#also William: what if I lay my job down on the line for her

[mirai-desu]

Bonus » Series 1, Episode 6

“Why were the officers dismissed, sir?” “Guarding Miss Scarlet's house is simply excessive. This criminal gang, whoever they  are, will be hell bent on fleeing London. [...] The notion that they would waste time trying to assassinate the daughter of some drunk detective... well, quite frankly, is ludicrous.” “I do not want to take that risk sir.” “You've taken a shine to this woman, have you not?” “My concern is purely professional, sir.” “Well, I'm inclined to disagree. I think your judgement has been clouded.” “Well, with all due respect, I think it is your judgment that's in question here.” “I beg your pardon?” “You do not like me, that is clear, but do not make Miss Scarlet's safety a casualty of that dislike.” “You'd do well to remember who you're talking to. Now, get out there, and do your job! Or I'll get someone else to do it for you.”

[punkishtoxtricity]

hi hi! what are some of your tigerbear and sweet tooth in general headcanons?

(they have fully and officially infested my brain, yay!!)

i was actually just about to type these out so this ask is well timed

-Tiger is very big on 2000s emo. she LOVES paramore. Bear is the one who helped dye their hair orange(after hayley williams duh)

-Tiger is also very big on classic punk and riot grrl(i’m not projecting i swear) because it was very much the easiest music to get a hold of after the crumble (in the early day of the army them and Bear would go out to rob cd stores and she’d always steal a couple cds)

-Bear is very big on folk music. she’s also a classic emo girly. she LOVES american football and modern baseball.

-after long days they listen to music together and just kinda lay in their room. the other army members find it curious how they’re really the only ones to share a room

-Tiger first dyed their hair when she was 10. Bear helped her. the dye job was very shoddy but they loved it

-Tiger is nonbinary! they sort of came out as a kid when she first met Bear but later down the line they finally had a word for it so she explained it better. Tiger was her original chosen name(might give her a diff one in the fic later on idk)

-Bear has a very weird relationship with gender. i think she’s genderqueer but basically the “i’m nonbinary but i have a job rn so idrc)

-they’re both butch lesbians. i don’t make the rules

-Bears love language is secretly touch. she pretends it’s acts of service but Tiger knows better and tries to make a decent amount of physical contact with her

-Tigers love language is quality time. they enjoy extended periods of time with Bear but are very much too anxious to ask her to hang out more after the crush manifests

-a lot of Tigers anxiety manifests itself as anger. that’s why she’s like that in season 1.

-in the time they spent witj the hybrids while waiting for everyone to come back from alaska, Finn quickly became her favorite. they’re both a bit mischievous and she sees herself in him

-Wendy finds Tiger and Bears dancing around the idea of a relationship amusing. i think there’d be a point where her and Bear are just sitting on the porch and she’s like “i’d be fine with having a sibling in law y’know”

-i also think she’d have a talk with Tiger and be like “i think you’re good for her and you’ve got history. you helped her find me so you’re alright”

-Tiger is surprised by the accusation of crushing on Bear(she’s not)

-all of the hybrids LOVE Tiger. she does teach all of them the best swears. at some point they get back to the army headquarters and gets her computer back, once they research swears in sign all hell breaks lose

-the wolf boys visit regularly. they eventually learn very basic english but they can’t articulate well so they stick to sign

-the wolf boys are also very sweet with the rest of the hybrids! they especially love Finn since they’re all canines

-i feel like all the hybrids are bi. like how some animals are naturally just bi. i think that’s how they are

-the games they play can get personal. if someone beats someone else in one game you can bet your ass they’re getting back in the next game

ok that’s all i have for now

[evelynsgarden]

◈In the Heart of East Egg◈

THREE KNOCKS AND A KIND INTRODUCTION

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Authors note: Back to writing bitches 😞 need something to keep me stable lmfao- in all honesty this was a lot of fun! Lemme know what yall think :p also feel free to leave requests🪷 MDNI

(Ellie’s coming soon I promise this finna get messy💀)

Warnings: marriage, talk of money, marriage problems, fighting, swearing, use of Y/n, sorta cockblock 😭, insinuated nsfw(future warning that there will be smut, infidelity, drinking etc)

Paring: Ellie x reader x Abby

Masterlist

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In the opulent world of East Egg, where extravagance and excess reign supreme, three women found themselves entwined in a tale of love, longing, and betrayal.

Y/n L/n, the definition ethereal beauty and grace, captivated all who crossed her path with her enchanting charm and porcelain exterior. But behind her facade of wealth and status, lay a heart yearning for something more profound than the shallow desires of the elite.

As the summer sun cast its golden glow upon the sprawling mansions of East Egg, the lines between past and desire blurred, and Y/n found herself entangled in a web of longing and deceit.

Three knocks were all it took for everything to change drastically, three knocks.

“Ahh Jesse it’s so lovely to see you” Abby smiled at Jesse as she ushered him inside the extravagant home. “How’ve you been” the walls were lined with photos of you and Abby, not that you minded but it often made you realize how lovely you felt when she was away at work or on trips, then again you felt lonely most of the time regardless of her being home.

“I’m great actually, I’m currently living across from you right over there” Jesse pointed through one the tall windows at what could be seen of the West Egg as he followed Abby “ it’s small, but it’s nice to be away and on my own you know?” he was met with a nod in response.

As Jesse stepped into the lavish foyer, his eyes immediately sought out Y/n, who peaked out from the couch. Despite the warmth of Abby's greeting, his attention remained fixated on Y/n, his heart pounding in his chest at the sight of her. It’d been so long since they had last seen each other. Although cousins they were more akin to siblings, being each other’s only friend for so long.

“Oh do they miss me back home” you giggled, gazing up at Jesse “people are crying in the streets, begging for you to return home to us ”Y/n perked her head up slightly more. “in fact there’s been so many donations for you to return home they practically touch the ceiling”

Y/n's playful banter with Jesse masked the turmoil brewing within her. Despite the outward charm, she couldn't shake the feeling of being torn between two worlds, drifting in and out of thought which stopped when another voice added to the conversation. “Well if it isn’t Jesse~ to what do we owe the pleasure” Dina drifted into the room, laying beside Y/n on the couch. From what Jesse had heard Dina had been having family problems, not settling down was one of them but her attitude was another, so for the past 6 months Dina had been living with Y/n and Abby in a quest room- If you could even call a guest room equipped with its own living room and pool a guest room.

“I’m currently visiting for the summer, well until I find a job in the city, I’ll still be living around here regardless but I’d like to get a go at it before committing to a place” he smiled “mmmmm the city~ oh I’d go down there more if someone didn’t wollow in their own self pity all the time” Dina interrupted Jesse before he could ask in more detail what she was referring to “ Where do you live anyway?” Jesse once again pointed outside through one of the tall beautiful windows “over in the West Egg” her eyes widened “The West Egg?! I go over there for parties all the time! Someone named Williams throws them they’re wonderful” Y/n perked up “ Williams?” Abby let out a cough before Y/n ask or say anything more.

“Speaking of all this West Egg-East Egg nonsense why don’t you go show Jesse around huh Dina, keep yourself busy? Me and Y/n need to discuss something” before Dina could protest Y/n spoke out “ but he just got here why don’t we-” “we need to talk” the conversation ended there and Jesse made his way to the front door accompanied by Dina.

As Jesse and Dina stepped out onto the meticulously manicured grounds of the estate, the tension between them was palpable. Dina's playful demeanor had shifted, her gaze hardened as she eyed Jesse with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"So, Jesse," Dina began, her voice tinged with intrigue, "what brings you to East Egg? Surely, there must be more to your visit than just catching up with old friends."

Jesse hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the distant horizon where the sprawling mansions of West Egg lay bathed in the golden light of the sun. "I suppose you could say I'm in search of something," he replied cryptically, his words laced with a hint of longing.

Dina arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "And what might that be? Love? Adventure? Or perhaps something more... sinister?"

A wry smile played at the corners of Jesse's lips as he met Dina's gaze. "Perhaps a little bit of everything," he mused, his voice barely audible. Jesse's gaze softened, his eyes scanning the sprawling grounds of the estate as if searching for answers in the gentle breeze that rustled through the trees. “ what do you think they’re talking about anyway, seemed rushed, not that it’s any of my business-“

"Fighting, usually fighting nowadays," Dina replied, her voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "That or promises, lots and LOTS of promises” her voice dragged “then again that’s only Y/ns version never really cared to ask Abby. Not that’d she’d tell me anything of course " Dina retrieved a cigarette from her dress pocket and lit it “want one?”

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The tension in the room crackled like static electricity, the air heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Y/n's voice echoed off the walls, her frustration palpable as she confronted Abby, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Abby's smirk faltered, replaced by a steely resolve as she met Y/n's gaze head-on. "Oh, you're so full of yourself, you know that?! My cousins over and you just push him away! My family that YOU made me move away from!" Y/n's accusation hung in the air, but Abby refused to back down, her tone cold and calculated as she fired back, "Wow, I do? Is that why we have this house? If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't even be here! He wouldn’t have a place to visit without me! I’m the reason you have a home!” Her words struck a nerve, Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to find the right words to respond. "That's not fair, Abby," she finally managed to choke out, her voice trembling with emotion. "You know it's not just about him or …… Dina or even the god damn house. It's about us, too."

But Abby remained unmoved, her facade of indifference crumbling under the weight of Y/n's words. "Is it, though?" she retorted, her voice dripping with anger and condescension. "Or is it about you, always wanting more, always reaching for something that's not fucking real? Or is it about you being spoiled and never fulfilled? Because I’m sure as fuck trying and you can’t seem to be happy so enlighten me why don’t you?! What could I possibly be doing to make you oh so unhappy?” Abby wiped the sweat away from her face with the back of her hand, she was so tired of arguing, so tired of drilling it into Y/n’s head that she was the only real family she had, the only person who could or would ever put up with her bullshit.

Y/n's eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and frustration. The accusation stung, hitting too close to home, unraveling the carefully constructed facade of composure she had maintained for oh so long.

"You think this is about me wanting more?" Y/n's voice trembled with barely contained emotion, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "You think I'm not trying to be happy? You have no fucking idea what it's like, Abby. You have no idea what I've sacrificed, what I've given up for us."

But Abby still remained unmoved, her expression hardening with each passing moment. "And what exactly have you sacrificed, Y/n?" she shot back, her voice still with disdain. "Your precious reputation? Your endless pursuit of something that doesn't even exist?"

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, the weight of Abby's words crashing down on her like a tidal wave. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice so low Abby had to strain to hear it. "You don't understand what it's like to feel trapped, to feel like you're suffocating under the weight of expectations and obligations." Y/n let out a sob and sat herself back on the couch.

Abby's gaze softened ever so slightly, a flicker of empathy shining through the facade of anger and resentment. "I may not understand everything, Y/n," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with regret. "But I do know one thing—I love you, and I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

Y/n's resolve wavered at Abby's confession, the walls Y/n had built around her heart crumbling in the face of genuine remorse. "I love you too, Abby," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. "But we can't keep pretending that everything is okay when it's not- you can’t use money to fix everything"

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she looked into Abby's eyes, searching for sincerity amidst the heat of their argument. "It doesn't have to be this way," Abby murmured, her voice cracking with desperation. "I don't want us to keep hurting each other like this."

Her gaze softened, a flicker of remorse shining through her hard resolve. "I promise I'll work on this—on us, okay?" she offered, her voice gentle yet determined. "We'll figure it out together." Y/n let out a huff, her shoulders sagging with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "I hope so," her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I can't take much more of this."

"I'll do better," Abby whispered, her voice laced with sincerity as she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on Y/n's lips. It was a gentle reassurance, a silent promise of their shared commitment to mend what was broken. The kiss, initially tender and reassuring, deepened as their emotions ignited. Abby's lips molded against Y/n's with a newfound intensity, fueled by the raw passion and desire that simmered beneath the surface of their conflicted relationship. Y/n responded eagerly, her hands instinctively finding their way to Abby's waist, pulling her closer as they melted into each other's embrace, Abby’s hands groping her through her expensive summer dress.

With each lingering touch, sparks crackled between them, Abby's lips trailed from Y/n's mouth to the curve of her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake. Y/n arched into her touch, a low moan escaping her lips as Abby's hands teased the sensitive skin along her thighs, inching higher with each tantalizing caress. Y/n pushed Abby’s thigh between her legs, rocking back and forth. Just as she was about to finally let Y/n feel an ounce of relief she stopped “Let’s not keep Jesse or Dina waiting hmm?” Abby smirked, Y/n's breath hitched as Abby's words broke through the haze of desire that enveloped them. “Please~ we can do it quickly please” Y/n begged, she tried to speed herself up but Abby gripped her waist, thumbs pressing onto her nipples, almost like you would hold a mannequin or doll. “Later, come on” With a soft whimper, she reluctantly pulled away from Abby, her body still humming with the lingering sensation her touch. "Fine," she managed to slip despite the strain, her voice thick with desire. "We shouldn't keep them waiting." As they composed themselves, a sly smile tugged at Y/n's lips, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between them. Abby place a firm hand on her ass as they left the room “ be good”

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“Oh no thank you I don’t smoke anymo-”

Dina interrupted yet again “what is it that you plan on doing in the city” Dina looked up at Jesse with a small smile.

Jesse glanced at Dina, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure yet," he admitted. "I suppose I'm looking for something... meaningful. Something that makes me feel alive, you know?"

Dina nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I get that," she replied, a hint of wistfulness coloring her tone. "The city has a way of pulling you in, offering endless possibilities and adventures waiting to be discovered." "Yeah, exactly," Jesse agreed, a spark of excitement igniting within him. "I want to explore, to experience everything the city has to offer. Maybe even find a sense of purpose along the way."

Dina smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Well, you've come to the right place then,- after all” she stopped her self midway by the sound of Y/n running down the front steps, Abby following behind her in a more relaxed manner. “Oh we’re going to the city for lunch Jesse you just have to come!” Y/n yelled. “Well they’re in a good mood” Dina rolled her eyes knowingly. Jesse chuckled at Dina's observation, nodding in agreement. "Seems like it," he replied with a grin. "I'd love to join you for lunch in the city. It'll be nice to explore a bit and maybe even find some inspiration for this project I’ve been wanting to write”

Y/n beamed at Jesse's response, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Great! It's settled then," she exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious. "I know this charming little cafe downtown that serves the best pastries. You'll love it, Jesse!" Y/n was practically bouncing, running a head to get to the car first”

Abby smiled warmly at Jesse, her earlier tension dissipating in the excitement of the moment. "It'll be a wonderful opportunity for us to catch up and enjoy each other's company,- sorry about earlier we just needed a moment” the blonde smiled. Jesse returned Abby's warm smile, understanding. "No need to apologize, Abby. I get it," he reassured her, his tone gentle. "We all have our moments, and sometimes we just need a little space to sort things out."

Abby's expression softened with gratitude, a sense of relief washing over her. "Thank you for understanding, Jesse," she replied, her voice tinged with sincerity. "You're a good friend”

“Jesus- could the two of you hurry I want a sandwich and some tea” Dina sighed, her playful impatience ended the moment as she glanced back at Abby and Jesse with a playful smirk. “Hurry!” She shouted again, running after Y/n and hopping into the car.

Tag list pookies: @sapphicontherun @bready101 (blogs won’t allow me to tag usually if you haven’t posted so for that I’ll @ mfs in the comments❤️)

[dzamie-oc]

Voretober 24 - Harvest

Length: 1400 words Vore type: F/M, oral vore Fandom: None (Kahudra) Other info: unwilling prey, kobold/rabbit, feral prey, digestion Summary: A garden during harvest season is a great place to find a meal! A rabbit knows this, and unfortunately, doesn't consider that may be more universal than he'd like.

On the outskirts of Dilmar City, a garden's plants grew heavy with vegetables. The garden was, of course, guarded by a fence. Easily ten feet high, a wooden frame bounded a shimmering, magical barrier, designed to completely but harmlessly repel any fox, deer, and possibly even a bear.

But not, William thought as his paws pushed through the layer of grass from below, a bunny. A little more digging, and the exit - now entrance - to his hole was wide enough to fit whatever he could drag back with him, as well as his soon-to-be-bulkier body. Extrication, however, could wait: he had a feast fit for a whole warren for him to peruse and enjoy. William shook off some dirt and began to hop through the rows of plants.

Cabbage, onions, some spinach, pumpkins… William slowed his pace at the line of carrot leaves poking out of the ground. Just before he could start digging, however, his ears perked up at a sound: the voice of a yellow and orange kobold using a magic staff like a walking stick, grumbling to herself.

"Stupid superstitious humans. 'Magic corrupts the crops' my scaly tail." She bent down, hefted a pumpkin thice William's size, and placed it on a nearby cart before biting down on the stem to sever it and spitting out the part stuck in her mouth. "Bleh. Tastes like food's food. I don't know what that elf sees in this job besides a worse paycheck than-"

William froze when one bright yellow eye focused on him. Slowly, smoothly, the lizard turned to face the bunny. He tensed, preparing to run straight back to his hole; fangs that pointy and sharp, and mention of "food's food" set his fur on end. But maybe she hadn't actually seen him, or maybe she'd-

The kobold took a deep breath, glanced left and right, then laid down on the cart, letting one arm and the lower half of her legs and tail hang down. "Ah, hell, every carrot you eat is one I don't have to pull up." She laughed, and adjusted her head to avoid laying on her horns. "But lucky you that this is some human's field and not my dragon's."

After waiting several seconds for her to move again, and her failing to do so (save for a lazy twitch of her tail), William took a cautious hop up to the carrot. Then sunk his claws into the dirt. Then did so again, digging faster as the kobold continued to do absolutely nothing about it. Before long, the carrot was out of the ground and, nibble by nibble, vanishing into him. Not even the leaves were spared.

Emboldened by this odd lack of action, the bunny moved to the next carrot. It came up faster, partly from his confidence, but also because it was truly scrawny. Still, food is food, and its size meant it simply disappeared faster. After wiping some dirt from his mouth with a paw, he saw a set of leaves he was certain belonged to a truly delicious specimen, a little closer to the cart. The kobold was completely still, and possibly asleep. So, William took one hop, then another, and started to dig.

Suddenly, a sharp pain jolted through his ears! A strong pressure held them together, then lifted him up by them, until he stared the kobold, now smiling, right in the eyes. William struggled, wiggled, and kicked at the air, but her grip around his ears was far too firm to drop free. A thoughtful look replaced her cold smile, and for a moment, the bunny dared to hope she'd changed her mind.

"Let's see…" she muttered, drawing her staff closer to William with her other hand, "probably don't need much mana into this one. I do want it to end quickly, after all."

The staff tapped William's head, and he heard a firm command: "Sleep." He shook his head, trying to both ignore and use the pain to fight it. Seconds passed, but he remained awake - though his normally strong legs felt like heavy weights dangling from him; he tried to kick again, but felt them barely twitch. To his horror, the kobold noticed this, and bared her fangs in a wicked grin. "Perfect," she purred.

Without getting up from her resting position, she simply lifted him over her head and opened her jaws wide; William could only stare down at the perilous, pink expanse, framed by deadly-sharp fangs and framing an even deadlier dark throat entrance. Her breath was warm and soft against his fur as she lowered him, and once again William had to fight to stay awake. One blink later, and her breath surrounded him, full of unfamiliar but instinctively dangerous scents, yet the gentle, warm pressure of her throat around his hind legs made a powerful argument in favor of giving in to slumber.

The pressure around his ears vanished as the new, lighter one crept up his midsection, threatening his forelegs as well. His ears, sore from the kobold's grip, folded back against his head and back, and then, with a loud clack, she snapped her jaws shut, surrounding him in darkness. An even louder GULP sent a shot of energy coursing through his body, and he kicked as hard as he could against the walls of her throat… which, in his sleepy state, wasn't very hard at all. Her gullet's embrace climbed to his neck, and then wrapped around his head.

The predatory lizard swallowed once more, and irresistible muscles shoved William deeper into her body; his hindpaws slid into a more open yet definitely more deadly chamber, followed soon by his hips, his belly, and the rest of him. His fur was matted down with drool and other juices. Completely cleaned of dirt, he had no doubt, but the thought that the kobold's stomach would soon clean him off of his bones…

Sheer terror, or perhaps her spell wearing off, threw some fight back into him. With newfound strength, he thumped his hindpaws down as hard as he could, as though trying to jump in his confined space. Though muffled by the flesh around him, he heard a surprised "woah!" from his captor, and then William's surrounding's rotated as the kobold sat up. This did little to dissuade the bunny, who simply kept kicking her stomach walls. She growled, and a new pressure from outside pushed against him, as though she could simply force him to be still and accept his fate. William, of course, did his best to not do that, and kept at his assault.

The kobold's stomach rumbled, and what little space he had to ready his kicks was taken from him in a large belch - at least, from the small bunny's perspective. William tried to kick more, but with her stomach pressing in on him even closer than before, he couldn't manage much power behind them. Not that the constant, cloying massage all around him wasn't trying to finish what her earlier sleep spell had nearly done. William could barely focus on much else besides staying awake and continuing to thrash - not even kicking - when the scaly predator jostled him around more hopping off the cart.

"Welp, that's enough of a rest. Boring human job or not, I have my pride as a diligent kobold," she said to herself, and to her unwilling eavesdropper. Between her steady crouching and lifting, the darkness around him, the increasingly stale air, and her stomach constantly kneading acids into his fur, it wasn't long before William succumbed, closing his eyes for the last time.

-

Rinta gave a grunt of effort as she hoisted the last pumpkin onto the cart. Her stomach grumbled around the gradually diminishing heap of rabbit meat and fur stewing inside. The kobold gave her belly an appreciative pat, and it responded by sending up another burp. She grinned to herself; the free live food did make up for the very un-adventurer-like manner of the job, she supposed. She crouched down and started on the line of carrots, quietly hoping that the tasty, squirmy bunny hadn't been the extent of ther farm's pest problem.

[comfortscripts]

May I Have This Dance? ¬ Steve Rogers

Plot - After retiring his shield, Steve's partner realises that he seems to be missing something.

Requested? Yes/No

Genre - ☁️️Fluff ☁️️

Note/Warning - Steve didn't return to Peggy after Endgame (I refuse to accept that ending honestly), I think this is GN but please let me know if I have used fem!pronouns, also the reader wears a dress in this so if you are uncomfortable with that be aware.

Word Count - 1.7k

After your husband Steve retired from the superhero living, life seemed dull in his eyes. You could see that his once vibrant baby blues had lost their sparkle, their joy for life.

Whilst him having more time meant that your relationship thrived, Steve was missing something and you were missing him being truly happy.

It was Sunday and a rule of the Rogers relationship is that Sunday was an "Old School Day".

No technology, no going to the city and no current news or media of any kind.

It took a while to get use to but you soon learned to love it because it meant that you had the whole day with your soulmate, no distractions. But today was different, there was one thing that had taken up your entire focus all day.

A few days prior, you were in line at the supermarket when you spotted a flyer.

DANCE YOURSELF BACK TO THE 40s!

Have you ever wondered what a 40s dance was like?

Well if the answer is yes, get yourself down to the Michaelton Hall this Sunday at 7:30pm

The cashier was a motherly looking woman in her late 60s named Dorothy, her family had owned the supermarket here since the 1920s and being a cashier here was her first job. Twice a week she would come down and "relive her youth" as her husband always jokes.

"I thought that might catch your eye" Dorothy spoke after watching you inspect the flyer. "The old music, the clothes and just that feeling of a simpler time. I'm hoping to convince William to take me but getting him to dress up like a princess is more likely than getting him to dance."

You laugh at the woman's joke but mainly at the idea of William in a frilly dress. William and Dorothy had been married for 52 years but the only time William ever danced with her was on their wedding night, a story that you thought was sad but Dora took it in her stride.

"Well I am thinking that this might be a good way to get Steve out of his funk, even for only a night" You say with a wistful look on your face whilst piling fruit into your shopping bag.

"What a wonderful idea my dear!" Dorothy exclaimed whilst scanning the final item "There is a quaint little vintage store about half a mile out of town, I am sure you'd find a dress to knock Steve's socks off"

Smiling at the woman, you hand her some cash before taking one last look at the flyer "You are like a fairy godmother Dora. Have a lovely day and hopefully see you at the dance".

By the next morning, you were keen to start prepping for the Sunday surprise. Giving your husband a kiss goodbye, you headed off to 'run some errands'.

First stop was buying the tickets, then that left you with finding the perfect 40s dress.

You headed out of town to the vintage store Dorothy mentioned but you were not prepared for how beautiful the shop was. Flowers in corners all over the place, fairy-lights decorated the clothing racks and old pieces of sparkling jewellery was displayed throughout the store.

You could have spent hours in there, it felt like a visual time machine but it seemed luck was on your side. As you strolled further into the store, you noticed a stunning pastel floor-length satin dress with light embellishments near the sleeves. That was exactly what you needed.

Everything was ready. Tickets were bought, dress was found and Steve's old military suit was ready to be worn. All you had to do now was keep it from your husband till Sunday.

Making it to Sunday evening was difficult, you had nearly exposed the plans twice but thankfully Steve believed the excuses you came up with. But now it was time to get ready.

"My love, guess what I found the other day in the attic" You call out to your super-solider husband. "Your old army uniform. Perfect condition as well".

Handing the outfit to Steve, you see his eyes light up with the memories of his time back in the 1940s. Although he looked only slightly older than he did the last time he wore it, it was like looking back in time.

"Wow, I didn't think I would ever see this again." He spoke caressing the material.

"Steve, do you think you could maybe try it on again? I would love to have a glimpse of what use to be the fashion" You asked carefully, trying to make sure he didn't suspect anything else.

A small smile graced his face. "Of course, I probably would have wanted to try it on either way" And with a laugh, he headed upstairs to suit up.

Whilst the super-solider was getting ready, you slipped into your dress and quickly slipped on an oversized shirt which made it look like you were wearing a long skirt and t-shirt. Applying a bit of makeup before double checking that your purse was ready with the tickets, car keys and some other essentials.

Hearing footsteps descend your staircase, you turn around to a fully suited and confident looking Steve Rogers. This man has managed to make you fall more in love every day for the past 6 years but in this moment, he took your breath away.

"You look so handsome. How did I ever get lucky enough to call you my husband?" You express as you reach up to lay the corner of his collar down. Even though you compliment your husband all the time, Steve still flushes a bit red at the sweet words.

Leaning in to give him a small kiss, you suddenly remember that you are on a time constraint. You pull back with a mischievous grin dancing on your face.

"Oh no, I know that face. What have you done?" Steve asks with a little chuckle. Instead of responding, you grab his hand and head out to the car. After instructing him to get into the passenger seat, you settle yourself in the driver's seat and start the car whilst Steve sits beside you watching like he was trying to solve a puzzle - the puzzle being you.

"I have a surprise for you but I am going to need you to put this blindfold on whilst I drive us there" With a grin on your face and your hand offering a silk blue blindfold to your incredibly confused but handsome husband.

Cautiously Steve reaches for the blindfold and puts it on, he would trust you with his life so why not trust you with a small surprise.

After driving for 15 minutes or so, Steve feels the car stop and turn off.

"Wait one second" You say before he hears you open your door.

Bubbling with excitement you quickly discard of your t-shirt, place some kitten heels on and apply a sultry shade of red on your lips before throwing anything you don't need in the trunk.

Walking over to Steve's side of the car, you calm your nerves slightly with a deep breathe. Opening the passenger door, you take a hold of Steve's hand and carefully guide him towards the entrance of the hall.

Sounds of Moonlight Serenade songs fill his ears as he enters, still completely oblivious to his partner's scheme. He notices that it is far warmer in this area and that he can smell a mix of perfume and whiskey.

"Okay baby, when I count to 3, you can take off your blindfold" You finally say.

"1"

"2"

"3"

As Steve removes the silk blocking his vision and is immediately hit with a feeling of nostalgia. The hall looked like something out of his memories; men and women dressed in 40s fashion dancing the night away, a small band playing all the most popular songs from the decade he yearned for, men who reminded him of Bucky trying to pick up girls at the bar.

Steve thought that he was blown away until he saw his Y/N. The person who made life worth living, who made everything seem light again. There they stood, looking like they had just walked off the silver screen from an old movie. Steve never really believed that he could live such a happy life but somewhere along the way, he must have done something right because now he is married to an angel.

Walking up to you, he placed his hands on your waist and looked deep into your eyes. Drowning in Steve's ocean blue eyes was a favourite past-time of yours but this felt more than that.

"I noticed you have been a bit down since you gave up the shield and I couldn't see you frown anymore." You whisper quietly as if you were nervous that this plan wouldn't work.

"I know I say it constantly but I love you, Y/N Rogers. Your kindness, your care, your effortless beauty, you." Steve recited, filling every word with pure love and appreciation. "Sometimes I think that I am no one if I am not Captain America or I don't belong in this world but you. You, Y/N, you made me realise that you are my home, not the past. You are the only one I need in this life-time or any other life-time because you taught me who I am beyond the shield."

Tears start to well up in your eyes as you hang off his every word.

"This dance is amazing but what makes me happy is that I get to spend tonight and every night with my soulmate" Steve takes a step back and extends his hand. "So, may I have this dance my darling?"

Reaching for his hand, you make your way onto the dance floor amongst the other couples. As the song dies down, Stella by Frank Sinatra starts filling the hall with a romantic atmosphere and you feel Steve place his hand on your hip before placing another in your hand. This was truly a night to remember.

As you sway with your husband, you let your eyes wander to the other dancing couples and near the centre of the dance floor, you spot Dorothy and William smiling and swaying like teenagers again.

All you can do is hope that you and Steve will be dancing together when you are old and grey.

[highqueenofelfhame]

fafs - twenty

A/n: Sorry for the delay! This chapter was just too important to rush. If you wanna set the mood, listen to simmer by hayley williams. Also a super special shout out to katie for basically becoming my beta and making my writing better!!

Aelin had a ritual for a normal job.

In the days leading up to a job, she would perfect her cover, altering her appearance enough that she wasn’t so easily recognizable. Brown contacts would disguise the blue and gold of her eyes. Sometimes she would dye her golden hair red or brown, forgoing the heat of a wig, and spend weeks following the hit annoyed she had done it.

Sometimes she even used special effects products to craft scars on her face, or to give her nose an entirely different shape than what it was. She perfected walking with a convincing limp, mastered several accents that were so wildly different from her own, and could blend in seamlessly with any crowd from the seedy underbelly of the city all the way to the intricate court of esteemed royalty. Celaena Sardothien was a chameleon, a whisper on the wind that could vanish just as soon as she appeared.

Before a hit, Aelin would spend hours playing music loudly enough for it to reverberate through the walls of her apartment.  The music was the same each time - a symphony of songs that rose in tempo and volume so that by the time she was dressed, she was bouncing on her toes and ready for what may come.

She would have sharpened her weapons in time with the melody. She would have pulled on her suit in a methodical way, zipping up the back as a song came to a climax. A slow grin would have spread across her lips as her playlist progressed, her adrenaline pumping,  unable to stop from jumping in place.

But this was not a normal job. Aelin hadn’t taken care when pulling on her suit, her body littered with small cuts and scrapes from the hidden weapons all over.  She  hadn’t even cared to alter her appearance for this foray into the underworld. Aelin hadn’t even bothered with a mask. She wanted them all to know who it was that ended their miserable lives. She wanted them to feel the wrath of the queen of assassins descending upon them. Most of all, she wanted them to see the raging inferno burning in the golden iris of her eyes while they took their last, shuddering breaths.

There would be no music for her this time.The only song she could hear in her head was the relentless pounding of  the volatile rage that rushed through her veins . The rage that had always lay in wait, a predator ready to strike at any given moment, and now, was poised to make its first attack. It was a song about finding a line between wrath and mercy— a line that she always toed, but could not find herself anywhere near, not today. Not where Rowan was concerned.

So instead of her usual ritual, she had settled into what was undoubtedly the numbest and most chilling killing calm she had ever felt. Nothing could pierce the veil she had around her as she prepared to make her move. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart. All she could see was red.

Squatting on a rooftop, Aelin’s eyes narrowed on a window across the alley. Nox knelt beside her, flipping a knife between his fingers while they both mapped out what lay before them. With no one knowing that he was in close contact with Aelin, Nox was able to slither through the underground network of assassins and black market dealings to figure out who had Rowan and where he was being kept.

All roads lead to Arobynn Hammel— something that didn’t surprise Aelin in the slightest. He had killed Sam first and made a point to slaughter everyone she had ever loved. Now he was trying to take Rowan from her, too. He should have known better. If anyone knew about her deadly precision and taste for revenge, it was Arobynn. He knew she would come for him. He knew it would rain blood when she did.

Bright blue eyes scanned the building she watched, looking for any sign of anyone being near any of the windows. Nox pocketed his knife and rested his forearms against his knees. Like Aelin, he was poised on his toes with alert eyes roving over the streets below. Fortunately they were hidden well enough in the shadows as the sun sank below the horizon behind them.

“What’s your plan? Are you going to call your contacts?” Aelin turned his question over in her mind, knowing full well that she should call Fenrys and give them a full report of the situation. She knew they would come in and Rowan would be safe. Aelin would be free of any damning action that could potentially send her back to prison.

But if she did call, the scum that had taken Rowan from her were likely to live another day. Some of them would slither back into the underworld, some of them would end up in prison. The imprisoned ones might end up out on the streets again due to technicalities, or successful escapes, though that was a slim possibility. She needed to get inside that building before the FBI checked her anklet and found out she wasn’t at the apartment where she was supposed to be.

“No,” she finally said, tapping her thumb against her knee. No, she wouldn’t call. No, she wouldn’t leave this up to fate. Everyone in that building was going to pay for their crimes. Today, she was the judge, jury, and executioner. Aelin Galathynius was a vengeful god, one with fire flowing through her veins. She would not stop until everyone had paid for what they’d done.

The wind blew a loose strand of hair across her face as she stood, the bite of the breeze keeping her focused on the task at hand. She brought her foot up to rest on the ledge of the roof, eyes narrowing in on the four-paned window across the way. There was a shadow several paces deep, likely someone paroling the room— waiting on her. She couldn’t see through the rest of the windows well enough, but there was no movement detected. Aelin pursed her lips, gaze dropping down the side of the gray wall before she looked over at Nox.

“You should leave. You don’t need to be here when they come,” she told him absently, licking her lips as she stepped up onto the ledge.

“Celaena—” The look she gave him cut him off; whatever he saw in her face, her eyes had him nodding once. A cruel, twisted smile curled at her lips as the wind whipped at her face ferociously. Aelin stepped fully onto the ledge, giving the alley below a final once over before she tipped her head back and inhaled deeply.

And then she jumped.

~*~

It had been a long while since Aelin had performed a free-fall through a window. She had almost forgotten what rolling over shattered glass could do, bits stabbing through her arms and sides. The momentum had her slamming into a metal post that she had mistaken as a person. It knocked the wind completely out of her, and she had to take a few extra seconds to gasp down several lungfuls of air before she could roll to her feet.

But it was one hell of an entrance— one that would send a signal to everyone below that death was raining down upon them. The knowledge sent a shock of adrenaline through her body just as footsteps had begun to scuffle down the hall.

Two voices were speaking in hushed tones. By the time the heavy, metal door was pulled open with a discordant squeak that made her cringe, Aelin had effectively disappeared into the shadows. The whispers died off as their boots crunched over broken glass. One of the men swore, his voice entirely unfamiliar to Aelin. Peering through the shelving unit she hid behind, neither of them looked like anyone she’d ever come in contact with.

Good. It would make killing them easier.

From the little cave she had backed herself into, she watched them exchange uneasy glances. Their heads turned, trying to figure out where she’d disappeared to in the sixty-seconds it had taken them to respond to a silent alarm she’d likely sounded. The two men didn’t speak while they looked around the room, unable to see her where she’d crouched down. All she could see now was their feet shuffling across the floor, making their way back toward the exit.

This, she was sure, was supposed to be a trap. Something that was supposed to make her feel at ease that they didn’t believe she was here, that they’d found nothing but a broken window. They would pretend to leave, either one or both, and then they’d be waiting for her when she thought she had the freedom to slip from the room. Clearly, these two morons did not quite know the ocean of rage that she was drowning in. They were unaware of exactly who stalked her prey like a lioness hunting for dinner.

Aelin thought about waiting, thought about letting them think they were going to leave this room alive. But she remembered that Rowan was in here somewhere, likely incapacitated in some way, and she decided she didn’t care. What was the point in giving  them false hope when they’d taken every bit of hope she’d ever had? No. They didn’t deserve the hope of living another day. They deserved to die like the rest: eyes wide and gaping, piss staining their thighs, and blood pooling beneath them.

She struck so quickly, that one fell before the other could pull a weapon and turn it on her. It was so easy, too easy. It was almost disappointing, the way they hit the ground with heavy thuds. Blood bubbled from their necks while they choked, eyes wide and fingers clawing at their skin.

“Didn’t anyone ever warn you about the monsters that lurk in the dark?” She asked, kneeling beside them with her arms draped over her knees. She spoke to them the way a mother might comfort her children after they’d woken from a nightmare. Except this was the last nightmare they would ever have, and it was a vivid reality. Aelin’s lips curved into a wicked grin, the palm of her gloved hand patting the cheek of the man that laid nearest to her. The other merely got a nudge of her boot before she left the room, not bothering to shut the door behind her.

Aelin paused outside of the door, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of her cloak. To remain as silent as possible, she tossed it back into the room behind her. One man had stopped breathing, the other was still gasping and gurgling blood in the back of his throat. She didn’t care. She hoped he was still alive when his comrades found him, hoped he would try to gasp her name between breaths.

The only other thing Aelin wanted out of this mission, besides Rowan safe and in her arms, it was that they all knew who it was they’d chosen to fuck with. It was that they all paced with the anticipation of angering the most vindictive god they could imagine.

Her walk down the hallway was silent.  Arobynn had once told her that he only heard her coming when she wanted him to. Even now, there had been several moments in Rowan’s apartment where she’d snuck up on him accidentally, making him startle when she seemed to appear out of thin air. Her favorite pastime at the bureau was giving Lorcan a good shock to his system. It was better than her morning coffee.

It almost made her smile, but the doom and gloom of the day pulled her lips back down. She wasn’t so sure she would be able to walk out of this situation without her hands cuffed behind her back. It would be worth it, she knew. Getting carted off to prison again with Rowan safe and sound was better than the alternative. Any reality where he was safe and alive was better than one where he was cold and dead— even if it meant she spent the rest of her life behind bars. It was a sacrifice she was more than willing to make, one she was ready to take.

The building was old, and everything inside was damp and rusted. It was located where the Avery emptied into the Great Ocean, not too far from the import docks. When they’d been on the roof of the neighboring building, Aelin and Nox had been able to see large import ships unloading their freight with massive cranes. It was a relatively empty part of town, save for the people that worked on the ships. The block this building was on was particularly empty with no foot traffic on the sidewalks. There had been no prying eyes to think anything of the assassin and the thief perched on the rooftop.

The lower she crept into the building, toward the basement where she knew Arobynn liked to keep his prisoners, the air got thicker. Mustier. Harder to breathe. The heavy scent of mildew settled in her lungs, making her lip curl in disgust. It was getting darker, too, the light dim enough that had she not heard someone sneaking her way, she wouldn’t have seen them. Thankfully, there was a quiet squelching of boots at the far end of the hall that gave her enough of a heads up to keep her assailant from getting the drop on her.

So few opponents had ever been a true challenge. At her best, Ansel had been one of the few to really challenge her. Today, though, nobody would be able to go up against her and win. It was that simple. There was too much at stake. Losing a fight with Rowan Whitethorn’s life on the line was non-negotiable.

“I’m feeling generous,” she called out, leaning against the wall between two doors. Her tongue ran over her teeth as the footsteps faltered. The gait was heavy and unfamiliar, but she assumed it would be a male judging by the very faint outline of the body she could see. “If you tell me where Rowan Whitethorn is, I’ll consider letting you live.”

“Are you the witch Arobynn keeps ranting about?” Indeed, the voice had a low, scratchy timbre. Still unfamiliar, but he did confirm that Arobynn was at the head of this. What an idiot.

“Is that what he’s calling me now? A witch?”

“Maybe he said bitch,” the man replied, a chuckle rusty as the pipes in this building falling from his lips. “Either way, he said you didn’t like to get your hands dirty.”

“Must be someone else then.” Since when did she not like to get her hands dirty? It almost made her frown, the complete mischaracterization of her. “Where is he.”

“Arobynn?”

“Or the agent. I’ll find them both either way,” she drawled, flicking her wrist in a smooth motion that had a dagger sliding down into her palm. Aelin flipped the blade in her hand, catching it by the tip and readying herself to send it flying toward her target. By now, her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She could see the man about halfway down the hall, roughly six feet tall with a similar build to what Chaol had been. None of his features were decipherable, but it didn’t matter. In a few seconds time he would have a stunning new accessory through his chest.

“You’ll be dead before you do,” the man taunted, and a delighted, bright laugh exploded from her lips.

“Then you definitely don’t know who I am.” Her words took on a sickly sweet tone as she released the first dagger, sending it hurtling down the hall until it struck home. He was close enough by then that the sound of dagger piercing flesh was the sweet music she would have used during her pre-job ritual. Her latest victim staggered back as she threw a second dagger with her left hand, letting it nail him in his neck. A howl of pain, the climax in her impromptu concert, shook the building as he tripped over his own feet and hit the ground, the crack of his skull a final note to a very short symphony.

~*~

Between four floors, Aelin killed eleven men. None of them were skilled enough with their weapons to be anything more than half rate mercenaries. If she had to guess, Arobynn wanted it to look like he had more bodies than he really did. All of his good assassins were dead, likely at his own hand in the rage of her capture.

Everyone she’d come in contact today suffered. None of them were getting off easy. Her suit was damp in several places, her skin sticky with their blood. Few of them gave her any real information. The last guy she killed had shakily exclaimed that Rowan was in the basement as he soiled himself, the stench of urine proof of his fear. And then she had sliced through his body so many times he’d passed out from the shock and pain before death had claimed him.

It almost scared her how little she felt while she dug her blades into his bones. There was nothing but the crystal clarity that she would walk backwards into hell and take the crown from Hellas himself before she let anyone take Rowan away from her. Her throne would be built of bones, rivers of blood would flow at her feet.

It should have at least startled her, the cold depravity. None of her jobs had ever held such cruel calculation, none of them had ever been more than a paycheck. But she supposed that as soon as Sam had been shot right in front of her, she’d fallen down a slippery slope into a dark and twisted wonderland that she would have never escaped, if it hadn’t been for Rowan. And maybe she wouldn’t come back from this, but at least Rowan would be safe.

The sentiment of his safety ricocheted in her skull as she yanked the last door between her and her love open. It didn’t matter that it squealed so loud it made her ears ache, that she may as well have set off a warning bell to alert Arobynn of her arrival.

The rusted iron door gave way to an unlit alcove with a set of metal stairs that looked precarious enough she was skeptical about them holding her weight. It had been dark everywhere else in shit hole she was carefully navigating, but down here it was even worse. The only light she could see seemed to be coming from somewhere far enough away that it barely illuminated the stairs. If the dark wasn’t perhaps her closest companion, if she was unaware of how to use all her senses to slip through the shadows, Aelin likely would have taken an untimely tumble all the way down to the floor.

Much to her surprise the room seemed mostly empty. There were several wooden crates stacked in the far corner where a green-ish light cast an eerie glow throughout the space. Somewhere, something was dripping from the walls or ceiling. Aelin headed for the crates after pausing to pull new daggers from her boots, her grip tightening around the handle at the prospect of not finding Rowan— or finding him beyond her help.

“I’ve been expecting you,” a voice said, echoing in the damp chamber. Her blood heated immediately, flame sparking in her veins at the sound of Arobynn Hammel’s voice. She squeezed the hilt of her dagger as she rounded the corner, eyes immediately going to the red-haired bastard.

“I’d say you weren’t fully prepared because you didn’t have nearly enough men to keep you safe, Arobynn,” she drawled, giving her knife a loose twirl between her fingers. It was interesting, the way he looked at her like he was seeing a ghost. While he gaped, Aelin shifted her gaze to the left, over to a corner where she finally found him.

Rowan. He was slumped forward in his chair, head hanging at such an odd angle she knew he was unconscious. Blood was dried beneath his nose and at his temple but that was all the visible blood she could see. His usually shiny shoes were scuffed and his jacket was pulling tight over his arms and shoulders. Blue nautical rope had him tightly bound to the arms  and legs of the chair, and even from where she stood she could tell his watch was cutting into his skin uncomfortably.

But his chest was still rising and falling while he breathed and, for the most part, he seemed unharmed. Still, she didn’t let the relief flood her body. She didn’t dare give herself an inch over to the other side of that line she toed. There would be no mercy from her today.

“Celaena? Are you ready to come home at last, or have you come to exact your revenge on Agent Whitethorn for locking you up?”

“I’m here to take back what is mine and ensure that you never slither out of your little hole to see the daylight ever again. You know why I’m here.”

“I thought you were in prison,” he rebutted, pushing out of his seat and daring to pace toward her. Aelin cocked her head, appraising the man that had raised her, trained her, made her into a weapon through pain and sorrow. She felt nothing but rage.

“That is bullshit, and you know it.”

“You are not the person I was expecting to see when I took Rowan Whitethorn this afternoon, I can assure you. Why are you here, Celaena? How did you get out?”

It was tricky, dealing with someone so slippery. Workingwith Arobynn always felt greasy, felt like trying to wrangle an eel out of the ocean. If you weren’t careful he would slip through your fingers and disappear into the cracks of the world. To the untrained ear, he sounded genuine. But Arobynn lied, and lied well. He clawed his way to the top of the black market empire, twisting words and half-truths, cunning and vicious. He would always take, and take, and take. While there were many faces he had worn around her, the face of truth was one that he seldom donned. Never did he give an inch. It was where Aelin herself had learned to be so ruthless.

“Why am I here? We can start with Sam, talk about Lysandra, Ansel, Wesley,” her blue eyes flashed up to his face where his stormy gray eyes stayed fixed on her. “We can end with Dorian, and Nehemia, and Chaol, and Aedion. And then I will kill you for trying to take Rowan from me, too.”

There were names she hadn’t listed that still mattered but not quite as much. Her voice had broken over Aedion and Rowan’s names, those thoughts still too fresh in her mind to hold at bay. She hated that she was showing so much emotion to him, yet it was fear that flickered in his gaze at the rage that seeped into every syllable.

“I will take responsibility for Sam. I will take responsibility for taking Agent Whitethorn.” Arobynn paused, his eyes tracing over her features like he was stripping her bare, seeing her heart on her sleeve. Something like amusement twisted his lips into a tight smirk as he looked over his shoulder where Rowan was still unconscious. “The others, I had nothing to do with. Actually, if I didn’t know you so well I would have assumed you broke out and had gone on a little spree of your own.”

“I didn’t touch them,” she hissed.

“I know. Everything about those killings was messy. You haven’t been messy since you were fifteen. Tell me, Celaena, what is it that you’re here to take revenge for?”

“I already told you—“

“Sam was killed because he was going to cross me. I wasn’t going to harm a hair on your head. As for Agent Whitethorn…” Arobynn laughed, dry and twisted as he raked his fingers through his hair. “How did you manage to form such an attachment to the man? Were you not stalking him through the city for months leading up to your arrest?”

“My arrest that you played a significant part in? It was a setup. You know it. I know it. You wanted me dead so that I wouldn’t be a problem after you put that hit out on Sam.”

“I beat them senseless for what they did to you that day,” Arobynn said, his voice like that of a lover as his fingers moved to caress her cheek. Aelin brought a dagger up to the inside of his wrist, positioned the other at the hollow of his throat before he could touch her skin. His hand dropped and slipped back into his pocket.

“I don’t believe you.” And she didn’t. It was a half-truth from him at best. Maybe he had punished them to some degree for trying to end her life that way if he didn’t tell them to do it directly, but she doubted it was any large effort. Or maybe that was why they’d wound up dead. Still, it didn’t matter. He’d taken enough from her.

“Why would I lie to you? What do I have to gain from it? I’ve openly admitted to killing Sam and taking your agent. If I was going to lie, wouldn’t I have started with Sam? I was not expecting you to walk down those stairs, Celaena.” Arobynn’s keys jingled in his pocket when he removed his hand to point toward the stairs. Aelin shook her head, licked her lips and tasted the metallic tang of blood. That didn’t make any sense.

“Stop talking.” It was too much. The sound of his voice, the almond scent that tickled her nose from his close proximity. Arobynn had ruined her life in a thousand ways, had spent the majority of her life manipulating her, and this was no different. Anything he said now were lies so potent she could almost taste them.

“I know you may think me to be your enemy, but I love you. I care for you. Surely you must know that.”

There was a single part of her emotions that she kept under lock and key. Inside that room in her head, there was some part of her that cared for him, too. When her parents were murdered and he’d taken her in, Arobynn had become the only parental figure she would ever truly know. Memories about her parents were few and far between, most of them hazy.

She didn’t remember what they looked like without looking at a photo. Their voices had been lost to time and her memory. There were plenty of interviews of them on the internet, but she refused to indulge herself. It was too haunting to think of them somehow knowing that she was who she was. That, maybe, if she watched those old videos, they would be able to see the blood covering her hands.

Arobynn, though, knew her. He had made her, forged her himself. Everything she knew, he had taught her. There had been moments throughout her life where she thought that, perhaps, he did care. Moments where she had looked up at him and wondered if this was what it was like to have a father. There were days before her training that he’d brushed her hair in front of the fire and read her stories. Some nights he had tucked her into bed and had servants wake her with breakfast.

Then there were the moments where he’d beaten her until she couldn’t push herself off the floor. Moments where he’d broken her hand, her fingers, so that she could use her left hand as well as her right. Moments where he’d seared her skin with a white-hot poker and told her that it would make her stronger to endure the pain. Those were the moments that played over in her mind now. All the pain and trauma he had inflicted upon her rising to the surface, her blood piping hot beneath her skin.

His lips were moving, mouthing that he loved her, that he wasn’t lying to her, but she couldn’t hear a thing. People that loved you didn’t intentionally hurt you. They didn’t beat you within an inch of your life and leave you to suffer through it. They didn’t kill the people you cared about. They didn’t go to such lengths to ensure that you were alone and isolated for the rest of your miserable existence.

“Celaena,” Arobynn said, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder. But the tether keeping her from flying into the void snapped, his use of that name the last nail in his coffin. There was hardly time for her to process the movements of her body, the muscle memory taking over as she drove the dagger between his fourth and fifth ribs.

Arobynn had the audacity to laugh, the sound of disbelief falling heavily from his lips as his hand curled around her shoulder. Aelin didn’t falter, only shoved harder as he staggered backward and collapsed on the floor. Still, he laughed, tears lining his silver eyes that silently began to stream down his temples.

“You have… always just been… a pawn.” Each word was more breathless than the last as they tumbled from his mouth. Despite the gloves she wore, her hands were warm. Blood was seeping through her suit, pulsing into the cracks where her skin was exposed. “It will not… end with… me.”

Aelin’s brow furrowed, torn between wanting questions answered and the overcoming desire to twist the knife further to make him stop talking. It was all he ever did. Lie after lie building doubts in her mind until she questioned her sanity. It was what he was good at.

The knife won out. Her wrist twisted sharply, blade dragging over bone in a reverberation she felt down to her toes. Arobynn’s eyes widened in shock and she knew the pain was not a subtle feeling. Gray eyes scanned her face, a ghost of a smile that would haunt her nightmares pulling at his lips. Aelin gritted her teeth as he took a final, shuddering breath.

She wasn’t sure what she felt as the light faded from his eyes and they went completely glassy. All she knew was that it wasn’t quite relief.

[swanofsnow]

“ Doar.”

Lena held her mother hand, when she mentioned Doar. She moved to prop a pillow up, to help ease her comfort. She looked down at the drawing, smiling “ I didn’t even know you had long hair before” Ever since she could remember, her mother hair was short, just below her shoulder. It was beautiful to see it was once to her waist line.

“ I was twelve years old, when my brother ascended to the throne. My country has a very strange custom, if you fell ill, your council has the right to remove you from the throne and give it to the next person in line. My mother, my grandfather were both at one time near death, and because of it, it caused them to lose their title, position and power. Health, was the most important thing. “ she explained very carefully because this was the most frustrating part; that same rule happened to her.

“ your uncle Andrew had recently been married to a woman named Meredith, she was even crowned the queen, they had a son together. I was seen as a threat. I was another person who could step in and reclaim it at anytime with the right support. my mother also didn’t like the idea of me potentially going to spend time with other siblings, my father wasn’t faithful. Your aunt Robin and I, shared a father.”

Lena moved to lay at her mothers feet as she spoke “ your father couldn’t keep it in his pants ..” she chucked “ How many other siblings did you have?”

They matched in smiles, that was the beautiful glimpse between them. “ I had four half siblings from my father other relationship. But, that’s other story, in order to keep me busy I was sent on an errand, my job was to bring back an alliance or friendship. But I was given no training or information, so I traveled to different places,until I found.. Doar. I was so tired, I had been traveling on my own for months. I wasn’t allowed an escort, I looked terrible.They saw right through me. They saw what your uncle Andrew was attempting to do, to use me. But the queen, she was a kind soul, she saw something different she saw a child. I kept coming back, over and over. One day, my brother came with me and he made a deal. He would sign me over to the queen, in exchange for land. “

Lena sat up listening to that piece of information “ So, your family just let you go.. for a piece of land, momma that’s awful. But, was it something you wanted?” She frowned and waited for her continue.

“ my mother, my real mother was never kind to me. She hated my existence, and questioned why I was even brought into the world. I wanted a family, so I said yes to the agreement. I was finally going to be happy and your grandmother, the queen was amazing, she was the kindest soul. She gave me everything.. she taught me how to speak, how to dance, how to hold a conversation and how to be a princess. But she also gave me the chance to build relationship, she gave me new siblings, she gave me your Uncle Maxim”

In that moment; Nichola became even more emotional. “ He was the first person in my life that was good, someone who was good for my life. He didn’t believe in all the hype or bullshit. He was exactly what a brother was smeant to be, and oh my god we fought like cats and dogs.” She smirked a little and continued.

“ Your grandmother was set on making sure I would be set up for a good marriage. Marriage for royals is a transaction, it’s not always about love. It’s an agreement and something for each party to win or lose something. When I was fourteen, I finally got the chance to meet suitors, I was only supposed to be meeting them. I wasn’t supposed to get close to them.”

Lena sat up again,she had heard her mother speak briefly about Doar, and what happened there with her aunt, and father. But she was never allowed to know the full details. She gave her mother a firm nod, to continue.

Nichola would clear her throat, and for the first time tell the truth. “ I met three men that summer.. names I want you to remember. I met Gordon, William, and Vergil. Vergil was much older than I was, and he was close friends with your uncle Andrew. Gordon was a painter, he had come to the palace to study art and he..” she pointed at the picture. “ he liked to draw me often, and I met a sea merchant named William who was looking for a bride. Spring, came.. and my birthday rolled in, I was finally allowed to spend more time with suitors, and the night of my birthday party I was seen dancing and strolling the gardens with Williams. But .. when the sun began to set. . I began to drink more heavy, I was introduced to things, and I climbed into the bed with someone. Your uncle Maxim warned me not to be left alone, I was out of control at one point. But I knew exactly what I was doing. I slept with Gordon.. and by mid morning, he was gone.”

Lena sat up with her eyes widen, taking slow and deep breathes. “ Mom, you were a who.. you gave me so much shit for even looking at a boy when i was fourteen and you basically spread your legs for one.” There was resentment in her voice, as her cheeks turned red, seeing her mother raise her hand, there was much more to say.

When Lena became quiet again, she would continue “ I told your grandmother the next day I slept with someone, and we made a vow to never speak of it again, she was very disappointed in me. Because I was now used goods. It would have remained a secret between us, but two months later I stopped getting my monthly courses, and the midwife was brought in to examine me. I was pregnant .. and now, there was no chance for me to marry a suitor. My brother had to be sent for, and when he arrived he became angry, and was even more angry at your grandmother for letting it happen, that’s what’s I told the lie. I told them both I had lied, that I had been taken advantage of, and I had been “ she couldn’t even say the word anymore “ they both immediately asked who the man was. . And I told them the man was William Duncan.”

Lena immediately became even more angry “ You lied about the man you slept with.. why, why would you do that, why would you say the wrong person name. Tell me … did you love Gordon or something, why would just tell this story.”

There was no real way of saying it, but she knew Lena wouldn’t accept anything but the truth. “ Because he was the easiest to blame, and I knew no one would doubt it, he was the last person I was seen with. I needed to survive, and I needed to protect the child inside me. So I lied..”

# long post again sorry! But getting this allll out together for there final conversations.

[moralesispunk]

Chapter Two - Under the moon

Gif credit @padfootwantsatummyrub

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Next Chapter

Summary: There is a softness underneath his armour and it draws you in closer every time you see a glimmer of it. 

Warnings: hint towards sexual activity but not explicit however this (along with the rest of my blog) will have 18+ content in later chapters

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: thank you so much for the patience for the second chapter! I have been so busy applying for grad jobs I didn’t get a chance to edit this until now

That smile. The tiniest flicker of a smile. It had been on your mind all night and all day.

His face had remained harsh, covered by a scowl since you had met him, but it had went soft for just a moment when his eyes met yours. If you blinked you would have missed it. The gentleness that reached his eyes as though accepting your thanks. Your mind had already been wandering to him throughout the day from the second you met him. There was something about him that you couldn’t put your finger on until you seen that smile. There was a softness underneath all that harshness that he was trying to keep hidden from the world and now you had seen a glimmer of it you wanted to see more.

Sneaking back to the castle the night before had been a lot easier with two of the King’s guards in tow. The knights that lined the moss covered castle walls did not bat an eye when they watched the three children of their King re-enter the castle through the main gates in the early hours of the morning. This was a lot easier than your usual scaling back over the wall and sneaking in through the kitchen.

The castle was in complete darkness when you got back, the candles that usually lined the halls having been blown out hours earlier. The only light that guided you through the halls was the bright moonlight that peered through the tall windows.

As Pero escorted you back to your chambers, the moon was the only light illuminating his face. The white light shone down on his nose and jaw, sharp like the sword that was bonded to his hip. It allowed for the flicked of softness that he was hiding behind layers of scowls and scars to break free, drawing you closer in once more.

You must have been staring at him, his lips curling into a smirk when his eyes met yours. You had ducked your head down, quickening your pace until you reached your chambers. The door had creaked loudly, echoing around the hall, as Maria slipped in quickly followed by yourself.

Holding the door by two hands to steady the creaking as you closed it, you caught Pero’s eyes for one final time that night.

“Sleep well, Princesa,” he whispered, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

You tried to form a reply but as quickly as the words came to your mind they disappeared that much quicker in the back of your throat. You cursed this man for making you fall short of words all day and offered him all you could in that moment – a short, shy nod goodnight before closing the door all the way. That night he haunted your dreams.

His soft smile turning into a tempting smirk. His hands that had been soft when they stopped you from falling becoming rougher… needier as they moved down your sides and legs and under your skirts. His mouth that had taunted you all day by forming words when yours couldn’t was now unable to do anything other than moan your name in that deep voice before attaching to your neck and leaving wet kisses down your skin.

You woke with a start, breathing heavily before your dream could take your mind much further.

The sun was already awake to the day, peeking through the curtains that were still drawn and fighting to keep it out. As your breathing finally began to slow, the heat still covered your cheeks and neck at the thought of your dream. If you closed your eyes you could feel his lips pressing against your neck as you sat up in the bed, soft and warm as though he was there behind you and waking you up with tender kisses.

As you swung your legs off the side of the bed, you were thankful to the cold floor that helped your body banish the flush of warmth from your body. You began to stretch, wriggling your back and arms trying to force the feel of his lips that were crawling up your skin away, when Maria opened the door and walked to the curtains.

“Good morning,” her voice sang.

“Morning,” you stood and walked to the basin to splash the cool water over your face, “you are awfully energetic this morning. No lasting effects of the ale?”

“The headache is worth it to have listened to William talk all night,” Maria blushed as she began to lay out your clothes for the day.

You began to tease but were quickly shushed and pulled towards your clothes. The tight corset and layers of skirts were a lot more constricting that then comfortable dress from the night before.

The sounds of the castle waking up to the day were now flowing through the window, carts being wheeled about and chatter of people walking through the garden. Walking towards the window, you let the sun warm your skin as you stepped barefoot onto the balcony. You closed your eyes, stretching out your arms and rolling your neck as the warmth covered your body.

The sound of your father’s voice caused you to open your eyes. Looking down, you found him walking towards a carriage followed by his guards. William and Pero were at the front, closely following your father with four more guards behind them.

Pero carried himself high, his broad shoulders holding his back straight as he walked behind your father. His eyes remained forward while the rest of the guards heads were turning to look out for threats even while in the castle grounds.

You walked closer to the balcony edge, leaning on it as your eyes continued to follow him. Before you could react, his head had turned and his eyes were now on you as he continued walking. For a moment you almost pushed yourself back. You almost cowered from his gaze by hiding behind the balcony but you stopped yourself. You gripped the balcony tighter and stepped forward so your body was now pressed against the stone. You held your back as straight as his, tilting your chin up gracefully… and you smirked. You smirked the same way he had done the to you the night before. The very same way that had kept him racing through your mind all night.

His scowl faltered for a moment, his eyebrows raising and breath catching, before he returned the smirk as his shoulders shook in a silent chuckle.

You held his gaze until he had to turn back around to walk into the carriage with your father, smiling to yourself as you turned back to your room.

The rest of the day went in quickly. You played piano and worked on your embroidery. You walked the gardens with Maria and listened to her talk about William. You managed to find a spare lamé and mask to sneak into your brother’s fencing lesson. Through all of this, your mind wandered back to Pero as you wandered what he was doing.

As you walked into the dining hall that evening, your eyes found him immediately. He was standing by the back wall next to William. His eyes moved from staring straight ahead and followed you as you walked around the room and to you chair.

You were too busy being focused on him that you hadn’t noticed your father introducing you to the guests for the evening, Lord and Lady McBride. You brothers were already greeting them when you finally managed to drag your eyes of Pero to say good evening.

The dinner was loud and full of conversation as the food and wine flowed. Your father and brothers spoke with Lord McBride about the hunt, one he had missed because they were traveling to visit their son who was in France for now. Lady McBride spoke to you about her son. He’s handsome, you know. Smart. Heir to his father’s land. You nodded politely trying at every opportunity to steer the conversation away from their oh so handsome and oh so smart son but no matter what you spoke about it always came back to him.

You could feel your patience wear thin and found yourself leaning back on your seat and trying to look anywhere other than Lady McBride. You finally looked back to Pero to find him already watching you.

He had clearly been listening to your conversation but you couldn’t quite make out his expression now. You had realised that while he usually wore a frown he wasn’t angry, he was just indifferent. This expression was harsher, his eyes were narrowed on you and hands gripped tightly into fists at his side, completely ignoring the way William was watching him.

You attention was caught when Lord McBride called your name.

“I think next time we return we will bring our son.”

The rest of the room silenced as they awaited your reply while you gulped from the wine glass in front of you.

“I’m sure he would like it here, he could join a hunt with my brothers,” you offered, turning your attention to the now very interesting table cloth.

“Or you could show him the gardens,” he raised an eyebrow towards you, “I heard that you were out drinking with some sailors last night. I think perhaps it’s time your father sets you up with a man to calm down those ways.”

You looked towards your father who was now staring out the window. You glared at him, hoping he could feel your eyes burning holes into his side, before turning back to the Lord with the widest smile you could manage.

“I wasn’t drinking with sailors, I was drinking near them,” you replied and heard your brothers chuckle while your father finally turned to look at you, “I was also drinking with my brothers and I don’t hear any propositions of setting them up with any of your daughters.”

“They are men,” the Lord’s laugh boomed, “it is time to calm your ways, Princess.”

“It is time for me to retire to my chambers,” you stood from the table, “goodnight,” you said sharply, curtseying slightly towards those left at the table.

As you walked towards the door you heard your father call for Pero, causing you to slow your pace slightly.

“Walk my daughter back to her room,” he waved and you waited by the door until you heard Pero’s steps follow.

While you had thought about him all day and your eyes always found their way back to him when you were in the same room, in this moment you didn’t want to look at him. Or more, you didn’t want him to look at you. Once you heard his steps close in on you, your feet began to carry you towards your room not looking back at him.

For some reason, you didn’t want him to see you like this. The angry tears were already threatening to spill over as you thought about everyone back in the dining hall. Your father who glared at you for defending yourself, the Lord who looked down at you like a small child who needed to be told what to do, your brothers who never faced the same scrutiny as you and not because they would never be Kings but because they were men. But you were mostly thinking about the Lady and how much you did not want to end up like her. She was married to the Lord young and gave him many children but there was no love in their marriage. He went to whorehouses and paid the women there more attention than his wife. She was resigned to living her life in his shadow and in whatever way pleased her husband. It was everything you did not want but were threatened with the second you were born as the eldest child and only daughter of a King.

You hadn’t realised the tears were now spilling down your face until a hand gently grasped your wrist and pulled you to a stop. Pero kept his grip tight but not painful as he guided you out of the hallway and to a nearby balcony. He let your wrist go as soon as the fresh air entered your lungs but the warmth stayed, wrapping around your skin. As you gripped onto the wall, letting your tears out until your breathing finally calmed, he stood by your side and looked out over the land. His hand that was resting on the wall was only just touching the side of yours, the feel of his skin setting the fire that ran through your body. He said nothing, he let you cry and shake your head, until you stood straight again and sighed.

He gently grasped your arm, turning you to face him.

His face was once again lit by only the moon. The rest of the balcony seemed dark, unable to make out the flowers and moss that ran up the wall but able to make out every line and scar on Pero’s face as though the moon knew in this moment that all you needed to see was him.

He waited until you had fully turned to face him before his hand moved up your arm and reached for your face.

You could hear the gears turning in his head as the only sound coming from either of you were heavy breaths. As you searched his eyes, waiting for one of you to say something, his hand wiped the marks of tears from your face.

“You are to beautiful to let your cheeks be stained by tears because of a foolish Lord. You should not care what he thinks,” he said simply.

You nodded, your head leaning in to his touch before you could stop yourself. His thumb began to stroke your cheek gently, no longer wiping tears away and instead leaving his touch on your skin.

“What do you think?” His movements stopped at your words, his eyes moving back and forth between yours for a moment, “Of me? What do you think of me?”

“Why?”

“Because I care- I want to know what you think,” you whispered.

“I think… there is more to you than meets the eye,” his shocked face turned into a smirk as he said so.

You nodded, your hand now reaching up to cover his on your cheek before you spoke, “I think I would like you to get to know more.”

“Me? Why?” his hand dropped back to his side and the cold air now pricked at your cheek.

“I- I don’t know. I think there is a softness that you are hiding Pero, underneath that handsome frown.”

“Handsome?” he tried to steady his breathing by teasing you but could not ignore the way his chest warmed as he stared into your eyes.

You nodded, sure of yourself and unwavering as you told him again.

“Are you sure you would not rather let a Lord get to know you more?”

“No,” you said simply, standing straighter and walk back towards the hallway to your chamber.

Pero’s mind could not reach his body for a moment. He was stuck in place as he watched you walk back into the hallway, already walking towards your chambers before his feet began to move. The short walk to your room was quiet but as you reached your door you turned to face him once more.

“Tomorrow is the day I go to the orphanage and read to the children. Tell my father I requested that you be the one to walk me… if you do wish to get to know me as I you.”

He stopped, looking down at you and nodding slowly.

“I will walk you.”

You smiled, curtseying before turning to open your door.

Pero had never been on the receiving end of a curtsey before and he couldn’t hide his shocked face as you did so. He was a guard, had been a mercenary before that. No woman or Lady, let alone a Princess, had ever shown him such reverence.

“Goodnight, Pero,” you smiled, taking in the look on his face as you moved to close the door behind you.

It was now Pero’s turn to be quiet, unable to form the words as he nodded goodnight, waiting until you were safely in your room before turning away.

//

Permanent tag // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa​

Pero tag // @bonktime @justpedropascal @coldlilheart @shadowolf993 @stylelovechild @frostsoldier @idreamofboobear @artsymaddie @ajeff855 @strangelittlenobody @elegantduckturtle @roxypeanut @shedobeclownin @itstheanxietyforme @raphaelaisabella​ @qwtyy

[withoneheadlight]

oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy

Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!

And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.

Doing things like:

Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,

Here they are.

And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.

So. 

He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while.  Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.

And also.

In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands,  feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.

And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”

It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.

And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.

And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.

And he’s always been good at sports.

So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.

“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”

Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.

“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”

But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e.  When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this:  the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.

And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.

Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.

“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”

Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”

Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.

Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.

“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”

But he’s posh trash now.

💎

The original post (xxxx) xD 💍

[chosenimagines]

Our strength lays within words

Universe: Criminal Minds Summary:  A girl named Josie stumbles into the office area of the BAU and falls onto the chair at Dr. Spencer Reid’s desk

  Warnings: Mentioning of Stabbing and Bullying, Fear, Wound, Blood, Rage

Language: English Request: yes/no Requests [Open]

A/N: This one shot/imagine can be found as well on my wattpad^^

🖊️    🖊️    🖊️   🖊️

____________________________________________

Concentrated she put one foot infront of the other. In the process of doing so she tried hard to not let a moan in pain escape her mouth. The pain was worse than usual. But this day hasn't been any different compared to the previous ones since she has moved to Quantico. Whereas she hasn't had in her old school in Las Vegas any pleasant days either! Slowly she dragged herself from the elevator towards to the office area. She was heading directly to the desk of Dr. Spencer Reid. The moment she has reached the desk she let herself fall on to the chair. 

"Hey Reid! Isn't that your little sis over there?" Morgan nudged the young agent. Spencer furrowed his brows irritated. "Yeeeaaah.... That is indeed Josephine!", he replied. Morgan and Reid walked rash to Reid's desk. "Do you know what she's doing here?", Derek asked. He has seen Josephine only one time. It was the day Spencer received custody for his little sister. She has been standing in the middle of the conference room after they had returned from a case. Morgen remembered how lost the girl looked. "No! But I will find out in a seconde.", Reid answered. His walk became brisk and his speed increased. "Hey Josie!", Spencer welcomed his sister. One could hear that her showing up here made him suspicious. That was why he blurt it straight out! "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in school?" Josephine dropped her gaze. Reid and Morgan immediately knew what that meant. Josie felt deeply ashamed because of something that most have happened today. Nevertheless, she knew that it had no purpose to lie to her brother or to talk around it. For this reason, Josephine didn't remain silent how she would have liked to do. "I have been sent home.", she muttered into her Hoodie. "I knew that you aren't at home, and I didn't want to be alone! That's why I am here. I hoped to stay with your technical analyst and to do my homework." Josie still avoided to make eye contact with her brother and his friend. The shame ran way too deep. "You can go now if you want to." Reid knelt infront of the intimidated girl. He recognized himself in her current behavior. "But I can't get rid of the feeling that you want to tell me something, don't you?" Josie kept silent this time. She had nothing to say to Spencer. Of course she knew that he would find out sometime. Nevertheless, she didn't want to contribute to this! Besides, Josephine wanted to prove to her brother that she was as strong and intelligent as he was. Because of Josie's silence Spencer wanted to put emphasis on his words when his fingers brushed her hoodie, and he noticed a wet spot. Reid's fingertips were red. This discovery was alarming to the FBI-agent. His eyes scanned Josie's clothes and spotted on her stomach level a stain of blood which steadily grew. Shocked as she was Josephine pressed her hands against the stain. At the same time her sleeves moved up and dark bruises got exposed on her arms. "Josie, what is that?" Spencer didn't receive an answer from his sister. Not only because she didn't want to reply but also, she was about to lose consciousness. "I am going to get a doctor!", Morgan said and ran off. "I am sorry, but I have to do this!", Spencer said and pulls his sister off the chair on to the ground. He pulled her hoodie off her body. "Please lay down!" Josephine did as she was told. She wouldn't have had the power to dissent if she would have wanted to. "Hold on, Josie! Help will get here any seconde. But I have to stop the bleeding. That's why I am going to press on your wound." Josephine groaned because of the pressure Spencer applied on to her wounded body part. "I am so sorry!", Reid repeated every time his sister moaned and groaned. "Reid?!", Derek's voice shrilled across the entire office. "Down here!", Reid yelled back at his friend and colleague. "Hurry! She lost a lot of blood." The next moment the medicals were with Spencer and Josephine. "Listen! You'll need- HEY" Morgan pulled Reid away from his sister to give the first aiders room to do their job. "Morgan, let go of me! Let me go!", the agent demanded. He fought his friend's tight grip tooth and nail. "Reid! REID! You have to calm down. Josephine is taken care of, but you need to let the medicals do their job. We need to do our job and need to find out where your sister got injured!" Wrathful Reid rushed off. He directly went into the room where they kept their case boards. Derek followed him. Morgan watched how Reid thrustingly -almost roughly- moved the board to the place where he needed it. Spencer drew with a marker across the board. The result was a not straight, careless line. "Reid, what are you doing there?", Morgan wanted to know and pushed himself off the doorframe which he has been leaning against. "I am creating a timeline. You said yourself that we need to find out when Josie got injured!" Derek raised his hands defensively. "Put down the weapons, pretty boy! I just want to help you and Josie.", Morgan replied. "And you need to calm down to be helpful for Josie! At the moment you are not able to help anyone." "But-" "Reid, I know you want to help! But you need to slow down." A sigh left Dr Reid's mouth when he sat down on a chair. "Good!", Derek praised his friend. The agent couldn't say another word. "Let's begin!" Hotch entered the room followed by the rest of the team. "What do we know?" Penelope handed everyone their tablets which they used for their work for the BAU. "Josephine Emily Reid. A 16-years old student from Las Vegas. Daughter of Diana and William Reid. Our beloved doctor received custody for her half a year ago. Now she visits the Quantico High! She has excellent grades and is part of the Maths Heads what isn't surprising when you take a look at her relatives. Excluding a one-time appointment with the school psychologist in Vegas she has been unremarkable. And I mean literally unremarkable!" Penelope Garcia took a seat at the top the table. "She seems to have now contact and has been part of any club or team at her old school. Josephine may own some accounts in the world of Social Media, but she has never posted a thing." Now Spencer's head had processed the information. "She has been to a psychologist?", he asks hoarsely. Spencer hasn't known this. His face got pale! "Why?", Reid demanded to know. "I can't find anything about it. According to her student's record there has been some incident that has been solved." "AN INCIDENT?!" Again, Spencer's rage went through the roof. Morgan pulled Reid back down onto his chair. "You have to calm down! You need to remain calm like I already told you. Otherwise, you can't help Josephine." Reid leaned back grumpy and crossed his arms. He didn't participate in the talk anymore. His eyes were focused on his sloppy timeline which he drew within a few seconds. It suddenly dawned on him! "The school.", Spencer mumbles. "What are you thinking, Reid?", Rossi wanted to know. But Reid didn't answer. Instead of answering Reid jumped to his feet and rushed off. "I know where the problem is centered!", he yelled and left the room.

"Reid, could you explain what we are doing here?" "When I had to go to High School I have been bullied by my class mates -what cliché! My bullies went from psychological bullying to physical actions! I believe that physical actions are the problem here. I am convinced that Josie has been wounded from one of her classmates. I know her daily routine! Today she went from school straight to my workplace. She hasn't been home. Instead, she walked into a FBI-bureau because she got send home from school when she needed help." Loaded with rage Reid pushes students away. "Hey, Mister! You can't pass.", a Teenager said and blocked Reid's way. "I am only going to tell you this one time, Little One, before I am using violence to get you out of my way! I am an FBI-agent and I want to speak to your principal.", Spencer growled. Unnoticed from the surrounding students Morgan and Rossi got more near to their coworker. Just as Reid they wanted to enter the principal's office, but they wouldn't let Reid ruin his life because he might beat up a minor. The scared boy stepped a side and Spencer stormed into the office. Reid didn't get a chance to talk! Luckily Hotch immediately starts the conversation. "SSA Hotchner! The agents Morgen, Jareau, Rossi, Prentis and Dr Reid.", the head of the team introduced them to one another. The principal pushed his chair back and shook Hotches Hand. "Brown." Then Mr Brown looked at Spencer. "Reid? As in Josephine Reid?" Spencer nodded with clenched jaw. "Exactly." "We are here because of Josephine!", Hotch butted in again. "She showed up wounded and we want to know why you haven't called the ambulance for her." "I didn't know she was hurt-", Principal Brown tried to defend himself. Reid's patience broke in that moment. "How could you not know that she was hurt?! She had a stab wound that was bleeding strongly and her arms are covered with bruises! I can assure you that Josephine hasn't had them yesterday!", Spencer screamed. He was speechless! "What my co-worker wants to say that it is hard to not see that wound, and we are interested in the reason why you have sent Josephine Reid home.", Derek barged in. He slowly pushed his outraged friend behind himself. "I had to suspend Ms Reid for today.", Mr Brown explained to the BAU. Spencer snorted snarky. "The Reason?", Rossi asked. "She has hurt several students." "NONSENSE!" "Morgan!" Derek understood Hotches nonverbal request and went with Reid outside. They left office at the perfect time. "When I get Reid between in my fingers again, I promise you she won't get off as lightly as today. I don't want to get a black eye again to cover up that we were the ones to stab her." Morgan and Reid surrounded the students. "Get in there!", Morgan commanded. His authority flair was intimidating for the teenagers, and they followed the order. "Hotch, these are our unsubs!", Morgan informed his boss. "He confessed when we entered the hallway. They tried to stab her to death and covered it up with a black eye." "You will hear from me again.", Hotch said to the principal. Then the group of students got arrested.

"Spencer, what are you doing here?" Sleppy Josie blinked at her brother. "I wanted to tell you that we have arrested them." "Who?" Spencer took his sister's hand. "The students who did this to you." Josie's eyes widened. She couldn't believe it! Was it really over? Is this the end of the pain? "Why didn't you tell me that you are being bullied? I could have gotten you into a different school." Josephine sighed. That was the question she has been afraid of. "I didn't want you to worry. And I have to confess that I don't know it differently. Back in Vegas it has been like this as well and I tried to befriend some people but it hasn't worked out at both schools. Anyways! How could someone like me tell a successful genius who works for the FBI and saves regularly the world and makes it better that you are a total looser?" Spencer smiles to himself. "You are laughing about me.", Josie noticed sad. "No! I don't laugh about you. I am just surprised about how similar we are. I have felt as well like a looser when they hit me and talked me down!" Josephine would have never guessed that. Her brother has been bullied?! "Josie, our strength lies within communication. Our strength lies within words! We have to talk to each other to help one another." Josie hugs her big brother tight. "Thank you for being there for me!" "Thank you for being with me."

[combat-wombatus]

Anti-Asian Racism (Pt. 2)

so if you haven’t read my (long) post about historical anti-asian racism, you can find it here. i tried my best to put things in chronological order, so you might want to read that before you read this one!

i got really tired writing that one bc it was super long and i only covered up to like...the 1920s?? and so here’s a second part bc i couldn’t fit it all into one post oopsies

WARNING: this contains some graphic descriptions of violence. i don’t want to accidentally trigger anyone, so please read at your own discretion. however, i do feel that it is important to be educated on the parts of history that schools often overlook, so if you can handle this, please read it.

the watsonville riots—january 1930

as US nationals, filipinos had the legal right to work in the US, and employers exploited these workers relentlessly as they assumed the filipinos were unfamiliar with their rights. they were paid the lowest wages among all ethnic laborers. the immigration acts of 1917 and 1924 allowed filipinos to answer the growing demand for labor in the US, and many young filipino men migrated to the US. due to gender bias in immigration & hiring, filipino men courted women outside of their own ethnic community, contributing to mounting racial tensions. white men decried the takeover of jobs and women by filipinos and resorted to vigilantism to deal with the “third Asiatic invasion”, and filipino laborers in public risked being attacked by white men who felt threatened by them. eventually, on january 19, this culminated in 500 white men gathering outside of a filipino dance club—owned by a filipino man—with clubs and weapons intending to take the white women who lived there out and burn the place down. they were turned away by security guards and the armed owners, but returned later to beat dozens of filipino farmworkers. they dragged filipinos from their homes and beat them, threw them off the pajaro river bridge, attacked them at ranches—and at a labor camp, twenty-two filipinos were dragged out and almost beaten to death. the mob fired shots into filipino homes, killing 22-year-old fermin tobera: no one was ever charged for his murder. in stockton, a filipino club was blown up—the blast was blamed on the filipinos themselves.

many filipinos fled the country. filipino immigration plummeted. anti-filipino violence continued in california in the months after the violence ended.

japanese internment camps—1942–1945

established during ww2 by FDR through executive order 9066. shortly after the bombing of pearl harbor, FDR signed the executive order, supposedly to prevent espionage. military zones were created in california, washington, and oregon—states with a large population of japanese americans—and the executive order commanded the relocation of americans of japanese ancestry. it affected the lives of around 117,000 people—the majority of whom were american citizens. canada soon followed, relocating 21,000 of its japanese residents from its west coast. mexico did the same, and eventually 2,264 more people of japanese descent were removed from peru, brazil, and argentina to the camps in the united states.

even before the camps, discrimination ran rampant. just hours after pearl harbor, the FBI rounded up 1,291 japanese community & religious leaders, arresting them without evidence and freezing their assets. a month later, they were transferred to facilities in montana, new mexico, and north dakota, many of them unable to inform their families. most remained incarcerated for the duration of the war. the FBI searched the private homes of thousands of japanese residents, seizing “contraband” (looting).

1/3 of hawaii’s population was of japanese descent. some politicians called for their mass incarceration. 1,500 people were removed from hawaii and sent to camps on the US mainland. japanese-owned fishing boats were impounded.

lieutenant general john dewitt prepared a report filled with proven lies—such as examples of “sabotage” (cattle knocking down power lines)—and suggested the creation of military zones and japanese internment camps. his original plan included italians and germans (because we were at war with them too!) but the idea of rounding-up americans of EUROPEAN descent was not as popular.

california’s state attorney general and governor declared that all japanese should be removed at congressional hearings in february 1942. general francis biddle pleaded with the president that mass evacuation of citizens was not required, pushing for smaller, more targeted security measures. FDR didn’t listen, and signed the order anyways.

around 15,000 japanese americans willingly moved out of prohibited areas. inland states were not keen for new japanese residents, and they were met with racist resistance. ten state governors voiced opposition, fearing the japanese would “never leave”, and demanded they be incarcerated if the states were forced to accept them. eventually, a civilian organization called the “war relocation authority” was set up to administer the plan, but milton eisenhower (from the department of agriculture) resigned his leadership in protest over what he characterized as incarcerating innocent civilians. 

no one really cared back then, but we appreciate the sentiment. however, this led to a stricter, military-led incentive to incarcerate the japanese civilians, so you didn’t really win, mr. eisenhower.

army-directed evacuations followed, and people had six days notice to dispose of their belongings other than what they could carry. anyone who was at least 1/16th japanese was interned, including 17,000 children under 10, as well as several thousand elderly and handicapped. 

these camps were located in remote areas, the buildings not meant for human habitation—they were reconfigured horse stalls or cow sheds. food shortages and poor sanitation conditions were common. each center was its own town, with schools, post offices, work facilities, and farms—all surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers.

in new mexico, internees were delivered by trains and marched two miles, at night, to reach the camp. anyone who tried to escape was promptly shot and killed, no matter their age.

when riots broke out over the insufficient rations and overcrowding, the police tear-gassed crowds and even killed a japanese-american citizen. three people were shot and killed for “going too close to the perimeter”.

in 1942, fred korematsu was arrested for refusing to relocate to an internment camp. his case made it all the way to the supreme court, where he argued that the executive order violated the fifth amendment. the supreme court ruled against him.

the camps were finally closed in 1945, after mitsuye endo fought her way to the supreme court once again. the government initially offered to free her, but endo refused—she wanted her case to address all of the internment camps. she was successful; the court eventually ruled that the the war relocation authority “has no authority to subject citizens who are concededly loyal to its leave procedure.”

the my lai massacre—march 16, 1968

during the vietnam war, US army soldiers entered a vietnamese hamlet on a search-and-destroy mission. they didn’t encounter any enemy troops; they did, however, proceed to set huts on fire, gang-rape the women, and murder around 500 unarmed civilians—including approximately 50 children under the age of four. army leadership had conspired to sweep this massacre under the carpet—the my lai massacre triggered a cover-up by the army that served to keep the atrocities committed a secret from the american public for 20 months during an election year.

american soldiers stabbed, clubbed, and carved “C [for Charlie] Company” into the chests of their victims (alive); herded them into ditches and blew them to bits with grenades. they cut off victims’ heads and slashed their throats.

this was more than spontaneous barbarism; for years, the army had dehumanized the vietnamese people as “gooks” and depicted women and children as potentially lethal combatants.

army officers who heard eyewitness reports of a massacre were quick to discount them. they issued a press release that informed news coverage—with lies. they claimed that their troops had killed 128 viet cong forces, even though they had been met with no resistance and suffered only one self-inflicted wound.

after word of the massacre reached the general public, more than a dozen military servicemen were eventually charged with crimes, but lieutenant william calley (the leader of the charlie company who was the main perpetrator in the massacre) was the only one who was ever convicted. pres. richard nixon reduced calley’s sentence to a light punishment—three years of house arrest.

three years of house arrest, and for only one person. for slaughtering 500 unarmed civilians. you do the math.

deportations

in 1975, more than 1.2 million refugees from southeast asia fled war and were resettled in the US—the largest resettlement for a refugee group in US history. in 1996, the illegal immigration reform and immigrant responsibility act (IIRIRA) expanded the definition of what types of crimes could result in detention & deportation—this broader definition could be applied retroactively, resulting in more than 16,000 southeast asian americans receiving orders of removal—78% of which were based on old criminal records.

islamophobia (article 2 preview) (article 3)

after the 9/11 attacks, islamophobia was especially prevalent in the western world, although it was also prevalent in other places without large muslim populations. from a small percentage of violence, an “efficient system of government prosecution and media coverage brings muslim-american terrorism suspects to national attention, creating the impression that muslim-american terrorism is more prevalent than it really is”, even though since 9/11, the muslim-american community helped security and law enforcement officials prevent nearly two of every five al qaeda terrorist plots threatening the united states. globally, many muslims report feeling not respected by those in the west, including over half of those who live in the US. in late 2009, the largest party in the swiss parliament put to referendum a ban on minaret (a tower typically built into or adjacent to mosques) construction, and nearly 60% of swiss voters and 22 out of 26 voting districts voted in favor of the ban—even though most swiss say that religious freedom is important for swiss identity. a network of misinformation experts actively promotes islamophobia in america. muslims are more likely than americans of any other major religious groups to have personally experienced racial or religious discrimination in the past year—48%, compared to 31% of mormons, 25% of atheist/agnostics, 21% of jews, 20% of catholics, and 18% of protestants. 1/3 (36%) of americans say that they have an unfavorable opinion about islam (gallup polls).

in the aftermath of 9/11, the US government has increasingly implemented special programs with hopes of “curbing and countering terrorism” and “enemy combatants.” these policies—such as the USA Patriot Act and the National Security Entry-Exit Registration System—have been targeted towards and disproportionately affects arabs, south asians, and muslims in america.

of course, the most lethal terrorist groups active in america are white supremacist groups, but people tend to overlook that because it’s always easier to blame something you have zero understanding of.

the non-profit advocacy organization South Asian Americans Leading Together (SAALT) cataloged 207 incidents of hate violence and xenophobic political rhetoric directed towards south asian, muslim, middle eastern, hindu, sikh, and arab communities between nov. 15, 2015, and nov. 16, 2016. approximately 95% of those instances were animated by anti-muslim sentiment. also, “approximately 1 in 5 of the documented xenophobic statements came from president-elect donald trump.”

that’s who america hired to run our country in 2016. this was way before his misdeeds in office, yet it took us so long—and such a hard fight—to oust him. did it really take that long for everyone to catch on?

police brutality—(christian hall) (angelo quinto) (tommy le)

“CHRISTIAN HALL was a 19-year-old chinese american teen who experienced a mental health emergency on december 30, 2020. pennsylvania state police were called and requested to help de-escalate the crisis. rather than providing aid or assistance, the troopers shot and killed christian. his hands were up in the air as he stood on the SR-33 southbound overpass to I-80, posing no threat to the armed officers.”

they shot him seven times, with his arms up in the air.

“I miss my son so much. I love him so much but if his death is the catalyst for change, then so be it. Let his name be remembered. His name is Christian Hall.” —Fe Hall, Christian’s mother.

a video, shot by his mother, shows ANGELO QUINTO, a 30-year-old Filipino immigrant, unresponsive on the floor after officers subdued him with a knee to the back of his neck. the video shows him bleeding form the mouth after police knelt on his neck when he was experiencing a mental health crisis in his family home. he died three days later in the hospital without waking up. the antioch police had no body camera footage, nor has the department named the officers involved.

“I was just hoping they could de-escalate the situation,” his sister said in an interview. she called 911 when her brother had been experiencing mental health problems and paranoia. she says that she remains conflicted about calling the police that night: “I don’t know if I will not feel bad. If it was the right thing to do they would not have killed my brother.”

“TOMMY LE, a 20-year-old Vietnamese-American student, died hours before he was scheduled to attend his high-school graduation in June 2017. He was shot multiple times by sheriff’s Deputy Cesar Molina after responding to reports of a man armed with a knife. Deputies discovered after the shooting that he was carrying an ink pen, not a knife.

The office reported that Le had lunged at the sheriff’s deputies with a knife and had been threatening residents, shouting he was “the creator.” An autopsy showed that two of the three bullets that struck Le were in his back, and a witness said that Le was shouting he was “Tommy the renter.”

despite the challenges our communities face, AAPI communities receive less than one percent of philanthropic funding.

covid-19

i’ll try to keep this brief. there have been so many instances of violence perpetrated against the asian community during covid-19—not to mention the casual snipes at our culture, the microaggressions we face every day, the verbal and sexual harassment we encounter, sometimes even on the way to the grocery store for a supply run.

VICHA RATANAPAKDEE: a thai-american, he became known as “grandpa” throughout his neighborhood, where he’d made it a ritual to go on morning walks each day. it was during one of those walks on january 28, 2021, when the 84-year-old was forcibly knocked onto the ground. he was transported to the hospital, where he died two days later.

“He never wake up again. He [was] bleeding on his brain,” his daughter said in an interview. “I called him, ‘Dad, wake up.’ I want him to stay alive and wake up and come and see me again, but he never wake up.”

between march and december last year, the organization Stop Asian American and Pacific Islander Hate recorded nearly 3,000 reports of anti-Asian hate incidents nationwide. the new york city police department also reported a 1,900% increase in anti-Asian hate crimes last year.

i think senator tammy duckworth put it very aptly.

“Most people, I don’t think, think of Asians as being the subject of racist attacks, but we have been. And we’re the one community that’s often always seen as the ‘other’. I—to this day—still get asked, ‘So where are you from really?’“

i don’t think i’ve ever related so much to something a senator said.

actor and activist daniel dae kim talked about an encounter he had with a pollster who said asian americans are “statistically insignificant” in polling models in a congressional hearing:

“Statistically insignificant. Now all of you listening to me here, by virtue of your own elections, are more familiar with the intricacies of polling than I am, so undoubtedly, you already know what this means—statistically insignificant literally means that we don’t matter.”

do we matter? are we really “statistically insignificant”? blips in the machine, to be used and then thrown away once we become too “fussy” or demanding?

testimonies from victims showcase the array of xenophobic and racist insults they’ve encountered. i’ll put an (x) next to the ones i’ve personally heard.

“Go back to Wuhan and take the virus with you.” (x)

“You are the reason for the coronavirus.” (x)

“Damn, another Asian riding with me. Hope you don’t have covid.”

*fake coughing* “Chinese b—” *more fake coughing* (x)

now for some really “creative” ones that i’ve personally encountered:

“Cock up my dad’s botton, Chinease cunt”

“You don’t got the kung-flu, do ya?”

“Ever ate a dog?”

Along the same vein, “ever had any bats? Heard they’re delicious.”

“Wouldn’t want ya to pet my dog. Ya might steal it and cook it for dinner!” *hyena laugh*

a little personal anecdote

i debated whether or not to wear a mask to school in early march. my aunt lives in china, and she’s a first-responder (trained paramedic & contact tracer) and we knew how bad the virus was going to be in late february when we facetimed her, quarantined in her apartment. her toddler was staying with her husband at her parents’ house because she was afraid of infecting them. she didn’t see them in person for four months, working 14-hour shifts in the back of an ambulance decked out in a hazmat suit.

my mom cried when she facetimed us the second week of her grueling shift. i couldn’t stop thinking about her when i went to school that day. my mom sent me another picture during art class, and i just couldn’t control myself. i started crying during class.

i asked my mom whether or not i should wear a mask to school, and she said that if i did, i would be singling myself out. i wouldn’t be protecting myself—far from it. if i wore a mask to school, people would think that i had the virus, not that i was trying to protect myself from it.

gossip spreads like wildfire, and the next day, everyone knew i had relatives in china. most of my friends were sympathetic, but they were wholly removed from the situation. it was early march, and they never believed that the coronavirus would spread here. they were firmly rooted in their opinion that it was an easy situation, grossly mishandled by the chinese government, and that we’d do much better if it ever washed up on our shores.

i do hate the chinese government, and back then, i didn’t think too much of their antagonism. yes, the situation was mishandled. it was like a repeat of the SARS outbreak in 2003—first a cover-up by the local government, then a cover-up by the national government, and finally, a realization that no, in fact, they could not handle it in secret. yes, the media had to get involved. no, dead bodies were not piling up in the hallways while they waited for doctors to triage care. yes, we have capacity! look at these documentary mini-videos, forcing doctors and patients to leave a wing of the hospital empty and operate below maximum capacity so they could shoot propaganda videos for the lunar new year, boasting about how well they’re handling it!

i won’t argue that in the beginning, this was mishandled. i will argue, however, against the idea that asian countries are incompetent. that western approaches are oh-so-much-better.

in wuhan, they built a makeshift hospital spanning three soccer fields in the span of a week, with properly-functioning utilities, hospital beds, decontamination, and security. people rallied together and donated everything from money and supplies to food and ventilators, from all across the country. doctors and medical staff shaved their heads so they could better wear masks and volunteered to go to wuhan, where the situation was much more dire than in other areas. thousands of medical students from shanghai were transported to wuhan to fill the personnel shortages.

china reopened in june.

what did we do?

we didn’t ask the asian countries for experience. china, japan, and korea had handled the 2003 SARS outbreak and knew what kinds of things needed to be done. from the beginning, they wore masks. they halted travel, they did routine testing, performed contact tracing, set up programs for bringing food to the immunocompromised, elderly, and disabled, and worked as a cohesive community.

on the other hand, we resorted to childish infighting, political games, shunning masks and blaming it on asians, when we could’ve learned from them instead. we didn’t do contact-tracing. our testing systems were sorely inadequate. borders were closed with china, yes, but the majority of the cases in the US arrived from italy and other european countries who had already been infected. banning travel between the US and china was nothing more than a political gimmick.

states fought each other for basic medical supplies. there was no national unity. we were fractured in two, and COVID became more fuel for the fire dividing the two parties, when it could’ve been something that unified us.

and instead of blaming china, we would’ve been better off recognizing our own failures.

you can say that the virus caught china by surprise.

it shouldn’t have done the same to us.

we knew it was coming. but we still botched it.

blaming the virus on asian communities is a sign of immaturity and a lack of accountability. own up to your failures.

anyways, my mom was right. whenever we wore a mask in public, people really did think that we were “dirty, foreign chinese.” we stocked up on groceries so we wouldn’t have to go out, because every time my mom did, people would look at her weirdly. they didn’t wear masks.

one time, she was accosted by a blonde woman when we were at a supermarket. i’d gone with her that time because it was right after practice, and i was in the car anyways. the lady came up to us (without a mask: this was in may) and said, “excuse me, you don’t have the virus, do you?” with a pointed look at my mom (who was masked up).

my mom, being the polite person she is, simply responded “no, i don’t.”

the woman didn’t let us go after that. she pushed even more. “well, you see, i was just making sure...with this chinese virus going around, it’s scary, you know?”

i wanted to ask her why she wasn’t wearing a mask if it was “so scary”, but i couldn’t get a word in before she asked another question.

“by the way, y’all aren’t chinese, right?”

yes i am. yes we are. why does it fucking matter. we’re wearing masks, you’re not, get the hell out of my face.

honestly, i don’t know how my mom does it. she has the patience of a saint. she said “mhm”, grabbed a gallon of milk, and walked to the self-checkout area. the lady looked at me and raised her eyebrow, and i said “so what if we are?”

she looked like she’d been slapped in the face. i turned and followed my mom, but she said “now hold on young lady!” i ignored her and kept walking.

i don’t owe her anything. why do people think it’s okay to talk to others like that? we’re human beings too. we’re allowed our basic dignity. basic respect. we’re not something for you to joke at, to laugh at, to fetishize or bully into submission. i don’t understand why it’s so hard for people to realize that. i don’t understand why it’s so hard for people to treat others like human beings.

to people like that lady in kroger:

why do you feel the need to do it? is your opinion of yourself really that high to think that you’re superior to others who are different from you? are you really that conceited to think that you’re the perfect image of a perfect human, and anyone not like you is unworthy, considered lesser? or is your opinion of yourself really that low, to think that whatever you say, it doesn’t really matter anyways? why do you find derogatory jokes and demeaning comments funny? why do you think it’s okay to harass a stranger just going about their day? is your life really that boring, and you have nothing else to do with your time? why? would it be okay if i came up to you and asked if you ate rotten shark meat, then laughed it off and said “oh, i thought you were from iceland”? is that okay? can i ask if you eat cockroaches? how would you respond if i asked “where are you from?”? you would say america, right? and if i asked again? europe? where in europe? oh, you don’t know? are you illegal? was your mother a prostitute? are you a communist? why are your eyes so big? do you speak europeanese? crut iveroij aeish poient. oh, those aren’t words? well i think they sound like european words. what’s your name? je-re-mi-ah? like jeeryyy-miiiaaaccchh? oh, that’s not right? sorry, my tongue just won’t bend that way. your names are so weird! why would your parents name you that? oh, it means something? well, i don’t know the language, so don’t expect me to say it right. have you ever eaten haggis? oh, that’s scottish? oh, you’re not scottish? sorry, you all look the same to me. scots and italians are just so similar, you know? what’s your name? your last name is anderson? i know an anderson! she lived in texas. are you related to her? oh, you don’t know her? sorry, i thought you were all related. yeah, like i said before, you all just look so much alike, you know? are you lazy? oh, nothing, i just heard from my dad that all french people are lazy. oh, you’re not french? well, you still look lazy. are you good at english? oh, nothing, i just assumed that all white people were english. i know you like to assume that we’re good at math. oh, you got an A in english? isn’t that normal? i can’t help it, you’re just smarter. you probably don’t even study. oh, you do? well, you’re smart anyways, so it doesn’t matter. you’re so good at math for an american! oh no, nothing, i just assumed that all americans were bad at math. *starts playing with her hair* oh, that’s making you uncomfortable? but your hair’s so silky, and it’s so smooth. what kind of hair products do you use? i want to learn how to make my hair look exotic like that. oh, you’re not exotic? but you’re foreign. of course you’re exotic. you know, *leans in and whispers* men like you this way, yeah? they just looveeee exotic ladies. *winks*

can you see how this is demeaning? can you see how this diminishes our culture, our hard work, our accomplishments?

racism isn’t funny. it’s not cool, it’s not a joke, and it’s hurtful. it makes us question our capabilities, forces us to have unrealistic expectations of ourselves, makes us feel unworthy and “other”. just stop? stop making hurtful comments. stop stepping on other people to feel better about yourselves.

[samantha-chicago]

Back In Town Pt. 1

Summary: You come back home after a 24 month long deployment and see Jay Halstead and Greg Gerwitz your best friends but you also see your ex who you never thought you would see again.

Pairing:  Reader x Adam Ruzek, Kelly Severide, Jay Halstead, Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz, Intelligence 

Warning/s: Mentions of guns, cheating

You walked into Molly's a local bar that had opened up while you were overseas in Afghanistan. You grew up in Canaryville alongside Adam Ruzek who you dated for many years until you found out he had cheated while you were in Iran for the first time. After 5 years together you had to call it quits. You sat down at the bar ignoring that you were in your uniform, spending your first few hours back in Chicago in a bar.

"You're new about here what can I get you?" An older guy asked as you placed your hat on the bar

"Whiskey on rocks please" You answered with a small smile. You ran your hand over the last name embroidered on to the hat "Y/L/N" it read. If you had asked yourself 3 years ago what name would have been on that hat you would have replied "Y/L/N-Ruzek". You wanted to keep your last name cause you were the only girl left on your side of the family. The man handed you a Whiskey on rocks

"Y/L/N When did you get back in?" You turned around to see Jay Halstead leaning on the bar next to you. You, Jay and Greg Gerwitz aka Mouse all severed together a good few years back but they left the army and you redeployed for a few years

"Like an hour ago although I'm back at my parents house" You scrunched your face up thinking about that

"Ditch your bags and run?" You let out a small laugh

"My bags are in my sister's car so in a way yeah"

"I've got someone you might want to see follow me" Jay grabbed your drink while you grabbed your hat placing it back on your head. To be honest you didn't need to but it was a habit that would be hard to forget

"So what you going to do now you're back?" Jay asked making small talk

"Well I'm not sure. I can be a cop, firefighter, paramedic or doctor"

"You'll decide soon enough" You nodded taking your drink from Jay and taking a sip of it

"Real alcohol tastes good" You said smiling something which was a rare sight. You were tough when you were kidnapped people found it so hard to break you they would normally just give up. You reached a table and saw 2 familiar faces. One you missed dearly and another you never wanted to see again. Greg Gerwitz and Adam Ruzek you silently prayed that Adam didn't recognise you.

"Am I dreaming or is Y/N Y/L/N standing in front of me?" Mouse asked getting up and hugging you.

"It must be a better dream than mines are" You joked hugging Mouse back being careful not to spill your drink

"What are you doing back in Chicago? When did you get in? Where are you staying? How was your parents divorce?" Mouse threw off questions and you let out a small laugh. It was amazing how easy Mouse and Jay could make you laugh even through the hard times

"Well my tour finished, I got back in an hour ago, I'm staying with my mom and my mom got everything in the divorce for obvious reasons"

"I mean how the hell did he kill someone he's harmless he wouldn't even kill a spider"

"Yeah I know" You ignored the fact Adam was staring at you as both Mouse and Jay threw their arms over your shoulders.

"We'll be back guys" Jay said as Jay and Mouse started leading you somewhere.

"Where are we going?" You asked

"Just shut up Y/L/N" Jay said and you slapped him around the head. Back at the intelligence table everyone had noticed Adam staring at you. 

“I’m gonna say this for Ruzek here. She’s hot” Kevin said as Kim slapped him. 

“The one that got away” Adam muttered loud enough for people to hear but not understand him 

“What was that?” Hailey asked and he shrugged dowing the last of his beer. Back over to where Jay and Mouse were dragging you they pushed you down onto a chair 

“Mouse watch her” Jay instructed as you finished the last of your drink 

“So what was that with Ruzek back there?” Mouse asked and you shrugged 

“Who’s Ruzek?” You questioned playing dumb 

“Oh come on Y/L/N don’t act dumb you avoided his eyes but no one else's” You sighed standing up 

“Look Mouse I’m just gonna head home” He lifted the corner of your shirt up to expose the tattoo on your hip 

“A.R means Adam Ruzek he’s the one who cheated isn’t he?” You nodded slowly 

“I don’t think about him when I look at the tattoo I think about my favorite gun” Mouse laughed slightly 

“ArmaLite Rifle” You nodded 

“Exactly” Jay walked back over with his brother Will Halstead who you wrapped in a hug. When you got back after your 3rd tour you were injured and wouldn’t let a doctor look at you until Jay convinced you to let Will look at you.  

“Y/N it’s good to see you back in the 3 musketeers these 2 were getting a bit boring without you” Jay slapped his brother as you let out a small laugh “I better get back before I lose my head but it was good seeing you Y/N” You bid Will your goodbyes as Jay dragged you over to the bar 

“Herrmann 3 whiskey on rocks, 3 shots” You looked at Jay with wide eyes

“I came here to have 1 drink not get drunk” 

“Oh well enjoy it” He said wrapping his arms around your shoulder. The older man who you had just learned was called Herrmann handed you three shots. You, Jay and Mouse grabbed one 

“To Y/L/N being back in Chicago” You all downed the shots as some guy caught your eye 

“Who’s that?” You asked nudging your head towards the guy laughing with his friends at the bar

“Kelly Severide, Chicago’s womaniser I wouldn’t get involved with him” 

“What happens if I just want a one night stand?” 

“Then Mouse is there” He said pulling the hat off your head and handing it to the bartender telling him you’ll collect it at the end of the night. Him and Mouse dragged you back to the table they were sitting at before

“Halstead who’s this?” A blonde asked 

“Yeah Jay who’s this” You heard Will from behind you causing you to turn around and slap him upside the head 

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be William?” 

“Y/N/N one of these days you will love me” You let out a small laugh 

“In your dreams” You joked

“Ok Y/N, Will stop fighting. Guys this is Y/N Y/L/N she was in the rangers with us. Y/N this is the intelligence unit. We have Kim Burgess, Kevin Atwater, Adam Ruzek, Antonio Dawson and Erin Lindsay” You smiled 

“Hey it was great meeting you all but I’m gonna go” You saw Mouse slyly point to your hip which caused you to nod slowly

“Go hook up with Severide he’s not as bad as Jay made him out to be” Mouse whispered in your ear as you hugged him goodbye. You walked over and leaned against the bar. 

“You hear to get another drink or your hat?” The latina woman asked 

“Just my hat please” 

“I’m Gabby Dawson” She introduced herself 

“Y/L/N, Y/N Y/L/N sorry the last name first is a bit of a bit” You explained motioning to your uniform

“Hey don’t worry about it give me a minute. Severide what can I get you?” Gabby asked Kelly Severide the guy who caught my eye earlier. You zoned out looking around the rustic bar for the first time. Paying real attention to all the details, the markings on the wood, the fairy lights on the ceilings and how everyone seemed to know each other. 

“Hey you new about here?” Kelly Severide asked sitting on the stool next to were you were standing 

“Not exactly I grew up in Canaryville but I’m just back from deployment” You stated with a smile 

“Kelly Severide” He introduced himself with a smile that was hard to resist

“Y/N Y/L/N”

“I’m about to get out of here if you want a lift” He offered 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind calling an uber I have great self-defence skills” You joked 

“No come on”

“Hold on how do I know you aren’t about to kidnap me?” You questioned with a smile 

“I saw you with Halstead and to be honest I don’t want to be on the bad side of his boss anyway I’m a lieutenant with the CFD” You let out a small hum 

“You don’t by any chance have any job openings? You asked as you followed him out to his car 

“I would have to ask Chief if I could have someone else on Squad. Why?” 

“I’ve been deployed for the last 24 months and I need a job. I’ve got training to be a doctor, paramedic, firefighter or police officer I was really undecided after each tour” You stated as he held the door open for you. You climbed into his passenger side

“You’ve got loads of choice but I’ll speak to chief tomorrow anyway where am I taking you?” You glanced at the time 

“Erm shit I didn’t think that far ahead. Just take me to a hotel nearby I can’t be bothered with my mom being like ‘oh your home’ or ‘at least you’re better than your father’ or something along those lines” 

“Are you sure I have a spare bedroom and some clothes you can use” 

“Are you sure I don’t want to intrude I mean you’re already driving me”

“I’m sure I’m taking you to mine” 

“Thank you” You said with a smile 

“Don’t worry about it I don’t have anyone at home” 

“Yeah I heard you’re Chicago’s womaniser” You smirked 

“Been asking about me?” You shrugged 

“Don’t say you didn’t ask about me” 

“Ok you caught me there but no one knew who you were” Your phone started ringing so you answered it 

“Y/L/N” You answered calmly the worst going through your head 

“Hey Mouse gave me your number” Adam’s voice came through the phone 

“So you deleted my number” 

“Did you delete mine?” 

“What do you want and why couldn’t this have been a text?” You snapped 

“Look Y/N I’m sorry I made a giant mistake all those years ago but you can see I’m somewhere better” 

“Why am I supposed to believe you just cause your now a cop doesn’t mean I trust you” You hung up and lay your head back on the headrest 

“I don’t want to impose but are you ok that sounded heated” 

“My ex he cheated on me on my first deployment we were together 5 years” You said keeping it simple. You arrived at Kelly’s and he lead you into his appartment and he showed you to the guest bedroom before giving you one of his shirts and a pair of joggers. You told him you would join him after getting changed which is what you did. You were now sitting on the couch with him watching the replays of the hockey game that was on the previous night. You kept stealing glances at him and you caught him doing the same thing a few times. ‘What harm is it going to do?’ ‘One night no strings attached’ ‘He could be your boss’ All these thoughts were going through your head but you fought them off and kissed him. Much to your surprise he kissed back. Tongues and lips moving in sync until you were both struggling for air which was when yous pulled back 

“I shouldn’t have done th-” You started off but he cut you off kissing you again. He picked you up in one swift movement wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you through to his bedroom. You kicked the door shut behind you before he lay you down on the bed. 

“Are you sure you want to continue?” He asked voice low as you nodded 

“Definitely” You and Kelly spent the night together doing stuff you never thought you would do any time soon but it was fun. He had shift the next morning so you didn’t go for to long but it was still fun.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 1 December 1837

8 ½

fine morning F42° and breakfast at 9 ½ in about ½ hour – then with A- or waiting for her till off at 10 ½ and walked with her in 40 minutes to Shibden Mill poplar-plantation where we found William Keighley thinning out the plantation – stood talking to him sometime then walked up almost to Lower Hagstocks –saw the tenant (Heblethwaite) and took him to see what he wanted doing – walling along the upper Lane and wished to take a bit of ground – if A- would give him £9 he would do all the rest if it cost £20 – but £10 or £12 might do it? then looked round the fence round the top of Holcans wood – sometime in Spa house Wood – a few drops of rain (a slight shower) as we returned from there- home at 2 35 – John Booth had brought the pony for A- to Spa house – we sent him back desiring to take the gray and light cart, and go to William K- to take a load of the young poplars (for fencing) to Bouldshaw – found him just setting off as we got home – he did not get back till after 6 – left A- to have luncheon and out from 2 40 to 6 – Edward Waddington Robert Wharton and Amos Ambler and Gray and lads had taken down the old door under the barn porch into the farm stable (late cow house) – but had no proper stone for a threshold or door-sole – Edward went off to Hipperholme quarry for one – and the rest did I know not what – How I wish all this mason-jobbing was done with! – I chiefly (till dark) with Robert Mann + 5 at the low fish pond repuddling and raising the bottom 2 or 3ft. and making up (taking away entirely) the drain from the old troughs that we all believe caused the leakage before – George returned between 4 and 5 pm from Huddersfield have taken notes from A- to Mrs. Stansfield Rawson and Miss Rawson of inquiry and condolence on the death of Mrs. Rawson of Stony Royde in her 85th year and buried yesterday – A- had notes in answer shewing much both Mrs. and Miss R- were pleased by our attention – George had made inquiries too at Mill-house – and at Mrs. Veitchs’ in consequence of her illness the other day – Mrs. V- better – A- had written also to Miss Wilkinson – her father better but will not be able to do the duty on Sunday – dinner at 7 – tea between 8 and 9 – A- tired and lay on the sofa – I read the paper interesting chancery appeal the new Leeds whig radical corporation vs. Becketts and Wilson (Bankers) to recover £6500 stock + £500 vested in them by the late conservative corporation for certain praiseworthy purposes chiefly the support of the churches and clergy and Infirmary, and [?] let to be recovered – too late – this suit should have been instituted before 5 June 1835 § - A- and I came upstairs at 11 20 – Heblethwaite told us this morning Mr. Mitchell the land agent had been valuing for Miss M. Lister a farm in Norland, Holt’s farm high roydes, and Lee Lane – and said he would buy the latter H- wanted A- to buy it – Holdsworth paid Mowers for ¼ DW. they said there were 5DW. all whole coal – had bond in 3 places – coal worth £50 per DW. H- would be glad to take the place of A- if she bought it – would give £11 a year! I said that would not do – (said I did not know what Holdsworth paid – not certain but think it was £14 a year) – the little buildings said to be much out of repair – (Marian used to say it should let £20 and valued it at £700 – she declined taking £600 which I once said A- would give) – Heblethwaite saw A-‘s and my surprise – we said we had not heard a syllable of the thing – much obliged to him for naming it – till 11 40 wrote all but the 1st 9 lines of today – fine day till near 2 when it began to rain and drizzle and continued damp and disagreeable with occasional rain and drizzling the rest of the day – F40° now at 11 ¾ pm - § no! A- came and sat reading aloud while I undressed to the end of the chancery report from which it appears the vice chancellor gave it against the old corporation – so the money must be refunded – then sat talking till 1 25 tonight

[ariadoesntwrite]

The Fine Art(s) of Seduction

{Because I am way too proud of this title to let anyone have even a slight chance of missing it.}

“And you’re SURE this will work?” Tegan swallowed thickly and gave his friend an appraising look as he hunched over slightly, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his above-average height.

Tyler nodded confidently and slapped him on the back, grinning, the perfect picture of assured nonchalance and an extreme contrast as he stood next to his bespectacled best bud. “Totally. Chicks dig this kind of… stuff.” He shot one finger gun at Tegan as he elbowed him and clicked his tongue.

“Now come on, just like I demonstrated.”

Tegan tossed a pen to the ground, shakily leaned over to retrieve it by way of bending from the waist with his knees locked, and snapped back upright. A good number of his joints cracked along.

“AHA!” Tadashi threw the door open so forcefully it hit the opposite door with a loud bang as he barreled into the classroom, phonN in recording mode and pad of detention slips at the ready.

“I KNEW... it…” he trailed off, slowly backing up into the wall as his mistake sank in. He had intended to make a clean, swift getaway, but misjudged where the doorway was behind him. The only thing he could do now was to cut his losses and hope all three of them would forget the incident soon enough.

Tyler grinned and waved at him. Well, more towards the phone than Tadashi. “Hi! I’m Wyler Tilliams, and you’re watching Did—”

“...Oh. I thought Axel or Ellie was in here with you. Doing stuff. Against the rules.” Tadashi mumbled sheepishly, slinking back out the door. It was a weak excuse, but it was far too late to recover. He resolved within himself to be absolutely certain next time, and not let his love of laying down the school bylaws get in the way of sound judgement and good sense.

Tyler watched him go, then turned to Tegan and shrugged nonchalantly. “Meh, there was a good chance of you hitting your head on a ceiling fan that way, anyway.”

Tegan dropped down into a chair, eyes wide. “What?!”

“No time to waste, onto the next one! Strategy B!” Tyler ran over to him and grabbed him by the arm.

Tegan hastily pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. “But what–”

Tyler shoved a finger right in his face. “DO NOT QUESTION THE PROCESS!”

Tegan bit back a sarcastic comment and sighed. He meant well, but once Tyler was in full Determined Art Kid Mode™, there was no stopping him.

“Come on, come on, we gotta go go go!”

Tegan barely had time to react as Tyler pulled him to his feet and propelled him forwards by pushing him from behind.

“I do not have a speed setting this high!”

~~~~

Viktoria walked out of the main building, swinging her purse back and forth as she walked. She scanned her surroundings for any of her friends. Confirmation output.

There were Tyler and Tegan, over in the corner by one of those circular flowerbeds surrounded by a wall of overlapping stone bricks. She felt her pace slow, the toes of her shoes scuffing on gravel.

Something was different. Off.

They weren’t talking to each other, or laughing, or even nudging each other as you’d expect. They were just standing there, motionless. Calmly. Unobtrusively, even.

Tegan seemed upset? Should she go see what was up, try to comfort him? Or maybe he just wanted space more than anything. No, he was just squinting. Why would he be…

What happened to his glasses?

Viktoria observed the two of them for a bit, but they didn’t even acknowledge her presence. Tyler in particular seemed to stare right through her. She shuddered and continued walking past, then made a wide circle back and dropped behind the other side of the wall once she was sure they were no longer watching her. Being small at least came with a few perks.

Tyler cleared his throat, picking up right where he had left off without missing a beat. “ And then once you drop that line, you lean in all smooth-like, and best case scenario they’re also leaning in—”

“Like this?” Tegan interrupted, his tone quizzical.

Viktoria dared a glance and slowly raised her head and shoulders, startling at the sound of them yelping in unison. She quickly pushed the stems of a clump of orange tulips to the side and was rewarded by the unmistakable sight of TnT dropping to the ground in pain, accompanied by the sound of two dull thumps.

She shoved a fist against her mouth to muffle any potential noises of ausement, but enough air escaped to be audible. Oh no.

Tegan groaned like a water buffalo in heat and rolled over so he was lying facedown on the pavement. “That’s it, Tyler. I’m tapping out for today. Romance is overrated anyway, I have my waifu body pillows to love me.” He gathered his legs up underneath himself and painstakingly got up, then trudged in the direction of the dorms.

Viktoria hit the deck as Tyler slowly rounded the flowerbed and squeezed her eyes shut, willing for him to not see her.

“MISSION FAILED!” Tyler yelled right above her head, and Viktoria shoved her fist against her mouth for the second time that afternoon.

She sat up on her heels quickly and was about to retort when she noticed just how agitated Tyler looked.

“I can’t believe you saw all that!” Tyler squatted down to get on her level. “I am disgruntled! Not that I wouldn't’ve done the exact same thing had I been in your situation, but that is not the point-”

Viktoria plucked a leaf from her hair and let it drop. “Tadpole probably did too.”

Tyler steadied himself with one hand on the dirt. “Who what now?”

“Tadpole… Tadashi.” Viktoria motioned vaguely upwards. “The new security system? Yanno, he has direct access to the security feeds that the cameras are recording, and...”

Tyler groaned as if the news caused him physical pain and let his head hang down, forehead nearly brushing the ground as his free hand moved to his knee. “Wonderful.”

He straightened up and grinned brightly. “Well, hey, now that you know, I guess you gotta confess now!”

Viktoria blinked once. “No.”

Tyler threw his hands up in the air in frustration and annoyance. “Oh come on! Why not? What possible reason could you still have after all that?”

Viktoria took a strand of her own hair and began twisting it between her two palms. “Because if he’s been rehearsing, then that can only logically mean he wants to be the one to make the first move, on his own timetable. Yes? No?”

“Yes, but—” Tyler started. “But I— Ugh!” He slapped his hand against his forehead and slowly ran it down his face with a weary sigh. “You two deserve each other. Ay caramba.”

Viktoria stood, then offered her hands to Tyler, who accepted them after a brief pause and one more vexed glare. “Impossible. Both of you. I expect some sort of compensation in both of your living wills.”

“Yeah, okay.” VIktoria quietly watched with appraising eyes as he dusted off the shoulders of her jacket.

“You know, he’s really lucky to have you.”

Tyler turned towards the direction of the dormitories and shrugged halfheartedly. “Meh. I guess I’m entertaining, I guess.”

He laughed as he pulled open the door. “I said ‘I guess’ twice in that sentence.”

Viktoria turned around and walked backwards through the doorway, then grabbed him by the shoulders as he followed her in. “Hey. Do not sell yourself short.”

Tyler crossed his arms and made a show of noticeably scanning her up and down. “You’re right, that’s your job.”

Viktoria made a strangling motion with her hands, eyes filling with a murderous rage.

“TYLER WILLIAMS YOU ARE D-E-A-D DEAD—”

Tyler maneuvered past her and started running down the hall for dear life, shrieking. “AAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Tag list: @arlingtonssweetheart @sloth707

[piratefalls]

A McDanno rec list for a new friend. (These are also authors I enjoy, so consider this a blanket rec list.)

The Bareknuckle Poet by pleasebekidding

After a serious accident left Steve temporarily wheelchair-bound, working towards his recovery, he enrolled at Rutgers for a year. He met Danny Williams in his criminology course, wearing pride pins and chipped black nail polish, so sure of himself that Steve found it breathtaking. What happened next redefined Steve's sense of self, his ambitions, and many of his priorities.

Tax Benefits by renecdote

“Everyone already assumes we’re married so maybe we should just...” Danny gestures broadly with his beer. He’s maybe a little bit… Not drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“For the tax benefits.”

Danny gives him an aggravated look. “Yes, Steven, for the tax benefits.”

Danny (jokingly) suggests they should get married. Steve takes him seriously.

ua kaha aku la ka nalu o kuu aina (the surf has pressed upon my land) by icoulddothisallday, TetrodotoxinB

Steve knows, he learned, how a man behaves. He can play his part. Danny, who is a good man and great father, looks nothing like what Steve was taught. Reconciling the two means giving up everything he's clung too for the last two decades, and there's nothing about it that's easy.

*potentially triggery AF (deals with effects of conversion therapy) but beautifully rendered

the art of leaving and saying goodbye by Verasteine

2007 is the year Danny learns that choice can be the worst kind of heartbreak. AU.

*warning for infidelity (not mcdanno)

in jest by apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

not just friendship (romance too) by earthquakedream

Steve's gone and gotten himself a boyfriend. Danny's not sure what worse: the fact that he's stupidly jealous or that he actually likes the guy.

All I Ever Wanted (It Comes with a Price) by leviarty

Steve gets shot. Again. Danny is not okay.

* warning: a young grace shoots someone to protect both herself and a gravely injured steve

After All Our Troubles, We Have This by Banshi13

"I'm ending this," McGarrett muttered after a few moments of silence. "I'm not coming back until Wo Fat is in the ground. I'll dig his own grave and bury him myself if I have to, but my father is dead, my mother is running all over the world in hiding, my sister and I were uprooted from our lives, and now he's got Danny locked somewhere in a basement in the middle of Japan." He looked both Chin and Kono in the eye, deadly resolve in his eyes. "This ends. Now. This is the absolute last time that man interferes with my life and my family."

The Other Guy by haldoor

Danny tells Steve what he thinks is a funny story from when he attended Grace's school play. Steve doesn't think it's so funny; in fact, it makes him jealous.

Strapped by stellarmeadow

Steve's determined Danny's going to be prepared next time.

Warm to the Touch by veronicaluv

Danny didn't think twice about going to North Korea to find Steve. He just didn't know everything would go to hell when they got back.

Me and my heart (We got issues) by SquaresAreNotCircles

“I’m in love with you, Steve,” Danny says. He does it softly, quietly, laying the words into the darkness of Steve’s backyard like they’re something breakable, something to be tiptoed around. “I thought you should know.”

Steve’s heart jumps. It rams against his ribcage so hard it’s going to leave bruises. So hard he startles awake, and he almost yells before he realizes he’s outside because he fell asleep in one of the garden chairs in his backyard again.

how to be gay for your best friend in ten easy steps by commatme

See, the thing is that Danny doesn’t really do gay sex, what with being straight and all, but when Steve says I love you he sounds so earnest he makes Danny want to consider it. Which is crazy, right? He’s pretty sure that’s crazy, or at least a little unhinged.

It’s Not So Easy Caving In by paradis

The one where Danny used to be a heroin addict.

blame it on the ocean view by carryokee

Danny gives in, freaks out, and comes to his senses.

So Have I Loved You by Brumeier

In which Grace has a surprise for Steve's birthday and there's not a dry eye in the house.

take it back to a couple years yesterday by itsrosencrantz

Danny really, really doesn't want to go to his twenty year high school reunion.

Steve decides they're going anyway, and Danny takes it about as well as you'd expect.

View From The Shipwreck by flowerfan

Danny Williams isn’t in a great place – he’s a reluctant transplant to Oahu and an outsider at HPD. Former Navy SEAL Steve McGarrett isn’t doing much better, having suffered a career ending injury. When Danny’s young daughter Grace wanders into Steve’s bar after getting lost on a school field trip, Danny is drawn to Steve, somewhat against his better judgement – he’s got enough on his plate. He’s not exactly sure what Steve sees in him. As they spend more time together, Danny learns how Steve’s injury has changed his life in many ways, but not the most important ones. As one thing leads to another, Danny realizes that things might be looking up after all.

True North by lavvyan

“Tell you what, my dad’s throwing his annual Christmas Ball on Saturday. It’s not a trip to Aspen or anything, but it is nice. Fancy food and everything. You guys should come!”

On the trail of a suspected war criminal, Steve and Danny have to go undercover at a fancy ball. The sacrifices they make for the job.

Oh, and Steve's pining like the taiga. Nothing new there.

outside the lines by withoutwords

“I’m Detective Williams.” Danny says, not trying too hard to keep it smug free. “This is my partner, Detective Mackenzie.”

Ken Doll keeps his arms up, his eyes flickering between them all as if he's only seeing police for the first time. “Good cover,” he tells Danny, and it sets Danny’s teeth on edge.

“This is the part where you say sorry for assaulting a police detective, for compromising an investigation, and for acting like a complete asshole while doing it,” Danny growls, about to change his mind and cuff the guy himself.

“Sorry, Officer.”

The bastard is still grinning.

Boys Like Me, We Try Too Hard by romanticallyinept

Steve's always wound so fucking tight.

And Danny's worried about him. Legitimately worried about him. Because maybe Steve always lays into the perps a little hard, and maybe he follows his own rules and his own morals and doesn't stop to sleep unless his body's actually shutting down around him, but usually, Steve's okay at the end of the day. Usually, Steve's not leaning against the wall of the alley they're in, eyes closed and shaking, with the perp he'd cuffed a minute earlier lying on the ground and crying about his broken nose.

Steve keeps a secret, and Danny does his best to patch him back up when it comes to light.

Transformative by boxparade

“You know, I’d heard you’d changed a lot after high school, but I’ve gotta admit, this is a little weird.”

* trans (FTM) Danny

All the Way by VictoriaAGrey

Danny has lost count of how many times he and Steve have used the sexual tension between them for undercover work, only for it to be bottled away after the op is over. With Saint Michael as his witness, that ends tonight.

Nocturne in C# Minor (featuring Stevie Ray Vaughn) by minor_demimonde

So, to recap, Danny has beautiful eyes, great shoulders, a pleasantly-shaped butt, a delectable mouth, expressive hands, and he smells good.

You know, Steve has gone to bed with women who didn’t have that much going for them.

seen it in the flight of birds by Siria

AU from the beginning of Season 2. The Five-0 task force has been reinstated, but the new governor's determined to shake things up. Facing changes and unexpected betrayals, the team has to work together to face new challenges.

It Ain’t Me Babe (Nah), It Ain’t Me You’re Looking For (Babe) by tourdefierce

A story in which Danny makes lists and can't find his heterosexuality underneath all his homogay, Steve has a lot of faces, Kono is perfect in every way and Chin continues to keep Hawaii safe from the Five-O's general disfunction—Or, a story about Kono being awesome and how she likes her men with hearts in their eyes for each other.

Ratios, Decimals, and Percentages by fuchs

In which Steve takes an internet quiz and slowly loses his mind. Danny's okay with it.

Let’s Dance Like We Used To by AndreaLyn

There isn't a world in which Danny wouldn't go after Grace. So when Rachel moves the family to California, Danny goes with. Steve gets left to process life without Danny.

Gunfire, Rainfall, and Beach Erosion by thegrrrl2002

Steve and Danny are kidnapped. After which there is too much swimming and too much rain and it's all very romantic. If you are Steve, that is.

Moving In (To Every Single Aspect of Danny’s Life, Including the Boring Bits like Dry-Cleaning by westgirl

It felt wrong for Steve to sound unsure of his place in Danny’s life. His place in Danny’s life was at Danny’s side, driving him slowly insane. Steve should feel secure about that.

Always Known What I Wanted To Be by mickeysixx

Grace Williams has always wanted to be a cop.

The Taper Phase by popfly

It’s like being run over by an armored car, like the impact of gunshot to tac vest. The pride Danny feels for his daughter and something else, something about Steve’s tank top sticking to his stomach, the way his shorts stretch across his thighs. The goofy grin that lights up Steve’s face when he sees Danny and Charlie, waving one hand while he nudges Grace with the other.

Pitching Woo by SBG

In which Danny pitches (and then accidentally catches) woo.

clue: four letters, ‘is a many splendored thing’ by armillarysphere

“Crosswords? What are you, sixty?”

“They stimulate brain activity, Danno. You ought to try it sometime.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from his newspaper, half-chewed pen resting at the corner of his mouth in an entirely too distracting way.

That’s Not Just Friendship, That’s Romance by thismuchmore

Danny and Steve start out accidentally dating each other, and it turns into something more.

it’s not what you’re sure of (it’s what you don’t know) by somehowunbroken

Art thief Steve McGarrett and his team come up against FBI Special Agent Danny Williams, and things spin wildly out of control from there.

Same Deep Water by JiM, kalena

This isn't the first lifetime Danny's been in Hawaii. When the stress ratchets up, the dreams get more and more real. Turns out Danny has some unfinished business . . . with Steve.

Warning: Ambien use may lower inhibitions in a wakeful state.

Curiosity Didn’t Kill This Cat by unadrift

"I'm confused," Rachel says. "Are you two dating or not?"

Danny sighs. "You remember that thing with the cat in the box? The one that's both dead and alive?"

"Schroedinger's cat?"  

"It's kind of like that."

"Okay," Rachel says. She clearly has no idea what he's talking about.

2727 Piikoi Street by imaginary_iby

The ways in which Danny makes himself at home by Steve's side, and the family he gains as the years go by. (Featuring Steve in Timberland boots and little else, and happy goofs who like to make out against the front door).

All The Earth Awaits Thee by Portrait_of_a_Fool

Steve knows all about war and willpower, but this is still the hardest battle he’s ever had to fight.

* warning: life threatening illness, no MCD

The Vertical Challenge by AlamoGirl80

Five times Danny thinks about his height, and then realizes that being "not-tall" doesn't really suck at all.

Some Things to Think About When You Decide to Be an Asshole by sutlers

Steve gets high and tries to fuck Danny; things devolve from there.

Inked by thehoyden

Of course Steve is enjoying himself. They're bait for a serial killer who has some sort of serious hangup about tattooing loved ones' names on their skin -- of course Steve thinks this is practically like a vacation, but better, because the chances of collateral damage are higher.

This Thing Of Ours (It Needs a Better Name) by leupagus

Cosa Nostra: (kō'sə nō'strə) etym: Italian n. The branch of the Mafia operating in the United States. Literally, "our thing" or "this thing of ours."

Ho’oponopono by ember_firedrake

Groundhog Day AU. Danny finds himself trapped in the same day over and over again.

Swim for Brighter Days by zarah5

Danny kisses Steve late on a Tuesday, early on a Wednesday. Steve punches him. (Set vaguely post-finale, so spoilers for that.)

All My Guards Away by sheafrotherdon

Tag to episode 1x18, with all the heartache that implies. Now with bonus fixes. With thanks to dogeared for all her suggestions and edits.

Let’s Take it from the Top by pterawaters

Steve goes along with the bachelor-party-in-Vegas, because he chose Danny to be his best man, and that's what Danny wants to do. Unfortunately, the things that happen in Vegas don't necessarily stay there.

How to Keep Your Mouth Shut by primetime

Danny’s sometimes gay. Gay, sometimes. Does dudes. He doesn’t know how to say it right. He doesn’t know how to say it at all.

Don’t Turn Me Home Again by gyzym

After a rough day of island living, Danny wakes up in New Jersey and learns the hard way to be careful what he wishes for.

End-Around by t_fic

Steve hesitates with his hand on the doorknob, looking back over his shoulder at Danny and nodding once before disappearing inside, and yeah, Danny is going to be so fucking lucky to get through this night without a coronary event.

Lonely People Do Stupid Things by waketosleep

Danny decides to show Steve the true meaning of Christmas, and does it by dragging him to New Jersey.

Down Beneath the Waves by samjohnsson

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but sometimes it takes another thousand to explain it.

Love’s a Battlefield (and the Navy Did Not Train Steve for This Shit) by cyerus

The Kalakaua-Kelly clan are determined to matchmake Steve. Out of desperation, Steve makes up a boyfriend named Danny.

It doesn't quite go according to plan.

put your mind at ease by eleanor_lavish

Somewhere in the last year, while Steve was busy killing bad guys, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has been erased from the books and guys like Jeff can marry whoever they damn well please.

You’ve Got Hawaii (and all I’ve got is you) by queenklu

In which Danny has issues, presents, and Steve fleas, not necessarily in that order.

Jaws by JoeLawson

Danny has a secret.

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

The Critique of Manners: Part III

~Or~

A Somewhat Indecisive Review of “Emma” (Miramax, 1996)

I have a feeling this review is gonna be a little harder for me to write. Everyone knows that recaps and reviews are most entertaining when the writer has an intense dislike (or intense feeling of any kind) for the drama they’re reviewing. It falls to other writers to pan or praise this film as they will, but I simply don’t have many particularly strong feelings about it at all. I have neither that repulsed dislike for this movie such as I did for Emma 1997, nor that disappointed frustration as for certain aspects of Emma. 2020, but neither do I have a deep, profound love and appreciation for it as I do for Emma 2009.  

Written and Directed by American Screenwriter, director and actor, Douglas McGrath, Emma (1996) is rather what one expects it to be: a 90’s romance film. Perhaps it’s because I had expectations due to the era in which it was made, but I think I have a tendency to excuse some of the problems with this film. There are many unnecessary additions (for comedy’s sake usually and often quite cringe-y) and one definitely can’t claim that the dialogue hasn’t been tampered with. I don’t normally side with the “I do so miss Austen’s biting wit” crowd but, by ‘eck I felt it this time. That’s because Austen’s Biting Wit™ just doesn’t suit a fluffy 90’s chick flick (which this film is in a way that other big screen Austen adaptations of the time just aren’t – and I think approaching this film from the 90’s chick flick perspective is probably the best way to digest it.) This version, more than any other (except perhaps 2009) brings the concept of Emma-as-Matchmaker to the fore with a particular emphasis precisely because it’s a concept that fits well with the rom-com style of filmmaking used here.

The bones of this review, like my review for the ITV version, were written six years ago following my initial viewing only a select number of portions survive from that review (which is still on IMDb).

As with all my reviews I'll be comparing the script, characterizations and plot to the book and commenting on the authenticity and attractiveness of the costumes, and suitability of the houses and sets.

Let’s dive in.

Cast & Characterization

Emma is arguably the easiest of Austen’s works to read because of Emma’s generally good (if condescending and overly self-confident) character, and Mr. Knightley’s sober, mature but exceedingly pleasant manner. I had my doubts about Gwyneth Paltrow playing an Austen heroine, but I at least had faith in Jeremy Northam’s ability to portray the mature Mr. Knightly. My expectations were not entirely disappointed in either case.

My prevailing feeling about this film is that it’s not so much set in Jane Austen’s Regency England, but in an American fantasy of what Regency England was like. Perhaps the biggest factor that reinforces this impression is (of course) the casting choice for our leading lady, Gwyneth Paltrow.

Freckled, ruddy and thin as a twig, Gwyenth didn’t quite, to my mind, fit the physical description of Emma, who is supposed to be “The picture of health” according to Mrs. Weston. Add to this the Regency beauty ideal of a soft and shapely figure with regular features. Fair hair was generally preferred (and I have always imagined Emma as blond, although I’m given to understand that Austen’s idea of pretty generally favored dark hair), so I can’t fault Gwynnie there. What I can fault though is her so-so British accent.

I recently learned that the reason McGrath thought Paltrow would be a good choice was because she’s the only Texan he’d ever met who’d managed to entirely throw off her native accent; I guess he decided that if she could do that she could do any accent work? I guess? Seems questionable to me.

You know Joely Richardson was considered for this part? Gorgeous, refined (British) GODDESS Joely Richardson was passed over because Gwyenth managed to shake an embarrassing accent.

I hate American directors.

I’m not sure if it’s just part of the accent, or her attempt to sound upper class, but on this most recent re-watch it hit me for the first time how very nasal many of her line deliveries are. She also has this problem with looking (and sounding) sort of vapid and… just what is happening here?

Is she having a stroke at the end there?

A bigger problem than Emma’s casting, however, is her characterization.

Part of the above mentioned script tampering is in lockstep with some of the issues with Emma’s characterization here. Her very teenager-esque swings from vowing to never make another match again to immediately trying to think of another guy to set Harriet up with, and her getting carried away in potential scenarios “But if he seems sad I shall know that John has advised him not to marry Harriet! I love John! Or he may seem sad because he fears telling me he will marry my friend. How could John let him do that? I hate John!” (Especially when you never even really get to meet John Knightley in this version? Ugh, pass me with this shit) is so bizarrely childish it’s a little hard to stomach. She spends the movie going back and forth between mature and manipulative to childish and naïve and it just… doesn’t work for me.  Emma can be all of these things but the transition from one extreme to another here seems a bit disjointed to me.

Knightley was a bit of a disappointment to me in this version. That’s not Jeremy Northam’s fault because I can’t think of a better choice they could have made. McGrath showed much better judgment with his choice for Mr. Knightley than he did with Emma.

My biggest problem with this interpretation was how laid back he was when he was supposed to chastising Emma. Their quarrels became more like mere disagreements so the proposal line of lecturing her and her bearing it as no other woman would have isn’t entirely earned. Even in the big scene at Box Hill where Knightley is really supposed to lay into Emma, he starts off pretty solidly, but by the end so doe-eyed and apologetic it fails to deliver the sting of rebuke that is Emma’s biggest learning moment in the story. Perhaps they were trying to go for a more disappointed feel (the kind that makes you feel worse than being shouted at because you really respect the person you let down) but it just didn’t come through for me.

Also of note is the fact that, (I assume) because John Knightley isn’t really allowed time to be a character in this film, McGrath took some of John’s introverted tendencies and transplanted them into his more convivial older brother (“I just want to stay home, where it’s cozy.” – I mean I feel that, but this isn’t something George Knightley would say.) 

Onto the less central characters

I question also the choice of Toni Colette for Harriet Smith. I mean I actually liked her performance more on this watch than previously but I just don’t think she’s pretty enough for Harriet, and she looks a bit clumsy (though that might have more to do with her costumes.)

I also noted that McGrath bumps Harriet’s comprehension skills up just a scooch. Emma never has to explain the “Courtship” riddle to her, Harriet figures it out on her own after a while, while she never manages to in the book.

Now we come to the crux of Jane Fairfax, played by Polly Walker. I don’t care for this choice. My issue is the simple fact that she just isn’t believable to me as a demure, wronged character like Jane Fairfax. Seriously she looks like she would sooner throw Frank across the room than take his cruel teasing, and not in the subtle way that Olivia Williams managed to. They never even utilized her by including some of Jane’s more pointed returns to Frank’s jabs, which they even managed to squeeze into the massively cut down TV movie.    

Speaking of Frank; Ewan McGregor, though generally delightful, was so under-used. Frank and Jane’s plotline always kind of gets shafted in Theatrical release adaptations of this story. It’s not as bad here as it is in say, the 2020 adaptation (they were in that version so little I actually forgot what their actors looked like), but it’s still pretty stunted.

I find it interesting that Ewan McGregor himself thinks his performance in this movie isn’t good; and I’ll agree it’s not his best (certainly it’s no Obi-wan Kenobi) but I thought he did a pretty good job with obviously unfamiliar material

Also if the Davies screenplay of ’97 made Frank’s character too caddish, I think this version didn’t make him caddish enough. I mean he’s hardly around enough to really develop his flirtation with Emma, and they merged Strawberry Picking and Box Hill into one sequence so we never see Frank’s ill humors. I can perhaps excuse this, since it seems like a nuanced story really wasn’t what McGrath was going for here, I think. This is a lite version of the story; schmaltzy fluff for teenage girls’ movie nights. Frank’s ill humors wouldn’t really have fit the tone of this version at all.

Interestingly enough, though it’s taken me a long time to make this decision, I think Alan Cumming might be the definitive Elton? He’s the only one who doesn’t immediately read as a slime ball from the get go. I mean he’s got all the warning signs that Austen wrote into him, but no more than that. He’s not slinking about greasily or obviously pandering (at first), so Emma’s uneasy realization of what’s really happening here isn’t a hundred miles behind the viewer’s (maybe just fifty).

There are as many Mrs. Eltons out there as there are adaptations of this story, and they’re all pretty great (funky accents aside), but other than the 1997 take, this one might be the least great to me. She’s not nearly pushy enough, because Mrs. Elton would never let Emma prompt the conversation when she could do it herself.

  Also, I think McGrath misunderstands Mrs. Elton’s brand of New Money vulgarity. He has her talking with her mouthful, clanking her utensils on her plate as she eats, putting biscuits which she’s bitten into back onto communal plates, which I think even Mrs. Elton would know not to do. Table manners are pretty basic; the couth that Mrs. Elton lacks is of a more nuanced social kind – for instance, what is and isn’t considered gauche to talk about (like how big one’s brother in law’s house is or how many horses he keeps.)

(A sudden thought has just occurred to me: is Mrs. Elton just a more mean-spirited Hyacinth Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances? “It’s meh sister, Mrs. Suckling! That’s right, the one with an estate in Warwickshire and the two barouche landaus!”)

Sophie Thompson’s Miss Bates is chatty and one of better takes on the character, but lack of necessary background hinders her impact on Emma’s story. The comedy in her scenes is some of the best and actually made me laugh, although I think she was just way too giggly.

Miss Bates’s mother, Mrs. Bates, is played by Sophie Thompson’s real-life mother Phyllida Law in a completely coincidental quirk of casting. (I noted in this film how very much Emma Thompson, Sophie’s older sister looks like their mother.)

My only other serious issue with characterization in this adaptation is the representation of Mr. Woodhouse. He is somehow simultaneously more cheery and more disagreeable than he is in the book. His chiding about the cake at the Weston’s wedding seems more like a scolding rather than an anxious admonishment. In one of the first scenes, during Mr. Woodhouse’s “Poor Miss Taylor” speech, he says he cannot understand why she would want to give up her comfortable life with himself and Emma, to have “mewling children who bring the threat of disease every time they enter or leave the house,” and he says this IN FRONT OF ONE OF HIS TWO DAUGHTERS.

Of course in the book, Mr. Woodhouse does lament Miss Taylor marrying, leaving and even having children – but this is all in the context of the danger childbirth presents to Miss Taylor (And the fact that he can’t stand losing a companion). These are his complaints – not the children themselves. In addition, his elder daughter has quite a fine number of children, all of them very young, of whom Mr. Woodhouse is very fond. He’s a character that needs to be carefully handled because, much like his daughter, it’s very easy for him to become unlikeable.

For the rest of the time, though, he just sort of cheerily laughs and is very at ease, when Mr. Woodhouse, as a chronic hypochondriac should be made anxious by just about everything.

Sets & Surroundings

One thing I find interesting about this adaptation is that the houses they chose to use are all of a very neo-classical Palladian style, which I believe (given her disdain for the contemporary trend of knocking down England’s great houses just to rebuild them in a more fashionable style) Austen may have disliked to some degree.

One such house is Came House in Dorset, which was used as the Woodhouse’s estate, Hartfield. Now Hartfield is, I think, described as a well-built modern house so this could be pretty accurate (although Modern could refer to the red bring, boxy style of Georgian architecture, such as the houses used in the 1997, 2009 and 1972 versions.)

Another, Claydon House in Buckinghamshire played the role of Donwell Abbey. I think this might be the worst exterior ever used for Donwell, from a book accuracy perspective. Utterly Georgian, with its’ square façade, Claydon house sort of directly contradicts Austen description of being “Larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike it, covering a good deal of ground, rambling and irregular…” not only is the architecture totally wrong, so is its’ situation, in Georgian fashion, perched on a hill, when Donwell (a very old building) is supposed to be “Low and sheltered”.

Mapperton House is maybe the grandest house yet used for Mr. Weston’s Randalls (I’ve already covered in my review of Emma (2020) why this is a problem – although in this version, as in the 1997 adaptation, there’s no full panic over the snow, so this is less of a problem, but a house like this is still too grand for the reasonably sized Randalls of the book), but it fits the usual 15th-16th century house type that always seems to be used for Randalls.

A myriad of other great houses were used for interiors, however other than Crichel House (Dorset), which was used for Donwell’s interiors, I can’t find information on which ones where used for what. They include Breakspear House (Harefield), Coker Court (Somerset), Stafford House (Staffordshire) and Syon House & Park (Middlesex).

I really appreciate the interiors which were all very colorful and even included doors and molding painted the same color as the walls which is a very Georgian decorating convention, although it looks odd to the modern viewer.

Costumes & Hair

As a rule, the costumes (Created by Ruth Myers) in this movie are pretty damn good, composition wise, but the arrangement leaves a lot to be desired. Myers talked extensively of wanting the costumes to be colorful and bright like the water colors of the time, which she achieved brilliantly. What I find funny is that she talked about using color as if it would be controversial from a historical accuracy point of view, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

The evening wear is generally excellent

My only question around evening wear here is… what’s up with the waistline on Harriet’s ball gown? Why is it going up in the middle? Toni Collette (who actually gained weight for the role, since Harriet was described as “Reubenesque”) verged on looking a little dumpy throughout the film and awkwardly bumping up her waistline in the middle really didn’t help.

I’m pleased to report that is is the one version where Miss Bates’s evening-wear is allowed to look like evening wear. Even Maiden Aunts wore shorter sleeves and lower necklines at dinner or balls. They fussed her up with some lace gloves and frilly fichus but it follows the conventions of the time. I appreciate that immensely, though I have the sneaking suspicion that it’s because of Sophie Thompson’s age.

At 37 Thompson was an unconventionally young choice for Miss Bates, a character who previously had only been cast as older than 50 (Prunella Scales, who would play the role later in 1996, was 64). Indeed, Douglas McGrath almost passed Thompson over for the role on account of her age, but reconsidered after seeing her in spectacles. It seems possible to me that since Thompson was considered young they dressed her “young” as well.

The daywear is where the costumes start to really fall apart. There are a lot of looks here worn in the day that are VERY not day/outerwear appropriate, especially on Emma, most especially the yellow dress she’s wearing while driving that carriage (which, btw is inappropriate on a whole OTHER level). Can we just talk aboutt he cognative dissonance of bothering to put a bonnet on her when her arms and boobs are just hanging out like that? Like, it would almost have been less egregious to just leave the bonnet where it was.

But then there are a lot of Emma’s day-wear looks that are perfectly suitable and appropriate. What I find ironic about that is that most of the short-sleeved, low-necked “Evening-gowns as day-wear” looks are worn OUTSIDE in the sun and most of the long-sleeved, sun protecting, day-wear appropriate looks are worn INSIDE.  She’s also got a profusion of dangling curls in day-time settings that are also more evening-wear appropriate (to match the dresses, perhaps?)

I’m also pleased to report that even in day-wear Miss Bates gets a break from brown in this version. Her clothes are nice, but not fancy like Miranda Hart’s in Emma. 2020, and I like to think that nice thick shawl with lace overlay is the one mentioned in the book that Jane’s friend Mrs. Dixon sent along home with her for her aunt.

My only problem with Mrs. Elton’s kit is that it’s all perfectly nice, but none of it is overly-nice. There’s no extra trim, no unnecessary lace, not even any bold colors. I hope Myers and McGrath didn’t take Mrs. Elton’s line in the book about her fear of being over-trimmed seriously.

Let’s talk outerwear. There’s a lot of going into town with JUST a shawl on in this movie (usually over short sleeves), and I’m sorry but I don’t think that’s how outer-wear worked in this time period. A shawl is good enough when you’re taking a turn in the garden but not for going out in public into town, unless maybe you’re wearing long sleeves, or perhaps paired with a SPENCER.

Never mind Mrs. Elton’s line about a shocking lack of satin at the end of the movie, I’m more concerned about the shocking lack of spencers. There are precisely three in this film. I counted (and the sleeves on Emma’s look like maybe they’re too long for her?) Mrs. Elton sports the only redingote in the film.

Jane Fairfax is, as always, in her classic Jane Fairfax Blue™,

although she has some nice white gowns at some points too.

Now, onto 

Definitely a bit more colorful than the 97 adaptation. Mr. Knightley benefits most from the addition of colors other than green. He’s even got some smashing waistcoats and a very nice blue evening coat (I couldn’t get very good shots of them though). The problem is; those trousers? NOT. TIGHT. ENOUGH.

Also… you all see it, right? I circled it in red so you should. Yeah. Knightley is dancing in boots. WTF RUTH? Please! You’re better than this! Who dances in Prussians like that? I ask you! (Frank also wears boots to the Cole’s dinner party so that’s two strikes.)

I’m not sold on Frank’s looks. His day-wear is a bit sedate for such a confirmed dandy (I believe he’s called a “coxcombe” in the book?) and his evening wear… well he apparently only has the one look.

And speaking of Frank’s look in this film, I’d like to know at whose doorstep I should lay the blame for what Ewan McGregor himself has called “The Worst Wig Ever”; and why the hair designer in charge decided to model Frank’s aesthetic on a theme of “Chucky meets the Mad Hatter”.

This hairstyle not only looks dreadful, it’s not at all fashionable or authentic to this time period! Fashionable mens’ hair styles at this point were all relatively short. A Beau Brummel coiffeur, or a short Roman style, or a fashionable head of curls like Mr. Elton’s! Not this farmer chic. Robert Martin’s hair is more fashionable than Frank’s!

The tune they chose for Emma and Knightley’s dance is a baroque melody (so a hundred or so years out of fashion) called “Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot” and as is pointed out in the video linked above, and is the same tune and dance used for Lizzie and Darcy’s big dance in Pride and Prejudice (1995).

I get why it was used in P&P because, slow, stately baroque tunes are often used as on-screen short hand for snobbish character like Mr. Darcy. It’s not super intense either, like the baroque tune used in P&P 05, which was chosen for more romantic effect. So why use this kind of “stuck up” tune for what should be a romantic dance? Maybe because it was used in the 95 P&P which became, almost instantly, one of the most popular Austen adaptations?

Quick note on the dancing and music in this movie. I’m not an expert on English Country dance (I’ll outsource that by giving you the usual link to Tea with Cassiane’s analysis on YouTube) but I’ll add my two cents  - I know Cassiane gave this a pretty favorable three full dance slippers but I think the way all of the actors and dancers move looks very poorly rehearsed and kind of sloppy. I think everyone just spread out way too much.

Douglas McGrath’s Script

I have to say one of the things this film did very well and brought to the forefront is how insular Emma’s life is. The opening credit sequence brings this to our attention right away by showing a spinning globe which, once it slows down is shown to be, literally, Emma’s whole tiny world. Hartfield, Donwell, Randalls and Highbury. That’s it. It’s perhaps not a very subtle device, but it does get the job done and very succinctly too.

I would now like to talk about my issues with the script of this movie; I have some problems with it. Very different problems than it’s 1996 counterpart though.

 First let’s go over the comedic device that jumped out to me most in this movie: the awkward pause.

I think it’s only used twice but they both bothered me.

First there’s the pauses while Emma and Mrs. Weston grill Knightley on whether he considers Jane Fairfax romantically. It’s all written as very “OoOoOooo” with Knightley answering their interrogations and then sitting between them awkwardly as they stare him down as, none of his answers giving either Emma or Mrs. Weston satisfaction. This is one of the most teen rom-com moments of the film to me.

Next there’s all the quiet stretches while Emma and Mrs. Elton have tea at Hartfield. I don’t like the use of awkward pauses in this case because (as I mentioned in Mrs. Elton’s characterization section) it’s so ludicrous to me that there are pauses in this conversation at all. Surely the point of Mrs. Elton is that she loves to hear herself talk and her conceited obsession with the idea that everyone around her must only benefit from hearing her opinions. There should be no conceivable reason why Emma should have to prompt conversation like she does in McGrath’s version of this scene, except to derail Mrs. Elton’s constant self-important yammering.

Watching it this time around I found myself wondering exactly what McGrath wanted to do with this film. I mean I’ve been attempting to decipher exactly whether the changes made were conscious and based on artistic vision, or whether they were changed because the source material just flew over McGrath’s Hollywood Director head.

I mean he gets the important plot points across, but there were other scenes that I had issues with: namely, the Archery scene. This is a pretty intense part of the book because Mr. Knightly goes from astonished, to indignant, to truly vexed with Emma in a short period of time. But this scene in the movie is very casual. The part where Emma’s arrow goes wide and into the general direction of Knightley’s dogs, and he takes an opportunity to make a quip and says “try not to kill my dogs” particularly annoyed me. My issue is that this totally ruins the tension of the scene; and why are Knightley’s dogs sitting BEHIND THE TARGETS ANYWAY? Knightley is a sensible man, and one who knows better than to let his dogs rest in a place where stray arrows could hit them!

The dialouge is very jarring because it flips back and forth beetween being alright, and period appropriate and then it will just spring a very modern turn of phrase and pull you completely out of the setting. I know this is something that’s been brought up with the 2009 version as well but maybe it’s because the actors in that version have (in my opinion) better chemistry that it simply doesn't stick out to me as much.

The comedy in general in this movie just makes me cringe a lot of the time (Sophie Thompson’s “oh sorry, napkin” bit notwithstanding). Like the soup thing when Emma and Harriet meet Mr. Elton after visiting the poor, and the random kid that gets tossed into this scene with Emma… just doesn’t work for me.

Wikipedia describes McGrath’s tweaks on Emma and Knightley’s banter (which really weren’t changed that much, textually) as “Enlivened” to make the basis of their attraction more apparent, which… I’m sorry but nothing about the exisiting banter isn’t lively if delivered in a lively manner. And I wouldn’t exactly call Gywneth’s performance lively, because she has to concentrate to keep that accent up.

I mentioned already that what McGrath essentially did with Emma was take Austen’s story, and remove the nuance (Such as lightening Frank’s infractions in his relationship with Jane and, while not totally contradicting, but also not highlighting the economic commentary of the story that is thematic in Austen’s novel) in order to make a straight up 90’s comedic romance film (Which, if you doubt this, look no further than Rachel Portman’s Oscar Winning but very dated score).

My Question is why? Why bother when the SAME STORY had been adapted into a HIGHLY SUCCESSFUL, modernized rom-com THE PREVIOUS YEAR, which actually, even while being set in the 90’s, did the story greater justice, with far more insight and quality?

Emma (1996) was always going to be over-shadowed by Clueless. At the end of the day this whole movie was kind of a futile effort because despite excellent production quality, the actual contents are watered down and, in my own opinion, pretty roundly mediocre.

Final Thoughts

When I first watched both of these versions I came at it from a very one-or-the-other perspective. I forgave McGrath’s film because it was light and colorful and I’d heard Davies’ version praised so highly at that time as the only faithful, definitive version (only to be let down by it in almost every possible way). But coming right down to it now, it’s hard for me to really excuse McGrath’s effort because a version of Emma that doesn’t take itself seriously enough is almost as bad as a version that takes itself too seriously.

It never fails to jump out at me how diametrically opposed these interpretations are, from the characterization right down to the tone and lighting.

McGrath’s Emma is light in every sense of the word, where Davies’ is dark and ponderous. McGrath’s Knightley is laid back where Davies’ is aggressive and ferocious. Frank, in McGrath’s version, is let off easy by the narrative playing down his moodiness, while in Davies there’s an overshadowing dark-cloud of off-putting caddishness.

Ribbon Rating: Tolerable (58 Ribbons)

The more I watch the 1996 adaptations of Emma (invariably back-to-back) the more firmly I am convinced that Andrew Davies’ made for TV film was (in some ways) a direct response to McGrath’s motion picture.

Tone: 7

Casting: 7

Acting: 5

Scripting: 5

Pacing: 4

Cinematography: 4

Setting: 5

Costumes: 6

Music: 5

Book Accuracy: 6