#and now her sister and stanley are married

[manny-jacinto]

Same I’m a sucker for Emily Blunt

oh to be john krasinski

[lee-laurent]

Under the Radar - Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Matthew Tkachuk elopes with his secret lover, the biggest issue... she's Luke Hughes' twin sister.

Content: marriage, secret relationship, age gap (it's legal!!), angst, unsupportive family, mentions of sex, fighting, physical violence (not between couple!)

WC: 3.45k

notes: i listened to "Archie, Marry Me" by Alvvays on repeat while writing this and "Please Please Please" cause that's how freya feels about matt here lol i've been watching the stanley cup finals and my love for matt tkachuk has grown hehe enjoy!! :D obviously idk anyone in this story personally, so it's all for the drama !!

Freya giggled as Matthew placed kisses on her exposed shoulder. She was standing in front of the full body mirror in her boyfriend's room, flattening out the silky white dress that she'd chosen for the occasion. The white silk fell mid thigh and had small slit on the left side, a small bow adorned the corseted top.

"Fuck, you look stunning, love," Matt whispered in her ear, goosbumps forming on the back of her neck.

"I just need to do my hair, then we can head out," Freya smiled, giving Matthew a quick peck as she walked into his bathroom. He followed her, watching as she took the heated curling iron and spun a piece of her dirty blonde hair around it. After finishing some loose curls and setting them with hair spray, Freya did a once over in the mirror.

"What d'you think, Matty?"

"Hottest girl on this planet," he smirked, trailing kisses along her neck.

"Stop! We've gotta get to the courthouse."

"Right, right. But after..."

"Matt!"

"We've gotta consummate the marriage, Frey."

She giggled, hiding her face in his neck. He placed a kiss to her head, spinning her around so he could admire them in the mirror. She grabbed her phone, snapping a quick mirror pic.

"That one's getting framed," she nodded, zooming on her boyfriend's face.

"Are you sure you don't want me to shave? Just for the photos?" Matt offered.

"No! The scruff is soooo hot! Jess said we have to look hot for our photos!"

"Okay, okay. Can't believe Jess knows we're getting married, but our families don't."

"We'll tell them when it's time. Plus, Jess is good at keeping secrets."

That was true. Freya's best friend, Jessica, had been keeping the couple's relationship a secret for a year and a half now. The girls had met at University of Miami two years before and had been best friends ever since.

"You got your ring?" Matthew asked, placing the small velvet box in his suit jack.

"Yes, sir! I'm so excited!"

"Me too, baby. Can't wait for you to be Mrs. Tkachuk."

"Sounds so hot when you say it," she flirted, placing a hand on his lapel.

He winked, "Sit on the bed. I'll help you with your heels."

Freya complied, bouncing as she sat down. Matt grabbed the strappy, white heels from his closet. He guided her feet into them, gently doing up the buckles. She ran a hand through his hair, fixing it the way she liked it.

"Shall we, Future Mrs. Tkachuk?"

"We shall," she giggled, interlocking their arms as they walked to the parking garage.

"And Miss Hughes, do you take Matthew Tkachuk to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the man behind the counter asked.

"I do," she beamed, holding Matt's hands tightly in her own.

"Do you, Mr. Tkachuk, take Freya Hughes to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"You may now kiss the bride."

The couple met in a sweet kiss, not wanting it to be too long in the public courthouse.

"If you'll both just sign here and here," the man smiled, sliding the paper and pen towards the couple. "Pefect! You two are now legally married. Congratulations!"

Freya's smile was so wide, it hurt her cheeks. She was practically jumping as they exited the building. Matthew was smiling just as brightly, tightly gripping onto his wife's waist.

"Jess!" Freya exclaimed, throwing her arms around her best friend.

"There's Mrs. Tkachuk! Always knew you two would end up together, Frey. I've been telling you since we met," Jess whispered. Freya blushed, pushing her best friend.

"Let's go take some photos!" Matthew guided the girls into his car, driving them down to a small, very private park. They snapped some cute photos together, before Jess handed Freya a bottle of champagne. She shook it, spraying the alcohol all over herself and her husband. Jess got some amazing candids of the couple, especially as they met in a passionate kiss that she snapped a few shots of.

"Enjoy your wedding night!" Jess shouted, waving goodbye.

Freya couldn't stop giggling as they entered Matt's bedroom, "We're married! I'm married to the love of my life!"

"Did you chug a bunch of that champagne when I wasn't looking? Or are you just drunk on love?" Matt teased.

"Matt! We're married!"

"I know, love! Freya Tkachuk. God, that sounds so hot," his voice was gruff as he pulled her on top of him on the bed.

"I love you so much," she pressed kisses all over his face.

"I love you too, Frey. Now... shall we make this marriage official," he smirked, placing his hands on her hips.

"Any cute boys at school?" Ellen asked.

"What? No, Mom. I told you I'm focusing on my degree," Freya giggled, helping her mom to make dinner. They were at the cottage that Quinn and Jack had purchased. The Hughes family had invited the Tkachuks for a weekend and Freya was desperately trying to hide her excitement, having not seen her husband in just over a month.

"I know, I know. Just thought maybe some would've caught your eye. Who knows... maybe when Luke's friends come you'll find one of them cute."

"Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry. But, Luke told me that Dylan's little brother is single."

"MOM!"

Ellen laughed, continuing to cut up the fruit in front of her.

"We're home!" Quinn shouted, placing his keys in the bowl in the front hall. Ellen quickly wiped her hands off, running to meet their guests.

"Chantal! Keith! How've you been?"

The two families immediately started chatting away, Freya biting her lip when she saw Matt wink at her. She was pulled into a conversation with Chantal about school and if Matt had helped her out at all while living in Flordia.

"Oh, yeah. He always asks if I need anything. I even went to a few games first semester," she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Look at that ring! So cute! Where'd you get it?" Taryn squealed.

"My best friend Jess bought it for me!" Freya lied. That was the excuse that the couple had come up with. Matt had 'bought his own ring' and 'Jess' had bought Freya's.

"It's beautiful! Could be a wedding ring!"

"Yeah. She's the best."

"You live with Jess?" Chantal asked.

"Yeah, yeah. We've lived together this past year."

"Before we get too far into conversation, let's show everyone their rooms," Ellen smiled, unknowingly saving Freya from crafting more lies.

After a dinner full of catching up, Matt and Freya sat around the fire with the rest of the kids. The adults had called it a night an hour before, but the young adults were still buzzing with excitement. Freya was clasping a seltzer between her hands, sitting between her twin and Taryn.

"No boyfriend?" Taryn asked, taking a sip of her White Claw.

"Hm? I'm too focused on school."

"Lukey's been trying to set her up with Tyler Duke, but she's not interested," Quinn snorted from beside Brady.

"He's just... not my type."

"Not your type? Tyler is like the definition of your type, Frey! Curly haired, hockey player? You'd marry him on the spot if you hadn't convinced yourself you're focused on your studies," Luke laughed.

Freya's eyes looked around the fire, meeting with Matt's, who had his eyebrow quirked.

"Tell us more about this Tyler kid," he mused, taking a long drink from his beer.

"He's a sophmore at Umich. Is madly in love with Freya and has been since I started doing hockey with Dylan. They even kissed when they were like 14."

"Luke! Stop!" Freya hid her face in her hands. Matthew looked unimpressed, chugging the rest of his beer, before cracking open another one.

"Maybe Freya doesn't like younger guys," Jack joked, making Matthew cover his smirk with his new drink.

"Can we stop talking about my love life? Please!"

"It's okay, Frey. Matt's is just as sad," Brady joked, patting his older brother on the back.

"What can I say? Baby brother got married before me, and all my hopes and dreams went down the drain," Matt retorted, staring directly at Freya. She swallowed harshly, now reaching for another drink. She couldn't do this sober.

After the awkward conversation about her love life, or lack there of, Freya was silent. She didn't want to accidentally say something to out the face that she was married at 20, especially with all the alcohol running through her system. It wasn't until the next day that things really went down hill.

Everyone was paying Quinn to get more alcohol for that night. Matt opened his wallet when a photo fell out, not noticing he fished out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the eldest Hughes. Luke bent down, grabbing the photo that had fallen on the floor. His brow furrowed as he studied the image. His sister in a Panthers jersey, her arms wrapped around a sweaty looking Matt.

"What's wrong, Rusty?" Jack laughed, "What's that?"

Luke handed the photo to his brother, who also took a moment to study it.

"Is that Freya?"

"What're we looking at?" Freya smiled, pushing her way between her brothers. Her face fell, "Where'd you get that?"

"Matt dropped it," Luke's eyes narrowed at his sister.

"Oh. Hm, that's... huh," she trailed off.

"Quinn! Come look at this!" Jack waved over his brother, who was chatting with Brady. Matt had disappeared off to the kitchen to talk to Jim.

"Why? Oh... Frey?" Quinn shot her a questioning look after being handed the photo.

"Why's everyone so upset? We're friends," she tried to smile.

"Then why's it in his wallet?" Luke sneered.

"Because... we're really good friends?" she shrugged, sounding unsure of herself.

Quinn huffed, pushing the photo into Jack's chest. He stormed off to the kitchen, followed by the rest of the kids. He harshly pushed Matt, making the taller boy stumble.

"Wow. What the hell, Quinn?" Matt turned around.

"You're fucking my little sister?! She's barely legal, Matthew! And you're fucking 26!"

"Quinn," Ellen warned, but her son didn't listen. He pushed Matt again, this time getting a shove in return.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but you need to calm the fuck down," Matt attempted to keep his composure, knowing he could easily overpower the Hughes' boy.

"Don't even pretend to be innocent! You've been sleeping with Freya!"

"Freya? What's Quinn talking about, dear?" Ellen asked, moving away from the boys.

"I- I don't know, Mom."

"Bullshit! Look at this, Mom!" Jack handed the photo over. Ellen looked it over, a confused expression covering her face. She met Freya's pleading eyes, biting her bottom lip.

The fight between Quinn and Matt was escalating. After a particularly harsh push from Quinn, Matthew tackled him to the floor. The kitchen broke out into hysterics. Everyone was shouting, telling the boys to stop. Freya had started to cry, Taryn holding onto her tightly. Even if Taryn was a little upset she didn't know about her childhood friend's relationship with her brother, she was still going to support her.

"Enough!" Jim's voice broke through the noise, he and Keith wrangled Mattew off Quinn. "Everyone in the living room, now!"

Freya stood next to Taryn, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Quinn and Luke were fuming. Jack appeared to be a bit upset, but he wasn't as protective over his little sister.

"Someone, please, explain what the hell is going on here!" Jim boomed.

"Matt's been taking advantage of Freya!" Quinn exclaimed.

"Matthew," Chantal looked towards her oldest.

"He- he's not taking advantage of me," Freya wiped her nose on the sleeve of her hoodie.

"Let's hear what Matthew and Freya have to say before we jump to conclusions," Ellen mediated.

"I-" Freya started.

"We're married," Matthew cut her off. Silence filled the room.

"You're what?!" Jim asked, anger covering his face.

"We- we got married at the end of the semester," Freya explained, more tears leaving her eyes. Taryn rubbed her back comfortingly.

"Why?! Are you pregnant?!" Chantal gasped.

"No, Mom. She's not pregnant. We- we love each other."

"She's 20!" Luke yelled.

"This... this does seem a bit sudden, Frey," Jack mumbled.

"No! Matthew and I are in love!" Freya sobbed, standing up and moving towards him. Jim stopped her before she could, handing her over to her mother.

"I think it's best you leave, Matthew," Jim sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"You're kicking my son out for being in love?!" Chantal screeched, "No way!"

"She's practically still a teenager!" Quinn retorted.

"She's an adult! And they made an adult decision. Although, I would've appreciated an invite."

"It was private, Mom. Just us at the courthouse."

"You got fucking eloped to him?!" Quinn growled at his sister. She sobbed harder, hiding her face in her mom's shoulder.

"I think it's best if we all leave," Keith sighed, patting Jim on the back.

"No! Matty," Freya cried, but Ellen pulled her back.

"Shh, love. It's okay," she cooed, running a hand through Freya's hair.

Matthew nodded solemnly. And just like that the Tkachuks were gone.

"Freya, why did you think it was a good idea to get eloped?" Jim asked, sitting across from his daughter at the table.

"I- I love him. We just... it felt right."

"We... we just would've liked to know, Frey. That's a big decision to make."

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry. We were just happy living in our own little world. We were going to tell everyone later."

"We're happy that you're happy, Freya. You just need to get your brothers to feel the same way. I'm sorry for kicking Matthew out, I just didn't want the boys to fight anymore. And it is Quinn's house," Jim sighed.

"Thanks, Dad. It's okay. I'm sure Matt understands. I love you guys."

"We love you too, Freya," Ellen smiled, pulling her daughter in for a hug.

Freya knocked on Quinn's door, getting an exasperated "WHAT?!" in response.

"It's Frey. Can we talk?"

"I'm not sure I want to," Quinn replied.

"Come on, Quinn. Hear me out."

"Fine. Come in."

Freya sat on the edge of her brother's bed, him sitting next to her. The air in the room felt thick, and it made her anxiety even worse.

"I'm- Freya, I just want to understand what your thought process was when you decided to get married to a guy you've been with for a year."

"I'm in love. Don't people say love makes you do dumb things?"

"He's 26."

"I know. But I'm an adult too. It isn't illegal. And it's not like I married some random guy. You know Matt. You've known Matt forever."

"Doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Are you sure this wasn't a shotgun wedding?"

"I'm not pregnant! We're always safe when we-"

"I don't want to hear about your sex life. Especially your sex life with Matthew Tkachuk," Quinn groaned. "But I guess I'm relieved you aren't pregnant."

"Yeah, me too," she giggled.

"Look, I'll get over this, Frey. I just need time. I'm your big brother and I'll always love you, but... I don't know how to feel about this."

"But it has nothing to do with you, Quinn. It's my life. I decided to get married."

"Nothing to do with me? Freya, you're my little sister. And you kept this secret from the whole family. I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to be pissed! Especially when you married my best friend's older brother!"

"I- I'm sorry, Quinn. I'll give you the time. But please remember that I... I am an adult."

"I know, Freya. I know. I- I love you."

"Love you too, Quinn."

"Cracking Luke isn't going to be this easy. He's really upset," Quinn sighed.

Freya entered Luke's room, "Leave."

"Luke."

"No. Leave. I don't want to see you."

"Luke-"

"Leave, Freya! I don't want to talk to you! You betrayed my trust."

"I'm not leaving, Luke."

He sat up in his bed and if looks could kill, Freya would be dead.

"Fine. You want to hear what I have to say? I'm pissed. I am so fucking mad at you. You're my twin! You... you've always told me everything! And I tell you everything! Then I have to find out through a photo that you're not even just dating Matthew Tkachuk... you're married to the fucking guy! Would've been nice to know! Like I don't know... when you started TALKING TO HIM!"

"Luke-"

"No, Freya. I don't want to hear your side of things. Leave. NOW!"

Freya returned to her room with tears in her eyes, clicking on Matt's contact and holding her phone up to her ear.

"Hey, baby. Everything okay?"

"Mom and Dad are happy for us. Quinn said he'll get over it. I don't think Jack even cares. But Luke... Luke is really mad at me. I don't think he's been this mad since I broke his Sidney Crosby mini stick when we were kids."

"I- I can come get you, love. Go for a little drive."

"I want to go home, Matty."

"Home? Like Florida?"

"Yes," she sobbed.

"Okay... okay, baby. We can do that. I-"

"Come get me."

"Okay, yeah. I'm coming. I love you, Freya."

"I love you too, Matt."

A week later, Freya felt like she could finally breathe. Matt wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. He rocked them back and forth, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

"I love you."

"I love you too. You wanna get ready for bed? It's been a long couple of days."

She shook her head, spinning to wrap her arms around his neck.

"What do you want, Frey? Anything you want."

"You," she whispered, meeting their lips in a sweet kiss.

The next morning, Freya woke up to her phone ringing repeatedly.

"Hello?" she answered sleepily. Matthew groaned, rolling over and pulling her body closer to his.

"Hey, Frey! Luke's kind of miserable. D'you think you could talk to him?" Jack's voice broke through the speaker.

"Um... he said he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Who is it?" Matt mumbled.

"He's just being dumb! Frey, you're his best friend in the whole world. He's all mopey without you."

"Then he can apologize for yelling at me and then I'll think about it."

"Frey-"

"Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to enjoy my alone time with my husband."

"Ew-"

Freya hung up, placing her phone back on the nightstand. Matt sighed, throwing her leg over his hip. He buried his head in her neck, his breathing falling into a steady pattern as he fell back asleep. Freya couldn't sleep though, she just wanted Luke to accept that she was happy, why was it so hard for him?

Luke had typed the message to his sister out at least 15 times, but he couldn't find the words to describe how he was feeling. Quinn and Jack, with the help of their parents, had talked some sense into him. He understood that he had the right to be upset with Freya, but he had taken it too far. Now, he just needed his apology to seem sincere and heartfelt.

"Just tell her exactly how you feel," Jack shrugged.

"Ew, you're making it sound like I'm confessing my feelings to a girl."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Luke. Just text our fucking sister."

Hey, Freya. I know I shouldv'e done this sooner, but the way I reacted to the news of you and Matt was immature and unfair to you. You were already feeling so much stress and I just added to that. I have the right to be a little upset, but you're right... you don't have to tell me everything. I love you, Frey. Text me when you see this

When Freya saw that text, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. Rolling over and pressing kisses all over Matthew's exposed skin.

"Hm," he groaned, "What's got you in such a good mood?"

"Luke apologized! Everyone is happy for us!"

"That's good. Now sleep. You look exhausted, babe."

"I can't sleep now! Everything is the way I always wanted it to be!"

"Mmm, yeah. That's awesome, Frey."

"Matty! This is the best!"

He laughed, watching sleepily as she straddled his waist. He placed his hands on her hips, running his thumbs over the smooth skin.

"I'm happy that you're happy, baby."

"I'm so happy! Almost as happy as when we got married," she smirked.

"Nothing can top that."

And with that Freya leaned forward and connected their lips. Morning breath or not this was the man she loved, and now she could share him with the world.

[darlingdia1007]

OMG hi I saw that you ate taking requests and I just HAD to request.

Could you maybe do a Stanley x F! Reader where they are an old married couple and resder is angry about something and keeps cussing and being a meanie. The twins are scared and looking at grunkle stan for help about this and to calm Reader down before she sets the shack on fire but Stanley just says this is normal and he intact finds it incredibly hot.😜😜

Beating the heat

(Thank you for requesting this one. It seems very silly honestly. I do apologize, it’s been a while since I’ve written a fanfic.)

It was around 1:30pm when the temperatures had reached its highest of 105° degrees and the AC wasn’t working correctly in the shack. Stepping outside wasn’t the best idea either since the wind would only blow hot air.

Stan and his wife were sitting at the kitchen table as they began debating if they should close the shack since it would become a bigger issue as the day went on. This heat was slowly getting to (Y/N) very quickly. Placing her hand on the collar of her shirt, she began to fan herself with her shirt. Beads of sweat slowly moved down her face as the breeze she created felt amazing.

“Even when you’re melting over there, I bet I can Make you melt in other ways~” a scraggly voice said in front of you. Stan had made one of his “flirty” remarks at you. Most of the time you would love them and shoot one back his way, but dear lord was it a bad time. “Hun, Right now isn’t the best time.” She said as she looked at him and rolled her eyes. This heat was really getting to her now. “Oh come on, you love that one!” He remarked as he got up from his chair.

Sometimes, even after the 30 years the two had been together, married, she could still get mad at him for reals sometimes. This was one of these moments. Getting up from her chair, she had quickly put your chair back into its place and entered the gift shop. An Idea that would probably save her life but she couldn’t do it till everyone was out of the gift shop.

Reaching for the open sign, she switched it to closed as to let people know they will be closed for the rest of the day. Now the only issue was getting people to leave the gift shop. Sitting herself down at the register, she began helping people pay out one by one. Around 20 minutes later, the last customer left. She smiled and waved goodbye to the woman and hurriedly locked the door.

A sign of relief left her lips as she ran a hand through her graying hair. Stepping away from the door, she went to the vending machine and began typing in the familiar code as she made her way down the stairs.

—————————————————————

“Grunkle stan, Why does Grauntie (Y/N) seem… mad?” Mabel had squeaked out from around the corner when leaving the gift shop and entered the living room where her grunkle was seated while watching the TV. “Mad? What do you mean kiddo?” He looked at Mabel in confusion when Dipper came from behind his sister. “She was all pushy and grouchy towards the customers when she was checking them out. She was also sweating pretty hard.” He wiped the sweat from his hands as he soon realized it was getting a little hot.

Stan sat there for a sec and an idea popped into his head, “Kids, go get your swim suits, we’re going to the pool.” Shouts of excitement lept from the kids.

——————————————————————

“Ford… hello?” She had made it to the last couple of steps as she placed her foot on the solid floor. It was surprisingly cold down here so the biggest smile crept onto her face. Standing next to the stairs, she closed her eyes and embraced the cold that was creeping over her body. Unknowingly to her, her brother-in-law heard her and was walking towards her. “Yes?” He asked as he looked at her.

“Oh good, you’re here! I need to ask the biggest favor.” She pleaded as she looked at him. “The AC is broken and I have no clue what’s wrong with it. Could you please save me and fix it? I’ll make you those sugar cookies you really like.”

His attention was quickly caught on when he heard that his favorite dessert was about to be made for him. “I’ll get right to it then.” A small smile was placed on her face as she began to go up the stairs when she heard a familiar voice that she was a little annoyed at.

“(Y/N) are you down here? Honey?” It was Stan. Her smile left her face when heard her husband calling her name. Finally making it to the surface, she came face to face with him. “God you look so hot when you’re feisty.” He quickly grabbed her and spun her around. She couldn’t be mad at him for long after that. A small kiss was placed on her lips as she held onto him, slowly melting at the affectionate she was being given from him.

“See, I told you I could make you melt.” He laughed as her face quickly became sour and pushed him away. “What? I can’t like my women a little feisty?! Hey, go get your bathing suit, I’m taking you and the kids to go swimming to beat this heat.” He began walking back to the living room as (Y/N) stood there at the small gesture.

Walking upstairs to their bedroom, the sounds of floorboard creaked as she made her way to their shared bedroom. Quickly reaching to the dresser to pull out her swimsuit, she placed it on the bed and grabbed the sunscreen, sunglasses, and the beach bag. Everything was packed and ready for the pool. The sounds of laughter could be heard from the outside porch as the twins were talking to each other. Mabel seemed to be the most excited out of the two of them though.

“Honey, we gotta be home before 5, I still need to make the cookies I promised your brother.” You had said as Stan walked out in his swimsuit. Those adorable striped swimsuits would never get old.

[man3at3r-mp4]

𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔟 hazbin hotel x male reader : Chapter Ⅳ - overture

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐲 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 & 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐨𝐧

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

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Blame Chris for me not being able to update guys :((/jay

I'm sorry this was really overdue.

‘*lamb*’

That word echoed in your head, as you suddenly sat up, panting as you glanced around the room. Shit. Did you fall asleep?

God, you groaned as you rubbed your head. “What the hell was that dream even about…”

You've been getting a bunch of those strange dreams lately. Almost always in Eden, which was strange because you've never been there. But why did its surroundings feel so familiar?

You glanced at the foot of your bed and saw Shelly, the blue puppy eyes staring up at you with concern.

You snorted, petting his soft fur, “I’m fine Skelly..” you said softly. The puppy’s tail began to wag enthusiastically as he barked in response.

“Mostly anyways…” you added, quietly. Your thoughts still lingered on the marriage proposal. Your mouth suddenly tastes bitter, like you had doused an entire jug of extremely sour lemonade.

You were still pissed off and rightfully so. Having your entire life signed away by your sisters wasn't on his bucket list.

Your life has always been assigned to you; what you'd do, what you'd wear. Etc. you had hoped Sara would have the decency to allow you to decide who and when you'd marry. But you supposed you were being foolish to think so.

A sudden knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts. You groaned, you really didn't want to see anyone right now. But you knew better than to ignore whoever was at the door.

Sluggishly, you sat up from your bed and begrudgingly made your way to the door. You took in a deep breath, before opening the door.

Your smile immediately dropped as you realized who it was.

“Hey babe” Adam’s infuriating voice called out as he leaned against the doorframe; behind him you could see Lute standing there, looking just as unamused as you did.

“So like-” Before he could even finish you slammed the door in his face, or at least tried too.

Adam seemed to expect this, as he propped his foot in the gap of the door before you could fully shut it. He let out a yell of pain, “ fuck!” He growled out.

Lute quickly rushed over to her boss, “Sir, are you okay?” She asked, with genuine concern.

“Of course I'm not!” He spat, shooting a glare at the female. “Anyways…” he said, his voice slightly strained from the pain. “We really really need to talk, and I'm not taking no for an answer so get your gay ass out here.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, as you continued to try and slam the door shut; purposely using more force this time.

“OW! YOU FUCKING BI-”

You slammed the door again.

“FUCK! STOP IT!”

And again.

“YOUR MAJESTY!” Lute yelled, desperately trying to get you to stop before you crush Adam's foot until it's flatter than flat Stanley.

You did it again.

“I'll talk with you once you ask me nicely.”

“What the hell?- no-”

You slammed the door again.

“FUCK OKAY-” he wheezed out. “Please….” he said quietly.

You rose a brow, “sorry what was that?” You asked mockingly, “I can't really hear you.”

“I said..could you remove the door off my foot..” he grumbled. You remained silent, that wasn't good enough.

“Please…” he whimpered out, quietly. You heard Lute stifle a laugh from beside him. A smile made its way onto your face as you opened the door.

“Why of course, now what did you want to talk about…” it was amusing to have Adam beg you. You weren't a sadist but it was funny to have a man so narcissistic look up at you with big puppy dog eyes.

You hoped this wasn't a fetish a thing and just you having some weird psychological thing. You are not a sadist.

While Adam tried to regain his composure, Lute decided to speak on his behalf. “Well…” she began. “We’re here to ask you to accompany us to a meeting.” You crossed your arms, quirking a brow. You were kinda intrigued about what this meeting is about.

“What's this meeting about?” You questioned, one of your ears flicking as you spoke.

Lute glanced at Adam, who was still recovering from the pain. She watched as he gave her a shaky thumbs up, giving her the go ahead. She sighed, her gaze drifting back to you. “We’re having a meeting with the princess of hell about the…exterminations” she explained.

“Oh..” was all you could muster up to say, but your interest was piqued. You were aware about the exterminations, Sara had told you years ago. You didn't know why she told you specifically. But she did. She asked you to not say a word to anyone else about it, and you didn't.

As much as Sara pissed you off sometimes, especially considering your current situation. You never thought even once to spill out the little secret she told you. You thought it was fucked up, you couldn't lie. You still do, but you were so caught up in your heavenly duties, you had forgotten about them.

A sense of guilt began to wash over you, you really didn't do much to convince sera and Adam to not go through with them. You tried a few times and then just… gave up, you could've tried harder. Sure they probably wouldn't have listened, but at least you'd know you did everything you could.

Lute seemed to notice your silence, and awkwardly adjusted her uniform sleeves. “Look..” she said. “If..if you don't want to come; that's fine..I'm sure Adam would throw a fit. But I'm sure he'd calm down after I take him to the new smoothie place that opened up.” She suggested, her voice slightly cracking. You could tell she wasn't really sure what to do. But you appreciated her consideration to ensure that you were comfortable.

“No, it's fine..I'll go.” You replied softly.

“You will?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Adam, who had finally recovered, seemed just as surprised as she was.

“Yeah..uh…I don't know..could be interesting I guess..” you shrugged, hoping to not sound too awkward.

“Fuck yes!” Adam cheered, suddenly wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling you closer. “Alright and after we talk to this bitch, we can do some actual fun shit” he suggested.

You couldn't help but crack a small smile as Adam went on and on about some plans he had for you and him. Your gaze slowly drifted to Lute, she seemed to notice your gaze, and quickly looked away.

You snorted at her awkwardness, as you turned your attention back to Adam.

Maybe, a meeting with the princess is what you needed to find out what you were meant to do in this life. You might even go to hell on official business, and not just you fucking around with portals.

You took back what you said, this was significantly less cool than you thought.

You, Adam, and Lute were sitting in one of Heaven's multiple meeting rooms. As you waited for the princess to arrive. Oh yeah, and Adam was eating some spare ribs. He offered you some which you declined.

Apparently, neither of them had the decency to actually go to hell and speak with Charlie face to face. So you'd just have your holograms in the meeting room instead. Which as much as you wanted to curse them out for being disrespectful, you knew you had know place to speak. With all the times you've snook down to hell, you've seen Charlie's face multiple times and yet you've never taken time out of your day to actually go see her.

You shrunk back in your seat, glancing at Adam who sat at the head of the table. “Can't we-”

“Shh, hot stuff I hear footsteps.” He raised up his hand to silence you, causing you to frown.

You furrowed your brows as you watched Lute turn off the lights in the Hell meeting room, you saw no point in needing to spook her but you did little to stop them.

You glanced over at the doors direction as you heard it open and a familiar voice called out.

“Uh hello?” You watched the blonde demon step into the dark room, glancing around her surroundings. “Is anyone…here?”

The lights suddenly turned on, “Sup” he said. Charlie, clearly not expecting this, jolted as she tripped over her own feet.

“Oh shit-” you heard her say, your eyes widening as you tilted your head to make sure she was okay.

Her head then popped up from the other end of the table, her bangs ruffled and now covering her right eye. You snickered a bit as she greeted the three of you.

She quickly stood up and fixed her hair, “oh hi! I'm Charlie, my dad asked me if I could meet you” she smiled.

You found yourself frowning at Adam’s dismissive response. Your gaze shifting over to Charlie once more.

“Okay well it's nice to meet you..” she said as she furrowed her brows, clearly looking awkward. As she reached out her hand for Adam to shake.

“Totally, nice to meet you too..” Adam leaned forward to shake her hand, you frowned clearly knowing where this was going.

Charlie's hand phased through Adam’s hand, causing her to retract it almost immediately, her eyes wide. “Oooh!”

You rolled your eyes as you watched Adam cackle about how ‘ he got her’. “Did ya see that?” He leaned his head over to you.

You shook your head, your gaze falling back on Charlie. “Sorry about him..” you said, causing her to snap out of daze. “He peaked in high school, which is ironic because he didn't even go to one.” You scoffed. “Charlie right?” You asked, “I'm Y/n”

Charlie’s smile returned at your warm welcome, “nice to meet you too Y/n” she replied. She held her hand out again, on instinct.

You laughed softly, “sorry..I'm a hologram too” , your voice sounding apologetic. “But if I wasn't I'd shake your hand..”

Charlie nodded, laughing nervously. “Oh right! Sorry..”. Her eyes suddenly went wide as she processed your words. “Wait..hologram? So you guys aren't here?” She asked.

You went to reply but were cut off by Adam, “um no. You'd think we'd come down there-” you rose a brow at his usage of ‘we'. The exterminator laughed as he continued. “No, I mean I love the vibe. Love your tunes.” He pointed at the female demon, as he leaned in closer. “Pretty fucking hardcore, don't get me wrong”

He leaned back as he pressed his cheek against the cold marble table. “But it's SUCH a bummer”

“Ugh, you rolled your eyes at his behavior. Why did he always have to act like such a child all the time? You watched as he went on for a few more seconds before Charlie responded.

“Right…” she replied, voice slightly strained. You don't blame her for being irritated. Before she jumped right back into her bubbly self again, “So! I'm glad we got this opportunity to meet! There's a project I've been working on. That I Really-” she leaned in closer, to enunciate her enthusiasm.

Adam cut her off, placing his pointer finger against her lips to silence her. “Hey hey hey..slow down-” he says. “We got time..how about we get to know each other first? How about some lunch hmm? You hungry?” He offered.

“I got you” He handed out the plate of ribs, “here's my personal favorite I got you.”

“Uh thanks..” Charlie said as she reached down to grab one.

“Charlie wait-” you went to stop her, but it was too late, her hand phased through the plate. Causing Adam to burst into a fit of laughter once more.

You and Charlie shared similar unamused looks. “I got you again BITCH!” Adam cackled. “Fuckin hilarious”

You had enough, and yanked Adam back by his collar. Causing him to yelp, “babe what the hell?”

“Can you stop acting like you just crawled out of a cheesy 80s movie and act like an adult.” You spat, causing him to roll his eyes.

“I'm just having fun..” he grumbled, like a child.

You raised a brow, “we came here for a meeting, that's why we're in a meeting room..y'know to discuss things..” you said, crossing your arms.

“And we will just chillax lamb chop~” he teased, patting your head as he wiggled out of your grip.

‘*lamb chop?*’ you thought. ‘*that's a new one’

You don't know how long it's been, but it's been at least an hour or Adam blabbering about some stupid shit no one but him would care about.

You and Charlie sat there completely bored out of your minds. You had your cheek pressed against the table, while Charlie had her head in her hand while you both listened to the angel.

“So I was playing this gig, and this virtue chick was digging on the drummer. And it's like, ‘do you KNOW who I am? I'm Adam” he stood up from his seat, as he pointed down to his pelvis. “I'm the original dick! All dicks descend from me! You think you want drummer dick? He'll no!-” Lute shook her head in agreement with Adam.

You and Charlie shared a look, as he continued.

“I'm the dick fucking master-” he took a bite of a rib as he finished. “Anyways..then we fucked..it was awesome. What'd you do this weekend?”

Charlie’s eyes went wide as she suddenly realized something. “Wait- your name is Adam? Like the first man Adam? That means you-” she cut herself off as she leaned back. “Ohhhh, that explains so much…” she whispered.

You laughed at her expression, “you're telling me..” you said in agreement. Causing Adam to shoot a glare at you, “hey, you better get used to it, lamb chop.” He said, “cause you're getting married to all of this-” he ran his hands down his body to make his point clear.

“Eugh…” you groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Woah- you're marrying him..?” Charlie butted in, her eyes wide.

“Yep, he is.” Adam said, boastfully. “The original dick and the Prince of heaven getting tied down to each other.” He adds. “It's perfect, I do deserve the best.”

“Prince?” She glanced over at you in confusion. “But..I thought the Prince's name was el-” she suddenly shook her head. “Wait nevermind i'm getting side tracked”

You blinked, wondering what she was going to say? El- what? Your name's y/n, it's always been y/n. You shook your head, she's probably just remembering some things wrong.

“Well Adam sir..Mr. Adam sir” she began, standing up from her spot.

“Call me Dickmaster”

“Adam..” she said with a deadpan expression.

“You seem like a smart- we'll stand up guy!-” she began to walk closer towards him.

You crossed your arms, as you watched Adam respond once more with uninterest. You did a hand motion to urge her to keep going, which she smiled at.

“And I know you are the leader of the angels. and you're a big thinker! A revolutionary! A-A genius!”she threw her arms in her air.

“I mean your words, babe” responded Adam, as he grabbed another rib.

“Who would really love to put his name on something-”

“I love putting my name on shit! Shits the best!” He exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table which caused you to jolt upward.

“It's the solution to our biggest problem!!!” She smiled.

“Oh herpes?” Adam sighed, “yeah that's a bitch..”.

“What?” You replied, clearly confused as to how that was the first thing he thought about.

“No! Our-” she fiddled with her fingers nervously. “Our other biggest problem!”

“Oh uh..ugly people?” He asked.

“Dude–” you interrupted, clearly irritated.

“Well you don't have to worry about that, you're the hottest piece of ass in heaven..” he winked, in your direction. Which unfortunately, caused you to blush a little, clearly embarrassed he said that right in front of Charlie.

Adam went back to guessing “Math? Global warming? Oh no wait, that's earths problem um-”

It's been 30 minutes, and Adam still hasn't figured out what Charlie meant. All three of you sat around the table once more, Charlie clearly exhausted, with her head in her palms. While you sat there, arms crossed, as your left eye twitched as Adam kept going.

“And when you take her out for the fifth time and she still expects you to pay the check” Charlie looked just about done, as she cradled her head in her hands. “ hey I thought you wanted equality” Adam finished, raising his voice.

“NO!” Charlie groaned out, “our shared problem of overpopulation in hell”

“Ohhhh..” Adam says, ignoring the glare you were giving him. “ Well that's not a problem! We got that covered.” He turned to face Lute. “Lute, how many demons did you kill this year?” He asked. The said angel, stepping forward as she was addressed.

“Got a good 275 this year, sir” she answered.

“275!?” Woah! Badass! Awesome job, Danger tits. Pound it” he held out his fist for a fist bump, which Lute returned. You shook your head at their behavior.

“Uh no! Not awesome. Those are my people” she placed her hands on the cold surface of the table. “You do know that right?”

“Oh yeah…” he fakes concern. “That must suck for you pfft- HAHAHA-” he laughed.

“ADAM!” You yelled at him, causing him to stop momentarily. Looking at you with genuine confusion.

“What?”

“But..these are souls…human souls” Charlie spoke, her smile turning into a frown. “Just the same as the ones that you have in heaven”

“They are not the same.” Lute spoke up. Your eyes drifting to the female exterminator. “They had their chance and they earned damnation” she said, her voice lacking any sympathy.

“You're wrong,” Charlie shook her head. “Sinners make mistakes, sure. But everyone makes mistakes ..” you glanced awkwardly to the side, lord knows you have.

“Angels don't make mistakes.” Lute retorted.

“You really think that?” Charlie narrowed her eyes. The exterminator copied her motion.

“I know that.”

“Yeah” Adam interrupted, “I've never made a mistake in my fucking life”. You shot him another glare, which he caught. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“The only reason you're still here-” lute made her way over to where Charlie sat. Her arms resting behind her back. “Is because daddy gave you and your hellborn kind from an exorcist blade.” She leaned in closer to the demon, “how does that feel?” She moved to the other side of Charlie's chair. “ to know how little you matter.”

Your eyes widened at her cruelty, you had known Lute’s distaste for demons . But you've never seen it in realtime before. Charlie shrunk back at her words, hurt clearly flashing across her face.

You frowned, giving her a sympathetic look. “Ooops~” Adam stretches back in his seat. “Almost out of time,guess we should get into it..”

“You do realize this meeting woulda been shorter if you woulda just let her start off with it” you shook your head. Adam only shrugged in response.

“Oh! Charlie perks up. “Fuck!” She practically leaped out of her chair as she rushed over to the closest seat to Adam.

“Oop- I got a lot to get through and not a lot of time, and I feel like you weren't hearing me before so here it goes ahem” she grabbed the pile of papers she brought and began.

“So hell's population is out of control” she showed a silly drawing she did of multiple sinners in hell. She ripped it off to reveal a new drawing of even more stickman sinners. “ It's a bad situation, it's taking a toll,” she gestured to her drawing. “If we rehab these sinners, and cleanse all their souls-” she threw the drawing aside to reveal the ‘Hazbin Hotel’ with a rainbow and various hearts around it. “At my Hazbin Hotel-” she rummaged through the other piles of papers. “Wait- I'm getting ahead of myself-”

She reached for another drawing of exterminators killing demons. “Right exterminations.”

Adam and Lute shared a skeptical look meanwhile you bobbed your head to the tune of Charlie’s singing.

“I know you guys fly down just to kill once a year and it must be annoying to schlep all the way here” she made a gesture with her fingers to signify the distance. “If they join you in heaven that trip disappears!” She threw both of her drawings over your heads, a rainbow and sparkles suddenly appearing between them. A sparkle landed on your nose causing you to sneeze.

“You can wave that chore farewell!” She let out a gasp. “It'll be a happy day in he-” she reached above her head to show off her final drawing of angels and demons holding hands under a rainbow.

“Let me stop you right there” Adam raised his hand, to cut her off. You could hear Charlie let out a quiet ‘oh’. “Save us all precious time” he continued.

“Okay..” Charlie says, holding her drawings close to her chest as she glanced at him nervously.

“If what you're suggesting” he placed his hands under his head, before he made a motion with his fingers of climbing. “Is letting them climb up the ladder, oh they’d rather cross the pearly gates?”

“Well I-”

“Sorry sweetie, but there's no defying their fate-” Adam suddenly flew and landed on top of the table, causing it to shake slightly. You stepped back in surprise, as you glanced up at your fiancé.

“Cause hell is forever, whether you like it or not” He crossed his arms as he stared down at Charlie. You narrowed your eyes as you heard the condescension in his tone.

“Had their chance to behave better, now they boil in a pot.” You scowled at his words as he continued. “Cause the rules are black and white. There's no use in trying to fight it. Their burning for their lives until we kill em again!”

Charlie clenched the drawings in her hands as she went to speak up again, but was cut off once more.

“Just try to chillax babe.” He placed his hands under his chin once more, as his voice dripped with mock gentleness. “You're wasting your breath.”

“Haha..” Charlie laughed dryly, only to nearly fall back as Adam leaned forward. “Did I hear you imply that they don't deserve death?!”

Charlie stepped back as Adam and Lute stepped forward, you hesitantly followed after them as you bit your lip. Not really knowing what to do.

“Are they winners? Are they sinners? Cuz it's cut and dry-”

“Well actually if you take a look at the-” she tried to speak once more.

“Fair is fair, an eye for an eye” Adam suddenly launched into the air, his wings creating a few dust clouds.

“And when all said in done” Adam sang, his golden wings outstretched as the ‘sun' shone behind him. Charlie narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Theirs the question of fun” he clasped his hands before he used the clouds as steps as he made his way back to the ground. “And For those of us with Divine Ordainment. Extermination is entertainment!” Him and Lute flew up into the sky, as Adam continued his singing “Bow-now-now-nownow. Guitar solo, fuck yeah!” He began to play air guitar, as lute danced behind him. You and Charlie stood there watching them both with similar expressions.

“Oh, da-ah-ah now-now-n-now-n-now-n-now-n-nownownow” Adam floated down and landed on the table again. “Hell is forever whether you like it or not” he began to clap on beat, as suddenly golden holograms of other exterminators appeared and began to clap along with Adam as they surrounded the princess. “Hell is forever whether you like or not”

“Where did all of you people come from?” She stammered as she backed up against the door.

“Had their chance to behave better now they boil in a pot. Cause the rules are black and white-” they all leaned in closer to Charlie, as they completely surrounded her. You hesitantly stepped forward concern knitting your brows as you tried to get a better look at the demon.

“There's no use in trying to fight it,” Adam and lute did a fist bump “their burning for their lives until we kill them again.” Suddenly in a gust of golden magic, Adam summoned his electric guitar. “Fuckin hell is forever and it's meant to suck a lot” as he played the guitar, the golden exterminators lost interest in Charlie as they flew up to join him.

“So give up your dumb endeavor. 'cause you don't have a shot!” Your eyes flickered to Charlie flinching as you watched her irritation grow. Her hair floating upwards as her horns began to grow, her eyes glowing a vibrant red. “Ughhh.” You heard her groan.

“ long as I got your attention, I should probably mention.” You yelped, as one of the exterminators grabbed your wrist and forced you to fly up with the others. “That we made the determination” you watched as Adam made his guitar disappear, only for him to replace it with a golden scroll.

“To move up the next extermination!” He leaned forward and revealed the scroll, showing her it read ‘I do what I fucking want’. Your eyes widened at this, you weren't made aware of this, and Charlie was just as shocked as you were.

“What-?” She tried to reach up to grab the scroll. “Can't wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts-” he suddenly ‘grabbed’ Charlie’s wrist. “It's only been a week, but we’ll be back in SIX MONTHS!” He then threw her and her drawings out of the meeting room.

You gasped, flying down as you tried to worm your way past Adam, but he took this the wrong way as he used his wing to push you closer to him, in an embrace as he finished his guitar riff.

You watched as Charlie desperately called out for him to wait, as the door shut on her.

As Adam finished his riff, the guitar disappeared.

You had enough, “what the hell was that?!” You spat angrily, causing him to raise a brow. “What? That sickass guitar solo? Did it get you creaming in your shorts? Because that was the point”

“No!” You growled. “You just- you just threw her out!” You gestured to the door. “You barely let her speak, you wasted half of this meeting on random bullshit no one but you cares about!”

Adam narrowed his eyes, “Sorry, I think my ears must be ringing cause it sounds like you're bitching to me about treating a demon like a demon.” He sassed, crossing his arms.

Your hands clenched into fists, “if you were just going to tell her that you were going to kill her people in six months then why did you waste this time and give her false hope?”

“I didn't do anything..” he shrugged. “It's not my fault that dumb bimbo thought I'd actually listen to her.”

You wanted to rip your hair out, “god! You're such a dick Adam!”

“Thanks, I am the original after all. I'm sorry I'm not a pansy and didn't lie to her face, lying is a demon's job. Look, I don't get why you're so upset . I told her how it is.”

You growled, he just wasn't getting it. You were sure he'd never will. “Fuck you.” You spat.

“That's what I'm trying to get you do, babes”

“Ugh! I'm done here, if you need me. You can go to sera since my opinion clearly doesn't matter to you anyways…” you grumbled as you exited the meeting room.

As you made your way back to your room, your eyes glanced up at one of the stained glass windows on the wall, it was of heaven and hell. The window depicted the vibrancy and holiness of heaven as the angels sent Lilith and Lucifer down to hell; while hell was painted grimly and monstrously dark as possible.

You sighed, you recognized a figure, stopping in front of the window. You gently reached up to caress Lucifer’s face, before you glanced at Lilith. You felt a sudden pull to two figures, you didn't know why.

“What secrets are they hiding from me?” You asked no one in particular. “Why do I feel like I know you.”

Please forget that I've been edging yall with this chapter for 4 months mkay thanks bbg. Also please give me theories in the comments I love seeing ppl theorize . Also join my discord <333

@king-zacharyy @mixplara @lukerycyja-reblogs

[jisforjudi2]

THE FAITHFUL SECRETARY

Chicago Tribune

UPDATED: August 10, 2021 at 12:23 a.m.

Before the women’s movement, back when Father knew best and network TV made room for Daddy, when Mary Tyler Moore was Laura Petrie, not Mary Richards, actress Barbara Hale was playing a single working woman on TV.

Hale, now 71, remembers what appealed to her about the role of Della Street, secretary to lawyer Perry Mason on the series that was based on the mysteries by Erle Stanley Gardner.

“When we started (in 1956), it was the beginning of women not working at home. I liked that she was not married. My husband didn’t have to see me every week married to another man, and our children didn’t have to see me mothering other children.

“When (my son) Billy was in the 1st grade, we went to school for the first parent meeting, and on his desk were little projects he’d made-pictures of Daddy and Mommy and his sister and his animals. And underneath my picture-I wish I had it now, but the teacher kept it-he’d written in inch-high block letters, `This is my mom. I love her. She is a secretary.”‘

On Friday, the latest Perry Mason two-hour movie, “The Case of the Telltale Talk Show Host,” will air on NBC, one of seven productions that will carry the courtroom stalwart and his unflappable Girl Friday into 1994.

“I guess I was just meant to be a secretary who doesn’t take shorthand,” she quips. “My assistant wants you to know I’m a lousy typist too-33 words a minute!”

The Emmy award-winning actress is a Hollywood survivor-going into her second half-century in a profession she never dreamed of pursuing. A veteran of the old studio system and of television’s infancy, her co-stars in those early years were household names-Sinatra and Cagney and Stewart and Mitchum-when she was the ingenue.

RKO Studios was her “paid education,” as she puts it, her training ground. She met her husband, actor Bill Williams (who died several months ago), over coffee at the studio commissary.

Today, she still offers ample evidence of the effervescent beauty she was in the ’40s and ’50s-and even earlier, in Rockford High School, when her buddies entered her in a May Queen contest and she won. “I still know them, dear, and we 15 get together every three years. It takes three years to get over the three days we spend together!”

Her career seems to have evolved from being on the right Chicago street corner at the right time.

The daughter of a Rockford horticulturist and a homemaker, Hale (born in DeKalb) was studying at the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts, living at the Harriet M. McCormick branch of the YWCA and planning a career as a commercial illustrator and portraitist.

One day, as school let out for the summer, she was standing at the corner near the Drake Hotel with a girlfriend who’d come to town for a couple of weeks to look for modeling work. While they were waiting for the bus taking them to the North Side, a car drove up and someone tossed a card at them. It referred them to a modeling agency.

“A couple of weeks later, I went to see my buddies, and I told one of them the story about the card,” she recalls.

“She said, `Barb, you’re kidding! I was sitting in the little coffee shop at work this morning, and a lady came in and sat next to me, because it was the only seat left. She was pouting. I asked if she had a problem, and she said, “Yes, darn it. I have a model agency and I saw this kid on a corner, in a red coat, and can’t track her down. She’s exactly what one of our ad agencies is looking for.” Barb, what coat did you have on that day?

“I said, `My red coat-it’s the only coat I have.’ And she said, `Barb, I think that card was meant for you.”‘

It was. Hale went in to the Seaman Agency, and stopped Connie Seaman in her tracks. “She said, `Oh, my God-honey, don’t move! Al, get over here quick!’ Al came in and said, `It is her! Let’s see-we’ll shape her eyebrows, put on a little more lipstick, pull her hair back … ‘ and I said, `Just a minute, sir-what are we talking about?”‘

Hale was “a green 19” when she began fashion modeling, and after about a year and a half, RKO offered her a six-month tryout. The day after she arrived in Los Angeles, she visited the studio and its casting director, Dick Stockton.

“As I was shaking hands with him, the phone rang. He took the call, and as he listened, he started looking at me. `Yeah, yeah, yeah, just a minute.’ He turned to me and asked, `Honey, can you say a line?’ I said, `I don’t know.’ He said into the phone, `There’s a kid in the office right now. I think she’ll work. I’ll send her right over.’ He told his assistant, `Take her to wardrobe, take her to makeup, take her to Stage 6. One of the kids is sick. We’ve got to have a girl there immediately.’

“It hit every paper the next day. Cinderella story. First day on the lot, she gets-of course they said a starring part. I had one line, but you know about those things.”

Apart from that walk-on, in “Gildersleeve’s Bad Day,” she made her debut in 1944 in “Higher and Higher,” opposite Frank Sinatra.

Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, Ginger Rogers and Jane Russell were all at RKO then. So was Burr-who would be her TV series co-star about a dozen years later.

Hale studied dancing and singing at the studio. She began to appear on screen regularly-four movies in 1944, two in 1945-and eventually won leads in such movies as “The Boy With Green Hair,” “The Window,” “Jolson Sings Again” and “The Jackpot,” performing even while pregnant.

“I told Billy (her son, actor William Katt, who starred in the television series “The Greatest American Hero”) he should put on his resume that he was in `The Jackpot’ and `Lorna Doone,’ and he said, `Mother, I wasn’t,’ and I told him, `Oh, yes, you were!”‘

She continued her movie career and was a mainstay of television dramas until 1956, when a producer offered her the Della Street part in the pilot of what turned out to be a 9 1/2-year run. Hale went on to win an Emmy for best dramatic actress for the role in 1959.

“We did 36 shows that first year,” she says. “And we’re still doing it!”

She says that Della “was-and still is, to a great degree-a woman who knew what everybody was thinking. She was informed, and very observant of everything that went on. That was my challenge as an actress-to be a necessary part of the office without being too aggressive. Della was quietly overpowering: She knew when to speak and when to keep her mouth closed.”

Hale sees Della as having remained constant, to an extent. Her task is basically the same. But there have been some subtle emotional changes.

“I think she’s a little more at home, relaxed, showing her knowledge not only of the case, but also of her boss. In the early days, it was all business. Today there’s more of a camaraderie between them, a little more humor and more sensitivity to each other, which comes with years of being side by side.

“She’s trying to see that he stays healthy,” she says. “She’s taking him off coffee.

After nearly 300 episodes, “Perry Mason” folded in 1966.

In the mid-1970s, the show returned briefly with other actors and faded quickly. During the ’70s and early ’80s, Hale worked sporadically. She was in the original “Airport” in 1970, and appeared opposite her son in a 1978 surfing movie, “Big Wednesday.”

In 1985, producer Dean Hargrove asked her what she thought of the idea of a “Perry Mason” reunion show. She told him, “it would be divine, but we are 25 or 30 years older than we were then.” He said the intention was to use them as they were and to bring in a few new young actors to replace cast members William Talman, Ray Collins and William Hopper, who had died.

“Dean said, `There’s a young blond kid in town. I want to talk to him, not his agent. He’s done a series-“The Greatest American Hero.” But I can’t reach him.’

“I said, `Oh, well, that young man is in Kansas City doing “The Music Man” right now, and I can get you in touch with him if you want.’ And Dean asked, `You know him?’ I said, `Dean, I changed that boy’s diapers!’ Billy played in the first nine (Perry Mason) movies, then went on to another series of his own.”

“Perry Mason Returns” in 1985 was a Nielsen triumph, and with Perry stepping down from a judgeship to defend Della against murder charges in the first episode. From then on, the Mason bunch have visited America’s living rooms every few months.

After nearly four decades, Hale says the role of Della still offers unexpected moments.

“This week, at the end of the show, very quietly and very surprisingly, Perry plants one on Della,” Hale says. “It’s a first!”

Originally Published: May 16, 1993 at 1:00 a.m.

www.chicagotribune.com/1993/05/16/the-faithful-secretary/

[evenhisfacewasanalias]

After Hours

Lady Jane Grey/Guildford Dudley

Rating: Teen

Modern AU - Jane is an overworked medical student at Cambridge who is in dire need of a date to her sister's engagement - all in order to keep Lady Frances from setting her up. She decides to bring the worst guy she can find and make her mother regret her meddling. Guildford is playing in a rock band at the local pub, and Jane of course picks the man she was always going to.

Really just an excuse to give Guildford a little earring.

“She’s gone completely off her rocker!”

Susannah shakes her head at her friend’s histrionics, and Jane knows she’s being ridiculous.  They were supposed to be at the pub to unwind and catch up. The loud band playing in the corner isn’t helping much, however. They’re nearly shouting to be heard over the screeching guitar and excessive drumming.

“I would have thought having one daughter getting engaged might soothe the savage beast?” 

Jane practically chugs down the second half of her pint, “Oh no, not Lady Frances Grey - if anything this has only sped up her timetable for having me married off. I need another drink.”

“You’ve had two already. Isn’t alcohol poisoning something you learned about at that fancy medical school o’ yours?” Susannah laughs, pulling her friend back to the small table.

“My fancy medical school is half the reason I drink,” Jane sighs. “The other half is Mum’s new threat to set me up with Lord Dudley's son.”

“Stanley Dudley? That's cruel, even for Frances. Besides, I'm pretty sure he has a thing for your mum.”

And that part is probably true. She thinks she caught Stan attempting the boombox move from Say Anything outside her mother’s window on winter break. Only her window was four stories up, and an mp3 speaker didn’t have quite the same impact. She’s been trying to forget the memory of it ever since. She often tries not to think too hard about her widowed mother’s love life.

“Not Stan, at least. Apparently Lord Dudley has another son we've never even heard of - some Oxford dilettante off gadding about.”

“Oooh collegiate rivalry, could make for some great shagging.” Susannah is little better than her mother at times with the way she fusses over the lack of men in Jane’s life, but at least her best friend isn’t trying to marry her off to some vagabond Lord.

“My mother’s taste in men tends toward the vapid.” So does Susannah’s, but in the name of friendship, Jane won’t mention this.

“He doesn’t need a doctorate to be good in bed,” Susannah shakes her head at her friend. “Though I feel like I should have an honorary one in the subject, at least.”

Jane laughs at her friend’s ego, though secretly she can admit she admires her confidence. “He doesn’t need a doctorate, but he should at least be able to manage his end of the conversation.”

“I forgot that a lively debate was practically foreplay for you.” 

Jane snorts out another laugh. She’s not even getting that much lately.

“So then what else is on ‘Jane’s list or a shaggable man’ - other than his oral skills?”

Jane’s face heats at her friend’s joke. It really has been too long if she’s blushing over some double entendre. Single entendre, really.

“I can’t even think about men with studying for exams this month.”

“Or last month, or the one before it. Find a hot enough bloke and you’ll make the time.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to find Mr. Right in this pub.”

She looks around at the crowd - it’s mostly secondary students and couples at the bar and tables, with a few grungier looking guys gathered around the stage. This isn’t really the sort of venue where she’d hope to find a worthy suitor.

“I’m only talking about Mr. Right Now,” Susannah teases.

“That doesn’t exactly help me with the engagement party situation.”

“It’ll help you to relax a little about the engagement party situation,” she winks.

And ok, maybe Susannah has something of a point - she’s survived her mother’s nagging for twenty four years, it usually takes a little more than a set-up to wind her up like this. But still, the threat of it remains her most pressing concern.

“It won’t help me much unless it gets my mother to back off.”

“Why not just bring some random guy as your date then?”

It’s not as though she hadn’t considered it. She’s not exactly attending a convent, she could have just invited one of her fellow med school classmates. “Because then my mother still wins.”

“And we can’t have that, can we?” Susannah is no fan of her mother either, but she can never resist mocking what she calls Jane’s ‘contrary’ nature. “Well then, make Frances regret it. Bring someone she’ll hate.”

Susannah has her own spiteful streak as well. It’s why they’ve always been friends, even when Susannah stopped working for her mother.

“So any man without a title, then?” Jane suggests. 

Her father had been a Duke and her mother refused to entertain anyone lower in rank than a Viscount. Her sister Katherine was already pushing it, marrying the Earl of Hertford.

“Worse.”

“A man without a trust fund?” 

“Worse,” and then Susannah’s eyes are shifting over towards the makeshift stage, to where the band is still wailing to the world’s smallest mosh pit.

Jane chuckles at the idea - it would certainly make her mother’s head spin. The members of the band - The Affliction, apparently, very fitting - look to be about her own age, but they’re about as far away from her social class as they could get (a characteristic Jane preferred and her mother detested). Definitely not a title or trust fund to be found among the lot of them - not with the sorry state of their clothing and instruments. They’re all decent looking enough, in a tattooed and leather jacketed bad boy kind of way. If you were into that sort of thing, which Jane most assuredly wasn’t. Or at least she had never considered herself to be - she didn’t care to be so predictable. But objectively, they’re an attractive bunch. They’re what loosely might be called a rock band, but they’re playing in this shithole of a pub so clearly they’re not very successful. And most importantly, her mother would be livid at the sight of any one of them.

That, plus the two pints in her stomach, have Jane actually considering this mad gambit of Susannah’s. What if she did bring some wannabe rockstar to the engagement party? Katherine wouldn’t mind - at least not much. And she’d certainly forgive Jane when she saw her engagement gift: a minibreak stay at a B&B in Chipping Campden to escape their mother’s wedding planning. Her mother, however, would never forgive her. Jane might even get uninvited to several events she’s been dreading. She smiles at the thought.

However, Jane doesn’t want to be uninvited from the wedding entirely, so she does some quick research before she even begins to truly contemplate this madness. Susannah laughs at the sight of Jane googling, though she hadn’t laughed when Jane used her powers of research to perform recon on her friend’s sketchy tinder dates. She doesn’t want either one of them getting axe-murdered by some random guy - a fact which Susannah usually appreciates. And even though she wants to piss off her mother, she’s not about to bring some registered sex offender to her little sister’s engagement party. 

The Affliction has a facebook page, and a soundcloud, but nothing professional. That’s good news on the unsuccessful front, neutral on the ‘is one of them an axe-murderer’ question. She looks at the band members individually. It turns out the bassist is actually a woman, with a very cute pixie cut and great bone structure - Jane briefly considers the possibility of giving her mum a heart attack by bringing home a woman, but is quick to realise she’s already married to the lead singer anyway. There’s two options out, leaving the guitarist and the drummer. A drummer would maybe get an extra rotation on the head spinning front, but in both the facebook photo and up on stage now Jane can spot a cigarette in the guy’s mouth. Gross. She’s seen too many textbook images of what the tar does to your lungs to think of anything else whenever she sees someone smoking.

Which leaves the guitarist. If she’s honest with herself, he’s the one she would have been drawn to out of all of them. Floppy brown curls, mouth curved into a devilish smirk - but thankfully no more than a spare pick pressed between his lips. A good jawline, with the barest hint of stubble. Warm brown eyes and surprisingly nice hands. She gets a little distracted watching strong fingers wrapped around the guitar's neck and nimbly plucking at its strings, stacked rings only drawing more attention to his hands - though none of that really matters since she’s not actually looking for a real date. What does matter is the rips on his jeans, the way the sleeves are cut from his t-shirt to show off his many tattoos, and the glint of an earring she can spot even from back here. He’ll drive her mum batty. 

His name’s not listed on their facebook page - there’s apparently another guitarist who should be here tonight - but this guy’s in a few of the older photos. Including one at some kind of children’s charity fundraiser event, so at least she knows he’s not on any registries. And he’s probably not a criminal or anything if they’re doing philanthropy shows. There’s a newer shot with the entire band, plus him, all cuddling animals at what is apparently a shelter rescue gig. Another point in the not-a-serial-killer column. Still no name but there’s a tabby curled around his neck pawing at a pair of necklaces she realises are the same ones he’s wearing tonight. She’s always thought cats to be good judges of character. They’re certainly good judges of cheekbones, she thinks as she looks back and forth between the photo and the man on stage.

Someone tosses a glass bottle his way in between songs - to give it to him or to critique the music, she can’t be certain - but he catches it easily, tossing it back up again with a little spin before flicking off the cap to take a drink. Jane’s a little caught up in the line of his throat, those ridiculous necklaces. He leans over to the micromobile, and she hears his voice for the first time. 

“‘What I like to drink most is wine that belongs to others,’” he unexpectedly quotes Diogenes, and she falls a little in lust.

“Do you think he’d agree to it?” She asks Susannah, who follows her line of sight and grins at her choice.

“Do I think he’ll say yes to a date with a hot girl?” She gives Jane a look that implies she’s an idiot.

Jane waves away the compliment, and the word ‘date’. “It wouldn’t be a real date, just to get my mother off my back for a bit.”

“Then do I think a grown man playing Clash covers in a pub would say no to pissing off someone’s parents?”

“Good point.” 

The idea is left to simmer in her brain for the rest of the band’s set. They switch their conversation over to Susannah’s troubles. Things with the new guy are going well, but her best friend is currently working as an au pair for a family that doesn’t pay her anywhere near well enough to put up with their nightmare son. But she refuses to let Jane use her connections to get her a better job, or at least better pay, though Jane is slowly wearing her down. Or at least the Bradfords��� son is. Jane wishes she had something better to offer her friend for her repeatedly kicked shins than some paracetamol, but it’s all she has on her. She jokingly offers some anaesthesia whenever she finally gets her medical licence. 

“For me or for the wain?”

“Your choice. I think it’s better if I have plausible deniability on that one.”

“Ditto,” Susannah laughs, and directs Jane’s sight back towards the front of the pub, where the band is finally starting to pack it in. Susannah is no fan of Jane’s mum, but she definitely doesn’t want to get on her bad side. It had been hard enough wheedling a good reference out of her when Susannah had left. And this plan will definitely get someone on her mother’s shit list.

Jane has sobered up a little from earlier, but the idea is still the best one they’ve got. If nothing else it’ll irritate her mother, and spare her having to talk to some Tory-supporting wanker she’ll inevitably be set up with. She knows next to nothing about music, but she’d still rather hear about that than some guy’s stock portfolio all evening, or the endless name-dropping she was so often forced to endure. And he’d certainly be easier on the eyes. It only takes a little persuasion, and one good hard shove, from her friend to have her beelining towards the stage. 

She mentally assesses her own look tonight on the way there - heeled boots and a short-ish skirt that made her legs look longer, and a sweater that was more cosy than sexy but not utterly disastrous. She tugs her hair free of its messy bun and hopes her curls were behaving for once. Even though she was only asking for a fake date, she hopes a good first impression might tip the scales a little in her favour.

The pub isn’t overly large, so it only takes a few steps to push through the small gathered crowd to where the guitarist is pounding back the bottle he caught from earlier. She waits for him to set it down before she tries to introduce herself.

And he promptly belches in her face.

“You’re perfect,” she smiles. 

Normally, the rudeness would have her ready to tear into the man, but the entire point of this was to send her mother into a conniption fit. Bad manners was just the icing on top of a very offensive cake.

“I take it you’re a fan of The Affliction, then?” His grin is both lazy and arrogant, another point in his favour - or disfavour, as it was. It’s not even remotely as charming as he seems to think it is. 

“Oh no, your music is atrocious.”

“Then what is it I'm perfect for?” He seems a little taken aback by the dig at their music, but then he’s grinning again. “Or do you just have a thing for devilishly handsome guitarists?” 

Might as well rip off the bandaid. She takes a deep breath. “If I say yes, could I borrow you for a few hours tomorrow? I’m Jane, by the way.”

He takes her outstretched hand automatically. His hands are warm but the rings he wears are cool, and she can feel the calluses along his fingers as he grips her hand firmly.

“For like a gig? I’m not really…” He looks even more confused now considering she’s professed not to be a fan.

“Something like that - my sister’s engagement party is tomorrow and my mother is threatening to set me up if I don’t bring a date.”

“So you’re asking me on a date, then?” The grin is back in full force, and he keeps holding her hand.

“I’m asking you to rescue me from my mother for a few hours,” she answers flatly.

“You know what I find works best with parents?” 

The fact that he’s still smiling at her is troubling, but her curiosity wins over her good sense and so she asks him just what he thinks will work.

“Telling them to fuck off.”

“Yes, well I would love for you to swing by Saturday and tell my mother just that.”

He actually throws his head back and laughs at that. 

“Not that I don’t love telling off busybodies, but is there some reason you can’t just bring a real date to get her off your back? Surely your talents for flattery could win some undiscerning man over.”

Jane finally pulls her hand away to cross her arms in front of her, “If you wanted flattery then you shouldn’t have named your band ‘The Affliction’. And for your information, the reason I don’t have an actual date is because I’m currently too busy with my studies at the School of Clinical Medicine.”

He looks unimpressed. “Oh, is that like a local further education school?”

“It’s at Cambridge University, you halfwit.”

That grin again. “I’m fully aware, it’s called a joke - perhaps you’ve heard of them?” 

“This whole conversation is a joke!” She nearly shouts, half in frustration with the man in front of her but mostly with herself. Why she ever thought this was a good idea is beyond her.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you’re angry?” 

His nose scrunches a little when he says the word ‘cute’ and Jane can feel the rage rushing white hot through her veins.

But he keeps talking before she has the chance to tell him off. “Alright, I’ll come with you to your little party. If your mother’s half as easy to wind up, it might even be fun.”

And she’s annoyed at both him and herself for falling into his little trap, but she’s stuck on the fact he’s agreeing to come with her. 

“You’ll actually come?”

“Sure, why not?” 

Not giving him a chance to change his mind, Jane quickly lists off the party address and the time they should meet, typing her number into his mobile and texting herself with it. She neglects to tell him the dress code, half hoping he’ll wear this exact outfit again. The t-shirt is practically in tatters, which will infuriate her mother, but the arms they reveal are quite nice to look at - tattoos and all. She’s not usually into that sort of thing, but the designs there curve around the musculature in a way that scratches the part of her brain that’s been pouring over anatomy for the past three years. She imagines herself tracing the lines, listing off each muscle group in Latin. 

Jane shakes her head to shut down this line of thinking immediately. This is not a real date because she has no time for dating. She barely had time to come out tonight with Susannah, and she’s only in town at all tonight because her mother insisted on a small family dinner before the big event next weekend. She hands back his mobile.

“And what do I get out of this?” The guy asks, tucking his mobile back into his pocket.

Jane narrows her eyes. “What do you want?”

She sees him looking her up and down. And even though it sends a pleasant little zip down her spine, this is so not what tonight is about.

“Not that.” She states clearly and firmly.

“I didn’t even ask for anything,” his nose is scrunching up again, crinkling the skin around his eyes as well which threatens her resolve to keep this clean and simple. 

“Not that,” she repeats.

“How about 100 quid then?” 

“So you’re an escort now?” 

“Student loans, you know,” he shrugs. And she’s a little surprised to hear he is - or was - a student, but considering he’s quoting Greek philosophers in random pubs it makes some sort of strange sense. “Actually, I have a better idea - you said School of Clinical Medicine, right? So you’ve got medical training?” 

This was never a good start to a conversation, in her experience. “You’re not about to ask me to commit medical malpractice are you?”

“Is it really medical malpractice if you’re not even a doctor yet?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well this isn’t that, I promise. It’s just a run of the mill bad idea.” 

It’s not at all as assuring as he seems to think it is. “And just what exactly is this bad idea?” 

“I have a friend that needs a doctor.” 

“And does this friend know about the National Health Service?” 

“They can’t help her.” 

Jane hopes his friend is just not a full UK resident or something, rather than some shady thing they’re trying to hide from an actual doctor.

“And you think I can?” 

“I think that you are in luck that I’m nearly as desperate as you are,” his eyebrow arches.

It’s a fair point.

“Alright then, where is this friend? And I’m not making any promises.” 

“All I’m asking is that you try. Just take a look and see if there’s anything more you can tell us. I’ll drive us there.” 

This halts her. “You’re not driving me anywhere - I’m not about to step into whatever van with blacked out windows you have back there.” 

“It’s a motorbike, actually.” 

And of course he drives a motorbike too. “That's even worse. Besides, I have my kit in my car.” 

“You have a medical kit in your car?” 

“It’s also a first aid kit, everyone should have one. Especially people stupid enough to drive motorbikes. And I know this may shock you, but sometimes people find out I’m in medical school and start expecting me to treat them.”

The insult has him raising his brows. “So you do this often then? Lure men into dates in exchange for medical advice?”

“No! I don’t lure anyone into anything. I’m certified in CPR and first aid, and I help people for free.”

“So I’m getting massively overcharged then?” He chuckles.

“You’re not risking your future medical licence, so I’d say you’re getting the better end of the bargain here.”

“Touche. But I’m not risking my life when you’ve been here throwing back gods know how many pints, so we’ll fetch your kit and then I’m driving us.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t been drinking?”

He holds up the bottle he’d been drinking out of - it’s just a soda. “Sober as a nun. I don’t drink when I’m playing.”

“I want you to know I’m taking a lot on faith here, pal.”

“It’s Guildford, actually.”

Guildford, of all names. She thought she had left the posh wanker names behind with this plan.

“It suits you,” she tries.

“I can hear the derogatory tone in your voice, but it’s a family name.”

“It would have to be, who would name a child that in the twenty-first century?”

“Perhaps the same sort of people who would name a child after a eighteenth century spinster?”

“And one of England’s most famous authors.”

He glances somewhere behind her.

“Well you certainly live up to your name, my Lady Jane - your chaperone over there appears greatly worried about your virtue,” he nods back to where Susannah is watching the two of them like a hawk. She signals her friend over to make the awkward introductions and explain the exchange.

“I highly doubt she’s worried about my virtue, just my common sense,” she clarifies before Susannah reaches them. “Susannah - Guildford. Guildford has agreed to come with me tomorrow to deal with Mum, but first he needs my help with his friend -”

“Winifred,” he supplies.

“Winifred, really? Your parents never even gave you a chance, did they?” She turns back to face her friend, “I’ll just grab my med kit from the car and you can drive it to your place or I can call you a cab.”

“No need, Archer’s already on his way. I figured when you two were chatting for so long.” Jane’s not loving the insinuation in her friend’s voice right now. “I just need to real quick -” and then she’s lifting her camera to snap a photo of Guildford, “hope you don’t mind.”

But Guildford just smiles for the photo. “I know the drill, I’ll give you my info in case you need to look into me first.”

He takes Susannah’s mobile from her and pops his info into her contacts. 

“This is almost suspiciously easy,” she stage whispers to Jane, but she smiles at whatever she sees on her mobile.

“Need me to verify anything?” He offers, handing back the mobile.

“Nope!” Susannah says, a little too quickly, tucking her mobile back into her purse. “You two have fun. All my love to Winifred!”

And then she’s out the door before Jane can so much as wave goodbye.

“Well that was weird,” Jane remarks to the empty spot her friend was just standing.

“Are you going to let my friends look you up now so I can make sure you’re not a fake doctor or something?”

“I never even said I was a real doctor, and it looks like your friends have already ditched you.” He glances back over his shoulder at the stage which is now empty. “Did they steal your guitar too?”

“That one’s just borrowed, I would never let my girl out of my sight like that.”

Jane resists the urge to roll her eyes at this - she imagines he’s even given his guitar a girl’s name, like “Lucille” or “Theresa”. She won’t give him the satisfaction of asking about it now, she’ll save that for when her mother is there to hear it. 

They manage to grab her kit and lock up her car with only a minimum of teasing from Guildford about her Prius. She expects to give him back the same when finally sees his motorbike, anticipating either some souped up American monstrosity or a barely-held-together dirt bike. 

It’s neither. It’s an older model, British-made by the logo, but it looks to be in good repair. It’s surprisingly tasteful, considering its owner. She still can’t quite believe she’s agreed to ride on it, however. Like some heroine in a novel racing off at the first sign of someone in danger, or a princess jumping on the back of a dragon to rescue an ill villager. She wonders what that makes Guildford. He’s certainly no knight in shining armour. A knight in shining leather jacket?

Only he’s handing that leather jacket to her. “I have two helmets but you should take the jacket.”

She presses it back towards him, “you don’t even have sleeves.”

Guildford pushes into her space and throws the jacket over her shoulders, “and you’re not wearing pants. I run hot, especially after a gig, I’ll be fine. The drive isn’t that long.”

And then he turns away to pull out the spare helmet for her, tucking her kit into the boot, and she’s forced to accept the jacket. She slides it over her arms and realises that even though he’s not that much taller than her, she’s practically swimming in the leather sleeves. She shoves them up over her wrists and ignores his grin at the sight. 

Jane does fight to adjust her own helmet, drawing the line at letting him put it on her like she’s his girlfriend or something. She’s only doing this because some woman out there is in need of medical attention, and is apparently unable to find it anywhere else. Jane had considered the possibility that this was all some cheap ploy to get her back to his place, but there were much easier schemes, and even easier women. Had he had better manners, she might have been one of them. 

No, between his rude behaviour and his refusal to elaborate on the situation, she assumed it was probably just something embarrassing - for Winifred or for Guildford, it didn’t matter. Either  was fine by her, she would just build up her portfolio of funny medical stories a little earlier than most. And if things got too weird she could simply call a cab. 

She wasn’t chickening out yet, though. Even when Guildford straddles the bike and gestures for her to take the spot behind him. Jane had forgotten the fact she was wearing a short skirt.

“Eyes forward, mister.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he laughs, but turns to face the other direction so she can primly lift one leg over the bike, keeping a few inches of space between their bodies.

But Guilford has other ideas. Warm, gloved hands reach back behind her knees to tug her forward, pressing her flush with his back. Her skirt rides up a little in the process, but none of it matters because there’s not so much as a centimetre between them for anyone to see anything. He draws her arms forward to wrap around his middle. 

And he really hadn’t been lying about running hot. She can feel the heat of him radiating everywhere they’re pressed together. Her face is right at the nape of his neck, the curls there damp from exertion and peaking out from underneath his helmet. He smells faintly of sweat and soap and leather, but mostly he just smells really nice. She resists the urge to lean in further, and her helmet thankfully stops her from doing something as embarrassing as pressing her face into his shoulder.

“Alright then, feet on the pegs,” he explains, and she scrambles to get her heeled boots locked on the second set of pegs, “arms tight around me, and lean with me around any curves. I’ll try and be gentle since this is your first time.”

She can hear the smirk in his voice and she wants to hit him, but he’s revving the engine and they’re rolling forward and Jane can’t do anything but hold on. 

He doesn’t peel out, however, and she’s forced to realise he actually does seem to be taking it easy on her - keeping just under the speed limit and avoiding any sharp turns. The wind whips a little at the bare skin of her legs, but otherwise it’s surprisingly…pleasant. Not that she’ll ever admit it. And with Guildford unable to open his mouth and say anything obnoxious, she’s allowed to simply enjoy the feel of her arms wrapped around a firm waist, her legs pressed against warm, solid thighs. 

He takes her further out into the country, to where the manor homes of her former life were surrounded by the less familiar farms and cottages. She starts to envision Winifred as some elderly relative or neighbour who doesn’t trust the NHS, but might allow someone of Guildford’s acquaintance to take a look at her. He turns off at one of the wide green pastures and the picture becomes even clearer. She’ll probably be offered tea and biscuits the moment she arrives.

****

“Winifred is a horse.”

“Yes, that's why you'll notice I brought you out to the stables to help her,” he says as if this is a completely normal thing to spring on a person.

“She’s a fucking horse.”

“You catch on quick, you know that?”

“She’s a horse, and I'm not a vet.”

“Oh I'm well aware of that - her owner keeps neglecting to pay his bills on time and so no vet in the Tri-County area will come and take a look at her.”

Jane wonders at why Guildford cares so much about a horse that isn’t even his, but perhaps he’s a part time groom or something. Part-time musician, part-time student - she hated that she was actually starting to find him interesting. Most of the people in her social class did so little of anything - including not paying their vet bills. She wasn’t sure exactly who’s estate she was on right now but she wasn’t far from her own ancestral home, so she probably knew its owner. She decided against asking, however, not exactly wanting to give away her own position. Jane didn’t want to be lumped in with Winifred’s owner, even though she couldn’t pinpoint why she cared so much about Guildford’s opinion of her.

But he’s not looking at her right now, his full attention is on Winifred. His hands are stroking at her face and sides, quieting her where she’s startled a little bit at the lights and the presence of a stranger in her stall. 

“She’s been fairly agitated these last couple weeks - restless even, doesn’t want anyone near her except Rupert and me. And she’s been picky about what she eats. We thought she might have hay belly but Rupert’s been buying her the good stuff himself.” Jane has no idea what hay belly is but at least it’s already been ruled out. “There’s a broken fence post out there though and it’s possible she might have gotten a nasty splinter or scratched herself on a nail or something. Could she have tetanus?” 

“If she had untreated tetanus for a few weeks she’d be dead by now.” Jane might not know horses but she knew tetanus, and horses and sheep were even more susceptible than humans.

“Great bedside manner you have there,” Guildford finally looks back at her with a withering look. 

“They don’t teach bedside manner until year four, and besides, I’m telling you it’s probably not tetanus. One would think that would be good news.” 

He goes back to whispering sweet things to the horse, apologising for Jane’s words as if she’s the rude one here. She ignores the way her heart softens a little at his concern for the creature. 

Just in case, they work in tandem to check Winifred for any sign of splinters or scrapes. Jane shines her small torch along her limbs while Guildford carefully lifts Winifred’s hooves for her inspection. For as tough as he looks, he’s exceedingly gentle with her. It’s annoyingly attractive.

The buzzing of his mobile startles both girl and horse, and Guildford is quick to end the call and turn off the phone, looking annoyed at the caller ID. 

“Who’s calling you so late?” Jane has never been one to let her curiosity go unsatisfied.

“My father has somehow figured out I was going to be in town this weekend.”

“What happened to telling your parents to ‘fuck off’?” Jane attempts to mimic the smugness of his earlier words.

“I think the nine declined calls sends the same message.” 

“The fact that he just called you again tells me it doesn’t.” Jane can commiserate, but she also can’t resist the urge to tease him a little after all his bullshit about not standing up to her own mother. 

“Once he gets something into his head, he’ll never let it go. He’s been nagging me to settle down for years.” And doesn’t that sound familiar.

“A commitment-phobe, how original. Well, I’d offer to show up as your fake date and return the favour, but I’m only in town this one weekend.” 

He snorts at the thought of it. “It’s probably not a good idea anyway - if I told my father I was bringing home a date he’d be booking the chapel and priest the second I hung up.” 

“He wants you to get married that badly?” 

“He wants me to live his life.” 

It’s like looking into a mirror of her own parental relationship. She can’t tease him about that one. “My mother doesn’t understand why I’m spending my youth getting ‘distracted’ by medical school, or my need for independence.” 

Frances Grey couldn’t understand why Jane needed a regular job at all, with no real power or influence, but she was still determined to do it on her own terms and with the full freedom of being unpartnered. It’s weird that this perfect stranger gets it better than her own mother does.

Guildford frowns a little at this. “Does that mean I need to convince her I can take care of you or something, because I…” 

A laugh forces itself out of Jane at the very idea. “Oh no, you just need to be yourself. Don’t change a single thing.” 

“...Alright?” 

Jane doesn’t want a knight in shining armour - especially not tomorrow. She wants the crass, barely employable tattooed guitarist to shake things up with her mother. She just hopes there’s no cute animals around tomorrow to soften his image.

She gives Winifred one last look over and pulls out her own mobile. “I can’t find any cuts or signs of swelling around her joints, maybe we should do a more general look at her vital signs?”

“Are you googling ‘normal horse temperature’?”

Jane looks up from the webpage. “I told you I’m not a vet. It’s not like I know off-hand what temperature a horse is supposed to be.”

“37.5 to 38.6 celsius,” he states, as if it’s common knowledge.

But he’s not the one with the infrared thermometer in his medkit. 

“37.8, as healthy as…”

“A horse?” He groans.

“I was trying not to say it. I can listen to her heart and then I can check her nose and ears,” she tells him as she pulls her stethoscope from her bag.

“Don’t you need to look up a normal heart rate for a horse?” She can’t tell if he’s mocking her or offering an honest suggestion. Jane already saw the rate range when she looked up the temperature question. She’s got the normal respiration rate range too, if needed. She may not be a vet, or even a full doctor yet, but she can memorise text with the best of them.

“Don’t you know it off hand?” She volleys back, half mocking herself. But also a little curious if he’ll know it.

“It doesn’t feel off.”

Guildford has his broad hand on Winifred’s chest, just behind her foreleg. Jane presses in beside him, sliding her hand and the stethoscope beneath his palm. He doesn’t move his hand immediately, but Jane tries her best to focus on counting the beats in time with her watch. 

32 bpm, another normal reading. She moves down to Winifred’s lungs, checking her respiration rate, and listening for any signs of obstruction. Normal again. Guildford is running his hands soothingly over her mane. Gods but his hands are nice. She checks her belly next, listening for the normal gurgles and peristalsis. She hears something else instead.

“Guildford?” She looks up to see the instant worry on his face. 

“How bad is it?”

Jane smiles.

“Winifred isn’t sick - she’s pregnant.”

He looks a little surprised by the news so she hands him the handset and guides the diaphragm back into place so he can listen to the second heartbeat himself - still faint but clearly distinct from its mother’s.

Guildford’s bright smile at the sound makes him look a bit like a kid at Christmas, and it melts Jane’s heart a little to see it. He still seems a little perplexed at the news, however. 

“But how? It’s all mares and geldings in here?”

“You said something about a broken fence?” She reminds him, and sees the exact moment when the thoughts connect.

And then he’s hugging her, lifting her in the air and spinning her to celebrate. Jane feels a little lighter too, oddly glad that she could deliver some good news after all. Guildford sets her back down slowly, keeping her still within the circle of his arms. Jane doesn’t try and break free immediately either. His eyes flick down to her mouth and she wonders if he’s about to try and kiss her. 

Jane realises she wants him to. His bare arms are warm around her sides and his lips look incredibly nice when they’re lifted by a real smile instead of his usual smirk. She tilts her face up towards his, and lets her eyelids go a little heavy. She watches as his tongue peeks out to run across his lips and she’s this close to just sliding her hands into those dark curls and dragging him down to kiss her. But then Winifred is butting her head against Guildford’s side, and the moment swiftly passes them by. Jane reluctantly pulls away.

“She’ll still need a real vet to come in now, if you can maybe find one that doesn’t know her owner’s a deadbeat. I could…” Jane catches herself before she starts offering to find a vet or pay for Winifred’s care herself. She knows that if Guildford actually shows up tomorrow, she’ll probably cave and offer anyway. 

“No chance you’d be willing to pop by for regular checkups?” He half teases.

“I’ll be back in Cambridge after the engagement party tomorrow,” she reminds him.

“...Right,” he accepts, clearly disappointed by the answer. He knows she isn’t a real vet though, and it’s not like she carries around equine ultrasound equipment in her kit. Unless he just wanted an excuse to see her again? But he’s already shifting away, “I guess I should get you back to town then.”

Before she even has a chance to work out if he wants her to stay - if she wants herself to stay - he’s walking out of the stables and expecting her to follow.

It’s a different kind of awkward, this time, climbing in behind him on the bike. He doesn’t make any allusions to her motorcycle virginity - or lack thereof, at this point - but he drives even more slowly than before. Jane gives into the urge to rest her chin on his shoulder, and allows her hands to splay a little across his stomach. Guildford relaxes a little at the gesture and she knows she made the right choice. The rest of the ride is pleasant, and she’s thankful she asked him to drop her off at her sister and William’s slightly more modest flat in town - all the easier to pick up her car tomorrow, and fewer questions about coming home so late - rather than her family estate, which would have been a far shorter ride and led to a great deal more questions.  

Even still, they arrive at her door far too soon, before she’s managed to figure out if there’s a way to recreate the moment from earlier. She takes off her helmet, and is pleased to see him do the same - this makes it much easier, if she can work up the nerve to get closer. She starts to unzip his leather jacket where she’s still wearing it, but he halts her.

“You can give it back to me tomorrow,” he tells her, taking the pull from her hands and zipping the coat back up.

Jane's eyes flick between the ringed hand at her chest - so dangerously near, but not taking any ungentlemanly liberties - and his grinning face above. Apparently she didn’t need to put in any work at all to revive the tension between them, it’s been simmering there the whole time. But since Guildford made his move with the zipper, she figures it's her turn to be bold. 

She reaches up to grasp at those tempting curls and finally pulls his face down to hers, kissing him with a certainty she doesn’t one hundred percent feel right now. Guildford is quick to catch on at least, and returns her kiss with equal fervour, lips sliding warm and plush against her own. 

The kiss quickly turns heated. Guildford’s clever tongue slips between her parted lips and he groans into her mouth when her fingers tug at his hair. His own hands have slid down to where her sweater and his jacket have ridden up a little, and she shivers at the rasp of callused fingers and leather half gloves at the bare skin of her back. 

Jane breaks their kiss only to run her lips over his lightly stubbled jawline, making her way towards the little silver hoop in his ear that’s been driving her crazy since she first noticed it. She delights in the choked off little gasp that tugging it with her teeth draws out, and the full body shudder when she catches the lobe between her lips. She can’t hide the squeak she lets out when he reaches down to palm at her ass, and pulls her in even closer to his overheated body. 

Jane realises this kiss is getting a little out of control for standing out in a fully public street, but his lips have made it to her throat and this is exactly how kissing boys who drive motorbikes is supposed to be. But in a strange way it’s also so very sweet. One of his hands goes to protect the back of her head when he pushes her up against the doorway, and he keeps peppering in these softer kisses under her chin even as his teeth scrape against tendons of her throat. 

He steps in closer and she can feel the solid heat of his thigh as it parts her own, and she wants so much to wrap her legs around his waist and tear off that stupid cut off t-shirt. But this is all a bit much for standing outside on Park Lane, and there’s not much privacy to be gained upstairs either. She reluctantly presses him back, smiling a little at the slightly dazed look on his face, lips flushed and kiss-bitten and his hair sticking up in wild tufts from where she’s been tugging at it. She imagines she looks equally a mess, panting into the space between them. Guildford reaches up to brush back her hair into some semblance of order, apparently also realising things have gotten a little out of hand, but grinning at whatever state she seems to be in right now. She’s already considering whether she’ll need to hide the evidence on her neck from her mother and sister’s eagle eyes tomorrow.

“My sister and her fiance are upstairs,” Jane tries to come up with a nice way to say ‘I’d love for you to come up but I’m apparently a teenager again who can’t escape my nosy family being in my business’.

Guildford seems to catch on to her meaning though, stepping back and taking her hand to press one last kiss to the back of her wrist.

“Until tomorrow, then.”

And then he’s driving off again, leaving her with her med kit in hand and lips still tingling.

****

Guildford isn’t outside when she arrives the next afternoon, as she had expected him to be from his earlier text. His jacket is still tucked into the crook of her arm. She looks down at her mobile, hoping to find some answer there. She had realised earlier she never actually learned his last name, so she had filled in his contact as first name: Guildford last name:Shit band from the pub, but thought better of it and went with the slightly kinder moniker of Guildford/Horse guy. And Guildford Horse guy has apparently just messaged her that he's already inside.

She hurries in, not wanting to miss the look on her mother’s face when she sees him there. Her hopes are dashed when she spots him already talking to her. Only she doesn’t look the least bit upset, which probably has to do with the fact that he’s traded the ripped jeans and leather jacket for a cashmere sweater and pressed trousers, stubbled cheeks and wild hair for a clean shave and cherubic curls, and he’s handing a bottle of Poggio Antico with a bow around its neck to Katherine and William. Just who the hell was this stranger? He somehow transformed into a mother’s wet dream! Only the sight of his ever present necklaces in the v of the sweater and the earring nearly hidden behind his artfully tousled curls give any indication this was the same man from last night. 

Lady Grey signals her over with a pleased look, and Jane walks over as if to the guillotine. Her mother barely pauses the conversation as Jane nears them.

“I was just telling Guildford here how you work much too hard at that school of yours and it’s so difficult to find anyone of quality there. And it seems your date for the party never showed -”

Her mother’s eyes go to the empty space at her side and Jane tries to interrupt her, “but…”

“ - though I thought, isn't it just perfect that Lord Dudley’s son also happens to be here, and also happens to be single.”

Lady Grey is smiling back over Guildford and Jane finally understands just how spectacularly her plan has backfired on her. 

“There you are, my boy!” Lord Dudley wanders over to join the farce, patting Guildford on the shoulder. “I see you’ve finally met Jane Grey - and here I thought you weren’t listening to any of your voice mails.”

The look on Guildford’s face when he too realises they’ve done exactly what his parents wanted almost makes up for it. 

Jane can only hope he was kidding about his father already planning their wedding. 

[carelessflower]

A snippet

Max, Rafael, Mina and Tavvy were running in between the tables, giggling and laughing, Jem was watching the children closely.

Magnus and Alec were sitting down, at the opposite side of the hall, kids were running around, music was playing.

"Im hungry." Simon sat down, which was followed by Isabelle and Clary, Jace was talking with Kit.

"Dinner will be served at 8. We got 30 minutes."

"Who are they, I saw them come in the limo, and they have the men in black around them?" Isabelle nudged Magnus's arm, pointing at a woman who was talking to Ithuriel, but near her were two men, in black suits, that were standing and looking at the crowd of people.

"That is Queen El, my aunt, she didnt want the guards, but they advised her that it was for the best."

"Dont point Izzy." Alec warned, as his sister stuck her tounge out at him, which he rolled his eyes in response.

It was Stanley Morningstar and Johnathan Fairchild's wedding. Seven months after Magnus and Alec's wedding. Magnus was superised that Johnathan took his idea for the ribbons which was decorating the ceiling.

"Oh no." Alec watched as Max quickly walked over to them, holding a plate, which appeared to be half eaten cake.

Before he got to them, Alec picked him up, and sat him on his lap.

"Want some cake?" Max took a fistful and gave it to Alec, who placed it in a tissue.

"Max where did you get the cake from?" Clary took the plate away from him, as Max frowned.

"The kitchen, Uncle Kit and Ty, gave it to us." Max said, Magnus wiped Max's hands.

"No more cake, dinenr will be ready, go and get Raf and find grandma okay? Good boy.!" Alec kissed his son's forehead, who nodded and ran to where the kids were, Alec watched, as Jem lead the kids to Maryse, and Jocelynn.

"It was delicious." Simon said, wolfing the last piece down.

"I was hungry you know." Isabelle playfully slapped his arm.

"Im gonna check on Jace and Sebastian." Clary said, going back into the crowd.

"Your dad is coming" Alec nudged his husband arm, as Asmodeus and Lucifer walked towards them.

"Congratuations on your son's wedding sir." Alec shook Lucifer's hand, who smiled at him.

"Well ill leave you to it, dinner is being served now." Lucifer stated, before leaving the group.

"What do you want?" Magnus eyed his dad, who sat down.

"Nothing, but I need you home as they want an after party, well that is what Stanley wants its a family tradition, you and Alec. No kids."

"But -"

"No buts. I am not serving guests on my own in my own house."

"You wanted to hos-" Alec stopped talking as his father in law shot him a glare.

"GRANDDAD!" Rafael ran up and jumped, Asmoeus catching him.

"Lets get some food. Are you hungry, im hungry?" Asmodeus picked up Rafael and took him to the table where they were sitting.

"Well that sucks." Magnus muttered.

"Should we help? We can come over?" Simon helped, as starter food was placed on the table.

"Its a family thing, so its just the adults getting together."

"Did you do it when you guys got married?" Isabelle said, taking a bite out of the chicken leg.

"I did, stayed there until 1 am, and dad kicked everyone out. Came back to Alec around four in the morning."

"You were so tired, you forgor your keys and you were crying." Alec remembered that night, thinking he was being burglared, and remebering sobs and opening the door.

Magnus was fast asleep and didnt wake up later in the afternoon.

aweeee this is sweet!!!!

[evita-shelby]

Day of the dead

Cw: mentions of death, grief, and death of an infant

Gif by @rare-occasions

For @thegreatdragonfruta who requested it

“I won’t mind if you wish to put a photograph of Greta on the altar.” Eva says softly as they both lied wide awake at night. The soft rain should be enough to let them sleep, but tonight neither can’t sleep.

She had mentioned the Day of the Dead at some point and at some point, Polly convinced her to make her little altar with offerings.

These things included skulls made out of sugar, some strange bread and colorful cut paper. It was a strange and lovely thing with marigolds, purple candles and the photographs of their dead.

She used an old side table for it, somehow it had fit in perfectly in the sitting room.

November 1st was for children, November 2nd was for the rest.

Polly had refused to give up hope and forbade them from placing the only photographs she had of Michael and Anna on it, but eventually she had put Anna’s photograph there, along with the ribbon she had been wearing that morning she was taken.

There had been more photographs than they had assumed there would be.

Polly had two, her late husband and Anna.

Arthur put a photograph of Danny Owens.

John had put a photograph of Martha and Esme had put one of her sweetheart who never came back from France.

Ada put one for Stanley Chapman and a photograph of Freddie’s parents with his explicit permission.

Finn had put a photograph of their mother, the same mother he never knew.

Eva had the most photographs there, a heart breaking thing to see. But his witch didn’t cry, not as she put the photograph of her sister and her husband on their wedding day, not when she placed the photograph of her brothers in their uniforms, and not even when she put the one of her parents.

She only cries when she drinks, once she had cried into his shoulder after he made the mistake of teaching her how to shoot, but he’s never seen her cry like at again.

Tommy’s cried more than she does, come to think of it.

Cried until he couldn’t anymore when Greta died. Cried in silence after he fucked Zelda because she wasn’t the pretty Italian girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Maybe he should put her photograph on the altar.

Except the only one he has, an old faded thing he can’t seem to get rid of, is of them in Liverpool that last time she was healthy.

Maybe he should put that photograph on the altar, he’s been dead since France.

The man he is now isn’t who he was born as. The man married to a woman he doesn’t deserve is a man who was born in those tunnels, born from grief, desperation and death.

“Maybe I will.”

And he does.

Some other people would refuse to allow such a thing, but Eva isn’t other people.

Eva knows grief, knows it almost as well as she knows her husband.

She’s made her peace with it, her first November here she had finally gotten the closure she needed. She’d finally had the time to properly grieve Alan and Gabriel then.

Grief is a bitch.

And it shows up even when you think you’ve gotten through it.

So when she sees the photographs on Monday morning, she feels it sink it’s claws into her heart.

So many lost, and yet it’s the fact that baby Feli never even had a photograph that makes her weep like a child. She only has a pink button to be remembered by.

She had only lived for twenty-eight days, something wrong with her little lungs because she was born too early. She had been so tiny, her little coffin had been the size of a shoebox.

Luis had the only photograph of her, asked to be buried with it when he died in a train accident six months later.

The only thing Eva had of her only niece was pink flower shaped button that had fallen off her onesie the morning she died. Eva had thought she had lost it, but yesterday she had found it in the bottom of her box of things.

This morning she falls to her knees in grief as she puts the tiny button in front of her sister’s photograph.

It had never occurred to her that six years later, she would cry because all that is left of her sister and her little family is a photograph and a button.

Death takes everything from her and yet it refuses to take her.

It forces her to live, to live and love and laugh with a man who is just as fucked up as her.

She doesn’t know when Tommy came in, or when she fell to her knees in agony, she just knows that she only feels safe enough to cry with him.

“It’s okay, Evie.” He holds her tightly, kneeling on the floor with her as she sobs violently into his chest.

Eva thinks he spends more time keeping her head above the water than she does keeping all his pieces together.

Grief was the price they paid for love, and both had paid for it deeply.

“Promise me you won’t leave me.” She doesn’t know why she asks him that, it wasn’t like Tommy had any power over death.

But he promises to live forever as he stares at the photograph of him and Greta Jurossi, nonetheless.

[patientlibrarian]

Friday August 23

shades: pics of the day:

From Voyage fan site on YouTube

I confess I did/do have quite a thing for the actor playing Robert Todd Lincoln (Neal Bledsoe) in this episode and I think quite a lot is said in the scene (from 1.44) where he walks directly to Lucy to say that his father is dead. Her reaction and reaching for his hand rather hint to some feelings that have been addressed well in fan fiction. I love all their scenes together.

And now with us, Chapter 26 of TRLT!!!!!

The Road Less Traveled

Chapter 26: Quite The Team

Word count = 14,799

Lucy looks forward to returning to the safe house to finally reunite with her sister, but she and Garcia run into some complications on the way.

The Road Less Traveled - Chapter 26 - BattleshipGarcy - Timeless (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

archiveofourown.org|Organization for Transformative Works

Notes:

It's been since last November since a new chapter was published. If you'd like to read a "Previously on TRLT" recap, click here.

As always, kudos are wonderful, and comments bring me so much joy. I thank you in advance, and will reply to your comments on AO3 as soon as I can 😊

I keep the tentative "publish to AO3" dates up-to-date on TRLT's AO3 page, on battleshipgarcy.com, as well as in this pinned post on Tumblr. The plan is to publish a new chapter in October, November, and December. Then (🤞) one chapter every couple of weeks starting in February 2025 until the story's final chapter.

All remaining chapters are written, and only need to go through the editing process. And I so cannot wait to bring them to you ❤

#battleshipgarcy#trlt#trlt new chapter#timeless#garcy#garcia flynn#lucy preston#carol preston#maria thompkins flynn#amy preston#karl#jiya marri#rufus carlin#stanley fisher#noah#garcy fanfic#timeless fanfic#fanfic#goran višnjić#goran visnjic#tree huggers#abigail spencer

Hello everyone, everywhere, it's a bit cooler here in my part of the UK today and a welcome relief. Hope your day goes as you would wish it to.

[beasiannow]

Quantum Life Forge and Yummy Snacks of Japan

Genius brothers Kenji and Haru Henshin made a remarkable discovery when they created a device that can take a person apart at a quantum level and rebuild them as a new person tucked into reality so they fit in as neatly as you please as if the way they were changed was how they had always been.

One week later, they revert back to their original selves, tempered and changed by their experience, if more than a little confused.

Not being able to figure out how to present such a thing to the public, they decided to “gift” random tourists visiting Tokyo with the opportunity to spend a week as native Japanese citizens and be truly absorbed into Nihon-jin.

They do this by starting a company called Quantum Life Forge and Yummy Snacks of Japan and hiding their miracle devices in their vending machines.

Interesting experiences then ensue for some tourists.

Such as:

40-year-old Sister Abby of Our Lady of Eternal Vigilance, ready to spend the next five to ten years on a missionary mission in Japan rethinks her life after, what she decides has to have been a miracle, she spends a week as 20-year-old Handa Aiko. And instead leaves as sure as the returns to her old self, leaves the order and studies cosmetics.

Stanley Sutton, age 25 from from L.A. visiting Tokyo to raid the Electronic district, but mostly to raise hell in as many bars as he can get away with instead finds himself spending a week as 48 year old salaryman, Arima Dai, He does however at least have a pretty boisterous Weekend off and a head for bookkeeping when he gets back home as Stanley.

Shark in training Arthur Davies of New York, ready to start his swim in the business waters of Tokyo finds this taken out his hands when a beam of light in his face seems to have turned him into an 18-year-old otaku by the name of Furukawa Tatsuya who instead finds himself obsessed with manga, anime and other nerdish things.

“Damn it!” thinks the still very much Arthur Davies part of him, even if he is then doing it in Japanese the only language he knows how to speak, “Now with whatever the hell this is that has happened to me my rival Gary Carroll will have the town all to himself.” Gary Carroll, being his main business adversary also in Japan with the same intent as he.

Or not, as just a few blocks away, Arthur Davies’ rival business kingpin to be, Gary Carroll also finds himself in the beam of one of the mysterious vending machines and a week long remake as Miss Sera Naoko. One of the more interesting “Quantum Life Forge” transformations.

Another rather unusual one happened to newlywed couple James and Mary Barlow from Seattle, Washington. Both were 26 years old, at least until Mary, and only Mary when for a bag of candy from a Q.L.F. & Y.S. of Japan vending machine and became 48 year old Mrs. Miyu Barlow (nee Sato).

This created a change in general reality that caused a little trouble in smoothing things over with James with now finding himself married to a Japanese woman twenty-two years older than himself for a week with the Quantum device only able to half-way get him to adjust to this as the way things had been.

How it changed the flavor of the rest of their marriage after that week and Miyu became Mary again is hard to describe.

But whatever the case, the week long transformations, and life long effects given out by Quantum Life Forge and Yummy Snacks of Japan to tourists continues.

[justforbooks]

The illustrator Gerald Rose, who has died aged 87, was the youngest winner of the Kate Greenaway medal for children’s book illustration, in 1960. Then still in his mid-20s and barely out of art school, he would go on, often in partnership with his wife, Elizabeth, a writer, to become an influential artist in the field of children’s picture books. His painterly, playful and gently anarchic artwork continues to be enjoyed around the world.

The Greenaway medal (now renamed the Carnegie medal) was awarded for Rose’s illustrations to Old Winkle and the Seagulls. Written by Elizabeth and published by Faber, the book exemplifies Rose’s graphic ebullience and flair. It also embodies one of his recurrent themes and motifs, the coastal town (in this case Lowestoft, Suffolk), reflecting his lifelong association with the sea.

Born in Hong Kong, Gerald was the son of Rachel (nee Law) and Henley Rose. His father was from Lowestoft, and served in the army in both the first and second world wars, having signed up at the age of 16. He had enjoyed his time stationed in Hong Kong and decided to make it his home, entering the civil service there after he was demobbed.

His mother, originally from a large family in Borneo (Gerald would joke that he was descended from Iban headhunters), was adopted by a missionary, who paid for her schooling at a convent and sent her to Hong Kong to finish her education. There she met and married Henley, the pair sharing a keen interest in sport.

In late 1930s Hong Kong their two children, Gerald and his older sister, Dawn, enjoyed an idyllic early childhood, roaming freely around what were then wild spaces near the family home. Gerald recalled a dramatic encounter with a wild tiger, and the exotic flora and fauna of his childhood would form a regular theme in his work, most directly in a highly emotive autobiographical work for Cambridge University Press, Tiger Dreams (1996).

The childhood idyll was brutally curtailed when the Japanese swept into Hong Kong, and by 1942 the family was broken up. Gerald, Dawn and Rachel were taken to the Stanley internment camp for civilians while Henley was interned at a military camp. They were there for four years, living on bowls of congee that were often full of maggots. Rachel died there of tuberculosis.

On their release, the children were sent to live in Lowestoft with Henley’s mother. Henley remained in Hong Kong, returning to Suffolk as Gerald was leaving school. Gerald had failed his 11-plus and had gained no qualifications at secondary modern school. As Henley took a keen interest in art, he took Gerald to see an exhibition of cartoons in London, where a woman, overhearing the boy’s enthusiastic interest, recommended he consider art school. Gerald liked the idea and began a Saturday morning drawing class, before enrolling full-time at Lowestoft College of Art, where he met Elizabeth Pretty, a fellow student.

His talents were recognised in the form of a scholarship to study at the Royal Academy Schools in 1955. Elizabeth joined him in London to work as a primary school teacher, and the two married later that year. Gerald was spending his days painting from the model at the RA, where his visiting tutors included Stanley Spencer, Carel Weight and John Minton, but he also took a keen interest in the children’s books Elizabeth would bring home.

It was during this time that the two began their collaboration, and their first book, How St Francis Tamed the Wolf, was published by Faber in 1958. One of Gerald’s RA tutors noticed a copy in the window of Hatchards book shop across the road and made a gently disapproving comment about commercial art at Gerald’s next studio session. Now with a young child, the couple found money was tight, but with Wuffles Goes to Town, published as Gerald was graduating in 1959, and the Greenaway success immediately following, he successfully applied for a teaching post at Blackpool College of Art.

In 1965, and now with three children, the family moved to Kent, where Gerald was appointed to teach at Maidstone College of Art under the then principal, the prolific illustrator William Stobbs. There he developed the highly successful BA illustration programme, which he led until 1987. Throughout his teaching career, and beyond, Gerald remained extremely productive as an illustrator and continued to paint, though seldom for commercial sale.

As well as the books with Elizabeth, Gerald illustrated the work of many other authors, including Ted Hughes’s Nessie the Mannerless Monster (1964), James Joyce’s The Cat and the Devil (1965), Paul Jennings’ The Hopping Basket (1965) and The Great Jelly of London (1967), Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky and Other Poems (1968) and a number of Norman Hunter’s Professor Branestawm titles (1981-83). His own later picture books included the award-winning Ahhh! Said Stork (1986) and The Tiger Skin Rug (2011).

Gerald and Elizabeth spent their later years living on the East Sussex coast at Hove.

Elizabeth died in 2020. Gerald is survived by their three children, Martin, Richard and Louise, seven grandchildren, two great-grandchildren and his sister Dawn.

🔔 Gerald Rose, illustrator and teacher, born 27 July 1935; died 5 May 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[readingforsanity]

The Wedding Party | LR Jones | Published 2024

For a bride-to-be and her fiance, secrets and lies make this a killer celebration in this psychological suspense. Carrie and Oliver. A couple completely in love and the hosts of a wedding to remember at Colorado's legendary Stanley Hotel. This is Carrie's fairy tale come true. Her fiance, Oliver, is Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome; successful; and utterly devoted to her. Now family and friends have gathered to celebrate. It's sure to be a wild night as the drinks flow freely and the fun begins. But the morning after is murder. FBI agent Andi Castle was just supposed to be a plus-one. This should have been a calming weekend getaway from what she does catch killers. Instead, Andi is on the hunt again. THe hotel is on lockdown. Secrets are being unearthed. And no one is above Andi's suspicions. But which secrets are worth killing for? Andi's forced to find the answers fast...before someone else dies.

Agent Andrea "Andi" Castle has wrapped up an investigation into a serial killer known as the Spider Man, and is in search of rest and relaxation on her forced leave from the FBI. As she reconnects with a friend from college named Lana, she is invited to the combined bachelor/bachelorette parties for a soon to be married couple, Oliver Phoenix and Carrie Reynolds.

The party is to be held at the famed Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado. Despite not wanting to join, Andi decides to say "fuck it" and goes along for the ride, despite only knowing Lana at the gathering. But what should have been an exciting time for the couple, and a relaxing time for Andi is anything but. The morning after the main party, Carrie has gone missing and Oliver has been discovered in their hotel room, stabbed more than fifty times and very dead.

Carrie is located inside of the attic of the hotel, naked and covered in blood. And for Carrie, she can't remember the how, what, when and why she has ended up in the attic, or how Oliver has died and who could be the prepetrator. Andi immediately gets to work while Carrie is taken to the hospital, kept in their custody until she can be proven innocent. Carrie's trauma has led her to completely forget the entire night except for only snippets and pieces that she isn't able to put together into any sort of timeline.

Andi works diligently to ensure that Carrie is taken care of medically, but begins working on her as the only suspect in the murder case, though as a seasoned agent and the only daughter of law enforcement extradoinaire, Eddie Castle. She investigates everyone, including Oliver's sister, Natalie, who is now gaining the coveted CEO position of their family company. She also looks into each member of the wedding party and the guests of the party, with the exception of Lana.

Lana divulges a fact that nobody has seemed to share: that a few days prior to the party, Oliver received a white box tied with red ribbon, the contents of which were never shared with Carrie. Carrie immediately thought that Oliver was having an affair, though he had told her that it was a horrible gag gift from one of the groomsman, and that it wasn't for her eyes to see, that it would only make her hate that person, though Oliver never told Carrie which groomsman sent it.

Andi works hard to find out where this box is located, and she finally finds it once a locker key is discovered during the search warrants were issued. Brody, one of Oliver's friends who was in attendance at the party, discloses that the key belongs to a locker inside of the member's-only cigar club that the group of friends were a part of. Inside, Andi finds the lost box and the contents hidden inside: Carrie's adoption papers.

When Carrie was only 2 years old, the Reynolds family adopted her. They had one biological child, a son named Eric, who at the age of 14 was hit and killed in a single vehicle car accident while riding his bike with Carrie after having ice cream. Several witnesses came forward to state that it looked as if Carrie had pushed him in the path of the car, while others stated it looked like siblings simply rough housing with each other. But, the adoption papers show something incredibly terrifying.

Carrie's father is a horrible serial killer and rapist named Norman Morrow, who is currently incarcerated for his crimes two hours away from Denver in a maximum security prison. Andi shows Carrie the contents, and on the outside, it appears as if Carrie never knew about the identity of his birth parents. With the help of the doctors at a specialized rehab facility where she is currently staying, Carrie works hard to reclaim the memories that she lost in order to find the true killer.

Andi is able to figure out that Carrie had been present in Nashville for a medical convention, where she had supposedly met Lana's ex-husband. Andi isn't sure why she never truly looked into Lana, but the two of them meet for drinks, and Andi attempts to get her to confess to anything. But, after stating she's been called into work, Lana heads off to the rehab facility and confronts Carrie, though Andi isn't fast enough to get there at the same time.

After speaking with Carrie, Carrie confesses that she had slept with Lana's ex-husband during that convention, that he had told her that he hated Lana and only wanted to be with her. Which is why Lana got the idea of the white box with red ribbon with the damning contents inside. Unfortunately for Lana, this news is too much to bear, and before Andi can make it to the McDonald's where she is currently sitting, Lana ends her life.

With the world thinking that Lana was the one who killed Oliver, Carrie is going to get set free. But Andi saw another side to Carrie during the discussion and vehemently denies having any relationship with Lana's ex-husband. But when Lana's body is released from the ME's office, her parents along with her former husband arrive in Colorado to take care of the funeral arrangements, and he confesses that he did sleep with Carrie over that convention weekend and they were seen, and Lana found out, and the divorce was something he deserved after being caught.

With a plan in place, Andi heads to Carrie's home that she shared with Oliver, hoping to gain a confession from her. This plan came to fruition after visiting Norman, who went from proclaiming his innocent to Andi to becoming the evil asshole that raped and killed at least 10 women, including that of Carrie's birth mother, who was a victim of Norman's who ultimately became pregnant and gave the baby up for adoption later after stating she couldn't raise the daughter of a serial killer.

Andi and Carrie confront each other, with Carrie continuing to proclaim her innocence. But just like her father, she ultimately confesses to the crime of murdering Oliver. This is recorded on cell phone video or audio by Andi, and she is arrested for the murder of Oliver Phoenix.

[fkyumerica]

he had three whores to hand off to him

the santiagos

to rape all boys to fuck midgets

them

they wernt old women

chris thinks she had three kids with a guy at once

its a gay guy crying

all their affair kids will die

and affairs

the shorter group came over instead

what photo

kong looked there for them to be bigger

anthony tscolas was gay for the taller group with jen

what army

invade I dunno we run in and steal it

and aaron with three gay daughterss already

scalped but not enough to kill him

his gay dads

married his sister

obese and born pregnant by one of the men

they strangled her and did it

their gay stanley cup buzz em in we do it to her

is so gay and out with ricky

katie/jen is her too

tries to hide with aaron/harry/anthony/eric/jake/devin/timmy/david

now they boo

he had a gay dad

[millingroundireland]

Wasting away in Massachusetts: Dora Mills and the scourge of tuberculosis [Part 1]

In the past I've written about my great-great grandmother Dora Mills, one of the key ancestors I have focused on as part of this blog, part of the general family story. As a refresher, she was born in Glens Falls, a small town in upstate New York on June 1, 1849, a date derived from my calculations through various records, the daughter of a huge family headed by John Rand Mills and Margaret Ann Bibby. She lived in Warren County, staying in the same town, but also living in nearby municipalities like Bolton and Chester. She later moved to Western Massachusetts after she married Cyrus Winfield "Winnie" Packard sometime after their marriage on November 21, 1881 at the Glens Falls Methodist Episcopalian Church. She would live in Cummington and Plainfield, especially in the latter, until her death in 1895, and would be the mother of Robert "Bert" Barnabas Packard, along with many other children, whose last name was later changed to Mills, becoming Robert Byron Packard (RBM II) after Dora's brother, a hotel proprietor named Robert "Uncle Rob" Byron Mills (RBM I), with Uncle Rob adopting Bert and bringing him to Cincinnati with his wife, Hattie Stanley. As I've written in the past, when Dora died, she did not have a will or administration, and this is because the "attitude of romantic paternalism," prevailed in U.S. law, with men seen as "protectors" of women. Even though Massachusetts (as did New York) had a law which allowed married women to have property at the time, the Massachusetts Supreme Court said this only applied to property a woman "had as separate property” while that she could not own property with her husband jointly. Even if Cyrus believed in this notion, thinking that women should have a "domestic" housework goal, Dora clearly worked outside the home before her marriage, as I have noted that she worked as a shirtwaist worker in the 1880s, and a teacher in the 1870s.

Putting aside the aftermath of Dora's death, as I wrote on my Packed with Packards! blog, Dora died on February 5, 1895 of tuberculosis (TB) in the town of Plainfield, then buried in the Pottersville New Cemetery within Pottersville, a town in Warren County, 35 miles away from her birthplace of Glens Falls, likely because it was near her "surviving family members." I also noted that in West Cummington on May 11, 1895, the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and Mountain Miller Women’s Relief Corps hosted a memorial service for her, meaning that she had ties to both of these organizations. In the documents I looked at which are part of the Packard family file at the Cummington Historical Museum (which I wish I had taken a photograph of), there are documents noting that Joseph Beals, Dora’s brother-in-law (through marriage to Dora's sister Hattie) described Dora as “kind to everybody” and said that he knew Dora through her “sickness," visiting her 2-3 times a week. I speculated that that this indicated she was sick from 1889, when Hattie and Joseph married, to 1895, but that is probably too long of a time frame to be honest.

"Massachusetts Deaths, 1841-1915," database with images, FamilySearch: 6 April 2020), Dora A. Mills Packard, 05 Feb 1895; citing Plainfield, Massachusetts, v 455 p 45, State Archives, Boston; FHL microfilm 961,516.

To get some more information, I looked back at her death record in the death registry and it says that her parents were both born in Great Britain, which is technically correct as Great Britain controlled Ireland at the time, and that she died at home. It also misstated her age, but that's whole other discussion I'm not getting into right now, as that deserves its own post.

This post was originally published on WordPress in May 2020.

Unfortunately, we don't have any further information about her death than the above record and what I have previously mentioned. We know that the complex illness known as TB was called by many names back then, whether "decline" or phthisis, among other names. [1] The latter means a wasting disease and it refers to pulmonary TB. It can also refer to "any debilitating lung or throat affections," a severe cough or asthma as noted by Paul Smith's list of Archaic Medical Terms. As you can see above, her cause of death was listed as "pulmonary phthisis." Phthisis itself is the Greek word for consumption, and is a term formerly used to refer to pulmonary tuberculosis. [2] This form of TB is a "contagious bacterial infection that involves the lungs" and can spread to other organs. This disease is contagious, as the bacteria can spread easily from someone infected to another person. The National Library of Medicine's MedlinePlus site also says the following:

You can get TB by breathing in air droplets from a cough or sneeze of an infected person. The resulting lung infection is called primary TB. Most people recover from primary TB infection without further evidence of the disease. The infection may stay inactive (dormant) for years. In some people, it becomes active again (reactivates). Most people who develop symptoms of a TB infection first became infected in the past. In some cases, the disease becomes active within weeks after the primary infection. The following people are at higher risk of active TB or reactivation of TB: Older adults, [,] Infants [, and] People with weakened immune systems...Your risk of catching TB increases if you...Live in crowded or unclean living conditions...[or] have poor nutrition....The primary stage of TB does not cause symptoms. When symptoms of pulmonary TB occur, they can include breathing difficulty [,] chest pain [,] cough (usually with mucus) [,] coughing up blood [and much more]...You may need to stay at home or be admitted to a hospital for 2 to 4 weeks to avoid spreading the disease to others until you are no longer contagious...Pulmonary TB can cause permanent lung damage if not treated early. It can also spread to other parts of the body.

continued in part 2

© 2019-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[1] As noted by WiseGeek, TB has been referred to as "consumption, scrofula, wasting disease, white plague, and king’s evil," among other diseases throughout history.

[2] The Chambers Dictionary. New Delhi: Allied Chambers India Ltd. 1998. p. 352. ISBN 978-81-86062-25-8. Archived from the original on 6 September 2015.

[cyarsk52-20]

Let's All Scream at Tom Sandoval Together, Seattle

Fri May 19 10:30:00 GMT 2023

Comedy/Bar host will Vanderpump Rules reunion watch parties every Wednesday. by Megan Seling

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For weeks I have fought off my urge to post about Vanderpump Rules on Slog.

"No one cares!" I told myself. "It has nothing to do with Seattle!"

But my willpower has run dry; my strength is depleted. The Seattle Kraken have been eliminated from the NHL Stanley Cup Playoffs and I miss yelling at my TV. I have no choice by to pour my energy into my next favorite competitive sport, reality television.

You're on the internet so I'm guessing you know something is happening in the Vanderpump Rulesworld, even if you don't watch or follow the show or stay up until 2 am reading fan theories on Reddit. It is fascinating. Truly. We're witnessing reality television history.

Here's the two-minute recap:

Vanderpump Rules stars Tom Sandoval, 40, and Ariana Madix, 37, have been together for nine years. They're not married—Madix doesn't want to get married—but they own a house together and, while Madix has maintained that she doesn't want children, she elected to freeze her eggs and this season she and Sandoval started the process of fertilizing those eggs should they want children in the future.

Raquel Leviss, 28, is best friends with Sandoval and Madix. She used to be engaged to James "Not About the Pasta" Kennedy, but she broke off their engagement last season. Leviss says both Sandoval and Madix have been incredibly supportive as she recovered from the breakup, even offering her a place to stay while she looked for a new apartment. Sandoval described her as "a little sister;" Madix confided in her about her insecurities and occasional relationship concerns. BFFs for real.

In March, goat cheese balls hit the fryer. Madix discovered an allegedly dirty FaceTime session between Leviss and Sandoval on Sandoval's phone. Madix immediately confronted Sandoval and Leviss and they both owned up to the affair, eventually admitting it had been going on for several months. When did the affair start? They say last summer. RIGHT AFTER MADIX'S 18-YEAR-OLD DOG CHARLOTTE DIED. Pure evil. RIP Charlotte.

While this all sounds like typical drama-fueled trash TV, it's actually a bit more interesting than that. Sandoval and Leviss hid this from everyone on the show,including producers, and this new season of Vanderpump Rules had already started airing when TMZ broke the news. The entire season they just filmed WAS A LIE. Since March, fans have gotten to watch a whole season play out knowing what the cast members did not know themselves, and it has made for some truly fascinating television.

Producers turned cameras back on within hours of finding out about the affair and we finally got to see that footage during Wednesday's season finale. It was so gratifying to see Madix lay into Sandoval for being a narcissistic liar—and to see his dick whistle get snapped in half. At the reunion, we'll get to see allthe Vanderpump Rules cast tell Sandoval and Leviss exactly what they think of them.

There are layers! All of their friendships and relationships were impacted by this affair, by these lies. There is a lot to unpack, untangle, and uncover, and producers are hinting that more bombs will be dropped during the reunion. Fans have theorized about everything from secret pregnancies to money laundering. But even if it just ends up being three hours of Andy Cohen forcing Sandoval and Leviss to face the consequences of their actions, that'll be satisfying to see, too.

So here's where we are now: In April, Leviss reportedly voluntarily entered a facility for "mental health and trauma therapy" and she hasn't been heard from since. Sandoval has been making bracelets for paparazzi and cosplaying as a round one American Idol reject with his cover band the Most Extras. Madix, meanwhile, has spent the last couple of months attending the White House Correspondents Dinner, snagging sponsorships with Bloomingdales and Uber, and receiving public support from Kristin Chenoweth, Aidy Bryant, and Kaley Cuoco.

This is the Super Bowl. This is the World Cup. This is the Olympics. This is something that can only be made better if we experience it together. For the next three Wednesdays Capitol Hill's Comedy/Bar will host Vanderpump Rules reunion watch parties, complete VPR bingo cards, and lots of rosé, pinot, and *James Kennedy voice* PUMPTINIS! Let us unite to witness this historic moment in pop culture together, and collectively scream at the worm with a mustache together.

Capitol Hill Comedy/Bar's Send it to Darrell Vanderpump Rules Viewing Party is Wed May 24, 9 pm, $10. Let's All Scream at Tom Sandoval Together, Seattle Comedy/Bar host will Vanderpump Rules reunion watch parties every Wednesday. by Megan Seling

Read in The Stranger: https://apple.news/AI1IIxTnSOJ-AihM0Wcx1bQ

Shared from Apple News

Sent from my iPhone

[collymore]

A case not necessarily for eugenics but certainly one for the enforced sterilization of discernible idiots.

By Stanley Collymore Intelligence most regrettably isn’t equally dispensed to everyone, that’s one of the really stark anomalies of life and there’s crucially little, let alone significantly, anything at all, that anybody can realistically do about that; other than basically humour, wherever that’s relatively conveniently possible such clear outright prats; very alternatively, they could be legally, medically sectioned; and, either lengthily or permanently incarcerate all the clearly, hard-core lunatics and distinctly, mind-numbing psychopaths while evidently, so distinctly, humanitarianly medicate and very sensibly, permanently and decidedly steadfastly and unfailingly, conscionably and fittingly, sterilize the bulk of them! For stupidity is too dangerous an element of life within any progressive and obviously meaningful society since it wholesale effectively and equally vastly imperils the essentially coherent and likewise the cohesive embodiment of each of them, and thus consequently should therefore not be allowed to asininely infiltrate let alone commandeer and effectively persuasively regulate the actual means through which a truly beneficial and, similarly a distinctly discernibly modern society, clearly and effectively undoubtedly needs to acquire for itself and ostensibly sensibly, clearly and progressively so confidently embrace its future! (C) Stanley V. Collymore 22 February 2023. Author's Remarks: Britain currently, and has now for some time has been injuriously and seemingly inescapably as well been rampantly infested by discernibly dim-witted, patently obvious and deeply ingrained, intellectually challenged, unthinkingly pathetically gullible and very short attention span, easily exploitable and actually routinely exploited morons who aren’t merely monarchical brownnosing serfs but quite evidently also obviously love being arbitrarily characterized by their perceived societal betters as who and what they essentially are and must effectively significantly always remain; notwithstanding that psychologically they’re neither living in the Middle Ages or the 19th Century but actually an unquestionably, modern and progressive 21st Century. Stupidity so endemic, deeply ingrained and egregiously rampant that it’s embarrassingly painful to observe and actually countenance; courtesy of the purported Master Race, British and likewise attendantly so their surfeit of likeminded and overseas progeny of genocidal and racially inured bastards, keen to hold on to what they barbarically acquired in places like Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the United States of America but, all the same, collectively wanting Europe strictly for white Caucasians! So pathetically inane! Even Winston Churchill the obsessively arch and deeply inured eugenicist contemptuously abhorred the lot of them as he earnestly and frequently sought to have legally introduced parliamentary legislation that would automatically and drastically reduce the numbers of these intensely perceived as distinctly lower orders regrettably of British society. More than a tad ironic coming from Winston Churchill considering what a prolific and licentiously whoring trollop his own mother, nee Jenny Jerome, was throughout her entire useless life, who palmed him and his brother onto a father, who even Jennie’s own sisters unerringly believed was not these boys biological dad; and considering that Jennie Jerome was already 3 months pregnant when she easily conned Randolph Churchill into marrying her; asininely and wholly unconvincingly, to anyone with a functioning brain, claiming after Winston’s delivery that his birth was premature because she had accidentally fallen during her pregnancy with him – on her back presumably and a position that was for her most commonplace in such circumstances – causing her to have a 3 months early birth of the baby that she was carrying? Give me a bloody break! But the white British and their kin are exceptionally gullible and will unquestionably believe any and every piece of shit told to them by their intensely perceived and, accordingly, automatically believed societal betters! In the same way that they have collectively endorsed the said Winston Churchill who summarily wanted to be permanently rid of their sort, as the greatest ever living British person there ever was. No Jane Austen, William Shakespeare or Catherine Cookson for example, mind; but if you’re intensely intellectually challenged as significant numbers of them are, that is undoubtedly bound to happen. Besides, Winston Churchill himself ironically idealized his mother Jennie Jerome who characteristically had had little or no time for him, leaving him exclusively to his nannies; but I guess lying on her back and spreading her legs quite copiously for her myriad and invariably influential lovers was much more fun; as well as indisputably far more profitable, financially and societal wise, in addition to being a lot more appealing for this licentious American and naturalized British whore! Then came along Margaret Thatcher who decided to get rid of Britain’s many and quite longstanding mental hospitals, under the lame and unconvincing pretext that in doing so it would save the country’s Exchequer loads of money and instantaneously enable the affected patients , many of whom were legally and mentally sectioned to these psychiatric institutions, to be liberated into their respective communities and accordingly cared for there by loved ones and charitable bodies committed to and likewise experienced in this sort of work. What a financially grasping and avaricious Maggie Thatcher, her supportive Tories and their likeminded champagne drinking Labtories in the Labour Party conveniently failed to and accordingly didn’t tell the general public, but intelligent minds had already adduced what was going on, was that the entire project was nothing more than a commercial scam to close down these mental hospitals and literally not only sell them off but similarly too their myriad and valuable assets to these political scavengers personal commercial friends but attendant to this ensure significant financial kickbacks for themselves. And it worked immensely! The detrimental outcome of these purposefully executed and extremely damaging societal consequences are all too obvious and horrifically commonplace across the entirety of Britain with people who ought never to have been conceived let alone allowed to be born, and would never have been if Winston Churchill had had his way; yet are now running rampantly and murderously at large; and with the Home Office, the Crown Prosecution Service, the Magistracy, the plethora of UK courts, at all levels, collectively  combined in their unmanageable control of events and not infrequently in unison with each other’s crass inability and even their active encouragement of what’s going on – as they’re very much part of the problem itself – law and order in Britain has become not only a sick but likewise a pathetic and psychopathic joke; though not for those on the receiving end of it.

Just take a serious and dispassionate look at those who’re routinely, indifferently and callously committing these atrocious murders, and it’s patently obvious to anyone but the obviously blind or likemindedly biased that an increasing number of them aren’t even out of their teens; and effectively these are already hard-core psychopaths that literally should have no place in any, modern, normal and progressive society. Personally, I’ve always been, very much still am, and will resolutely continue to be against any state wide and statutorily introduced death penalty, but that doesn’t mean that either myself or those I’ve spoken to and who think like me should throw our hands up in the air despairingly and thus indifferently allow things to carry on as they currently are and, what’s more, become even more despairingly for all decent members of our respective society. For quite irrefutably these infernally callous murderers and rather uncaring lowlife elements of supposedly Homo sapiens are unquestionably never likely to change in character being the inured psychopaths that they distinctly are; and sensibly the best solution to adopt relative to them and also intelligently and relentlessly carry out is to compulsorily sterilize the least destructive among them so they’re permanently incapable of ever reproducing their own kind , while with the more extreme elements and atrocious lot among them: regardless of their age or gender, utilize the once commonly used electroconvulsive therapy treatment that was prevalent in the past throughout mental hospitals across Britain, but this time massively increase the electrode dosage to that generally used in death row centres across the United States of America  to discernibly and permanently dispense with such likeminded scum. Quite sensibly and effectively, in my estimation, a serious and detrimental problem largely and significantly, even if not completely so, effectively solved.