls for a conclusion of the witness and is immaterial to the case.”

“Sustained,” the judge replies.

There’s a short pause before Mr. Burger continues his questioning.

“Do you talk about anything when she comes in?” he asks. 

“Just small talk usually,” Ms. Hooper replies.

“Nothing about work? Men? Friends?”

“Objection,” Mr. Mason again interrupts. “Counsel is leading the witness.”

“I will rephrase the question,” Mr. Burger states. “What were some of the things you talked about?”

“She mentioned Paris a lot, about wanting to go back,” Ms. Hooper answers. “There was also her brother, an archaeologist in Egypt, but not much else.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hooper. No further questions.”

“No questions at this time,” Mr. Mason states matter-of-factly.

“You may step down, Ms. Hooper,” the judge states.

Her heels again click as she returns to her seat.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

“The court is adjourned for the noon recess,” the judge announces. “Court will reconvene at 2:00.”

The gavel bangs, and the judge leaves the room. People begin to file out, but I turn around to face Nonna. She smiles warmly at me and opens her arms wide. Tears well in my eyes as I step towards her and embrace her in a hug over the railing, holding her as tightly as I possibly can. As her arms squeeze me, tears slip down my cheeks.

“Don’t you worry, petal,” she murmurs in my ear. “Things will turn out just fine.”

[b0sscrew]

Pokemon au!

Another Ducktales AU! Shocker!

Welcome to the inevitable crossover! There are three versions of this (trainers, human trainers, and reverse gejinka) but we'll just focus on the human trainers first because I'm not comfortable with showing my Ducktales drawings yet! This is just for fun and not definitive. I'm going to be doing this like a real adventure! We'll be following the triplets as they travel the region of... Americaw... Sure, we'll go with that for now.

I want this to be a story in many parts. I also want all their adventures from the cannon to be here as well, except it's just the kids facing them most times. Like let's say all the battles are monsters and baddies they've actually fought in cannon. That would be fun!

Oh, let's bring characters into the mix. Let's say that Webby is the boys' rival and best friend. Violet is also their rival but on a slightly lesser scale(mostly to Huey). Boyd also becomes a rival of sort later on(mostly for Louie). So that only leaves Dewey, and to be honest, I'm not sure. I think Webby would be his biggest rival but he doesn't have a secondary rival. I might just make my own rival for him too be honest, but I wish I knew who to put that's around his age. (Also, I realize Boyd is Huey's best friend but Violet is literally his rival in an episode.) I already have an idea for Lena so I can't add her to the rival crew anyways.

Let's talk about the Duck family.

So I decided it would make the most sense if Della and Donald shared custody of the boys. Donald is still Uncle Donald, don't worry. But since Della is always busy with the league they decided it would be easier to just have them both raise the boys. Donald is basically a stay at home dad while Della is constantly working as one of the core members of the elite four. Della is a flying type expert and Scrooge's favorite relative.

Feathery is an amazing boy! He's constantly working with the elite four as the Regions main professor. He's so excited about all pokemon, but his favorite are water types, because they make him giggle like a little kid. He's Huey's favorite uncle and the only adult he can truly relate to. Feathery is still the biggest sweetheart but now everyone takes him seriously and hang on his every word, even if he doesn't realize it.

Gladstone is one of the sole reasons the champion is still the champion. Because of his luck no one has gotten past him and his grass types. If he didn't have his luck people wouldn't have this issue, but he's cursed with it so he literally can't lose. Of course every Pokemon he has ever caught has been a shiny because they seem to gravitate towards him. The only time he can't find one is when he wants to give one to his family. I guess that's just his luck.

Scrooge McDuck, the richest duck in the world. Despite being part of the elite four, he doesn't really have to do anything. Since he's challenged after Gladstone his battles are few and far between. So he began running his company's full time. Although he does have to leave his work to protect the region at least once every two week. He is the most loved of the elite four and also the most hated, with all his enemies. Good thing he's the best of the league.

Region time!

So, Americaw is based off the world of Ducktales and all the places they've been to by the time of the season three hiatus. I also decided you can find any pokemon in this region (even if characters share pokemon sO MaNY TIMES!), and some come earlier than we're used to. Most of the region is mostly forests with ruins but later on is more of the places we know and love, victory road and the league is even one of my favorite places in the entire series.

Gym leaders, baby.

Gym leaders are characters that are associated with the McDuck clan, mostly working for them in some way. I also tried to put a twist on everything and some of the gyms are ones you wouldn't expect for that character. Let's go over them real quick, shall we?

Owlson, the Normal type gym leader. I thought she was perfect for this because she does technically work for Scrooge now. There's nothing too special about her except that she really wants things to go right and she doesn't have room for silly things. I thought she would be fun as a first gym so the kids could get a taste of the adventure ahead of them. She uses a Hoothoot (to harken to her being an owl) named Natasha, and she has a Porygon (to harken to her being a buisness woman) named Charity.

Ludwig Von Drake, the Poison gym leader! As goofy as the man is he is very competitive. He works with Gyro and Fenton on many projects but has his own lab away from them. I think he works the best for poison because than he could be more of a chemist than the other two scientists. He's also the gym leader we see the least of. He's always in a rush to finish his project just to get on the next one thats probably even more dangerous. He uses a Grimmer (chemicals) named Paul, and a Toxel (science in general) named Corey. He also has a Rotom, named Walker, that just helps around the lab.

Fenton, the Steel gym leader. Since fenton is a superhero I thought he could take his typing from Gizmoduck. He's the main one out of the three scientists that makes weapons and items for the police force. The military forces also thank him very frequently. But since he has so many idea's there's no way for him to do them all. He usually overworks himself because of this and it's obvious to anyone who so much as looks at him. Even so he is the most optimistic of the gym leaders and goes nowhere without a smile. He uses a Pawniard (Gizmoduck) named Hero, an Aron (Robots) named named Titanium, and a Scizor (Gizmoduck strength) named Bromine.

Gyro, the electric gym leader. I thought Gyro fit best with electric because of presumably obvious reasons. Gyro is the wildcard of the three scientists and will do anything for science. He can't count how many times he's almost accidentally killed himself with an experiment. He might seem like he's the only one that slows down out of the three scientists, but you're dead wrong. He probably works the hardest and has the most unhealthy habits out of all of them. He's the best scientist in the region and refuses to give the spot up for anything. He's currently trying to find a way to turn his blood into coffee. He's as brutally honest as ever, and still full of himself, but will admit defeat. He uses a Magneton (robots) named Maggie, a Rotom (Lil' Bulb) named Tom, and a Vicavolt (robots) named Vic.

Duckworth, the ghost gym leader. He might be a ghost but that just makes him better at his job. He's extremely neat and gets annoyed if a picture is tilted. He doesn't hesitate to greet challengers with a smile and even give them tips during battle. When he looses he still acts like a gentleman. He loves his work and refuses to leave life without "good reason". He uses a Gengar (his demon form) named Káge, a Banette (being able to poses things) named Mary, a Polteageist (because he's fancy) named Green, and a Mismagius (just because he's a ghost) named Lady.

Lena, the psychic gym leader. I told you she had a job. But I also know this typing might not seem like it fits. But trust me, it does. Her magic is what I imagine when a pokemon is Psychic type, so I thought it was perfect. She's rough around the edges when you first meet her but she grows on you once you get to know her. She's loyal to her friend's and already knows the kids once they get to her gym. I believe she is the only one that doesn't work for Scrooge in the cannon. She's basically the same she was in the show. She uses a Hypno (dreams) named Dreamcatcher, a Hatterene (being trapped by magica) named Princess, an Espeon (her necklace) named Garnet, and a Lunatone (the eclipse) named Lunar.

Launchpad, the dragon gym leader. Plot twist! Let me explain before you start yelling at me. I wanted Della to be the flying type specialist, so I had to do something else for Launchpad. It took me forever to figure out what to give him, I even considered the option of repeating flying, before I finally remembered dragon. It hit me that it was perfect! The dragon type embodies everything he loves. Flying? Boom, dragons fly! Superheros? There's a dragon that looks like it was made for a superhero. Airplanes? There's plenty of those. Acting like a child? How about one that looks like a child's imaginary friend! The list goes on! The dragon type was perfect because it's so loose. Anyways, back on track. He uses an Altaria (clouds) named Fluff, a Salamance (superheros) named Comic, a Noivern (DW) named DW, a Flapple (childish) named Flapper, a Drakloak (Sunchaser/Cloudslayer) named Sunchaser, and a Duraludon (vehicals) named Crash.

Ms. Beakly, the dark gym leader. She's a freaking spy, of course she's dark type. She's the hardest gym to beat, even for final gyms. She's tactical and knows (almost) every trick in the book. She'll point out what you're doing wrong and still beat you if you do everything right. She doesn't go easy on anyone so you better be prepared. Despite all of this she is one of the kindest people you will ever meet. When you loose to her she has a plate of cookies for you to take with you when you leave, and if you beat her she gives you an item that'll help you the most with the league, plus cookies for your travels. She loves Webby so much, enough to teach her almost all of her tricks. She's a good woman. She uses a Tyranitar (strength) named Tyrone, a Pangoro (capabilities) named Gordy, a Grimmsnarl (I just thought it fit) named Grimm, a Malamar (that expression) named Mal, and a Honchkrow (spy) named Krow.

I love this idea and can't wait to expand apon it. I alread have so many ideas that it's hard to not spoil any plans I have. I just hope I don't overdue it. I want it to kinda be like a little more serious version of the pokemon anime. Not too serious, but I want it to be like what you'd find in ducktales (just maybe a tiny bit less kid friendly).

Well I hope you enjoy my idea and have fun with it. Well anyways, have a great day!

Also, here's a picture of the HDLW designs.

[oldadelaideblog]

Changes || Self

Adelaide had never realized how much the skin on your legs moved as you walked until each small shift brought her pain. She found herself more and more tempted to reach fr the pain pills she was carrying with her in her purse, but she was determined to resist for a little while longer. The longer it was possible to go without any help, the sooner she would be able to successfully argue that she was fit to go back to work full time without the other librarians or her family telling her she needed to take it easy. There was so much to do and she wanted to be helpful with it all. 

First, however, she had to survive dinner at her grandmother’s. Odelia Robinson didn’t like to be kept waiting, and the tone of this summons had made it clear this wasn’t an option. After the riots, she wanted her family back under her own roof. Which made sense. But it still made Adelaide sigh slightly. She knew what was coming. Or she thought she did.

When she arrived, her father opened the door with a wide grin. “There’s my little Della.” But a moment later, it was chased away by concern. “Where is the car that dropped you off? Adelaide. Don’t tell me you walked here.”

Immediately, Adelaide had to straighten herself against the sinking disapproval. “I saw Watch members the whole way here Papa, and I’ve spent so much time inside these last few days. I thought the fresh air would do me well.”

He was about to say something else when her grandmother’s voice cut through. “Bring the girl into the living room David. No point in her catching cold now.”

Strangely grateful to her grandmother’s interruption, Adelaide walked into the living room and straight to where her grandmother was seated, pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks. “It’s good to see you Grandmother. I’m glad you look well.”

“And you seem to be faking wellness, despite your recent reckless actions. Sit. No point in pride injuring you further.” 

She quickly took one of the open seats, not wanting to defy the command of the woman who was so much the matriarch of the family even after all this time. Besides, her legs did ache by now and it was a bit of a relief to sit. She turned to smile at her mother sitting just off to the side, but the smile faltered. There was something in her mother’s eyes...apprehension? Regret? Resignation? Adelaide couldn’t pinpoint it, but it had anxiety tightening her stomach again. 

“Very well. Adelaide, I have important news for you. You father and I have arranged a claim for you.”

If she hadn’t already been sitting, she would have collapsed at a statement like that. As it was, she felt like her stomach had dropped. She stared blankly at her grandmother, a strangled, “What?” the only thing able to escape her lips. 

“Close your mouth girl and stop mumbling. You’ve been trained better than this. Which is the point. For years now we have allowed you your hobby, assuming that you would grow up and step into your responsibilities soon enough. Recent events have showed us that we were mistaken. It is hightime you had a Dominant in your life who can exhibit proper control over you and keep you out of trouble. It is time you did your duty as a Robinson.”

Adelaide struggled to swallow the protestation that immediately wanted to leap to mind. “The Verona Public Library is a place of learning and opportunity. It is my employer and was likely to be a target for attack which would receive less support. Is it not my duty to protect places of knowledge and community gathering?”

“Your duty,” the woman replied sternly, “is first to your family and your own safety. Did you stay home? No. Did you come to your parents or to me? No. You instead joined the middle class to protect a public space and got yourself hurt in the process - one of the only ones if my sources are correct. The library is replaceable. You are not.”

A mixture of hurt and love swirled through her at the words as so often happened with her grandmother. This made it all the clearer that the concern came from a true place of love and wanting the best for Adelaide. She could see it. That idea that she was not replaceable where a building was, she could understand. And yet, couldn’t they be proud of her? Considering their own family history, the stories she had been raised with, how was she supposed to act in any other way? Why did they think it was possible for her to stand by as knowledge was destroyed?

“Luckily, the perfect opportunity has come up. Rafael Romano is a highly respected member of the Romano family who is looking to change the current discourse of politics within Verona - clearly for the better considering how partisan so many of our politics currently are. He needs a submissive at his side who will be able to successfully orchestrate the necessary social gatherings as well as act as a successful introduction to the aristocratic families he has not yet met. With your training, you fit his needs admirably.”

“But - “

“Quiet! This is what you were raised to be. This is your duty. Perhaps, if he is so inclined he will allow you to balance your new duties with work in an appropriate institution. Or you could accept that knowledge like yours would be useful in orchestrating appropriate political initiatives to allow you to have a larger impact than you can possibly hope to have as a mere reference librarian. But that will be his decision to make. Just as arranging this claim was mine and your father’s. There is no objection you can make here. It has been decided for you.”

“Sweetheart,” the sound of her mother’s voice had Adelaide turning her head in pure bewilderment. “I know this seems sudden. But the Romanos are a powerful family, and by all accounts, very close knit. This will give you more of a community than we have been able to give you. You’ll be able to make so many new friends and you won’t have to work so hard just to afford that horrible little flat you’ve lived in with all those strangers.”

But I like my flat, she wanted to say. I like old woman Marie with her soap opera addiction, the young Murtas couple who laughed and argued equally often at high volume, the young cook Gio who would share food with the rest of the complex when he was trying new recipes, Paul with his crush on Marie that he couldn’t admit to so instead he watched soap operas so they could talk. When her parents refused to pay for her to live there, she had just worked twice as hard to have that place for herself. Now she might have to lose it all. For a stranger she didn’t know. 

“I know this feels sudden, Della. But it’s going to be the best thing for you. The family has excellent security teams, so you’ll finally be protected the way you should be. This is for the best. You’ll see.”

They apparently took her silence for consent, but Adelaide was too lost in her own whirling feelings to begin to put them into words. If this was for the best, why did it feel so much like an ending? And what on earth was she supposed to do when she first met the man her parents had decided she would claim?

[caveartfair]

Long Demonized in Art, Eve Has Become a Pop Culture Icon

Divinely inspired or otherwise, the Old Testament story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden is deeply rooted in the Western psyche. Eve occupies mere pages of the Genesis epic, but women have spent millennia atoning for her original sin. For the last 2,000 years, Eve has been invoked in the monotheistic world to suppress women’s rights and defame their characters. How many misogynistic stereotypes and prejudices stem from the reputation of the much-maligned, archetypal first woman?

The apostle Paul cited Eve’s narrative to justify women’s subservience to men, writing in the apocryphal book of Timothy that women should “keep silent” because “Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.” In the Middle Ages, St. Bernard of Clairvaux sermonized to rapt audiences of men and women that Eve was “the original cause of all evil, whose disgrace has come down to all other women.” More recently, at a legislative dinner in 2015, South Carolina Senator Tom Corbin was confronted for his combative remarks about women’s right to participate in the state’s General Assembly. “Well, you know God created man first,” he quipped. “Then he took the rib out of man to make woman. And you know, a rib is a lesser cut of meat.”

Adam and Eve, 2015. David LaChapelle MARUANI MERCIER GALLERY

From these rigid perspectives, Eve is one-dimensional: inherently wicked and an afterthought to Adam. Yet across popular culture and the history of art, Eve appears as a paradox. She is guileful and naive, earth mother and fatal seductress; she is the problem of man, his downfall, his eternal scapegoat.

Such depictions have structured our ideas of beauty, gender, and morality. The oldest conceptions of Eve play out again and again in all reaches of contemporary culture. A judiciously placed apple in a woman’s hand in art, advertising, or film can immediately invoke Eve’s devious sexuality, and still other references abound. The Handmaid’s Tale (2017–ongoing), adapted by Hulu from Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel, features a young, religious character named Eden, who is expected to help repopulate the country. By the same token, in Pixar’s animated children’s movie WALL-E (2008), the title robot meets a fellow android who has come to bring new human life to Earth. Her name? EVE.

Forbidden fruit

Lucas Cranach the Elder, Adam and Eve, 1528. Courtesy of the Uffizi Gallery.

Though never explicitly named in the Bible, the apple has become the de facto “forbidden fruit”—powerful nomenclature for that which is fatally desirable, and therefore all the more tempting and worthy of moral rule-breaking. The apple’s shiny red skin and juicy interior make it an apt stand-in for sex, and the seductive way in which Eve is often depicted eating it only reinforces its libidinal connotations. Genesis records that after Eve takes a bite of the fruit, she simply “gave some to her husband and he ate.” St. Jerome, however, used the Latin word seducta to describe Eve’s transgression.

During the Northern Renaissance, German artist Lucas Cranach the Elder perfected the bewitching female nude. In his Adam and Eve diptych from 1528, the couple faces one another beneath the Tree of Knowledge, little red apples bobbing tantalizingly above their heads. A self-possessed Eve holds one perfect fruit out to her husband, who scratches behind his ear in apparent befuddlement. In Cranach’s depiction, it’s not the serpent whispering in Eve’s ear or even the apple that is dangerous, but the perfectly beautiful and alluring woman who will be his pleasure—and his downfall.

Domenichino, The Rebuke of Adam and Eve, 1626. Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art.

Men are often shown as helpless in the face of this female threat. In Domenichino’s 1626 painting, The Rebuke of Adam and Eve, God and his coterie of cherubim float down from heaven to reproach Adam. The first man throws up his hands in what looks like confusion or exasperation, diverting the entirety of the blame to his wife.

The image of Eve as sexual temptress has remained frighteningly constant, even in products and programs that purport to challenge ingrained sexist tropes. In the early aughts, for example, the soapy comedy-drama Desperate Housewives was lauded for casting five middle-aged women in the lead roles. The intended audience for the salacious TV show was presumably women, yet the impossibly fit, botoxed, and high-heeled characters seemed designed to appeal to men.

The apple’s shiny red skin and juicy interior make it an apt stand-in for sex, and the seductive way in which Eve is often depicted eating it only reinforces its libidinal connotations.

Red apples played prominently in promotional materials for the show. In the title sequence, an animated version of Cranach’s Adam is crushed by a giant falling apple as a blasé Eve looks on. In posters ahead of season five, the topless cast smiles coyly from behind a row of apples and the tagline “Even Juicier.”

So should one eat the apple or abstain? Designer Donna Karan exploited this ambiguity for her long-running DKNY scent Red Delicious. In the ads, a pouty model has just bitten into a green apple (how subversive), and the perfume packaging itself is shaped like the fruit. Sin is no longer the province of Eve alone: The “new temptation in fragrance” was marketed to both women and men.

Once in a while, the story of a woman with an apple doesn’t explicitly end with damnation or sex. In Disney’s Aladdin, the apples Princess Jasmine steals for a young, hungry boy lead to her meeting the titular male hero. They go on to have fabulous adventures together, but it’s Aladdin who reveals the world to Jasmine, and not the other way around. Sometimes apples—potent transmitters of dangerous information—are exchanged between women. In the 19th-century fairy tale that would later become a Disney classic, a witch proffers the poison apple that puts Snow White to sleep.

Snake charmer

In the book of Genesis, the tempting creature is explicitly referred to as “he” and is described only as a serpent. Yet Eve’s casting as an evil temptress gave rise to the belief that the duplicitous snake was female, too. In art, it was often depicted with a womanly upper body and a reptilian lower half. If wickedness is associated with femininity even before Eve gives Adam the Forbidden Fruit, which came first, woman or sin?

Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel version of the Fall sees his muscular Adam and Eve joined by an equally hulking snake-woman wrapped around the tree. Her right arm grasps the trunk for support as she stretches out to meet Eve’s upraised hand. Both Eve and the serpent use their left, or “sinister,” hands, further signaling their deviousness.

Michelangelo, The Fall of Man, 1512. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

Michelangelo was merely following a popular convention of his time. During the Renaissance, snake-women appear in Hugo van der Goes’s The Fall of Man and The Lamentation (ca. 1470–75); a terracotta sculpture of Adam and Eve by the workshop of Giovanni della Robbia (ca. 1515), which took inspiration from a famous Albrecht Dürer engraving; and the stone facade of Notre Dame. A blonde-headed serpent woman in Masolino’s Temptation of Adam and Eve (ca. 1425), a fresco in Florence’s Santa Maria del Carmine, is frighteningly funny: She snakes along the Tree of Knowledge with her comically tiny head popping out of the end of her skinny green body.

Left: Hugo van der Goes, The Fall of Man and The Lamentation, 1470–75. Courtesy of the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Right: Masolino da Panicale, Temptation of Adam and Eve, ca. 1425. Courtesy of Cappella Brancacci.

Giovanni della Robbia, Adam and Eve, ca. 1515.

Even before the Bible story, snakes were associated with women in cultures around the globe. The hostility that is created between them in the Bible may have been a way to separate the nascent Jewish community from pagan traditions that had a snake as a powerful female goddess. The Canaanite cult of Baal-Asherah heavily influenced the newly formed Israelite nation. In the predominantly female cult, Baal appeared in the form of a serpent with his wife, Asherah, at his side. When the Israelites entered Canaan, pagan religions were demonized in lieu of monotheism.

In this light, the story of Adam and Eve has political undertones. The biblical narrator may have already witnessed an established association between the serpent and the woman in neighboring tribes. When God punishes them, a wedge is driven between the serpent and the woman, cursing everlasting “enmity” between them and their offspring. The story successfully alienates the woman from her longtime ally.

Left: John Collier, Lilith, 1887. Image via Wikimedia Commons. Right: Pantaleon Szyndler, Eve (Temptation), 1889. Courtesy of the National Museum in Warsaw.

They are indeed powerful together. Who can forget the 2001 MTV Video Music Awards, when Britney Spears walked onstage with an albino python draped across her neck? Dressed as an exotic snake charmer and scantily clad in artfully tattered rags and glitter, Spears fully assumed her onstage persona as an outlet to embrace her newfound sexual freedom. The conflation of the pop star with a sexual goddess transpired before millions of girls and women in the public forum of television. With that scene from Genesis, snakes and women received their eternal reputation of immorality. The snake became an erotic symbol as “the bad girl” gained sex appeal.

The fall of (wo)man

Britney Spears performs at the 2001 MTV Video Music Awards. Photo by Kevin Mazur/WireImage.

Spears’s performance resonates with an artwork made over a century earlier by Pre-Raphaelite painter John Collier. With her perfect, naked body and long blonde hair, the woman in the 1887 painting who nuzzles the head of the giant snake sensually coiled around her looks like Eve. But in fact, it’s her alter ego, the legendary femme fatale, Lilith.

Fed-up women looking for a new matriarchal origin story have taken in Eve beneath their own gaze. They have embraced the qualities—independence, curiosity, sexuality—that once demonized her.

In Jewish literature, the enchantress Lilith is described as Adam’s first wife, before Eve. Lilith was man’s equal but was devilish in her sexuality. According to legend, she felt repressed by Adam’s side, and she eventually leaves him to cohabit with demons in deep waters. In folklore and pop culture, she has come to be known as the mother of demons and vampires, eater of babies, husband of Satan—in short, a dangerous, sexually liberated woman.

Lilith Fair, 1998, Mountain View California. Image by Tim Mosenfelder / ImageDirect via Getty Images.

Finally, in our modern era, fed-up women looking for a new matriarchal origin story have taken in Eve, and her alter ego Lilith, beneath their own gaze. They have embraced the qualities—independence, curiosity, sexuality—that once demonized her.

Kiki Smith’s take on Lilith (1994) is a powerful and disturbing sculpture—a black-bronze horror movie demon, nude and crouched in a spider-like position high up on the wall. The glass grey eyes startle any viewer. An unlikeable woman, who is not sexually available, nor coy, is a forcefully unusual statement.

Madam Satan from The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Photo by Diyah Pera. Courtesy of Netflix.

Lilith appears in many guises in TV and movies: the progenitor of the vampire race in True Blood (2008–14); Madam Satan on The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018–ongoing); the frigid, hated ex-wife of sitcom icon Frasier. The sci-fi movie The Fifth Element (1997) turns the concept of Lilith on its head by having the main character Leeloo—a variation on Lilith—save humanity instead of devouring it. Her name has also been invoked as a statement of feminist independence: The Lilith Fair of the late 1990s adopted the legendary woman’s name for a music festival that showcased only female artists or woman-led bands.

Villanelle from Killing Eve. Courtesy of the BBC.

One recent TV show has gone above and beyond in complicating our understanding of Eve, and women. The BBC series Killing Eve (2018–ongoing), which follows an M15 agent, played by Sandra Oh, as she tracks down a psychopathic female assassin portrayed by Jodie Comer. Guess who is Eve? It’s not the assassin. The delight of the show is seeing the intense connection unfold between the so-called good and bad guys. Who is on which side becomes impossible to understand—both women contain multitudes. The sexual drama lies between the killer, Villanelle, and Eve—not a man. Though the title of the show probably refers literally to Villanelle’s overarching plans, it’s also a fitting metaphor for the destruction of the story of Eve itself—and all the misery, unfair expectations, and misrepresentation that have come along with it.

from Artsy News

[prissypickle]

Caius’s Mate Chapter Two Part One

I was shaken awake groaning looking at the time. 3:06 AM. Whats going on? Hannah shook me once more.

I looked up at her groggily. "Come on we're going to sneak into the pool," she signed.

I sat up yawning. "Why... its three am,"

"It'll be fun," she signs to me.

I sighed getting up. Hannah was already in her swimsuit, so was Cameron.

"I'll just watch"

"No that's not any fun" she signs.

I groaned and headed to the dresser grabbing my swimsuit, going into the bathroom changing.

"There we go. Come on don't be a party pooper," she signs.

I sighed. "I'm coming. I'm coming,"

She smiled grabbing my arm. Paul, Jazmine, and Dianna were in the hall waiting.

The six of us headed into the pool area. Cameron running in doing a cannonball. I chuckled watching him.

I went over and sat in the hot tub, watching everyone swim.

They were splashing each other like little kids. I laughed watching them.

"Izzy come on," Jazmine said.

I shook my head. "Im good," I watched her.

Rolled her eyes doing a flip into the pool making a big splash. Water going all over me.

I glared at her some.

She laughed at me.

We spent several hours at the pool before they all tired each other out. I got out grabbed a towel putting it around me. I looked at the clock. 5:16 am. Good luck with sleep.

We snuck back into our room. I changed into a shirt laying down crashing hard for the me next two hours.

_

I woke up feeling my watch vibrate. Cameron and Hannah were still sleeping.

I headed to the bathroom showering, hoping to get all the chlorine smell off of me.

I got dressed in jean shorts and a tank top. It was supposed to be 97 out today. Clear skies. It was almost 8:30 and we had to be down to leave for breakfast before 9:00.

I went over to Hannah shaking her first. She hit my arm not in the mood.

I rolled my eyes then jumped on top of her.

She immediately woke up, hitting me in the head. I got off of her watching her. "Jesus Christ Izzy!" She gasped.

I got the jist if what she was saying and laughed. "Its 8:30... time to wake up" I shrugged.

She rolled her eyes and gave me the middle finger groggily going over to get dressed. I headed over to wake up Cameron. Shaking him over and over.

He refused to wake up.

Hannah came over and grabbed the pillow, hitting him. I watched chuckling. Cameron almost fell off the bed.

Cameron finally got up and got dressed. And we headed down to the lower level of the hotel where breakfast was being served. We were the last ones to arrive.

We headed over by Dianna and Jazmine sitting. The two didn't even look like they fell back asleep.

I put my purse down and headed to get a plate. I filled my plate up with bacon, pancakes, and sausage and headed back to the table.

"Like bacon much?" Jazmine asked.

I nodded chuckling, shoving the whole piece of bacon in my mouth.

I shoved my face with food until I was full.

It was around 9:45 AM. And we headed outside as a group. Today we were heading to museums and an art gallery's. We were going to Guarnacci Etruscan Museum, Palazzo Viti, Museo della Tortura di Volterra.

We headed onto the tour bus to go to the first location.

It was about a 40 minute bus ride from our hotel.

Mr. Evens handed us our tickets to go in.

We headed in and looked around. It was a very beautiful place.

I took a brochure and started to read it. 'The Guarnacci museum is one of oldest public museums of Europe: it began in 1761 when the noble abbot Mario Guarnacci gave its enormous archaeological heritage, collected over years of research and purchases, to the "public of the city of Volterra". The current disposition and location of materials demonstrate Maffei's positivistic impact, with items separated by classes and the urns distinguished according to the theme of the bas-relief on the case. While respecting the historic memory of this arrangement, an attempt was made, in recent times, to associate it with another, more didactic, chronological tour inside the exhibition itself, able to conduct the visitor through the long history of the Etruscan Velathri.

I closed the brochure and put it in my purse and looked at every statue, every picture everything. This place is better than anything in Washington.

We spent about an hour and a half there, seeing many statues, taking pictures.

Once we were on the bus I started to text my mom all the pictures I took.

[theperrylleluniverse]

Doing the poly fluff alphabet by @scealaiscoite for the Perrycule!

Letters A - E:

a = affection; is anyone more overly affectionate than the others? when it comes to physical vs verbal, who prefers what?

We all know I consider Paul a big golden retriever haha I think he’s the most affectionate of the trio for sure - he loves with his whole heart, body, and mind! I think both Della and Perry appreciate receiving physical affection from him and they seek it out when they want to feel close to him. However, I think Della likes receiving and giving verbal affection a lot as well - see Paul calling her “beautiful” and “gorgeous” :). I think Perry is more reserved than his partners but he is open to receiving their affection and he will speak their love languages if they need it. They balance out nicely - Paul gives a lot of affection, Perry is happy to receive a lot of affection, and Della will do both!

b = bed; what’s the sleeping situation like? are there regular sleeping arrangements - does anyone like to sleep alone?

In my headcanon, they each have their own place and since they all have crazy schedules, they don’t really have a consistent sleeping arrangement. Most nights they sleep separately or in whatever pair ended up together that night (Paul and Perry when they get home late from an investigation, Della and Perry when she manages to convince him to leave work for the night, Paul and Della when they have a date night together, etc). It’s a treasured luxury for them when they manage to all be together for a night.

I think Paul is a cuddler and Perry likes being cuddled (not that he’ll ever admit it heehee). Della loves to rest her head on her boys’ big comfy chests but when she sleeps she tends to move away from them cause she gets too hot.

When it’s Paul and Perry together, Paul is the big spoon to Perry’s little spoon and they spend the whole night all tangled together. When it’s Paul and Della, they usually end up with Paul scrunched up in one sliver of the bed while Della starfishes out over the rest of it. When it’s Perry and Della, they start with Della laying on top of Perry but then mostly keep to their own sides except they like curl toward each other, or their hands or feet are touching, or some other cute shit like that.

When it’s all three of them I think it’s some combination of the above but they all like it best when Della is curled up between the Paul and Perry <3

c = comfort; when someone’s feeling down, how do the rest look after them?

Perry - i think Paul and Della know that the best way to comfort Perry is to push him and motivate him. He doesn’t like to be coddled and he’s skeptical of words of comfort so they kind of have to do it in a roundabout way. Paul is good for a comforting shoulder touch and often is a sounding board for Perry to talk things out. Della is acts of service all day baby; she’s taking all the little things off his plate so he doesn’t have to carry quite so much weight on his shoulders. She also knows how to make him smile or laugh when he’s upset or angry.

Della - she reaches for physical comfort first and foremost and her boys are there to give it to her. Paul will wrap her up in a big bear hug or let her hold on to him while Perry is there with the steadying hand on her elbow and the gentle touches to her back and waist. I think Paul also serves as her sounding board too - he’s a great listener! They also try to cheer her up by being silly (Paul) or deadpan sarcastic (Perry) to make her laugh/smile :)

Paul - surprisingly Paul is the hardest one to comfort of the three. He keeps his emotions close to his chest and has a hard time accepting comfort because he sees himself as the rock who has to always be solid and steady so he can support his partners. Of course Della and Perry have his number though. Perry will patiently but unflinchingly dismantle Paul’s walls one brick at a time until Paul actually talks about his feelings and lets Perry shoulder some of his burdens (see the excellent fic Gone Fishing for a perfect example of this!). Della doesn’t push but she listens and she’s been willing to be vulnerable with him in a way she’s not usually and that's encouraged reciprocity from him. I think Della and Paul are very open and emotionally honest with each other <3

d = dates; what do dates look like? who usually plans them, or are is it a group affair?

These three LOVE going on dates!!! Most of the time it’s eating meals together - they love a romantic dinner! They are also great at turning work events into dates because to them their work life is an inherent part of their romantic life. And of course we can’t forget Paul and Perry’s fishing trips (which is their version of a date I think). I also headcanon that Perry and Paul both like to take Della out for dinner & dancing at least once a month.

e = events; who drags everyone else to their family/friends’ events?

PERRY MASON. This man has to do so much shmoozing for his job and literally does not know how to not be working 24/7. I think he’s a social guy in general too so he actually enjoys cultivating relationships but he has much more fun when one of his partners is with him so he always drags them along if they’re available!

Della is usually the one who goes but just because Paul is always super busy with the agency and keeps weird hours. Otherwise, we know our charming extrovert would love to go chat up people with his bf!

Also this is literally canon lol, Perry is always taking them to work events and social events

[ducksbellorum]

my heart's devotion (listen/download)

a portugal mix - wmei seminar 2019 - arranged by ducksbellorum

leaving on a jet plane - peter paul and mary So kiss me and smile for me Tell me that you'll wait for me Hold me like you'll never let me go 'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane

la devotee - panic! at the disco I wouldn't change ya, oh Wouldn't ever try to make you leave, no Static palms melt your vibe Midnight whisperings

porto sentido - rui veloso E é sempre a primeira vez em cada regresso a casa rever-te nessa altivez de milhafre ferido na asa

dancing queen - abba You are the dancing queen Young and sweet Only seventeen Dancing queen

vivaldi’s rain - celtic woman Signore guidami E dimmi cosa fare Ho vista l'amore della mia vita E lui ha vista me

ebony and ivory - paul mccartney and stevie wonder We all know That people are the same wherever you go There is good and bad in everyone When we learn to live, we learn to give each other

mercedes benz - janis joplin Oh lord, wont you buy me a mercedes benz? My friends all drive porsches, I must make amends. Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends, So lord, wont you buy me a mercedes benz?

sunrise - in the heights You're sure? I'm… sure Three out of three, you did alright! Teach me a little more

something just like this - coldplay and the chainsmokers I want something just like this I've been reading books of old The legends and the myths The testaments they told

four five seconds - rihanna Now I'm four, five seconds from wildin' And we got three more days 'til Friday I'm just tryna make it back home by Monday mornin' I swear I wish somebody would tell me

let it be - the beatles When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

[perry-mason-della-street]

Bringing Home The Babies

Dedicated to @muir2244-blog, @madgecrabtree, @goldenteadust, @organanation

_______________________________________

Perry returned to the hospital the next morning, bringing with him and enormous bouquet of roses. Della was happily talking away with the nurse when he got there.

"Good morning!" she smiled and her smile got bigger when she saw the flowers.

Their discussion quickly got around to the babies and the babies' names.

"What should we name them?" Perry asked.

"What about Richard for the oldest? I've always liked that name. We can call him Ritchie? Richard Perry Mason - after you, of course! Doesn't that sound nice?"

"After me?" Perry was surprised, not expecting her to want to use his name.

"You are his father," Della smiled.

"I like Richard Perry just fine. What about the youngest?"

"You like the name Thomas. We can call him Tommy when he's young, and Tom when he gets older. Thomas Mason sounds good together."

"He needs a middle name. What about Paul? Thomas Paul? After Paul Drake?" Perry suggested.

Della smiled again, "Paul will be thrilled. Are we settled their names?"

"I think so!"

Della's hospital stay seemed to last forever. The day finally came for them to bring Ritchie and Tommy home.

"I suppose we need another crib," Perry scratched his head, realizing for the first time that they needed two of everything.

"Then we'll have to get one," said Della, matter of factly, as she closed her suitcase.

"And that room really is too small for two boys."

"That's true."

"I guess we'll have to buy a house," Perry shrugged as though it were everyday that people bought houses because they had one more baby than they had originally thought.

"We can worry about that later. Right now, let's just go home!"

Perry and Della quickly settled into their roles as parents. Paul had been more than thrilled when he found out that Tommy his name. There was hardly a day that didn't go by without Paul dropping by.

Perry went back to work at the office, but Della stayed at home. Gertie took over for her, temporarily, acting as both the secretary and receptionist. Perry was in his office about a month later when he got a call:

"Yes, Gertie?"

"Someone's here to see you."

"Oh?"

"And they have something for you."

"Send them in!" Perry said.

The door opened and Della poked her head into the room.

"Hello, Perry!" she smiled and brought in babies in their basket (Do you readers remember what they're called? A bassinet?)

"Della! You came to visit!" Perry stood up and gently took the basket and set it on his desk.

"They had a check up. We have two healthy little boys!", Della set down her purse and looked about the office.

Her mouth dropped open and she put her hands on her hips.

"Perry Mason, what happened in here?" she demanded, "This place is a mess!" she picked up several papers off of the desk, "These should have been mailed yesterday!"

"I know. It has been very busy, and Gertie has been doing her best - what are you doing?"

"Looking for an envelope and a stamp," Della answered, "We have to get this place in order!"

The babies slept quietly all afternoon. Della busied herself, getting the office back into shape. Gertie seemed relieved.

"I'm sorry, Della, but I'm not used to be a secretary!" Gertie apologized for the fifth time.

"It's all right! We should have thought this over before the babies got here," Della said, reassuringly.

Perry watched her work for awhile, then called her over.

"Della, we need to talk. Do you want to come back to work?"

Della looked down at Ritchie, whom she was holding, and shook her head.

"I have my hands full. I loved working as a secretary, but now I want to stay home and raise our children. Maybe once they are in school I will consider coming back, but they need me now."

Perry smiled as he watched her hug Ritchie closer.

"I can work here just until you get a new secretary."

"You're going to be hard to replace," Paul said, walking into the office without knocking.

"You're telling me," Perry scowled playfully, "I hate interviewing for secretaries."

"You can have mine," Paul sat on the edge of the desk, "She's too flirty," he grimaced.

"You can dish it out but can't take it," Perry chuckled, "I don't want a flirty secretary."

"I will pick your next secretary," promised Della, getting ready to leave.

"Why?"

"Because the last secretary you picked fell in love with you," Della smiled.

"And we don't want that happening again," Perry shook his head.

"Not at all."

"I still say you are going to be hard to replace. You are the best secretary ever, the best wife known to man, the best mother any two boys could ever ask for, and the prettiest woman in the world!"

Paul smiled, got off of the desk, and left the room.

[thepapermixtape]

Cafés

By: Lou Baya Ould Rouis

College inevitably includes very short nights and difficult mornings. This is why we include coffee in our daily lives. To wake up, on the way to class. To stay awake, silently studying when it’s way past our bedtime. My mom describes this very “American” gesture of holding a cup of coffee or any kind of drink all day long. She makes fun of this rushed culture where you don’t take the time to enjoy your drink. This take-away culture where you expect things to be easy and fast. This on-the-go attitude where you don’t want to sit still even if you don’t have anything in particular to do. This snack culture where you need to eat or drink something at all times. Indeed, to me, drinking a coffee has so many other overtones.

A huge part of being Parisian is appreciating the essential presence of a café routine. I grew up with the practice of taking regular breaks at several coffee places. At first, I would follow my parents and meet up with their friends, which were sometimes the parents of my friends. I remember perfectly the berry syrup I would have, une grenadine to be exact. Back then, the most regular time to gather around a coffee was on Sunday, at the farmer’s market, five minutes away from my apartment. The kids were sent to buy bread and play around while the parents relaxed and laughed. It was a deeply important part of the neighborhood-life in a very social and diverse area of Paris.

My high school was in a totally different area, a rich and somewhat touristic neighborhood in the center of the city. My friends and I would gather around a coffee during lunch break because it was the cheapest drink, and therefore the only one we could afford. I started meeting up with my old friends in a café to catch up. We would sometimes wave at our parents, two tables away, also talking about life. I also loved to study there when I didn’t have class. It was both stimulating and relaxing. As we became older, we met up later in the day and the coffees became beers, but the tables stayed the same. Now, every time I am in Paris, I spend time in these places with my family and my friends. It has led me to notice a very specific rhythm of the day.

It all starts quite early, around 6am; it needs to be open for people to pass by on their way to work. It is then a succession of regular customers. They enter and greet everyone. The bartenders know them. They use familiar terms and they migrate table to table to talk a little with the people they know. Then they sit somewhere, inside, outside, probably at the bar if they’re alone or plan on leaving soon, they take the daily newspaper and just chill there for a while. Parents join around 8am, after dropping the kids at school. They come with some tea to spill, gossips to share, news to spread. “Ah tu t’es mise là aujourdh’hui ? Comment va Paul ?”  It’s really funny to be here, hearing words of private conversations while talking to my parents’ friends. They eventually leave for work and it becomes quieter. Around 10am, most people are working on their laptops, ordering a coffee once in a while. They are younger, trendier, and mostly own MacBooks. My favorite café plays great music; this is the best time to enjoy it.

In the afternoon, the atmosphere is peaceful and calm. People mainly read, think, write, draw. They take the time to breathe, to listen to the city. The connections between people are palpable. Some use the space as a public office, as their own cocoon or an open space to meet with people. Some groups seem to talk business and projects; they proofread some texts, they brainstorm ideas. Others enjoy this time to catch up with people, advice books, movies, exhibitions, and travels. “Je te jure: ce livre a changé ma vie !” I hear passionate discussions on politics, education, migrants, relationships or ecology. I personally think that a café offers an ideal context to stand for a cause, fight for your beliefs, and allow yourself to be challenged. My café arguments and passionate debates are the best I have ever had.

Around 5pm, the happy hours start and people gather in a much noisier atmosphere. They are young, they are old. The kids are gone though. Drinks replace coffees. “Ouais on va vous prendre 4 autres pintes s’il vous plaît !” The music gets louder, accommodating to the sound of people. At night, the real deal is to find the café/bar where the beer is the cheapest and you know that’s where you’ll find all the students. “La Jupiler c’est une bière sans prétention qui tient ses promesses.” At this time, and for the rest of the night, the café represents a cozy space to share a moment. It all slows down around midnight, sometimes later. People start escaping, they have work tomorrow, they feel tired, they think it’s time. The place gets emptier and emptier, the bartenders eventually have to ask you to go. They have to close to reopen the next morning, and you need to leave to come back.

During the summer, I decided to pay attention to the different types of coffee places around Europe. I wanted to see if the café culture was as important as it is in Paris, to see if we could maybe draw a pattern. The World Cup might have impacted my judgment. Soccer, or may I say “real football,” was the heart of the afternoon and evening atmosphere everywhere. Bars were full of supporters, shouting, cheering, laughing, crying sometimes. All emotions were amplified, exaggerated. Sharing a love for football with strangers which end up feeling like family is a unique experience.

Amsterdam seemed to have more bar-type places than actual cafés; alcohol drinks were more present than coffees overall in the city. But it was still very much multigenerational and reflected the different dynamics of the city. I found a place of peace and happiness where I spent hours just looking at people. I looked like a lighthouse in the middle of a park and they had the best screen for the games. I also noticed that most of the bartenders were not from here and it gave a very international charm to the place.

Stockholm was quite the opposite alcohol-wise. The happy hour time is quite dead, every café is heartwarming, beautiful, simple and full of life. People usually eat something with their coffee and the products are often local. There are multiple cafes that have a vegetable garden right next to them. The spaces in themselves are frequently hidden, and you have to be aware of their existence to find them (ex : an apartment, inside a park, a private courtyard) which adds some excitement.

Copenhagen has alter-globalist aspects which are reflected in the interactions between people and in the cafés infrastructures. The general design of the places is beautiful and minimalist. I visited a game café where you can pay to play board game while drinking your coffee (some games are also free). It is a very inclusive format, nice and fun for all. I saw some old people playing with some students, how uncommon is that? I could breathe the conviviality and openness. Another striking example was the kiosk café right in the heart of the city, where people are literally on the public piazza.

Trieste is the city of coffee in Italy, the country of coffee. It has super old cafes that have a unique and simple atmosphere, closer to the Parisian ones than those of the northern countries; a Latin influence. One of them had a bookstore in it, as a bridge between art and culture. Italy in general is a country built around café culture. It appears essential, as it is in my neighborhood, but still feels more exotic. Feeling the soft wind, hearing this beautiful language, observing these old traditional Italians and drinking some delicious expressos.

From the comfortable bench of my favorite café, I am trying to conclude on what I particularly value from this café culture in general. I don’t know if it’s the mix of generations, co-living, co-working, evolving side by side, intellectually feeding one another. It probably has to do with the ease to smile at people you see every day as well as people you’ll never see again. Or maybe it is the absence of a clear social frontier that allows the development of a sense of belonging, a form of harmony, you become a part of the whole and you create your own story. I also consider it to be the perfect spot for daydreaming, letting your mind go while you feel the presence of others and hear the elements of life around you.

PARIS

Café sans nom, Place de la Réunion, 75020 Paris

Les Pères Populaires, 46 Rue de Buzenval, 75020 Paris

Le Nouvel Institut, 1 Boulevard Saint-Germain, 75005 Paris

Josephine, 6 Place du Marché Sainte-Catherine, 75004 Paris

AMSTERDAM

Bars on the canals, to find…

Blauve Theehuis, Vondelpark 5, 1071 AA Amsterdam

COPENHAGEN

Bastard Café, Rådhusstræde 13, 1466 København

Kiosk, Kongens Nytorv, 1050 København

STOCKHOLM

Bellmanmuseet, Långholmsmuren 21, 117 33 Stockholm

Sturekatten, Riddargatan 4, 114 35 Stockholm

Café String, Nytorgsgatan 38, 116 40 Stockholm

Fotografiska museet, Stadsgårdshamnen 22, 116 45 Stockholm

TRIESTE

Caffè San Marco, Via Cesare Battisti, 18, 34125 Trieste

BERGAMO

Caffe’ della funicolare, Piazza Mercato delle Scarpe, 1, 24129 Bergamo

Circolino, Vicolo Sant'Agata, 19, 24129 Bergamo

[fandomwritings-cm13]

The Case of the Missing Maid (A Paul Drake fic) -- Chapter 3

Pairing: Paul Drake x OC (Maisie Sciortino)

Summary: Lots of twists come with the case of the now deceased Mr. Delacruz and Mrs. Howard. But what of Lara? Who is the murderer?

Warnings: mentions of murder (no graphic descriptions), lots of dialogue, a great deal of tears (Maisie goes through a lot, cut her some slack)

A/N: Finally a little interaction between Maisie and Paul :) Please let me know what you think. Also, requests are open! Feel free to send an ask or a message or you can fill out the form in my masterlist.

Word Count: 1161

“I think something may have happened to Lara,” I say, my mind numb as I stand just inside my workroom. 

“What do you mean, Ms. Sciortino?” Mr. Mason inquires.

“She-.... On the phone, she-...” 

A sob breaks loose, and the dam breaks. Tears flow freely down my cheeks as I sink to my knees where I stand.

A strong, masculine arm wraps around me, steadying me, and my head contacts his shoulder a mere split second later. His hand rubs my back, likely in some attempt to console me. Frankly, I think I’m beyond the point of consolement.

“Paul, take Della and check on Mrs. Delacruz at the Peaceful Meadows Hotel,” Mr. Mason commands. I can feel his voice vibrating through his body. “Call here when you have her.”

“Are you sure that’s the right thing, Perry?” Ms. Street questions.

He nods, his chin lightly bumping the top of my head once. “I’m sure.”

I hear the door opening, footsteps shuffling out, and the door closing again. A couple seconds later, the front door opens then shuts.

“Ms. Sciortino, let’s-” Mr. Mason begins, stopping when I shake my head quickly. “The floor certainly isn’t the most comfortable place to be.”

“I’m sorry,” I sniffle, pulling back slightly and wiping my tears with my hands. “I-... It all just hit me all at once.”

“No need to apologize. A lot has happened over the past twelve hours.”

“What if-”

“You can’t think that way. Paul and Della are going to find her, no problem. We should be getting a call from them shortly.”

I nod slowly, leaning further away from him. His arm loosens around me.

“Have you had breakfast or anything to eat yet today?” Mr. Mason inquires.

I shake my head, not looking him in the eye. “Couldn’t stomach it knowing that Lara was being arrested for a crime she didn’t even commit…”

“Your testimony will help. Bradley’s, too.”

“She’s still been through far more than someone in mourning should.” I sigh, looking up at the ceiling as more tears well up in my eyes. “I just wish my brother was here…”

“I can arrange for him to come into town.”

I shake my head. “Not possible. He’s on a dig in Egypt.”

“My apologies.”

“No need. He’s doing what he loves, hopefully not worried about me.”

“Shall we go to the island?”

I nod slowly.

Mr. Mason grabs my elbow to steady me and pulls me to stand with him, his other hand steadying me further at my waist. He waits another second before guiding me out of the room, opening the door but keeping his hand firmly on my elbow. He pulls the chair back for me, and I take a seat. Once I’m settled, he pushes me closer to the countertop and then takes a seat beside me.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Mason?” Harriet asks as she approaches the countertop. 

“Some breakfast would be nice,” he replies with a smile.

“Bacon and eggs alright? I should still have some in the warming oven.”

He nods once. “Perfect.”

Harriet disappears back into the kitchen, and Mr. Mason turns to me. He opens his mouth to say something, but the phone ringing interrupts him. Without missing a beat, he gets out of his chair and goes to the phone.

“Hello?” he answers into the receiver. “Oh, Paul! How’d it go? Did you find Mrs. Delacruz?” 

There’s a pause as Mr. Drake answers. 

Mr. Mason’s brow furrows, and when he speaks, his voice is serious. “What do you mean you couldn’t find her?” 

Another pause.

“Contact Tragg and find out what happened. On the double, Paul.”

He nods once then hangs it back on the hook.

He stands there for another second before turning to face me. His brow is still furrowed, and there’s a frown on his lips.

“What happened to Lara?” I ask, my voice small and trembling.

“They couldn’t find her,” Mr. Mason answers. “She never even checked in.”

“So she was calling from somewhere else, not the hotel.”

Mr. Mason nods.

“Alright, brunch is served,” Harriet announces, her voice chipper.

I turn to look at her but can barely see her through the tears welling up in my eyes.

“What happened?”

“Lara is missing.”

With that, the dam is once again broken. I put my arms on the counter and rest my head on them, allowing the tears to fall again. 

Mr. Mason keeps his distance from me, and even Harriet doesn’t attempt to comfort me.

A knock on the door startles me into sitting upright. I don’t know how long has passed since Mr. Mason hung up the phone. 

I watch as Mr. Mason approaches then answers the door.

“Lieutenant Tragg,” Mr. Mason greets, “back so soon?”

“Yes, back so soon, Mr. Mason,” the lieutenant retorts as he steps into the door. “I’d like to speak to Ms. Sciortino.” He looks over in my direction. “Ah, the woman of the hour.”

I shift in my seat, turning to face him a bit better.

“How much money would you say you make in a year, Ms. Sciortino?” he asks bluntly.

I shrug. “Probably about $5,000, maybe more with my various interests and investments. Why? What does this have to do with Lara?”

“We found her dead a short while ago.”

“You what…?”

“She’s dead.”

“No, no, she can’t be. She-... She’s…”

The tears overflow all over again.

“We have your statements from the bank, which show you withdrawing large sums of money at a time,” Lieutenant Tragg continues. “So, the district attorney has some questions for you.”

I nod quickly. “Just let me…” I pause, trying to slow my breaths down. “Just let me collect myself first, and I’ll go with you.”

. . . . . . . . . . .

“But Perry, I’m not finding anything,” Paul states, slumping in his seat beside Mr. Mason’s desk.

“She didn’t kill her closest friend, her friend’s husband, or their maid,” Della replies. “Someone else had to have done it.”

“The question is who, Della,” Perry sighs. “What do we know about the maid?”

Paul fishes his notebook out of his suit coat pocket. “Well, she was the sister of Ms. Sciortino’s gardener, Bradley Jones. Ms. Sciortino hired her for the Delacruzes, to help Mrs. Delacruz out around her house.” His eyes continue down the page as he pauses for a brief moment to determine what to say next. “She had been working in the house since October of ‘56. She’s married to an Arthur Howard, has been since ‘51. Apparently, the couple wasn’t in a good financial situation. Bradley said he asked for help getting Heidi a job. Said Ms. Sciortino felt very badly for the girl.”

“So she was employed by Mr. Delacruz?”

Paul shakes his head. “Nope. She was paid by Ms. Sciortino every week.”

“Have you located Mr. Howard?”

Paul sighs. “Had no such luck, Perry.”

“Well, find him. I want to talk to him, see if he knows anything.”

[theperrylleluniverse]

In the show, we mostly see Perry in “work” mode where he’s very focused and serious and his eyebrows are all scrunched up like this >:/ but in the little snippets we see of him before or after a case (or even in the few moments where his Serious Business demeanor cracks during the investigation) it’s so clear that he’s actually the biggest softie of the trio.

There’s nothing this man loves more than matchmaking his clients unless it’s reuniting/reconciling estranged family members haha. He just sees two young people who clearly are interested in each other and he’s like hehe I will solve your case AND your love life and then he does!

He’s always taking Della and Paul on fancy dinner dates! We see that he takes Della or Paul to basically any event he gets invited to (we see him take Della to the theater several times!). He visibly melts anytime he gets to dance with Della or when Paul does something particularly chivalrous.

I’m personally still gagged that in Weary Watchdog Della asks him for $25,000 (that’s like $250,000 in today money!) for vague mystery reasons and Perry just whips out his checkbook, says a devastatingly romantic line, and then gives it to her no questions asked. Even his face when he does it!! So soft and adoring! I’m insane about it. He loves a big romantic gesture!

In summary, Perry is secretly a big squishy Romantic and I’m obsessed. My head canon is that Paul and Della know this about him and recognize that Perry had Romanticized Internal Notions* about like gender roles in a relationship (even tho he’s literally in a queer poly relationship this silly man) so they conspire so that Paul regularly sweeps Perry off his feet with cute romantic gestures and then Della contrives situations in which Perry can sweep her off her feet with cute romantic gestures even though I think both Della and Paul are more pragmatic in general when it comes to love and romance.

For example, Della doesn’t especially care about getting flowers but she never objects to the insane bouquets that Perry gets sent to her on special occasions (and sometimes just because 🥺) and she makes a point to either display them on her desk or at her apartment so he can see how much she appreciated his gesture. On the flip side, Paul (and sometimes Della because she can’t resist the sweet soft face Perry makes) will bring Perry like a single rose or a couple of wildflowers he found while on a stakeout and Perry will be all embarrassed but secretly pleased and sometimes he’ll put the flower in his lapel or on his desk and just smile every time he looks at it and Della and Paul would buy him the moon if it meant he kept smiling like that 🥹🥹🥹

*I headcanon that Perry lost his parents when he was very young and was raised by his grandparents. Partly because of this and partly because of his personality plus the effects of growing up as a bisexual man in the early 1900s, I think Perry has very specific and deep seeded ideas about what a Family should look like and what a Romantic Relationship should look like and to him that’s very white picket fence, 2 kids, etc. and very focused on the external appearance of things. It’s such a deeply embedded idea for him that I don’t think he even consciously think of that as what he wants/strives for but it’s definitely something Paul and Della challenge him on and he has to work through.

[perry-mason-della-street]

Chocolates For Della - Chapter 14

A Perry Mason Fanfiction

Genre: mystery; hints of romance

Warnings: not for children under 10 years old (injury and threats)

Dedicated to: @muir2244-blog, @nicoles-story-corner, and @goldenteadust

____________________________________________

Two days after Della was found:

"Come in, Paul," Perry called when he heard Paul's telltale knock.

"Hello, Perry. Is Della here? This concerns her too," he held up a manilla envelope.

"Of course she's here. She wanted to come in yesterday morning right after she got out of the doctors, but I put my foot down," he spoke into the intercom, "Della, Paul's here with some news."

She came into the office. Paul noticed that she looked a lot better than she had the previous morning. The only sign anything had happened was the small bandage on her cheek.

"Hi, Beautiful!" Paul smiled at her.

"You bring good news?" she asked, sitting down.

"Sort of, I guess. Your kidnapper's name is Christopher Ghardson, originally from New York City. Ghardson was married to an Elaine Craig about five years ago. She filed for a divorce two years ago, claiming he was not taking care of her and was mentally insane. He never signed though, so the divorce didn't go through," said Paul.

"What does this have to do with Della?" Perry asked as Paul paused to light a cigaret.

"Wait a minute, he mentioned something about looking for me for two years when he had me tied up in the shack," Della remembered.

"Meet Elaine Craig Ghardson," Paul flipped her the envelope.

Della pulled out a picture and gasped. She handed it to Perry. He looked at it dumbfounded, then looked up at his secretary. The picture of Elaine Ghardson looked shockingly like Della.

"He mistook me for her?" Della asked, looking back down at the picture.

"Yes. He went all around the country looking for her. He finally came to LA and saw her coming out of a nightclub with another man. He followed them in a taxi and lost them in the traffic. He was frantic. He decided to get back at her."

"But found me instead?" Della sighed.

"He found a picture of you in the paper, a shot from a recent case."

"Didn't the name Della Street give him clue?" Perry asked.

"He thought it was an alias and that you- well, he thought you were another boyfriend," Paul pulled a picture of Perry, Della, and Mr. Burger out of his pocket and passed it to them.

Della gave Perry an amused look as Paul continued:

"He looked up Della Street, and when he saw that she was working with you, Perry, he jealously decided to get rid of Elaine. He poisoned the chocolates he left on your desk, Della. When that didn't work, he tried to shoot you in the hospital, but missed. He sent you a threat with the knife in the rose. He sent you the telegram, posing as an old friend. He was at the nightclub, but he knew the detective was not you. His last resort was to kidnap you and make sure he finished the job. You know the rest."

"What about Elaine? Where is she?"

"Down at police headquarters. She wants to meet you, Della."

"I've always wanted to meet my twin."

"So do I," Perry stood, "I'll drive."

~~~~~~~~P+D~~~~~~~P+D~~~~~~~P+D~~~~~~~P+D~~~~~~~

"Elaine Ghardson is in there," Lt. Tragg nodded towards his office.

Elaine rose as they entered the room. At first glance, one could very easily mistake her for Della. After you looked at both of them together, however, you would realize they were very different.

For one, Elaine's hair was very close cut, and unattractive. She also looked much more sullen than Della. Elaine was about two inches shorter, and had freckles across her nose.

"You are the woman I saw coming out of the beauty parlor," Perry finally put two and two together, wondering how he could have mistaken her for Della in the first place.

"Yeah," Elaine nodded, "And you're Miss Street?"

"That's right," Della shook hands with the woman.

"I guess we do look a lot alike. I'm sorry for what my husband tried to do to you. He isn't right in the head,"Elaine apologized.

"He made the mistake."

"But he wouldn't have made the mistake if I hadn't left him. I'm sorry. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Just a bloody nose and a scratch on the cheek," Della forced a smile.

They talked with Elaine Ghardson for a while longer, then took their leave.

"I'm not sure that I feel sorry for that girl. I think she brought this on herself by running away," Della sighed as they walk through the halls of the police station.

"At least you don't have to worry about her husband anymore," said Perry.

"Did you really think she was me coming out of the beauty parlor?" Della gave him a teasing look.

"Maybe, at first glance," Perry shrugged, "But you can't just blame me. Her own husband did the same thing with you."

"I guess."

"Della, can you promise me one thing, please?"

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll never ever cut your hair like Elaine Ghardson's?"

Della threw back her head and laughed.

"It's a deal, as long as you promise never to try and kill your future wife. You could end up with the wrong girl."

"You've got my word on that."