#pretty woman. miss congeniality. others I’m not remembering right now

[francesderwent]

watching rom coms in your teens: oh I hope that vague reconciliation scene at the end means they got together and they’re a couple now!!! wish they kissed onscreen!

watching rom coms in your thirties: ugh I hope that vague reconciliation scene at the end doesn’t mean they got together. he's a little nothing man and she deserves better. wish she rejected him onscreen.

[queerchoicesblog]

Unexpected News (OH, Elijah & Sienna & F!MC Friendship)

This fanfic was requested by my lovely friend @andi-the-cat for the challenging prompt “ Unexpected” of the @choicesnovemberchallenge hosted by @ramseyandrys . 

Meant as a celebration of friendship between Elijah, Sienna and Meredith Valentine (OH F!MC), this fic sees the docs dealing with unexpected news that opens new possibilities...

Hope you enjoy it and don’t mind if the lovely queen of tease Kyra plays a role in it...

Disclaimer: hints at Harper Emery x F!MC (previous chapters here)

Prompt: Unexpected

Word Count: 1428

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @bhavf @melodyofgraves @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @strangerofbraidwood​ @kamilahmykween​ @desiree-0816​ @universallypizzataco​ @gayestchoices​ @embarrassingsmartphonegame​

Harper Emery x F!MC Tag: @korrasamixfan @delphinusbae @noeschoices @jellymonster

________________________________________________________________ It was early in the morning when Meredith and Elijah got off the metro and headed towards Edenbrook Hospital, chatting.

"I hope Sienna's breakfast date is going well" Dr. Valentine said, smiling.

"Well, it should be almost over by now" Dr. Greene checked the watch at his wrist . "...unless she's gonna run late"

The two doctors shared a conspirational look and a huge smirk.

"Uh, a hot date seems like a worthy excuse to be late at work" 

"Indeed" Elijah agreed, breaking into a giggle. 

"But seriously, I'm happy for her, she looks happier now..."Meredith nodded."And she deserves better than that workaholic douchebag"

"Oh God, I don't even know what she saw in him in the first place! Most unpleasant guy I've ever met!" Dr. Greene shrugged.

"Unlike golden boy Danny" 

"Exactly""I was losing hope about the chance of an actual date, to be honest..."

"You weren't the only one, M., trust me...but all's well that end well"

"Yeah..." a mischevious gleam brightened Meredith's face.

She leaned down and playfully bumped Elijah's arm.

"And now we can focus on setting you up with gorgeous neighbor Phoebe"

"W-what?" an instant blush spread all over the doctor's face.

Meredith raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do I have to produce myself in a Miss Congeniality poignant reference or will you concede that it's time you ask her out properly, Dr. Greene?"

"Stop playing Cupid, M.!" Elijah giggled, bumping her arm in return.

"But Comicon is coming like next week! What better chance than that since you're both into comics!" Meredith protested.

"Remind me why you even know about Comicon?" he chuckled.

"Well, Edenbrook's most amazing doctor, who also happens to be a good friend of mine, is a lovely nerd and so is his crush and I believe my wondrous friend deserves to be happy too. Just like our cute Sienna is now. Isn't that a good enough reason?" 

The affectionate smile on Valentine's lips left Elijah momentarily speechless as the two slowed down to a stop. He was about to say "Thank you, M., same to you" when a familiar voice resounded not far from where they were standing.

"Well well well...I'll be damned if the best doctors in the whole universe aren't right here"

A young woman in a yellow coat and bright beanie smiled and waved at them. They greeted her at the unison and immediately walked in her direction.

"Kyra!"

"And they even remember my name: am I not the luckiest girl?" Kyra flashed them another dashing smile and pulled them into a tight swaying hug.

When she finally released the interns, Meredith was the first to talk.

"It's so good to see you, Kyra! But what are you doing here?" her expression quickly switched from cheer to concern. "Please tell us it's not another chemo session"

"Aren't you the sweetest, Dr. Valentine?" Kyra smiled and shooked her head. "No chemo session, I'm just here to meet my oncologist and discuss the latest test results. So keep your fingers crossed, even if I have a good feeling about this"

"Of course we will!" Meredith crossed her fingers in response.

"Even our toes, anything for our favorite former patient" Elijah echoed, miming Valentine's gesture and making Kyra giggle.

"Now, since we're all heading in the same direction, mind if I join you?" she added, wrapping her arm with Meredith's as they kept walking. "What were you docs saying, before nosy Kyra interrupted you?" she asked, turning her head to the side to address Dr. Greene.

"Oh nothing much, M. was just playing matchmaker" he explained, laughing.

"Was she?" Kyra sounded genuinely amused. "I'm proud of you, Valentine" 

"Hey! I'm right here" Elijah protested but Kyra didn't seem to listen.

"Who's the lucky one?" she asked Valentine."A lovely and beautiful neighbor who has a crush on the boy here"

"I-" 

"Excellent! So you live close to each other and she's into you-" Kyra commented, pondering the intern's words.

“Well, I don't kn-"

"Why oh why haven't you asked her out then, Wonder Boy?" Kyra smiled conspiratorially at a flustered Dr. Greene. 

As he struggled to find words and threatened to blush furiously again, stumbling over his own words, Kyra squeezed his arm reassuringly."I'm sorry, darling, but I'm with Valentine: I support the mission "ask her out". And in case you're wondering, Wonder Boy, there's no chance someone would turn down an invitation from such a sweet man like you. Unless this neighbor is completely out of her mind, but we'll put our faith in her. It's gonna be okay, Elijah, trust the girls here" she winked.

"Not fair teaming up" Elijah laughed but soon turned serious and offered a tiny shy smile. "But thanks Kyra...and M., I'll...I'll think about it"

A comfortable silence settled between the three of them as if to quietly support and encourage Elijah's newfound resolution. A brief silence was soon broken by Sienna running at full speed towards the little group as soon as they set foot inside the hospital.

"GUYS YOU CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED!" she squealed, crashing the three of them in a bear hug, despite her height. 

"Oh and hi, Kyra!" she added when she parted.

"Hi cutie!" Kyra cheered. "So what's the big news we cannot believe?"

Sienna gave an excited shriek before speaking.

"I'm glad you asked, sweetie! Apparently, Edenbrook will host a fundraising gala in a month or so and it's gonna be super fancy and ohmygod Avery Wilshere will exhibit for free and we interns are invited!"Three jaws dropped at the same time.

"Say that again" Kyra whispered.

"Fancy gala? At Edenbrook?" Elijah gaped.

"Avery Wilshere? Here?" Meredith gasped.

Sienna squealed again and clapped her hands.

"Yes yes yes! And the poster over there behind that crowd" she gestured to a bunch of people stationing and chatting on the other side of the hall. "says that we, interns and doctors are invited to attend the event and we can even bring a plus one! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT??"

"Holy moly" Meredith blinked twice.

"I didn't see it coming, that's for sure...but WOW!" Elijah cheered after the initial bewilderment.

"I know right??" Sienna was clearly still on an adrenaline rush.

"Well, docs" Kyra announced, smiled. "You better get ready for a shopping spree with that me because judging from what you said and..well Edenbrook, it's gonna be super fancy!"

"Well, we don't know what Dr. Naveen has in min-" Dr. Valentine cautiously started but Sienna cut her short.

"Oh my god, there's gonna be champagne, canapes and classy music" she noted with starry eyes.

"You bet, that's why you need help from a professional. Well, almost" Kyra laughed.

"Omg omg, I gotta tell Danny! He might be my plus one, right? Cause we're invited"

"Of course he will be your plus one, honey! Just text him already" Kyra reassured her, before turning to Elijah.

"Wonder Boy, I'm pretty sure you know who to ask. Even if I wouldn't recommend it as a first date but you know" she gave him a wink. 

Elijah mocked a salute.

"Yes, ma'am!"

A beep chimed from Sienna's phone.

"Done!" she sighed then looked back to Kyra. "But you should come too! It's gonna be so much fun"

"I'm no intern or doctor, honey, despite lingering here I've gathered certain expertise in the medical field" she joked.

"You could be my plus one" Meredith suggested and all eyes converged over her as if to say "elaborate".

"Well, I'm not seeing anyone and as Sienna said you should totally come with us" she shrugged.

"I thought you were asking that neonatal nurse that always greet you with bedroom eyes...like Jen or something like that?" Sienna commented.

"Who?" Meredith narrowed her brows visibly lost in the plot.

"You’re telling me you haven't noticed?" Sienna gaped.

"Forget the nurse with bedroom eyes" Kyra joined the conversation. 

"So you're not gonna ask Beyonce?" she added, a teasing smirk on her lips.

"Wh-" Valentine started but then she remembered who Kyra kept nicknaming Beyonce and blushed furiously.

"Of course not! I-" she said, clearing her throat. "So, are you gonna be my plus one or not? I mean, if you're not with your boyfriend-"

"Oh he could wait for one night!" Kyra smiled a rather wicked smile. "And you bet I won't miss this gala! Congrats, Valentine, you got yourself a plus one".

Sienna gave another excited shriek and called for another group hug.

"I can't wait for the gala night, it's gonna be the best night ever, guys! Especially because you all will be there" 

[b-kitsune]

Many ways to say I love you: Day Eight.

Kidge-a-palooza 2019 Prompt: Discourage. Pairing: Kidge (VLD) Universe: Lesbian!AU. Status: Part 1/2.

Keith was worried, and her heart trembled slightly when she couldn't see Pidge anywhere in the bar seats. She had stood up for five seconds to greet an old high school friend with whom she had lost contact for many years, and it was enough time to lose her among the sea of ​​people in that place.

Where the hell had she gone?

''Keith, is everything okay?'' She heard Hunk at her side when he watched her worried, she nodded with a growl coming out of her throat.

''Yeah, I've just lost sight of someone.''

''Awww, have you finally got a girlfriend after all these years? I'm very proud of you!''

''It's ... Actually a friend.''

She answered in a faint whisper that it cost Hunk to listen when they approached the bars for a drink. But he definitely didn't overlook the way she had said it. The girl who was missing at the bar was someone important to Keith.

''Will not you go find her?''

''No, she must be with Shiro on the terrace. If she had left, she would have called me.'' She answered without further ado while taking a sip of black vodka when it was delivered. While a curiously ornate drink came into Hunk's hands. Keith looked at him curiously.

''What? I like cocktails, they are cute and sweet.''

''Okay, I'm the least likely person to recriminate you for what you drink.'' Keith answered with a shrug.

''Is Shiro also in this bar too?''

Hunk asked interested, Shiro had been his martial arts teacher many years ago and remembered him with real appreciation. Keith's older brother was a kind and talented person who always knew what to say at the right time.

''Sure, although we prefer the less ... Noisy, we knew this place thanks to Allura, a friend of the university. And it has good music, unlike many others.''

''I see.'' Hunk drank a little more of his own cocktail.

''And what have you done? Since you moved to California, we didn't hear from you again, not even Lance knew about you.''

''Yeah, well ... It's been difficult years, my mother got sick and we had to take care of her. But everything is fine now.''

''I'm glad to hear it, buddy.''

Keith smiled in sympathy when Hunk began to talk about what he had done when he moved to his mother's hometown. She had missed him quite a bit in recent years, but she couldn't keep her concentration when Pidge's face rested on her thoughts in her mind.

She sensed that she was outside with Shiro, and she assumed that if she looked out the window Keith could see her smoking next to her brother, away from the noise inside.

The problem was that Pidge didn't want her company at that moment, she was rejecting her completely and Keith couldn't blame her.

However, it was all Lance's fault, not hers. Her stupid best friend turned out to be a terribly toxic relationship for the poor girl during the time they spent together, and Pidge's heart ended up shattered some months ago. He had thrown her the day when Pidge found him kissing with another girl in his apartment, the bastard didn't even apologize when she demanded explanations. Subsequently, Lance didn't even prove to be sorry when she was confronted the next day when things were a little calmer and Pidge needed to pick up some things she had left in his apartment when they spent some nights together.

Keith could be angry with Lance and want to break his face for making her cry, completely oblivious to how they were both becoming in the last time, but deep-down Keith knew that something like this would happen sooner or later. Lance had never shown any real interest in Pidge before they started dating, she was sure he didn't even know her real name.

It hurt to see Pidge through the corridors of the university labs with a stony, expressionless face, swallowing pain to perform in the final examinations as if nothing had happened. When in the background Keith knew that all she wanted to do was scream in pain for her beloved love.

And Keith ... She was lost in a stupid crush that would never be reciprocated.

She loved the foolish Katherine Holt from the day she saw her in an advanced physics class, she approached her with a random question and since then they began to get closer and closer, getting to introduce themselves to their own families. Pidge had congenial almost immediately with Shiro and her parents, and Keith had found a friendly rivalry with Matt when they met, the Holt family was always very kind to her when she visited them.

She had come to think illusively, that maybe her feelings could be reciprocated by that pretty girl with big glasses. But when she introduced her to Lance, she knew immediately that she would never have a chance with Katie Holt. Being rejected even before confessing.

Baby, I don't feel so good

Six words you never understood

Keith moaned audibly when she heard that song that resonated on the bar loudspeakers, preferring to go outside to light a cigar and stop complaining. Hunk preferred to remain silent and accompany her. Anyway, he had lost his friends for many hours, and being with Keith to relive old times was much more fun.

Four days has never felt so long

If three's a crowd and two was us

One slipped away

When Keith reached the door and lit the first cigar of the night, she felt that her chest was hit by a person. She was, in general, a fairly tall woman compared to the average, thanks to her mother's Russian heritage, so it used to happen regularly that low women tended to hit her by accident.

I just wanna make you feel okay

But all you do is look the other way, mm

But when she looked down, she realized it was Pidge who had decided to bury her face between her chest. While holding her tightly around her waist.

I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

I just kinda wish you were gay

Keith groaned defeated when her heart was painfully compressed, the damn girl was stupidly adorable without even trying. She had fallen so deep for her. Hunk for his part preferred to ignore them and go to Shiro when he saw him in the distance sitting in one of the chairs.

Is there a reason we're not through?

Is there a 12 step just for you?

Our conversation's all in blue

''Keith, I feel dizzy.''

''That's because you've been drinking too much, shorty.''

She responded like a big sister scolding her for her bad behavior, she was drunk up and could barely stay on her own feet. Keith looked up and saw Shiro laughing with Adam when he greeted Hunk in a warm embrace, the idiot hadn't realized how much Pidge had drunk while flirting with his co-worker.

To spare my pride

To give your lack of interest an explanation

Do not say I'm not your type

Keith took her by the waist with one hand, while with the other she took her cigar to exhale the smoke away from her face, walking towards an area where they wouldn't interrupt the way of the people who walked around. Pidge watched her, curious, with those big eyes full of life while leaning much more on the body of Keith.

''Keith, Keith ...'' She repeated, again and again when she staggered around her body, Keith breathed trying to find some patience. ''Why do you have a boy's name?''

''I already told you, my mother thought it was nice and neutral.''

''I like it.'' Without realizing, Pidge took her cigar to take a deep breath while briefly closing her eyes. Keith looked at her resignedly, had definitely drunk too much. ''It's strange, like you.''

''Thank you?'' Responded resentfully. So Pidge stroked the outline of her cheek with a downcast look.

''No, don't get mad, I mean I like it, like you. It's the best name ... I swear it.''

''I understand you, Pidge. It's okay.''

Just say that I'm not your preferred sexual orientation

I'm so selfish

But you make me feel helpless, yeah

Keith had to do something with Pidge's hands. She was being too cheeky stroking her while wiggling around her. She had to be patient, wherever she was, or else she could do something that would end their friendship. Keith couldn't help but, inside her mind, an inner voice told her that it was what she wanted, that she was tempting her to kiss her and take whatever she wanted from her.

I just wanna make you feel okay

But all you do is look the other way

I can not tell you how much I wish I did not want to stay

But Keith knew it was impossible. She told herself to discourage her real intentions. Even with Pidge's breath gently touching the contour of her collarbone, and her hands holding her waist tightly to try to bring her closer to her body, in a vain attempt not to fall cause of her drunkenness.

''You're the only good thing I have left in this life.'' Pidge said, dragging the words in her mouth. ''I'd be so lost if you left me, Keith... Never get mad at me, please.''

''I would never get mad at you.'' She answered while watching her take the last puffs of her stolen cigar. ''I love you so much to get away from me.''

''Seriously?'' Pidge asked temptingly, with a cheeky smile when she got closer and closer to her. ''How much do you love me, Keith? More than Lance?''

''Of course more than Lance!''

That name bothered her for a moment, seeing herself being compared to him didn't generate a good taste in her mouth, much less in a situation where she had so close to Pidge that the distance became tiny, almost reaching to taste her lips. If Keith was close enough, surely, she could ...

''You know? Every day I wonder ... Again, and again, something that hasn't let me sleep.''

''Oh yeah? What?'' Whispered, without breaking eye contact with those golden eyes that just kept open.

''Something that makes me think you would be mad at me if I told you ...''

''I will not get mad.''

''Because you love me.'' Pidge replied Keith nodded. ''But maybe... Sometimes when you're so good to me, I wonder ... How would it have been to kiss you instead of Lance that night ...''

''Kiss me ...'' Keith repeated, drinking from the image she had of Pidge at that moment, with her lips open, her face flushed, and her eyes needy. ''You are drunk.''

''Yes.'' Shrugged. ''But I also imagine it, again and again, as it would have been, and the next night, and the next, and the next ...''

Their lips collided as they both approached, gently, unhurriedly. Being so natural that at no time did they feel bad with the touch of the other. Slowly savoring the taste of their mouths, they held each other tightly when they felt the taste of black vodka and tobacco mingling with each other, like something toxic, intoxicating, suffocating in brief moments when they didn't go away in a long time.

I just wish you were gay

I just wish you were gay

Pidge closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the moment she had waited so long since she realized that her feelings weren't purely platonic. Keith never did, thinking that if she closed her eyes and lost the image of her at any moment, it would vanish like a broken dream.

I just wish you were gay

It was a kind and slow kiss, which was repeated that night before and after leaving the bar. Continued in Keith's apartment when they needed a little more privacy, and continued, again, and again, and again...

[melodiouswhite]

Oh No, Emotions! Ch. 02

2. A strange new member to a strange community

Edwina was completely stunned, when they arrived at the house she would live in from now on.

When Mr. Utterson had driven into the West End of London, she had already suspected, that it was located in a rich neighbourhood. But this was without a doubt the fanciest house she had ever seen.

It was a lordly villa with a dark blue and white façade and elaborate stucco work on the outside. It was in a well-kept state and beautiful flowers grew in the flowerbeds in front of it and in the windows.

Whoever owned this house had to be immensely rich.

“Damn”, she whispered and hurriedly followed the lawyer to the door, before someone assumed that she was just another lowlife begging around here.

“Do you really live here?”, she asked incredulously, when he unlocked the door.

He nodded. “Yes. This house belongs to a friend of mine and she lets us live here as lodgers.”

“You and who?”

“My husband and my best friend. And her own half-siblings.”

Edwina gaped at him.

“Wait … you're married? To another man? I mean, not that I mind, it's just unexpected-”

Mr. Utterson chuckled drily: “Trust me, I get that a lot. Just like my husband is often asked, what he sees in a boring man like me.”

That too is a darn good question! Who the hell would want to bang that?!

Before she could ponder further, the door opened and the lawyer ushered her in.

When they were inside, she was immediately overwhelmed by the ornate and splendid interior.

The entrance hall was all marble, crystal and gold and a dark blue carpet on the floor. Everything was polished to a mirror shine, the furniture was fancy and obviously expensive as hell. Whoever the landlady was, she was obviously flaunting her immense wealth.

“Wow”, Edwina marvelled and stared with huge eyes at everything. “Who the hell does this house belong to?! A billionaire? A princess?”

“Not quite”, a female voice chuckled, “I'm just a very rich countess.”

She jumped out of her skin. Looking up, she saw a small figure coming down the stairs to greet them. It was a small woman with yellow hair – not just blond, really yellow! – wearing a blue dress and fitting blue high heels.

“So you're my new lodger, Miss Hyde?”, she asked with a congenial smile. She had a meek, sweet voice and a faint lisp.

Edwina nodded weakly.

“I'm Lady Summers, Countess of Devon, but you may call me Luise”, the other introduced herself and extended a hand. Now, that she stood in front of them, Edwina could see, that the other woman had piercing ice blue eyes, fitting her yellow hair. She was of delicate frame and lily white skin and the brunette felt a lump in her throat. The Lady was so much prettier than she was.

“Hey now”, the woman said gently, as if she had read her mind, “Don't put yourself down like that. I have my flaws and you're not ugly either.”

Despite her eyes being of cold colour, they had a warm look and their owner had a warm smile.

And something else attracted the brunette's attraction.

“Have we met somewhere? You seem familiar”, Edwina inquired.

The Lady smirked: “You're the girl who tried to steal my wallet.”

Oh. Now she remembered. She had attempted to pick-pocket the Lady's wallet, but the blonde had caught up to her and forced her to return it. But instead of going to the police, she had just given her some of the money and let her go.

And now that woman volunteered to be her landlady? Oh crap, that was awkward.

“Oh yeah. And you're the woman who didn't rat me out. Thanks for that, by the way”, she mumbled awkwardly. “You still want to let me live here?”

The Lady smiled and nodded. “I know what I'm dealing with, dear”, she explained. “But I also believe, that you deserve a second chance.”

Before Edwina could answer, there was an 'Ahem' and someone tapped her on the shoulder. She winced and whirled around, to be faced with a tanned man in a suit.

The Lady said: “That is Sameer Singh, my butler. He's from India.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss”, he said and bowed politely, “But before you step further into the house, would you be so kind as to remove your shoes? The floor has just been swept.”

She blinked. “Huh? Oh, uh, sure. Sorry”, she stammered and took her shoes off.

When the butler held his hand out, she frowned.

“You sure you wanna touch these?”, she asked doubtfully, pointing at her dirty, worn-out trainers.

He chuckled and took the shoes. “Thank you, but I've touched worse stuff before.” Then he left.

The Lady beamed. “Now come along. Your and Mr. Utterson's fellow lodgers haven't gone to work yet, so I will introduce you to them, before showing you around. Come with me!”

Edwina and Mr. Utterson followed her upstairs into the right wing, passed a few doors, before stopping in front of a big one right above the entrance hall.

A sudden timidity overtook her and she didn't follow the other two inside.

From inside, she heard the older woman talk to someone: “Hey, boys! Our new lodger has arrived!”

The blonde stuck her head outside again. “Don't be so shy! Come in!”

The brunette obeyed hesitantly, allowing the other to shove her lightly.

Once inside she found herself face to face with two other men, one relatively small with white hair and a blue-grey and an amber eye and glasses, the other was handsome, tall and blond, with chocolate brown eyes. Both of them were neatly dressed and smiling amiably.

It was Mr. Utterson, who spoke next: “Fellows, this is the young lady who's going to live with us from now on-”

What's with everyone's obsession with calling me “young lady”?!

“-Miss Edwina Aloise Hyde.”

She was a mess, the poor child.

Way too small and thin for a twenty-year-old, dressed in baggy, ragged clothes. Her wild, café noir brown mane framed a too pale face. Her acid green eyes and had a somewhat feral, distrustful look. She was wary. Maybe even a little scared.

Henry had no idea what she had gone through, but according to what Gabriel had told him, it must have been a lot of shit.

With an angry glare this young woman fixed the lawyer.

“Did you have to give my full name?!”, she hissed aggressively. Her voice was raspy, as if she hadn't used it in a while.

Lanyon chuckled: “Calm down, it's still better than mine. Dr. Hastie Lanyon, surgon. Nice to-”

She interrupted him: “Don't give me that 'Nice to meet you'-crap. If I have to hear that one more time, I'll fucking snap!”

Henry and Lanyon frowned at each other. Not very polite that one, was she?

Luise cleared her throat. “Let's not talk about this, it's irrelevant.”

The small blonde glanced at Henry. “Don't you want to introduce yourself too? It's not very polite to just stand there without contributing anything to the conversation.”

The taller blond blinked. “Huh? O-oh yes, sorry.”

He extended his hand to the tiny brunette.

“I'm Dr. Henry Jekyll, gynaecologist and radiologist. Pleased to- n-never mind”, he stammered, when she glowered at him.

Gabriel relieved the tense situation. “Henry is my husband”, he told the girl and looked at Henry lovingly. “We have been married for nine years.”

Henry smiled and blushed a little.

Miss Hyde was unimpressed. “That's nice. Congrats? I guess?”

Is she homophobic?, Henry wondered and his heart clenched.

But Luise assured him mentally: No, no. She just doesn't know how to deal with the entire situation.

Oh. So the young woman was overwhelmed. Well, maybe she would be a little nicer if she relaxed a some more. And maybe she would, if they made her feel accepted and at home.

“How are you feeling, Miss Hyde?”, he asked friendly.

“Out of place. And pretty damn confused”, she replied bluntly.

Henry felt intensely uncomfortable with the situation and looked at his wristwatch.

And according to the watch, he was late.

“Oh my god! It's almost eleven o'clock, I have to hurry! See you all later!”, he cried, gathered his things and ran off.

Edwina blinked. What the heck had just happened?

The other three seemed equally startled, which made her feel slightly less stupid.

Finally, the white-haired doctor facepalmed and groaned in annoyance: “That idiot forgot that he's on a holiday!”

Edwina laughed. Who the hell forgot their holiday?!

The blonde Lady shrugged: “We all know how absent-minded he is.”

Dr. Lanyon sighed: “Well, I'm not on a holiday and I definitely have to leave. See you in the evening.”

Then he too took his bag and left.

Mr. Utterson too left for his office, leaving the two women alone.

The Lady turned to the brunette. “Well, now that you have met them, I will show you around the house. Come with me, dear!”

“Why are you calling me that?”, Edwina queried irritatedly, “You sound like an old woman!”

“I am an old woman”, the other retorted, “I'm fifty years old.”

“… No way.”

“Yes.”

“No freaking way!”

“Yes.”

“You look as old as I am!”

“Thank you, but be assured, I'm more than old enough to be your mother or aunt. Now come with me, I don't want to stand here all day.”

[efortmanteau]

TMA Headcanons

I sort of spoiled myself in terms of headcanons for The Adventure Zone, so now I try to finish/get caught up on podcasts and form impressions entirely in my head before introducing visual ideas via fanart. And lately I've been focusing on The Magnus Archives SOOOO here we go:

My headcanons for The Magnus Archives. A few were originally written after listening through s2. I've added my s3 thoughts below characters or in a new section. I'm only 3 episodes in to s4 so no spoilers after the end of s3.

Jon (I only recently discovered that there's no H in his spelling, whoops) aka The Archivist - Obviously Jon doesn't really have fun ever, so the main word I think of is 'austere.' He's a pale white guy with dark hair and greyish or brownish eyes who basically always dresses formally--collared shirts, slacks, maybe even vests, usually neutral colors. He's thin, but not fit--just the type of guy who doesn't put on weight since he doesn't focus much on food. Rectangular face, maybe has facial hair… I haven't decided, but if he does, it's like a goatee/mustache scenario that's always well trimmed. In my mind, he's young to mid 30s, but could look older. When he's scared or disshevelled though, he looks a lot younger. I think he's also kind of short, maybe 5'8", so he keeps really good posture to make up for it. Ben Whishaw is almost right, but he'd have to be homelier. S3 updates: Not really any? Although apparently it's Jon without an H. I've confirmed that he looks older than he is since the spider picturebook episode (which I would love Don Hertzfeld to animate, perhaps with assistance from Jules Feiffer who is 90 gd years old… that episode is so vivid in my head). Also I forgot Jon has worm… scars? Pock-marks? Not sure how that works, but you probably don't see them much, given I can't imagine him in short sleeves or shorts, although maybe he has a few on his neck visible pretty frequently, above collars. I'm was pleased to learn he is canonically asexual, but not all that surprised. Something about the way he interacted with Georgie in her apartment had me wondering… maybe it reminds me of me and my ex (I'm the asexual one, my ex isn't, but we still get along).

Martin - I immediately imagined Marty (Terry Gross Waters-Waters SAT tutor in Gayle) when I learned more about soft, sweet lad Martin, so Matty Cardarople has always kind of been in my head. That is probably just a similar name situation, but it's kind of perfect. Since Martin said he wasn't the smallest of guys but still made it into a basement window, I imagine he's kind of tall and chubby, but doesn't seem tall, slouchy, not the most confident person. Sort of a Neville Longbottom situation (before the glow-up). I think somewhere between Matty and Nick Robinson is around the correct appearance: a little more clean shaven and formally dressed than Matty often is with shorter hair (but still flippy), but softer than Nick is. This guy wears sweaters a lot. I guess he's canonically 29 at the end of s1--I had imagined him in his mid 20s somewhere, but I guess he was pretending to be older since he claimed he had a master's degree. S3 updates: Martin is probably the one who was most easy for me to imagine. I never really thought of his fixation on Jon to be a crush, which I'm really intrigued by in terms of character development. I was parsing it more of Martin being a bit of a subservient character, that he was like that to everyone in the office, but we only saw it from Jon's POV as the primary narrator. If I do a re-listen, I'll be very interested to pick out some Martin/Jon moments now that I have a different context.

Sasha (or maybe Sascha) - I sort of had Sally Donovan from BBC's Sherlock in mind initially. I tried to stray away from that and looked up "half black actress." I picked out Zawe Ashton without even realizing that she had in fact played Sally (in one episode, so not her main actress) because of her hair and skin and the fact that her face is pleasant, but not the typical hyper-button baby doll face that some actresses have. Sasha has natural hair with light curls (sometimes straightened). I originally pictured a small afro, but I think in s2, they refer to her as having long hair, so I guess not? I'm also not clear if that was Not-Sasha imitating her, or just straight up not looking like real-Sasha at all. She's slim, pretty posh/minimalist in style--grey herringbone peacoat, umbrella, boots. I imagine she's half Russian heritage-wise, since is a common Russian diminutive for Aleksandra. I would put her in the 25-27 age range. S3 updates: I caught on to Not-Sasha (partially because I saw the name in the voice actor credits, whoops), but I think I also caught something in Lottie's flat affect that clued me in. I thought that the imposter was just good at disguise, not that people had been cursed to forget what real Sasha looked like, so Melanie's introduction and take on Sasha/Not-Sasha threw me off a bit. I don't remember if the "long hair" comment was for real- or Not-Sasha. But I don't have any headcanons about Not-Sasha… just that she looks nothing like the original.

Tim - In my head Tim is the tallest main character, maybe 6'2", and pretty fit. He's imposing at first glance, but since he's so congenial and laid back (at least in s1 before Jon totally pisses him off) everyone who knows him knows he's a nice, fun guy. He's black, with fairly dark complexion, short hair, clean shaven. He probably wears sweaters too, but like… the thinner kind. None of this bulky knit from grandma that Martin rocks. I first think of Alan from Russian Doll (Charlie Barnett), but darker, just black instead of more mixed. I'd say he's around Jon's age. S3 updates: RIP in pepperinos. I guess him being fit is not unreasonable since he is… canonically? (does Alex and Jonny joking about it make it canonical) an outdoorsy adventurer. I certainly missed his friendly nature, but my headcanons didn't really change. He just looked a lot more tired up until the end of s3.

Elias - He is older than the rest of them, I would guess in his 40s or 50s, but given that it's canon that he rose in the ranks kind of quickly, maybe he's not that old after all. I don't really have a good mental picture of him, maybe because I can't differentiate his voice from John's a lot of the time until I piece the context together. In my mind he has a beard and mustache though, kind of full, and maybe dirty blonde hair that's greying a bit. S3 updates: I wouldn't be surprised if he carried a cane that was actually a sword or a gun (I'm American, so having a gun seems very easy to me, so I'm not sure if that would be rare in England). Also, did I hear something about having a grey bun? Maybe I'm completely confusing it with something else, but I'm chuckling about man bun Elias.

Michael - Well, he isn't human… but he looks kind of like a really pale guy who is mishapen and thus wearing a lot of clothing at first glance? He probably wears a lot of clothes so you can't really make him out under the trench coat, scarf, hat, etc. (I might be confusing him with someone else). I think it's canon that his hands are large and maybe have too many bones. For some reason, Michael reminds me of tourmalinated quartz--black and white for the most part, striations cutting through the clearer crystal--sort of like a metaphor for how he kind of… dimension hops? Ends up where he isn't supposed to? I imagine striations of his appearance sort of blip in and out when you look at him based on the static he causes on recordings. S3 updates: I now know that he was an assistant to Gertrude. I guess my idea of his human form is basically the same color and demeanor, just not other-worldly in proportions and bone count. Probably the tall gangly type of white guy. ALSO I guess he's kind of Helen now…? I'll do a separate one for Helen.

---BREAK to add characters I didn't write about until the end of s3---

Basira - I assume she is a Muslim woman, based on her name. I imagine she wears a hijab. I picture her as Middle-Eastern, perhaps Iranian, but she could also be black (there are a fair amount of black Muslims in America, not sure if it's common in England). Other than the hijab, she's not very feminine in her styling. Being on the force probably means you want pretty functional, utilitarian garments. I don't remember if she talked in great detail about how she joined the police, whether it was straight from school, but in my mind she's late 30s.

Daisy - I think I recall she has a back tattoo? She's a murderer so she has a tough air about her, but she's also a subtle murderer, so nothing about her screams that she's dangerous… you just get that feeling, you know? I imagine a white lady, short blonde hair, blue eyes. Kind of like Brienne of Tarth, but more plain than ugly. She's maybe early to mid 40s. I'm not sure if her relationship with Basira is supposed to be romantic or not. I kind of prefer this weird closeness that doesn't always equate to trust given their specific experiences. Regardless, I imagine they are around the same age.

Melanie - Melanie is probably the youngest, early to mid 20s. Typical build and height, maybe a little chubby, but not unable to climb fences or anything (gotta hunt them ghosts). She has a short, asymmetrical bob, dark hair, but part is dyed a bright color of pink, purple, maybe green. I imagine she has a go-to windbreaker that has some neon colors.

Helen - I'm so sad that we had to lose Michael to gain Helen. I really love the Spiral and the characters we've met who are involved with them. Helen in my mind was a badass realtor, ready to close a deal, very driven… and that carried over into becoming SpiralHelen. She sort of outsmarted it with the locked door, didn't she? I can't imagine that's very common for humans/avatars to get the better of their entities. She seems really strong willed, so I'm excited to see where she goes as a human who is becoming an avatar. I think her personality translates into her being 40-something but like lowkey hot? She probably rocks a suit with a skirt in bold colors that men's wear usually doesn't offer (all over red suit, tailored to her, pumps, straight brown hair, nice makeup). I'm not sure how the Spiral would affect her… maybe her angles just get a little more pronounced? She's probably not yet to the point of disfiguration that Michael was anyway.

Georgie - She is like a terrier who will bark at a big dog because they don't know to be afraid of it (or… how to be afraid of it, in her case). She is short, 5'2" or less (I just remembered that a lot of the listeners probably use metric measurements, so sorry for that, but I'm not going to bother converting). I imagine she is cute--she dresses up for her dates to Hungarian restaurants (my favorite detail omg girl get it) and wants to look hot, but really she can't get away from cute. Brown curly hair, big brown eyes, button nose. But resting bitch face… gotta ward off those catcalls and get taken seriously somehow.

Jergen? I can’t spell, it’s Jurgen - Jowly white guy. Wispy caramelly colored hair that's going white. Probably pretty tall, which I'm sure what an annoyance in those tunnels.

Gertrude - At first glance, just some old white lady. But after you get to know her, you realize she can probably murder you and is nowhere near as frail as you think. Curly, wiry grey hair.

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

Serious Things: Chapter 2

While on the road to meet Capone, Arthur meets Mollie and finds that he has a connection with her. Tommy acts like a diva when he finds out that some things are beyond his control.

Arthur doesn’t get enough fic love, and I seek to change that.

Serious Things: Chapter 1

Cicadas were making an almighty racket, splitting Tommy’s head with a ferocity rivaled only by the thought of being trapped in Yemassee a second longer. Blinded by a sun that he was not accustomed to, frustrated by an isolation unfathomable to him before this trip, and horribly hungover, he snapped at the old man stood before him in oil-stained overalls and shite caked boots.

“Two days!” Tommy shouted his expression a picture of rage. He put his hands on his hips and fixed the mechanic with a glare that could freeze the demons out of hell. 

 “Yep, and gettin’ all het up ain’t gonna make it come any quicker.” The mechanic drawled, wiping his greasy hands on a shop rag. “I’d be happy to give ye a tire off my own truck, but it ain’t gonna fit that there Dusenburg. They gotta special order it, Mr. Shelby.”

 Nino intervened, concerned that the congeniality of the old man would wear thin if Tommy continued to rant. “Thank you, sir. Please, make the necessary arrangements.” He handed the man a ten dollar bill and turned back to Tommy who was smoking furiously and flexing his jaw muscles in between drags. 

 “Tommy, look, I know you’re pissed off, but you can’t take it out on the locals. They all know the score; they’re used to seeing Capone’s associates come through their town, but we don’t need to go looking for attention.”

 “How the fook did this happen, eh? The car was fine yesterday,” Tommy growled. Sweat had beaded out on his forehead and was soaking through the back of his waistcoat, and it was only 8:00 am. “Now we’re stuck in this godforsaken hole for two more days.” Tommy turned the nail that the mechanic had found in the tire over and over between his fingers. “I’ll bet Arthur had something to do with this. A nail in the tire is an old family trick.”

 “Nah. I think Arthur’s been too busy to sabotage our progress. That Mollie really took a shine to him.”

 ***

 Arthur woke up to the smell of hot coffee. He blinked, unsure of his surroundings in the light, but the memory of soft green eyes and tangled auburn hair shining in the dim glow of an oil lamp soon brought his location into focus. After spending some time getting to know each other, Molly had taken Arthur’s hand and led him to her two-room shack behind the cafe. 

 Her sheets smelled of her perfume, and Arthur stretched beneath them, trying to recall where he had left his pants. Just then, Mollie appeared in the doorway in a filmy white cotton gown, a mug of coffee in each hand. She stepped into a beam of sunlight as she entered the room, and Arthur hummed appreciatively as the gown became transparent and revealed the outline of her body. She flicked Arthur’s drawers up onto the bed with her foot, “Lookin’ for these?” She giggled. 

 “Nah. I thought I’d spend the day in me altogether,” he chuckled as he shimmied them on and gratefully took a piping hot mug from her hand. 

 Mollie leaned against the bedpost and sipped at her coffee, admiring Arthur’s sinewy body. He had skin as pale as milk with a scattering of cinnamon freckles. She licked her lips as she remembered the way his skin tasted. “We have cake for breakfast, ‘less you’d rather have eggs and bacon. I can slip into the kitchen of the cafe and grab some if you’d like.”

 Arthur felt the outside world melt away when she spoke to him. He could listen to her low country drawl all day. “Cake will be perfect, dear.” Arthur cleared his throat and patted the narrow bed, prompting Mollie to sit down. “Mollie, I have to leave soon. Tommy is probably champing at the bit to go already.” He took her hand and cast his eyes down. 

 “I know,” she whispered, “and it’s alright.” Mollie reached up and caressed his cheek. 

 “I wish things were different. I’ve really liked my time with you...uh, and not just the relations.” He nodded toward the bed as he spoke.

 “Me too, Arthur. You are a wonderful man. I wish you didn’t have to go so soon, but I understood what I was getting into when I,” She blushed and searched for the right word, “brought you here.”

 “C’mere, love,” Arthur murmured and pulled her down into the bed. She lay her head on his chest, her hair fanning out over his pale, freckled skin. A single salty tear trickled across her cheek before falling to Arthur’s collarbone. She trailed her fingers through the pale thatch of hair on his chest and traced the lines of his tattoo, wishing that they could have one more night together.

 “If things were different, I could get used to having you around.” He softly spoke, and he meant it. Arthur had been into snow and whores for so long that he had forgotten what it was like to make love with a woman who was there out of passion and tenderness of feeling, not just because she was paid to be there. Mollie was no angel, but she was with him because she wanted him; she was attracted to the sparkle in his eyes and charm in his smile. She had no expectations of him, financial or otherwise, and she made him feel things that he had never felt before. It was more than just sex; something magical had taken place. 

 One night of passion had done this to them. They had tumbled into her bed as soon as they reached her home, and when it was over, they had stayed up late into the night talking. Arthur told her about his family and explained his scars and tattoos, and she told him the story of how she had come to live in a little shack behind a cafe in Yemassee, South Carolina.

 Her family moved around too much for her to bear. Most of the year they worked at fairs and carnivals throughout the south, and she longed for a settled life. Since her family had roots in Yemasee at one time, she figured it was as good a place as any. She got a job at the café, rented the little shack behind it, and that was that. After she told him her story, they held each other all through the night, neither wanting to let go. Everything felt easy, like they had known each other for years.

Afraid that she would fall to pieces if she laid there any longer, Mollie wiped her eyes and sat up. She gave Arthur a little smile over her shoulder, “I’ll get us some more coffee and a slice of hummingbird cake.” As she moved about in the kitchen, getting plates and forks, she heard frantic whispering coming from just outside the door.

 “Mollie, Mollie Girl,” a voice hissed from behind a row of hackberry bushes.

“Who is that?” Arthur whispered to Mollie.

“It’s my next door neighbor’s daughter,” she told Arthur. She rolled her pretty green eyes and smiled. Mollie stepped out onto the porch and spoke to the bushes, “Come on out from there. What is it Pearl?”

“They’s a white man, named Mista Shelby. He’s mad mad. He say he’s lookin’ fo a Mista Arthur Shelby. You ain’t got him back here wi’chu, do you?”

Pearl looked up at Mollie with big brown eyes framed by glossy black lashes. She wore a light green shift dress that was about a size too big for her. It had been Mollie’s, like many of the clothes Pearl wore. Unfortunately, they didn’t share a shoe size, and so she stood barefooted in the sandy dirt waiting for an answer.

“The man that’s with him, Mista Nino, gave me a nickel to run see if Mista Arthur Shelby was back here. They think he is.”

Arthur walked out onto Mollie’s small porch, and Pearl covered her mouth to hide a smile. She quickly looked down. Arthur held his hand out to her, “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Pearl. I’m Mister Arthur Shelby.”

Pearl’s hand trembled as she daintily shook Arthur’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you,” she finally managed to softly say. Pearl looked up into Arthur’s smiling blue eyes and decided that he was alright.

“Now, Miss Pearl, I am going to give you a half dollar to go tell Mister Nino that I am indeed here, and that if that mad mad Mister Shelby wants to see me, he can either wait until I am ready to see him, or he can walk back here himself.” Arthur rummaged through his pockets as he spoke until he fished out a half dollar and laid it in the palm of Pearl’s hand. “Okay, there you go, you take that message for me.”

Mollie and Pearl looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Mista Shelby! If I took that kinda money offa you my mama would wear my hind end out with a strap!”

“It’s true,” Mollie confirmed.

“Alright, how about a quarter?” Arthur began digging back through his pockets until he fished out a twenty-five cent piece.

Pearl looked at Mollie and shrugged, “Yes, Mista Arthur. I can deliver your message for a quarter. Thank you!” Pearl smiled and took off toward the boardinghouse.

Arthur and Mollie finished their coffee and cake, half expecting to be interrupted by Thomas, and made their way back to Mollie’s room. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they tried to find a way to say what neither of them wanted to say: goodbye.

In the light of day, Arthur could see more of Mollie’s room. There were scarves, a shelf with a photograph of her brother in his boxing gear and another of her ma and pa with a horse. A small dresser with a bottle of perfume, some dusting powder, and a brush. His eyes wandered to a crucifix draped with a rosary and a medallion of the Black Madonna. Arthur’s mind raced… her last name was Locke…her family traveled and worked at fairs, boxed, and dealt in horses…

 While he was thinking he had become very still, and Mollie propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. He had a far-off glassy look in his eyes as if he were about to burst into tears of joy.  “Arthur,” she shook him gently, “what’s the matter?”

 “Are you a Gypsy?” he asked.

 Molly fell back against the pillow beside her, worry etched across her pretty face. “They say I am on my Pa’s side. How did you know?” She never knew how people would react when they learned of her Romani blood, and she braced herself for the letdown.

 Suddenly Arthur’s lips were on hers, his hands were tangled in her hair, and he began murmuring words of love to her in broken Shelta.

 When Mollie could come up for air, she grasped both sides of Arthur’s face and looked into his deep blue eyes. “Are you?”

 “On me mum’s side. Oh, Mollie Girl, I think this is fate.”

Chapter 3

[zaney-hacknslash]

Death Note - Void Pt2

Ide

               Lunch rush packed the restaurant; customers clumped in the lobby so deep and thick, I could hardly elbow my way through to ask how long the wait might be. Servers and hosts flurried around with menus and congenial smiles, careful, always, to bow and greet everyone who came through the door, despite the fact that the grating sound of the doorbell sounded off every few seconds.

             Thirty minute wait. I checked my watch.

             Lunch rush hadn’t been part of this equation, honestly. I’d thought I could come sit down, alone, with Matsuda, for a handful of minutes, ask him a couple questions, and get back to headquarters in less than an hour. The time of day had never occurred to me.

             This was his favorite place right now, loud and hopping. Pop music blasted, the chairs were too close together, even on a slow day, and it always seemed just a degree or so to cold.

             Beside me, moody Matsuda stood glaring at the floor with his arms folded, like a little kid who’d gotten dragged against his will into an adult dinner party. Once or twice, I heard him sigh, a bit heavily, but the usual enthusiasm that swept him through his day-to-day life showed no sign of reemerging.

             If he hadn’t been so upset, I might have turned around and walked right out to find somewhere quieter to eat.

             I tried, several times, to say something to him, opening my mouth, and then immediately glancing at the other guests jammed in at my shoulder. Matsuda had no filter when it came to expressing himself, so I doubted the presence of strangers mattered, but I’d purposely brought him here to get a little privacy. I kept thinking he’d say something, even if it was just to complain about how long it was taking to get a seat, but he hardly looked up.

             “I didn’t expect it to be so crowded,” I admitted, at last.

             “It’s lunch time, Ide,” he muttered, more than used to my pickiness.

             “Yes, but I had no idea this place was so popular.” At least, I didn’t understand it. The furniture was garish and cheap, and imitation art of American movies stars from decades gone by cluttered the wall, along with vintage knick knacks. One or two photos of Elvis Presley and a single replica of Marylin Monroe’s famous white dress would have done the trick. This place tried entirely too hard to look like an American diner from the 1950’s.

             “This was your idea,” he reminded me.

             Even so, if we left now and went down the street to a place I liked better, he might not be as comfortable. He might not find anything on the menu he wanted to eat. Getting lunch with me might turn out to be something that merely added to his frustration, when all was said and done, especially since I’d more or less forced him to come along when he didn’t want to in the first place.

             Besides, anywhere else might be just as crowded, and if we had to start our wait all over again, not only would Matsuda be annoyed, everyone at headquarters could get mad at me.

             “It’s fine,” I assured coolly, though the doorbell going off over and over was getting on my nerves, like a bad song I couldn’t turn off, and the gentleman at my shoulder kept accidentally brushing against me and muttering, “Sumimasen,” right in my ear. He had bad breath.

             “Normally…” I pressed closer to Matsuda, trying to get away from my neighbor, “we eat kind of early.”

             Normally, he couldn’t stand to sit at headquarters past ten, so there was usually a break to get him coffee or some kind of snack. Either way, he always started whining about being hungry an hour later.

             That hadn’t happened all week, though. I’d barely seen Matsuda eat at all, in addition to hardly talking. Hopelessly, I stared around at the wild, uncomfortable atmosphere, struggling to tune out the door bell and the man coughing on the back of my neck, skeptical that such an unsettling environment could possibly restore Matsuda’s good cheer.

             Finally, a fresh-faced kid jaunted up to us, bowing. “Gentlemen, so sorry for the wait. If you would, follow me, please,” and then he hustled us through the crowded dining room, to a small table set for two, where he turned to smile at us. “Here we are. I hope this suits you.”

             In my opinion, he’d chosen the worst possible location for us, jammed at a tiny square at the center of the room, surrounded by a sea of people, but without Matsuda to assure him everything was perfect and thank the man, it was up to me to muddle through the polite talk.

             The host promised we’d receive timely service, and ran off again. Matsuda threw himself down in one of the chairs, grabbing up his plastic menu to immediately hide his face behind it; I barely got a glimpse of his slanted brows and down-turned mouth.

             I sat down too. The table wobbled, and the vase of flowers at the center was too big, crowding in on my space. The woman seated behind me was so close, I might as well have sat down in her lap, and the doorbell buzzed again and again.

             “You like this place, right?” I asked, lighting a cigarette and studying him.

             “Yeah. It’s my favorite.” The music was just loud enough to make it hard to hear him. That was new, too. Matsuda was normally so loud, he would have just screamed over the noise to make himself heard.

             Shuichi and the others seemed quite committed to letting him be, hoping his issues would resolve themselves, but I couldn’t bear to keep sitting by and watch him be unhappy. I’d do anything to relieve it.

             Just this once, I told myself, and then I never had to eat here again.

             “What’s good?” I wondered, finally picking up my menu. The food sounded just as bad as the atmosphere, the lunch menu cluttered with things like the Elvis Favorite, Marylin Monroe Patty Melt, and James Dean Fries. Absolutely ridiculous. Most of it was hamburgers anyway, but, at the very bottom they’d crammed in a few traditional Japanese dishes, for the old timers who got dragged in here by their kids.

             Although he’d normally rattle off for five minutes, issuing an exhaustive list of everything that looked good and everything that sounded gross, making recommendations, Matsuda just shrugged and sighed, like food had become an annoyance.

             Just once, I reminded myself again, and tried to focus on what I’d come for.

             I’d never seen him this way.

             Even before I really knew him, he’d always been that guy. The one who smiled all the time and greeted everyone he passed, never forgetting his honorifics, never remembering anyone’s name, the guy who always looked like he was about to blow a brain cell every time he had to sit down, be quiet, and do actual work for a minute or two. Back when he first joined the department, some people had sneeringly nicknamed him Nikko-san, partly after his uncle, who’d gotten him the job, and partly because he was Mr. Sunshine, but definitely not out of affection.

             After Chief Yagami and the others left to work with L, plenty of those same people had laughed good and hard about how lucky the task force was to have Mr. Sunshine working with them.

             When I rejoined the task force, I hadn’t been surprised at all to find Matsuda acting just as unprofessional and ridiculous as ever. I’d even asked Aizawa, “How have you dealt with that kid for so long? He’s driving me crazy already.”

             My old friend had frowned, almost as if the words had offended him, and he’d taken his time to answer, much more carefully than I’d expected, “Well…he’s not as bad as he seems.”

             The response had floored me. Here I’d been expecting Aizawa to grumble at least a little about what a pain Matsuda was—we were friends, after all, and pretty used to bitching to each other—but based on his reaction, it had seemed like the kid must have gotten under his skin, and I’d even detected a slight thread of protectiveness in his tone, or at least some disapproval of my talking bad about Matsuda.

             “I’m thinking about taking a day off,” I announced, laying my menu aside. “If I can.”

             Matsuda didn’t bite.

             “Yeah. You know. It’s been a long time since I had so much as an uninterrupted weekend.”

             Normally, he’d be all over that, more than ready to whine about working himself to death, eventually coming around to how important the case was, how we had to do what we could, and then back to how tragic it was to be young and single, carefree and restless without the time to sow his oats.

             Today, he simply muttered, “Yeah.”

             Behind him, I noticed a baseball bat hanging on the wall, supposedly signed by Babe Ruth himself, and steeped in a million vinyl records that had been plastered against the wallpaper. These people couldn’t actually think that enthusiasts of retro American culture would find this charming. They certainly couldn’t believe an American tourist would ever even miss home so much that he’d stumble through the door.

             “I think I’ll catch a ball game. The season’s almost over, and the Swallows are playing the Giants.” I dragged on my cigarette, hopelessly waiting for him to pick up his end of the conversation, if only to save me from the torturous sounds around me.

             He didn’t really like baseball, I remembered, or rather, he didn’t understand it. It moved too slow, he said, and he got bored fast, but I knew he enjoyed the novelty of garbing himself in home team colors, filing into the stadium with all the rabid fans, drinking a beer, eating a hot dog—like a “real American”—having a blast with old friends, and making new ones out of the people sitting near him. I liked going with him myself, because he always screamed loudest about the things he didn’t understand and got himself into interesting situations, or he hung off my every word when I explained, for the umpteenth time, how the game worked.

             “I doubt that workaholic Aizawa will want to go.” Even if Shuichi allowed himself to do something as sporadic as take a day off, he’d prefer to spend it with his family than with me at the ballpark, arguing about which team was better this season. “Wanna tag along?”

             Matsuda never answered, leaving me to sit there like an idiot, wondering why this new attitude of his bothered me so much.

             It hadn’t taken long for me to see how he’d gotten past Shuichi’s angry bear exterior to his cuddly teddy center. Matsuda had a likeable way about him, and where most of the detectives I’d met tended to be taciturn, cynical, and even pompous, his bubbly way of thinking out loud, laughing in the face of difficulty, and admiration for the rest of us made him a breath of fresh air.

             So, he’d gotten under my skin too. And, over the last couple years, he’d accomplished even more than that, becoming part of my life, effortlessly—my lunch mate, my drinking buddy, my sparring partner, my weird, little friend. Sure, he teased me endlessly about my love life and drove me crazy with his goofiness, but he never forgot my birthday, and when I had a bad day, he could tell. Even if I never told him anything very personal or serious, he had this way of reminding me things would work out any time I started to feel like they might not. Before long, I started to understand why even the chief let him tag along everywhere and overlooked so much of his silliness, because Matsuda was honest, simple, and even though none of us would ever say so to his face, really sweet.

             Seeing him so unhappy for so many days in a row was beginning to have an adverse effect on the team: Shuichi was getting worried, and even Mogi seemed distracted, I’d noticed Light becoming frustrated. Long-suffering Chief Yagami alone proceeded with his work unbothered, but he had to be that way, as the boss.

             All of it really rubbed me the wrong way.

             “Well, anyway.” I squinted at the menu again. The lights were too bright and stark, and I wanted to order soon so we could get out of here. “I doubt Light will let two of us take off at once.”

             “Sorry about that,” Matsuda muttered, probably just for the sake of being polite. He must know he was acting weird, even if he didn’t realize it bugged me so much.

             I never planned on any of this, and I barely knew how my relationship with Matsuda had segued so seamlessly from coworkers to actual friends, I just knew that right after I came back to the task force, while the others were busy, he’d taken it upon himself to tell me the whole story of every crazy thing that had happened since I walked away from them outside the station that night. A lot of what he’d said hadn’t been particularly relevant to the investigation, but he’d been so familiar and laidback, like we’d known each other forever, I’d gotten caught up in my astonishment at how cavalierly he was treating me—me, Dai Kaze, the guy no one had ever liked, since at least middle school—like it was just no big deal at all to sit down and have a chat with asshole Hideki Ide.

             By the time he’d finished, I hadn’t really known what to say, but there’d been a few questions to ask, and a few comments to make—routine responses—and I’d never forget the bright interest that had gleamed in his eyes as we talked back and forth, like maybe he couldn’t believe it either, that he was talking so casually with a guy like me, let alone that I’d talk back.

             After being around grumpy, old Shuichi, and Mogi, who sometimes seemed incapable of holding a conversation, it was probably pretty refreshing for him, and he’d chatted with me a lot since then, any time he felt bored or wanted to say something out loud. Over time, I’d been able to intuit that he appreciated how closely I listened, and that, even if I didn’t always have something nice to say, I made him feel important by acknowledging that he had thoughts and ideas and feelings.

             The damn feelings had honestly annoyed me at first, and there’d been times when I’d gone so far as to suggest he keep a diary instead of bothering me. I didn’t like snapping at him like that. I didn’t want him to think I was an asshole and stop associating with me. None of it fazed him, though, he kept talking about whatever came into his head, and, in time, I just got used to it.

             Anymore, I assumed I had the most personal relationship with him, which made me the one he’d feel most comfortable talking to in this state of obvious depression, but it still shocked me that I’d come to care about him enough that I’d take time out of my day to actively try to get to the bottom of Matsuda’s deep well of sentiments.

             “Hey, Matsu-kun. Wanna tell me what’s wrong lately?”

             He sat slouched, now, cheek resting on his fist, staring disinterestedly at the centerpiece, and from the reluctant glance he slid at me, I gathered he’d been hoping I wouldn’t bring it up. But Matsuda wasn’t a liar, so he asked, “Really? You want to know?”

             “You said Sumi…”

             Wincing, he stared all the harder at the flowers.

             “…I’ve never seen you take a break up so hard.”

             Involved in a case as extensive as ours, there wasn’t much time for dating, but Matsuda had a tendency to fall into the clutches of beautiful but shallow women, the kind who just wanted to have fun. They saw a good-looking guy in a nice car, didn’t know enough about the NPA to realize a corporal detective didn’t make much money, and ran the kid around, buying crap with his credit card and saddling him with the bags, like a pack horse.

             It was a trap I’d gotten into a lot back when I was younger—there were a lot of things about Matsuda that reminded me of myself—it had made me cynical about women, and it pissed me off to watch it happening to him.

             But Matsu didn’t have much capacity for cynicism, and, usually, breaking up with a girl didn’t do much more than dampen his spirits for a day or two.

             “Did you really think she was the one?”

             Matsuda suddenly sat up and took a long look around the restaurant. “Where the hell is the server? Hey!” He banged his fork on the wobbly table. Water sloshed from his glass, and I jerked my elbows back into my lap. “We’re ready to order over here!”

             “Geez,” I hissed, mortified, and watched as a frazzled-looking girl ran over, apologizing and jotting down his order. She turned to me.

             “Ah, sorry about that,” I muttered, feeling like the music might drown my voice out anyway. I couldn’t understand why they’d be playing pop instead of American oldies, unless they just didn’t honestly know anything about that era. “I’ll just have…” I’d never decided, because none of it had sounded any good. “Soup, and a salad.” I shot a quick glance at Matsuda, and then at her. “Sorry, really. He’s not normally so… Well, we’re in a hurry, that’s all.”

             “Not at all, sir!” she beamed. “I apologize things are so slow today.”

             She took off, and he settled his cheek back on his fist, glaring at the centerpiece again. “You don’t have to be sorry, Ide,” he announced. “It’s their job to serve us, and we’ve been sitting here forever.”

             “Even Aizawa doesn’t bang his fork when he shouts at the staff,” I muttered.

             With a small shrug, he reached out to rearrange some of the flowers, and I tried to find a way to change the subject to something more lighthearted.

             “These flowers drive me crazy,” he admitted in a moment, listlessly, though.

             They were the only even slightly nice thing in the restaurant, but I asked, “Oh, yeah?”

             “Yellow and purple carnations?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are they thinking?”

             I glanced at the flowers myself. “What if they were pink and orange?” We’d been guessing for a while that the dork might be colorblind, but he got extremely offended any time someone so much as asked about it. “Would that make more sense?”

             Matsuda suddenly scanned the room, eyebrows tilting toward his hairline, as if he’d just realized none of the color scheme in here made sense to him. “Pink and orange,” he echoed. And then, evidently blind to the glaring palette of crimson, chrome orange, and hot pink in the room, he frowned at me. “Why are you being such a jerk today?”

             “I just asked if you’d like that better,” I corrected.

             Instead of arguing, he fell back into the maddening silence.

             “Come on, seriously,” I prompted, after a couple minutes. “Are you really in this bad of mood over a girl?”

             Eyes fixed on the bobbing ice, Matsuda turned his glass around and around on the table, a sure sign of disquiet.

             “Or is there something else?”

             He picked an orange flower out of the centerpiece and stared hard at it, like he was trying to understand why I’d lie to him about its color.

             “It might be a good thing, Matsuda. At least now you’re not wasting time with the wrong person—”

             “That’s all great, coming from a guy who hasn’t been laid in the last decade.”

             I cut off mid-sentence to frown mildly at him, but Matsuda just stuck the orange flower into his water glass and glowered at it.

             “Is that your problem?” I demanded, a little sharply. “You’re not getting any now, so you’re turning into a cranky bitch?”

             “That’s what happens, right? Everyone says that’s what your problem is.”

             I rolled my eyes. “Shit, Matsuda. With a mouth like that, how have you made it through life without getting your face busted in?”

             He just frowned at his flower.

             “Didn’t your parents spend hundreds of millions of yen on your damn teeth? I’d watch who you pop off to.”

             Obviously, he had no intention of answering, so I sat back and studied him a while longer. Once or twice, he’d crept up to that line of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, but he had to be tremendously irritated, and that just didn’t happen all that often. I couldn’t believe he’d say something so crass to me, a superior.

             The fact that I’d brought him to lunch as a friend rather than a subordinate made for a tricky situation. I probably should throw a fit, box his ears, and write him up, but I’d started this by getting so personal.

             That’s exactly why Aizawa and the others have been trying to handle this so professionally.

             Stupid ass me just had to go screw it up.

             Even being here as friends, it probably wouldn’t be out of the question to rescind my offer to buy lunch, get up, and go back to HQ without him. That’s probably even what he expected. For all I knew, he’d intentionally pushed my buttons to get me to leave him alone.

             Then again, what he’d said didn’t actually bother me that much; for one thing, it wasn’t true, and for another, it was the sort of thing I’d gotten used to, growing up with three brothers. I decided to forget about it.

             Besides, overly emotional Matsuda didn’t know shit about putting up walls.

             “Who do you want relationship advice from?” I wondered. “Light? Kinda weird, getting tips about women from a kid fresh out of college.”

             Matsuda’s scowl deepened, and I knew my insult hit its mark.

             “Aizawa? His marriage it apt to fall apart any second now.” I checked my watch. “I’ll bet Eriko’s filing divorce papers as we speak. That guy sucks at love.”

             The next glare was so fierce and disapproving, I knew he really didn’t like me picking on his hero.

             “The deputy director?” I suggested. “Now there’s a guy who hasn’t been laid in a long time, Matsu.”

             At once, the frown fell completely apart, giving way to a gaping, shocked mouth and popping, horrified eyes. He checked over both shoulders, like Deputy Director Yagami might be listening in, and I knew he’d forgotten all about his wall of sugar glass. “Ide,” he hissed, “you don’t just say stuff like that.”

             “No?” It was my turn to shrug. “Well, my bad, I guess. I’m just saying, not a lot of great options. If you’re gonna tell anybody what the deal is, it might as well be me.”

             “Oh, yeah right,” he barked, suddenly, in an acidic tone. “At least the others won’t make fun of me.”

             I blinked at him. “What? Why would I make fun of you?”

             His hard eyes glared at me, like he couldn’t believe I had the audacity to ask that. “Trying to trick me into thinking I’m colorblind—”

             “I think you actually might be—”

             “Dissing on my music—”

             “Not everybody likes—”

             “Acting like it’s ridiculous for me to get upset after Sumi cheated on me.”

             Bingo.

             Go figure, all it took was to get him talking a little, and the truth spilled.

             I had to work very hard not to allow a satisfied smirk to pass my lips. Instead, I pretended to be bothered, fumbling with my cigarettes and mumbling, “I didn’t know all that annoyed you so much.”

             Matsuda glared at me, quiet again, probably realizing he’d said something without meaning to.

             “So…” I lit my cigarette. “She cheated on you, huh?”

             “Yeah,” he sputtered, “yeah, she did. With some…loser biboi she met in a trashy club. I don’t think she was even drunk, she was just done with me because I’m so boring, working all the time, not paying enough attention to her, even after I’ve spent every yen I earned last year on her. She didn’t even bother to lie about it, just showed up one day to give back the key to my apartment and laugh at me.”

             Calmly, I ashed my cigarette. Wasn’t that the story of my life?

             “Go ahead and laugh, Ide,” he dared. “Tell me I’m stupid, I should have seen it coming, and my taste in women is terrible, like you always do. Tell me it was dumb to think she was the one, and all women suck, and that you told me, months ago, she was just using me. Because you did, and you love being right.”

             I’d never seen him explode like that, half-shouting, drawing the attention of everyone on our side of the room, face burning with shame, eyes fierce with outrage. I never would have guessed the kid had such a temper hidden beneath all the manners and cheer.

             “Settle down, Matsu,” I advised, lowly. “What are you, nine?”

             Outrage turned immediately to rage. “You—”

             “Knock it off,” I snapped. “I didn’t say any of that.”

             He threw himself back in his chair, seething, and probably the only thing that kept him from all-out screaming at me was the fact that I was higher ranked than him.

             “Jeez,” I muttered, when I’d given him a few moments to get himself together. “I’d hate to see you get really mad about something.”

             “I am really mad!” he professed.

             “Right. Look.” I put my cigarette out, not wanting the rest, and glanced around for our food, thinking it would be nice to have a distraction right now. “What do you think this is? Some victory lunch? Like I brought you here just to rub it in your face that your girlfriend cheated on you? Damn. Here I thought we were friends.”

             His breath hitched, and his eyebrows tilted up in a sulky expression. I guess I’d never called him my friend out loud before, but it wasn’t exactly the time for a big, stupid grin and a victory dance.

             “I just wanted to know what’s got your panties in a bunch. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you—you’re the one being a little prick, talking about the last time I got laid and saying I’m bitchy because I don’t get enough sex.”

             Shame colored his face.

             “So, could you just take it down a notch?”

             Matsuda scowled at the table, and I thought I heard him mutter, “Sorry.”

             “Yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t really care.” And then I looked around for the food again, but I was just about to give up and go somewhere else. “I’m just saying being a jerk doesn’t look so good on you.”

             Slightly, he nodded.

             “It’s fine if you’re upset,” I told him, after another moment. “What she did to you was really shitty. But I don’t like to think that you’ve been pouting because you think nobody would care.”

             “No,” he murmured, “It’s just not work talk.”

             “Nothing you ever say is work talk. Anyway, you could have at least told me. I know a lot about dishonest, heartless women.”

             A hint of sympathy shaded his eyes.

             “That’s why I said you shouldn’t let it bother you so much. Girls like that are cheap—you can pick one up anywhere—and they’re not very creative. Cheating with losers, bringing back the key just to laugh at you…” I shrugged. “They aren’t worth the trouble. They definitely aren’t worth ruining a perfectly good lunch your buddy buys just to cheer your ass up.”

             Bewildered, he finally met my gaze again.

             “So, come on.” I smirked at him. “If you’re gonna be pissed off and sad, let’s order some whiskey.”

             Whiskey helped a little. After the first round, he’d started talking a little more normally about the usual nonsense that occupied his mind, and then the food came, so he was quiet a while. Mine wasn’t very good—the soup was thin and the salad was gritty, so I mostly talked and smoked, trying to keep him distracted. Regardless, his expression showed me he still was unhappy.

             After the second whiskey, we left the restaurant. It was a relief to be out of the noise and harsh lights of the diner, but Matsuda seemed content with lunch at least. In a few blocks, he started joking with me, so I knew the anger had burned out fast.

             I doubted anyone would believe me if I told them about it.

             Outside the headquarters, he hesitated, staring up at the building to sigh, and then he admitted, slowly, “I know you’re right…but…I really liked her, Ide. I…I loved her.”

             He did have terrible tastes in women.

             “Yeah.” I squeezed his shoulder. “That’s how it goes sometimes, kid. Sometimes, you really love somebody, and they just don’t feel that way back.” That, too, was the story of my life. Suppressing a sigh, I gazed up at the building too, with all its sparkling windows and the roof that tried to vanish in the clouds. “It’s not your fault,” I murmured. “There’s only so much you can do.”

             “I guess not,” he whispered.

             “You can find someone else, though.”

             Swallowing hard, he nodded.

             “Just don’t get cynical about it, okay? They’re not all like that.” I said the words, but the only reason I could so much as bother to think it was because of Shuichi and Eriko. She’d stood by him through everything, possibly the most loyal and genuine woman I’d ever met.

             I’d just gotten incredibly unlucky.

             “You’re not gonna wind up like me,” I assured him. “It’s impossible.”

             “How can you be so sure?” he asked, quietly.

             So many reasons, some he might not ever understand, some I didn’t think I could ever bring myself to tell him.

             At last, I teased, “’Cause you’re so damn cute,” and slung my arm around his neck. “If I were as cute as you, I might have a chance, but I got screwed in personality and looks.”

             Matsuda smiled a little. “I don’t know, Taniki-tan. Your personality’s not that bad.”

[wellhellotragic]

If Looks Could Kill 25/27

Summary: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises. Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down. Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor

Rated: M for language, violence, and smut.

Catch up here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

When the moment he’d been dreading finally arrived, it wasn’t quite as bad as he had expected. For weeks, he had been under the impression that the last rose and the ring were going on the finger of a different blonde. He’d even initially felt giddy at the idea getting down on one knee in front of her. He’d wondered at her reaction. Would she be overwhelmed and closed off to him, or would she have played along, throwing her body into his?

It didn’t matter now, though. Emma had betrayed him. She’d lied to him about herself, about what she really wanted from him, just as Milah had, and it hurt more than words could express. Elsa was the safe choice - ignoring the fact that she was technically the only choice. There was a small amount of guilt tugging at him, knowing that Elsa held feelings for him that he was unable to reciprocate. But despite how sweet and authentic she was, his heart was broken and useless. He’d do his best not to lead her on too much, to let her down gently.

All three women stood before him, pointedly ignoring the camera that was filming their anxious reactions. Well, two of the women did, at least. Ever since Emma had left, Ruby’s attempts at seduction had waned to nearly nothing, and today’s looks of pity were no different. Killian wasn’t even certain if they were still planning on airing the footage given that one of the contestants was about to be arrested.

He recited the speech that had been written for him, addressing his relationship with each woman just as the cue cards has instructed him to. When he finally sunk down in front of Elsa, ring box in hand, he did his best to force a smile for the camera. Her big blue eyes lit up and she squealed a little before rapidly nodding her head ‘yes’. He slid the ring on her finger and she hugged him tightly, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him.

He stood there, shocked and rigid. The cameras cut and he peeled himself out of her grasp as politely as possible. Ruby wasted no time in shifting back into her agent persona. The remaining agents posing as camera crew members set down their equipment and surrounded Tamara. A brief flicker of genuine surprised crossed the assassin’s features, but she was quick to clam up as David read her her rights. Ava tugged both him and Elsa out of the way and he watched as Tamara was handcuffed and dragged away.

When he looked over to Elsa, her jaw had dropped and once again that spark of guilt ignited within him. She deserved to know the truth. Relationship status aside, he refused to lie to her the way everyone had to him.

So he told her. He explained that he had been an unsuspecting dupe until recently as well. Regina had fooled him into participating in the show and using him to help the FBI set up a sting operation. It felt important for her to know that. She was stunned, and probably a little overwhelmed. It was a lot of information to take in. He further explained that both Emma and Ruby were agents trying to find proof of Tamara’s involvement in his assasination plot.

The unasked question filled the air between them, until the tension became too much for him to bear.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

There were no other words to express how awful he felt for leading her on.

“Can I ask you something?” Hope sparkled behind her eyes.

He nodded, still unable to speak.

“I know that you don’t really feel anything for me yet, but are you willing to try?”

“I don’t-”

Her face relaxed a bit. Even now she had an oddly calming effect.

“I don’t mean that I want to you to force yourself to feel something for me. Just that I want you to stay open to the possibility. As I understand it, and perhaps I’m wrong, it’s been a few months since I read the participation contract, but I think we have to remain engaged for at least six months. So for the next six months, I’m just asking that you don’t shut me out.”

He took a deep breath, and then another while her carefully thought through his wording.

“I can’t promise that I’ll fall in love with you. My heart has been beaten up pretty badly in the past, and I can’t promise that I won’t shut you out, but I promise I’ll try.”

Her blue eyes lit up, and for all of the anger and confusion warring inside him, he couldn’t help but wish that it had been green eyes staring back at him. And that was possibly the biggest problem. For as hurt as he was, and as broken as he was, he still loved Emma, and he didn’t know how to stop.

Before they could say anything more, Ruby approached them explaining that they were taking Tamara to the FBI headquarters for questioning. Killian and Elsa would be following behind them a few minutes later to ensure that Tamara didn’t make a last ditch effort to kill him. Ruby wanted to put as much space as possible between them, but wanted Killian somewhere safe where she could keep an eye on him for the time being.

Ten minutes after Ruby left with Tamara, two men in suits found Killian and Elsa and escorted them outside where a black SUV was waiting. They climbed in the back, while the agents climbed into the front seats, and began heading towards the general direction of Robin and Will’s office.

The scenery was actually quite beautiful. The view from his window was nothing but water as far as the eye could see. The waves lapped up to the shore line before receding and eventually returning. The afternoon sun left a sparkling gleam. He’d been slightly hungover when he had arrived the first day, and each time Will or Ruby had snuck him off the property it had been too dark for him notice. Now, with Elsa sitting next to him, he couldn’t help but look outside, to look anywhere but at her.

They were about three miles away from the mansion, still on a seldom used road, when he was ripped from his thoughts by a loud noise. The SUV began to swerve and suddenly he was tumbling. The SUV rolled; he lost count of how many times. Everything stilled. His vision was blurry and a sharp piercing pain stabbed at the left side of his face. It took him a moment to come back to himself, to realize what was happening, and by then it was too late.

He looked over to find the door next to Elsa being ripped open and a man forcibly removing Elsa. He thought she was screaming, but everything was still so muddled in his mind. She thrashed, and the man brandished a gun, and Elsa went still, fear coloring her face. He tried to help her, but his seatbelt was stuck and he couldn’t get out. His limbs were dead weight anyway, and eventually he succumbed to the fatigue. Everything went black.

“What do you mean ‘they ’took him?”

“They! Him. Her. Does it matter? Someone took him and they’re going to kill him if they haven’t already.”

“So we’re too late then?”

Emma had never wanted to throttle August more in her life than she did in that moment. They couldn’t be too late, because the implications of that statement were too much for her heart to bear.

“How long has your boyfriend been missing?”

Emma’s mouth fell open. No one had ever outwardly referred to him as her boyfriend, not her anything. She snapped out of it quickly though, remembering the seriousness of the situation.

“I don’t know. Ruby was running back into the interrogation room, and Will was in a hurry as well, but I don’t think they know much.”

She could feel her heart rate speeding up and was certain that it was going to explode at any moment.

“And they’re in the interrogation room now?”

She nodded at Aladdin. He seemed calm, too calm.

“I can work with that.”

He clicked away, spinning in his chair and working away at three different keyboards. Before she knew it, the screen to the far right was tapped into the interrogation room camera. The very secure - but apparently not nearly as secure as she believed - camera.

“Do you do this often?”

“Semantics,” he shrugged. “Your definition of often and mine probably differ greatly.”

She was thrown. There was something about his arrogance that put her at ease, which she found upsetting. She didn’t need to be bonding with someone while Killian was possibly fighting for his life.

Instead she chose to focus on the screen closest to her. Aladdin turned up the sound a bit before turning back and working on something else. Ruby was coming at Tamara with everything she had. Emma had seen Ruby confronting suspects before, and she knew how fierce Ruby could be. Robin and Will were both leaning against the wall behind Ruby as a show of solidarity, but Tamara didn’t seem phased, and Emma knew that they weren’t going to get anything out of her.

It was completely frustrating, sitting on the sidelines, helpless to do anything of value. She didn’t know how to hack computers, she couldn’t be in the interrogation room, and there was nothing left for the files to reveal. She felt like a failure, and Killian would suffer for her incompetence.

“I may have something.”

Emma never let her eyes leave the screen as Aladdin spoke.

“I found the origin of the payments. The account paying your girl there,” he said as he head nodded towards the screen, “belonged to Malcolm Gold, but there’s another account financing him.”

“Whose account?”

It was the first time August had spoken since he had insinuated that Killian was already dead.

“Hold your horses. I just found the account. It’s based out of London, but it’s going to take me a little bit longer to get into the bank’s systems. They’re a little bit more complex than the FBI’s.”

Emma wasn’t sure if it was a low blow, or a cheeky comment meant to entertain her, but either way she was unamused. Her thoughts though were focused on something else he said.

It’s based out of London.

London, where Killian lived before he came to Boston. Whatever the reason for the hit being issued stemmed from before he came to the states. Emma thought back through the files. So much of what they had compiled was filled with his life in the past two years, since the anonymous threats hadn’t started until after he had become a local fixture there.

She knew little about his time there. Regina had succeeded in burying everything about his life in an effort to hide his indiscretions with a Milah, a woman still married to a wealthy and powerful man.

Shit.

“I need one of your computers.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Aladdin started as he stood and placed both hands in front of him. “No one touches my equipment but me. It’s the one rule I won’t break or bend.”

“Fine.” She was beyond frustrated but didn’t want to waste anymore time. “I need you to look someone up for me.”

Aladdin considered her for a moment before nodding at he to approach.

“Name?”

“Milah.”

“Milah...?” He drew out the last syllable.

“I don’t know her last name. Just that her first name was Milah and that she lived in London. She was murdered two years ago in Reading.”

He scrunched his brow.

“It’s a long shot but okay.”

Emma was pretty sure it was anything but a long shot. While Killian’s participation had been erased, from what he had told her it had been headline news. Her husband was the head of a major music label and something the murder of his wife wouldn’t be easily swept under the rug.

“Holy shit.”

Emma was snapped out of her thoughts by August’s exclamation.

“What?”

It wasn’t sudden like in the movies. He didn’t gasp back into consciousness with the alertness of a shot full of adrenaline. No, it was slow, and painful. He had to fight the heavy lead feeling that kept his eyes shut. He wanted nothing more than to drift back off to sleep, but the left side of his face was throbbing and he didn’t know why.

He tried to move his hand up to his face to inspect the damage, but he found he was unable to move any of his limbs. Worry started to take over his body. When was the last time he’d felt like this? The hospital, as his was pumped full of medication that left him nearly catatonic. Was he still there? Had everything been a dream?

Using the very last of whatever energy he had left he forced his right eye open, expecting to find himself surrounded by machines and wires. Instead, there was nothing but beat up plaster and weathered wooden beams. He tried to turn his head, but the pain only became more intense. His body instinctively tried to call out, but the sound was muffled. He’d been gagged with something. He could taste blood though, and when his head fell back toward his chest, there was red staining his shirt.

Eventually the pain became too much and the blackness overtook him once again.

Seeing his face in black and white on the screen. She was stunned. Robert Gold was Milah’s husband. The same Robert Gold that had hired Neal to seduce her and defraud her entire case against him. The same man that had, in a roundabout way, destroyed her career.

Small world.

“Em, what’s going on? How is he related?”

Emma just shook her head at him. Although she’d promised to give him all of the case details for his help, this was the one thing she wasn’t ready to reveal. It wasn’t hers to give away.

His mouth opened and she was about to stop him, but before she could a loud beeping started. Aladdin turned to another screen where a light was flashing.

“Well I’ll be a son of a monkey. Guess who the account belongs to?”

She didn’t need to. Robert Gold. He was still pissed that Killian had slept with his wife and had ordered the hit. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the crazed stalker attack that resulted in Milah’s death hadn’t been directly related to him as well.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement on the far screen in the interrogation room. The door opened and someone Emma didn’t recognized handed Will a folder. He flipped through it and his face dropped, causing all of the air to rush out of her body. She knew that the green folders were reserved for the techs that combed over the crime scene.

Ruby looked to him and Emma could tell that he was apprehensive.

“They’re still working on it but the blood in the back was from two different sources, and they said it was a lot of blood, even for two people. If they aren’t already dead from blood loss, they will be soon.”

Will tossed the file over to Robin and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Emma couldn’t blame him; she was pretty sure that if she were in his shoes, her fist would have already knocked Tamara out of her chair.

“Emma.”

It wasn’t a question, or a demand. August’s voice was small, and she knew that whatever he was about to tell her wouldn’t be good.

“You should come look at this.”

Giving herself a moment to fight off the tears she felt prickling the corner of her eyes, she looked up to the ceiling and blinking everything away. Once she felt confident that she wasn’t going to start bawling in front of August and a strange man she still hadn’t made her mind up about yet, she went to look over Aladdin’s shoulder.

Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, Aladdin and August had found another picture of Robert and Milah Gold, a family portrait of them sitting behind a young man that she recognized all too well. Neal Cassidy.

“His real name is Baelfire Gold. He’s their son.”

Small fucking world.

Neal, or apparently Baelfire had spoken of his parents often. His father was a cruel man who cared more about money and power than he did about his wife or child. Neal hated the man with everything he had, but Neal rarely spoke of his mother. Only that she was kind but that she hadn’t been present for the later half of his life. She traveled a lot and looked for excuses to be away from home, for which he blamed on his father.

Thinking back, she should have realized. Neal had left her life in such a disastrous state, and after years of searching for him, she had been certain that she was never going to see him again. But then he waltzed back in, and was so nonchalant about seeing her, like he hadn’t wrecked her, like he hadn’t destroyed everything about her.

Of course he’d come back because he was somehow in on the plot to kill Killian.

A loud noise from one of the speakers startled them all. Will had rushed back in telling both Robin and Ruby that they’d gotten a tip that someone saw Killian being hauled off into a building out in Taunton, about fifty minutes south of Boston. It was an old abandoned hospital that had closed down in the mid seventies. A fire had destroyed the main complex but there were still a few outlying buildings that could have easily housed an evil maniacal lair.

Ruby told another agent to keep an eye on Tamara and not to let her leave the room. Emma couldn’t see her once she left, but she knew that Ruby, Robin, and Will were going after Killian, and she needed to be there when they found him. Alive or dead, she needed to see him for herself.

She didn’t give any thought to the two other men, grabbing the flashlight again and turning to head back to the car, but Aladdin called out for her. She didn’t want to stop, to be delayed, but there was something in the tone of his voice that forced her feet to stop moving.

“It doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean? Someone saw Killian being carried inside.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Emma was on her last straw. “The key to thievery is misdirection.”

He tapped away at a few more keys.

“Something feels off. There’s nothing here to support that anyone would take him there. There’s no electricity running out there, water, anything a person would need to survive. Whoever took him wouldn’t stay there.”

“Assassins don’t need electricity or water to murder him!”

“If someone just wanted to kill him, they would have left him in the SUV. They want him for something else, and I’m telling you, they didn’t take him there.”

That made sense. She might have realized it herself if she hadn’t been so caught up with worry.

“Okay.” She paced in a circle a few times, trying to think everything over. “You said Gold was paying out another account. Whose is it?”

She had her suspicions, but she needed Aladdin to confirm it first.

It didn’t take long. The payments were to a Baelfire Gold. Of course they were. So Neal had Killian. Now they just needed to find Neal.

“Food.”

Emma tilted her head at August. What he really suggesting that they break for dinner now?

“He’s gotta eat. I’m guessing if he’s laying low, he’s not going to go far to get his meals and maybe even gas for his car, so if she can just track down where he ate, we can narrow down the area he’s hiding out in.”

Emma took a deep breath. She needed to get her shit together. She was ready to snap and think the absolute worst of everyone.

Soon enough, they had it narrowed down to a four block radius based on his purchase history. Emma relied on her training to further narrow it down. It would likely need to be sound proof, so the construction would have to be thick stone or concrete. It would need to be as isolated as possible, so something detached. August had suggested looking up recent deed changes, but Emma’s eyes were drawn to a large building. In and of itself, it was nothing special, but it fit all of the parameters, and judging from the windows that had been boarded up with plywood, it had long since been abandoned. The Hotel Alexandra. After looking up the deed info, they discovered that it had been purchased years before by the Church of Scientology, but they had left the property to ruins due to financing issues. Neal wouldn’t have had any issues breaking in and holding Killian there.

Emma barely heard August call out to her to check the trunk before she was halfway down the hall, almost to the steps. The hotel was less than two miles from the abandoned station they were using, but it would still be faster to drive. Along the way she called Ruby. There was no answer but Emma left a message explaining that the place in Taunton was just a smoke screen and that they were actually holding Killian in Cambridge, or at least she was ninety-nine percent sure they were. She purposefully left out how she had come about her information. After all of his help, the last thing Emma wanted was to cause trouble for Aladdin. Unfortunately, she knew that the team would almost be to the hospital and it would take them too long to get back. She was going to have to go in alone.

She had to force herself not to clamp down on the brakes so hard that she squealed as she pulled up. She needed to hold on the the element of surprise for as long as possible. The building looked just like the month old pictures. Everything was dirty, mud caked onto the stone, rust covering the metal flashing. If she wasn’t so concerned with Killian, she might have taken the time to ponder how such a beautiful building could be left in such derelict.

There wasn’t any real parking so she pulled August’s car further up the street and parked halfway on the sidewalk. Worst case scenario she would have to pay him back for the towing fee, but it was nothing compared to Killian’s life.

She’d almost forgotten August’s advice about looking into the truck as she ran towards the building, but after doubling back and popping it, should couldn’t have been more grateful to him. There were two bullet proof vests sitting on top of some black pants and hoodies, a crowbar, and gloves. She’d need to have a talk with him about that, but it could wait. Quickly clipping the vest clasps around her torso, Emma slammed the trunk shut and headed back to the side of the building.

The ground floor of the building was mostly stone, with no windows to provide access in. She peeked around the corner, looking at the front entrance, two large glass doors in the center adorned by two windows on each side. But that would be too obvious, to much risk that someone may see her. Heading back around to the side of the building, she found a loading bay door. The back of the building was attached to another set of apartments, leaving the large metal sheeting the only option. It would be loud, but perhaps if she could just prop it up enough, she could roll under it.

Looking around, Emma found a street cone that if tipped on it’s side could work perfectly. The remaining issue was getting the door open. The lock appeared easy enough to pick, but she was out in the open, on a well traveled street. Anyone traveling by would have been suspicious, and while she was eager to have backup arrive, the last thing she needed was the Boston PD showing up and charging in and Killian getting caught in the cross-fire.

Emma cursed as she reached into her back pocket for her lock picking tools only to remember that they were sitting on top of a work table in Aladdin’s makeshift hackers den. She wanted to scream, to kick and punch anything that moved and then scream some more, but she couldn’t.

Balling up both of her hands into fists, she let her head fall back and summoned some mystical force to help her. After a few deeps breaths, something in her clicked and the frustration once replaced by determination. Praying, she tugged at the bottom of the door, hoping against all hope that it was unlocked, or maybe just a piece of crap. Luckily the gods were in her side, as the door creaked and moaned from disused as it slowly rolled up. She paused, listening for any noise from inside, any indication that someone had heard her. Once she felt confident that no one was coming, she pulled it up a little higher and jammed the cone into place to hold it up.

It was eerily quiet inside. The door had led to a loading room, and with the limited amount of light fluttering in, it was a struggle to make it across the room without kicked debris that had been left behind by the previous owner or the random beer cans that had either be left by mischievous kids having a party or homeless people looking for shelter. She considered using her flashlight, but it only had one supernova light setting.

At the opposite end, she found an old metal door that was thankfully unlocked as well. It opened into a hallway. She was cautious as she made her way down the hall, once again listening for sounds. The walls were stained, and the threadbare carpet smelled like urine. It was exactly the type of place she would expect to find Neal squatting in.

The further she got towards the end of the hallway, the more sunlight began to light the way. It opened into a grand foyer. To her left were two elevators, both useless with the lack of electricity. A few deserted shops littered the perimeter. There was also a grand staircase leading to a second floor. She considered it for a moment. The building was over thirty thousand square foot and held fifty rooms. She didn’t have time to check them all one by one, while simultaneously avoiding Neal and whatever other occupants might have been squatting there.

She thought back to the search parameters she had listed off when searching for the building. He’d need a quiet place to hold Killian, and although the place was spacious, the wooden boards covering the windows wouldn’t provide enough sound proofing. It needed to be something more isolated, like conference room, or - the basement. It was underground, surrounded by concrete and dirt. It was perfect. Now she just needed to find it.

The back hallways were a mess. Even with renovations, much of the hundred and fifty year old building still retained much of it’s original structure, which meant everything was one huge maze. It wasn’t until she her third turn that she found a door that opened to stairs leading down instead of up.

She crept down the stairs in tiptoes, feeling the plastered walls, letting her hands guide her. It was pitch black, and she was still reluctant to turn her flashlight on. Unfortunately, the staircase let out in the middle of a hallway, and faced with the unknown, she was forced to turn it on.

Cobwebs lined the ceiling, and the cracked uneven concrete floors were damp in spots. It smelled of mold and Emma felt the need for an immediate shower. She’d never been a fan of confined spaces, having been locked into more than her fair share of small rooms during her foster home days, and if it hadn’t been for Killian, she probably would have turned and run already.

Emma steadied herself, pushing down the feeling of panic that was trying to claw its way through her, like a nightmare taking hold. Any minute now she was certain a monster was going to jump out of the darkness and murder her where she stood.

Deep breathes. In and out, in and out. He needed her. She could do this. Emma shook it off and looked out in both directions trying to figure out which was to go first. There was something in her gut, a tug that pulled her left. Following her instinct, she veered left, staying against the wall, and pointing her flashlight at an angle to try to minimize the light reflected. She passes a few doors, but quickly dismissed them as they were still covered in years worth of dust.

At the end of the hall though, there was a shiny knob protruding from the only door not hidden away by webbing. Emma placed her ear up against it, and when she didn’t hear voices, she reached for the knob and turned it slowly.

Broken. That’s all she felt when she saw him slumped in his chair in the middle of a room. There was light creeping in through three small hopper windows at the top of the wall, enough light that she didn’t realize she had dropped her flashlight at the sight of his beat up body. She didn’t even look around the rest of the room, years of training evaporating in an instant as she just ran to him.

There was blood running down the side of his face and down his shoulder. It was enough that it hadn’t fully dried and caused her alarm. His left eye was swollen shut and small cuts adorned his neck and arm. Someone had shoved a rag into his mouth to gag him.

“Killian?” she whispered as he hands hovered over his cheeks, afraid to touch him.

When he didn’t respond, she called him louder, taking his face fully into her hands. It was slow, the way he came back to life. His grunts were muffled as she pulled the cloth from his mouth.

“Killian?” she tried once more.

He stirred more, peeling his right eye open. She could tell he was dazed. There were whimpering moans that she was sure he wasn’t even aware his was making, but the moment he realized she was there, the blue in his eye intensified.

“Emma?”

“Hey, I’m right here. I’m gonna get you out here, okay?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice was rough and it broke her heart.

“Did you really think I was just going to let them hurt you?” A small chuckle escaped her mouth, relieved that he was still there.

“You’re impossible.”

And I’m in love with you. She hadn’t said it since Neal, and admitting it to Killian was something monumental. She hadn’t ever even said it to Walsh. It was on the tip of her tongue, the courage building within her, spurred on by the fear of losing him and never having said it, but his voice cut through interrupting her thoughts before she could.

“Where’s Elsa?”

And then she remembered; Killian not only hated her, but he was engaged to another woman, the woman he was currently asking for. In her worry, Emma had forgotten than she even existed, or that she’d been taken with Killian.

Emma glanced around the room but Killian was the only one there.

“She’s not here.” Her voice was so quiet she wasn’t sure he could hear her.

“He grabbed her too. He’s got to be holding her in another room.”

“Okay, let’s get you up and we can go look-”

“No!” A growl escaped him. “Find her first.”

Emma had to choke back a sob. Seeing how concerned he was for Elsa nearly broke her. He loved her. Elsa was everything that Emma could never be, of course he was in love with her. She was beautiful, kind, talented, and she’d never hurt him.

“Ya, okay.” Her voice was breaking, so she chose not to say anything else.

Elsa was probably in the same type of room at the opposite side of the hallway. If she ran, it wouldn’t take her long to get there and to get back to Killian. Before she turned to leave, Emma unclipped her bullet proof vest and worked it around Killian’s torso to protect him until she got back. He was still fading in and out of consciousness. She gave him one last glance before grabbing her discarded flashlight and bolting out the door.

She nearly stumbled down the hallway, her legs wanting to buckled underneath her. Everything was falling apart and she had to shove her fist in her mouth to block out the cries coming from her broken heart. Even if she saved him, she was still going to lose him.

Her body wanted to betray her, it wanted to crumple onto the floor and give up, but she pushed through, her training taking over forcing her to move. Just as before, all of the doors leading to the end of the hallway were covered in soot, and it was only the door at the far end that showed signs of use.

She listened again, this time hearing muffled whispers and a female voice. Her hand was reaching for the doorknob when she heard a shot ring out. Without thinking she yanked the door open to find Elsa standing over a body in the middle of the room, a pool of crimson growing at her feet.

“Elsa?”

Elsa turned, obviously shocked by Emma’s presence. She had some of the same cuts and bruises that littered Killian’s body, though her’s seemed thankfully more superficial. Killian had apparently taken the brunt of the injuries - unsurprising, given the bounty on his head. Elsa dropped the gun and her entire body started shaking. Soon sobs filled the room and Elsa fell to the floor.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to get you both out of here.”

Emma walked over to Elsa and placed both of her hands on her shoulders. Despite her own feelings, she remembered August and the way he’d fallen apart after seeing Malcolm’s dead body. She could only imagine what he was like for Elsa, knowing the shock and self blame that was sure to follow.

Taking in the room, looking for anyone else, Emma noticed that this room held more stuff than the one she had left Killian in. There were silver trays stacked on a shelf, a bag of greasy takeout food and two cups on one of the desks scattered around. Something was bothering her but she couldn’t place it. She hadn’t seen Neal anywhere yet, and it worried her.

“Come on, I want to get out of here before anyone else shows up.”

Elsa’s body was still shivering but she looked up at Emma and nodded. Emma held her hands out and helped Elsa off the floor, leading her out of the room. There was another take away cup sitting on the shelf by the door tucked in between the scattered plates, and Emma had that feeling away. Something wasn’t right. She stared at the cup as she walked towards the door, when a flash of movement caught her eye.

She moved just in time for Elsa’s knife to miss her back. She turned and took a step backwards, avoiding another lunge.

“What the hell?”

Emma moved to pull her gun from the back of her pants, but Elsa dove for her and both women were knocked to the ground. Elsa’s hand came around Emma’s neck, but Emma was able to hit her elbow and the reflex forced Elsa to let go. Emma was able to get her leg up and kicked Elsa in the stomach, knocking her backwards. Emma’s head was throbbing from where it had hit the concrete as she fell, and her vision blurred for a moment.

It was enough time for Elsa to regain her footing. She came at Emma again and kicked her in the ribs, knocking the air out of her. When Elsa’s right leg moved back to kick again, Emma yanked her left foot forward knocking her down. Still feeling winded and dazed, she crawled away, trying to put some distance between her and Elsa.

How the fuck had no one known that Elsa was a ninja assassin?

“You couldn’t just let it go.” Elsa sounded as exhausted as Emma felt. “You had to come back for him.”

Emma’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of what was happening. “But the car? Why would you crash the car?”

“I’m not stupid,” Elsa snorted, giving a brief glance to the body growing cold on the floor behind her. “I couldn’t just flat out kill him in front of everyone. This way I’m just an innocent victim, a bystander.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Elsa laughed, something dark and evil.

“Not all of us got adopted by nice, well-rounded families, Emma.”

Elsa’s knowledge of her background threw her. It shouldn’t have, though; Neal knew it all, and of course he had told.

“Sometimes, life just sucks and you have to take what you want if you want to survive. Not everyone can become a perfect little FBI agent, doing what they’re told and not giving a shit about punishing the real scum of the earth. No, some of us have to do that job for you.”

“As a cold blooded hitman?”

Emma used Elsa’s distraction to move further away. Her gun had become dislodged during their scuffle and had slid across the room, but the knife Elsa had branded was almost within reach, if she could just get to it before Elsa could.

“Are you not listening? I only go after people who deserve it. Men who beat their wives, rape other women,” she paused. “Men who break up happy families.”

She gave Emma a wicked grin and Emma immediately knew that she lumped Killian in with the last group, despite that Neal had been an adult as the time and Milah had clearly been unhappy. In Elsa’s warped mind though, she just saw a homewrecker who broke everything.

“So what? The world was mean to you as a kid and now you’re punishing the rest of us? Taking out hits on innocent people and pretending that you’re some sort of vigilante? Boo hoo. Shit happens, but you get over it.”

“They’re not innocent! None of them are!”

Emma knew it was a low blow, and that childhood pain wasn’t anything that you just got over. She wasn’t over being abandoned as a baby, and she had no idea what the the full extent of Elsa’s story was. She just needed to keep her distracted.

It was too far though, and Elsa lunged for her. Emma’s body was sluggish, and it took everything she had to dive for the knife, turning and plunging it into Elsa’s stomach just in time. Elsa gasped and pulled back. Emma’s grip stayed firm on the knife though, and with Elsa pulled back, she clutched her belly, but blood quickly filled her hands and ran to the ground. Elsa fell to her knees before slumping over completely.

Emma scrambled to get on her feet, moving and picking up her gun in case Elsa came at her again. She didn’t move though, her body lay still, no signs of breathing. Emma didn’t waste any time heading back to Killian, leaving Elsa’s body behind.

Her head was foggy, pain coursing through it in waves. As she reached back her ribs pulled in protest, likely broken from being kicked. Her fingers made contact with the back of her head and it stung. When she pulled them back they were covered in red.

Everything was starting to catch up with her, and it was only her power of will that kept her going. She needed to get Killian to safety before falling over. Her legs felt like lead as she nearly dragged herself back to the room. She cracked the door open and walked to him, determined to get him untied and drag him up the stairs as soon as possible. She hadn’t even realized that his gag was back in place until she heard his muffled screams. His one good eye widened and he started fighting against his bindings, and then the door shut behind her.

“Hey, Ems.”

Emma whipped around, suddenly spurred on by a rush of adrenaline at hearing his voice. Her hand tighten on the grip of her gun.

“Ah, aah, ahh. Not so fast, Emma.”

Her heart was thrumming in her chest.

“Drop it, babe.”

She hated him. She hated that he still called her by the endearment he used to use, that he always seem to leave her life in ruins. But right now what she hated most was that he already had a gun pointed straight at her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to clear his aim, and her vest was wrapped around Killian, leaving her vulnerable. She had no choice but to toss the gun to the side.

“Hey,” he started again as he took a few steps towards her. She tried to move back, but her body was nearly frozen in place. “I’ve missed you.”

She snorted in contempt.

“Ya, you missed me so much that you used me and ruined my career. You missed me so much that you just disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace.”

All of the years of anger came rushing back, and she wanted nothing more than to thrust Elsa’s knife into his heart.

“Ems, I couldn’t stay. What I did, it was to keep you safe.”

She laughed, something crazed bubbling from within.

“I’m serious. You don’t get it, do you? He was going to kill you, put a contract out on you just like he does everyone else. I couldn’t let that happen, so I made a deal with him. What I did, it kept him happy and you safe. I was so in love with you.”

He stepped forward again. “I still am.”

Ironic how the words she had longed to hear for so long now only sickened her. She watched his lips curl up at the end, the added wrinkles from stress crossing his face. He’d been handsome once, or she’d just been blinded by her feelings for him, but now, with nothing but resentment, he was just a man who looked like he’d lived a tough life.

“You could have told me, warned me!”

Angry tears were starting to spill over.

“I know you. You’re so head strong. You wouldn’t have stopped. I needed to do something drastic.”

She heard Killian’s mumbles coming from behind her and she averted her gaze, not ready to face Neal yet.

“And what? You see me with someone else and suddenly find a reason to come back into my life?”

“You don’t know how hard it’s been staying away from you. Watching you with him,” Neal continued while nodding towards Killian. “He destroyed my family, took my mom. It’s his fault she’s dead.”

“It’s not, though. He didn’t kill her Neal. That person is serving a life sentence in a mental institution.”

“No!” Neal’s facade broke and his face filled with fury. “If she hadn’t been there on that bus with him, she wouldn’t have died. If she had been at home where she belonged, she’d still be alive. It’s all his fault. And now- now he’s trying to steal you too.”

Did he really think she belonged to him in someway? That she’d ever go back to him?

“No, Neal. You can’t steal what isn’t yours. You had me! You’re the one that left, you threw me away!”

She could feel the tears flowing down her cheeks.

“I didn’t though. I kept you safe. Can you honestly tell me that you don’t love me anymore? Can you tell me that you don’t even think of me, and what would have happened if things had been different?”

“I did love you, and I did think about you. I daydreamed about all of the what ifs. What if we have moved down to Tallahassee when you suggested it? What if I had been assigned to a different case? What if you hadn’t left? I think we could have been happy.”

The truth was, she had thought about it. The ‘what ifs’ had kept her up more nights than she could count, and their time together had been happy for the most part. But then he had left and destroyed everything they had. There was no going back.

“We can still have that. You and me. We can run away, somewhere where my dad can’t find us, start that family we talked about. Emma, Don’t throw your life away for him.”

“Neal.” Her voice cracked and he took is as a sign, shuffling closer to her.

“Come with me.”

The damn broke, and she took a step forwards, placing her hands over his.

“Neal, if you had said that to me a few years ago, maybe even a few months ago, I probably would have walked away from everything, no questions asked. But now I’m different. I don’t love you, not anymore.”

“Emma, don’t do this. Do you think he loves you? That he gives a shit about you?”

“Honestly? I don’t know, if I were him, I’d probably hate me, and I can’t blame him after everything I’ve done. I turned into you. I lied and deceived him, and I told myself that it was okay, because I was protecting him, but in the end, I just hurt him more. He has every right to hate me,” she paused, the emotion too much. “But just because he might not love me - even if he hates me - it doesn’t mean that I don’t love him.”

She didn’t know if he heard her, but letting the words out released something in her. She loved him, and that was everything. He was everything. She needed someone to know, even if that meant it was just Neal and God that heard her last confession.

Surging with every bit of energy she could muster, she grabbed at his gun. He was caught off guard, but he was fast and recovered quickly. She gave it everything she had as they fought for control, and when the gun fired off not one, but two rounds, she was shocked to see the life draining out of eyes. He slumped and she let him go. She let go of her anger, her pain, the hurt. She let go of it all, only letting the love remain.

Her body had nothing left to give and she almost fell as she made her way to Killian, pulling the gag from his mouth again. She reached around to work at the knots holding his legs in place when she heard him yell her name.

She turned to find Neal, sitting up, point the gun at her. Another shot rang out and Neal fell over, the wound in his head finally doing him in. Perched in the doorway was Ruby. Emma continued to loosen Killian’s binds and Robin and Will rushed in to help hoist him up.

“He needs to be checked out.”

“Ya, ya, we’ll get it. You’re not lookin’ so good there yerself.”

It was probably the first time Will had ever showed her any genuine concern.

“I’m good, just get him checkout. I’ll be there in a bit.”

Will nodded and together, he and Robin helped pull Killian’s limp body out of the room. He’d given into his injuries not long after Neal had hit the ground.

“What were you thinking coming in here alone?”

She felt the guilt tug at her, watching the worry in Ruby’s face.

“I couldn’t wait for you guys.”

Ruby took a deep breath.

“When we get out of here you’re going to tell me everything, including how you found this place, and how you knew where we were going.”

Emma chuckled.

“Now, come on. We still need to find Elsa and clear the rest of the building.”

Emma laughed a little harder. She explained to Ruby that Elsa had been in on the whole thing, that she’d just been slightly more patient than Tamara. It wasn’t until she heard Robin on Ruby’s radio telling her that they were on the way to headquarters and had a medic on standby to check Killian out there, that she moved to stand.

Walking, even staying upright, was a struggle, and as they hit the top of the stairs, it all become too much, and Emma was forced to lean against the wall. It was too much, and she gave in, slide down the wall. Ruby gasped, finally catching on. Emma was certain that there was a smear of blood running down the wall above her.

“Oh my God. Emma!”

Ruby reached for her radio and immediately called for the paramedics. She’d felt that first shot, she knew that it had pierced something in her chest, but when the gun had gone off again, and Neal had fallen over, Emma’s resolve was focused solely on getting Killian to safety. She had blocked out the burning sensation, but eventually the adrenaline had worn off, and her organs had began shutting down. The black shirt had helped to conceal the wound long enough for Killian not to notice.

“Ruby, I need you to promise me something.”

“No. No. No. Don’t do that. Don’t make me promise you something over your deathbed.”

“Ruby.”

“Emma, stop it. You’re going to be fine!”

“Please Ruby. Just in case.”

Ruby was crying, something Emma had never seen her do before. She’d always been the emotional rock.

“He can’t know.”

“What?”

“Killian. He can’t know. He’ll blame himself.”

She thought back to Milah, to the night on Killian’s boat when he had told her of Milah’s death. Of the pain he had felt knowing that he was unable to save her, and how it still plagued him, even now. She couldn’t put him through that again.

“Tell him-” Breathing was a chore, and she was so tired. “Tell him I left. That I went undercover. Don’t tell him I’m dead.”

It would be better if he hated her. He could move on from that.

“No, You’re not dying.”

“Ru- Ruby- Please.”

Ruby’s tears turned into sobs, her body wracked with them, as Emma pleaded with her eyes.

“Okay, Ya, I promise.”

It would be better this way.

She felt her heart slowing in her chest. Her body no longer noticing the chill that had set in. Her lungs stopped filling with air, and finally her eyes fell shut. Black. Everything just went black.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Book Club

You know that thing where you see a trailer for a movie and you’re like “YES. This is going to be awesome,” and then you see it and it’s a piece of shit? That’s because the people who make trailers are in an entirely different business than the people who make movies, and usually they’re pretty damn good at their jobs. Then you have the flipside - a trailer that makes the movie look A B Y S M A L and you’re like, “ugh, who would ever go see that pile of garbage?”

Yes, hi, hello, it’s me, your friendly neighborhood garbage movie reviewer. 

That’s pretty much how I felt about Book Club when I saw the trailer. It looked like something made circa 2011 that got shelved in development hell for about 7 years until production company A acquired production company B and they wanted to clear out their backlog of completed projects. Not to mention that it’s a tacit, if not explicit endorsement of Fifty Shades of Grey, which frankly, I think we’re all VERY over. But I like everyone in the movie, and if I want society to actually give even the tiniest bit of a damn about women over the age of 30, I should probably actually go support a movie that does just that. So. Was this a book club worth joining? Well...

I kind of hate to say it but...yeah. It was. It’s light, it’s breezy, and it feels...effortless. I mean that in a very good way. The story is simple - four 60-something friends hold a monthly book club, and when one of the members suggests the first Fifty Shades as the monthly offering, each woman is affected by Christian Grey and his antics in unexpected and titillating ways, inspiring them to take more chances on their own love lives and their own happiness. The movie’s biggest asset is its cast of all stars, namely the four leading ladies that comprise the titular book club - Jane Fonda, Mary Steenburgen, Diane Keaton, and Candice Bergen. Each one has her own vibrant and strong personality, and watching them bounce off each other as friends who have known each other for 40 years is a crackling delight. The relationship between these friends is so full of life and the authentic beats of lifelong friendship that it feels like watching these actresses host a masterclass in the art of embodying characters fully. Just a joy to watch.

Some thoughts:

As dated as the Fifty Shades conceit feels, the movie makes it work pretty well. It’s clear that the women knew about the books and movies but just hadn’t been interested in them before. Honestly, the most inauthentic thing about the entire film was watching them read the book and be impressed. At least Diane Keaton got to roll her eyes and huff things like, “This is ridiculous,” a little bit.

Has Andy Garcia always been this foxy? I don’t remember Andy Garcia being this foxy. I guess playing a millionaire pilot with just the right amount of salt’n’pepper stubble helps. Ditto for Don Johnson - I see why Miami Vice was a thing now. 

Oh shit, I literally just made the connection that Don Johnson is in this movie and his daughter, Dakota Johnson, stars in the Fifty Shades movies. That seems like a weird and misguided attempt to be down with what your kids are doing, but you do you, Johnson family.

I did not expect to actually laugh at anything in this movie, but I did, out loud, multiple times. That’s what happens when you have a shitty trailer and low expectations. My favorite line was when they were teasing Candice Bergen about not having sex for 18 years, and someone asks, “What even happens to a vagina that hasn’t had sex for 18 years? Wasn’t there a documentary about that?” And Mary Steenburgen replies, “Yes, I think it was called The Cave of Forgotten Dreams.” That shit really got me.

I have missed watching Candice Bergen. I watched Murphy Brown when I was a kid, and Miss Congeniality is a true classic, and it feels like ages since I’ve seen her in anything else. She’s the perfect deadpan note to all of the more fantastical, flighty Diane Keaton and Jane Fonda zaniness going on, and I want her to be my wise, hilarious grandma.

How. Much. Wine. Do. These. Women. Drink. Women are allowed to drink other things, you know, like beer, vodka, or maybe some fucking water. You live in L.A., are you telling me that nobody needs to stay fucking hydrated?? Every single scene, somebody has a glass of wine in their hand. How do you even afford a wine habit like that? #WomenDontJustDrinkWine2K18

Wallace Shawn has not aged a day. I love my unproblematic faves (The Princess Bride is my favorite movie) who just keep thriving. I’m lookin at you, Ageless Paul Rudd.

On the surface, this might seem like a movie that dictates the only way for women to feel fulfilled (at any age) is to have a man. But I think the movie does a good job of showcasing that it’s not the man, but the connection, the intimacy, and the feeling loved and valued for who you are as a person that helps people to feel like their most fulfilled self. While this discounts the experience of asexual/aromantic folks, I don’t necessarily have a problem with this central theme of the movie. The connection, friendship, and intimacy are forefronted way more than sex in this sex comedy, and that’s pretty refreshing.

This movie was, per my low expectations, actually a lot more enjoyable than I was expecting. It’s not perfect, obviously, but I want to keep seeing women’s stories created by and for women of all ages. I would love to see more stories like this about groups of female friends who are supporting each other, and seeing all different dynamics - older women, WOC, women living in poverty, women from different cultural backgrounds, trans women, queer women. I want everyone to be at this party, because it’s a party worth being at.

[tellerford13]

MO ASTOR- CHAPTER 25

We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.” The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC. We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us. We will be posting on our Tumblr where we’ll have fun pictures from time to time as well. http://tellerford13.tumblr.com We’ll also be taking requests for one shots, preferences or imagines for all things Sons at our other Tumblr, so check it out and send your thoughts!http://tellerford13oneshots.tumblr.com/ And just for fun, we’ve decided to start a Pinterest for the story! So if you want a glimpse at our girls and see into our world, check it out! https://www.pinterest.com/tellerford/

A/n: Thank you all for the incredible support you’ve showed us. Telford’s birthday rocked and she thanks you for the kinds words.

                                           Mo Astor Chapter 25

Lee

My phone rings and “Thank you for being a friend” plays, making me squeal. She’s here!

I hit answer. “You’re home,” I breathe the words like a prayer. There’s so much I want to tell her, hear, and discuss. It’s been hell having her away while my worlds completed shifted.

“I am. Why aren’t you here?”

“Because you have a husband now. You two need time to settle in and continue your honeymoon over the weekend before its time to head back to the daily grind.”

She snickers. “You’d be the only one who thinks that. Jay ambushed me and talked me to death on the way down, and then Gemma demanded we show up at the family dinner. So, get your ass over here we need to talk.”

“What about Chibs?” I ask. The last thing I want to do is make him feel ignored or disrespected. Journee and I together, are a lot. We practically have our own language, and it leaves plenty of folks feeling left out. “He took pity on me and went to say hi to the boys at the club.”

“Say no more. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I’m like a teenage girl on her way to her first slumber party as I stand from the couch, grab my purse off the table, and rush to my car. We’ve both had so much happening in our lives. It’s time to get caught up and reconnect. She’s as much my anchor as Charming, and the Sons are. There’s power in loyalty and familiarity.

I crank the engine and all but peel out the driveway. I whip into her driveway and pause. It’s no longer her house. It’s their house. My best friend is a married woman. Mrs. Journee Telford. It’s funny…I can remember her writing that name in an elegant font in notebooks and on a countless number of loose leaf pages when we were teens. Who would’ve thought we’d end up here one day?

From the minute they admitted their feelings they’d moved at hyper speed. It’d be too much for anyone else, but with these two it made perfect sense. Why beat around the bush when you’d been putting in all the work for years.

The only thing that had kept them from being an official item before was labels. There had been many nights when I saw Chibs leave her room in boxers and a t-shirt, and the look in their eyes never screamed just friends.  I’m over the moon for both of them, but it’s a dynamic change I’m still feeling my way around. I’ve never had much reason to spend a ton of time around Chibs, and I’m waiting to see what kind of husband he’ll be.

Some men like to keep a woman mostly to themselves. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. They have a lot of time to make up for. Still, the thought of losing my best friend in any way sends me into a slow panic. I push the door open and climb out walking toward the door as I try to outrun my fears. I’ve been left alone so many times in my life, I’ve almost come to expect the relationships that mean the most to me to eventually end.

The door opens, and we hug. Her scent is familiar, and her embrace is tight. My anxiety eases back. This is Journee. She’s never let anyone come between us. Why would now be any different? Because he’s her dream come true. She pulls back, frames my face and brushes our lips together. I hum.

“Well, hello to you too, beautiful.”

She smiles. “Those pretty blue eyes are looking stormy. Come in and talk to your Journee.”

“Are you still mine? I think your husband might disagree,” I say playfully.

She studies me in that scary calm, still, way that makes one feel like she’s peering into your soul.

“Me belonging to him now doesn’t and never will make me any less yours. After all, we’ve been through together, the bond we have is unbreakable. If you’re worried about things changing, don’t. I talked to Daddy about this early on.”

“You did?” I whisper humbled by the actions she’d taken on my behalf.

“Yes, babe. So stop worrying.” She frowns. “You don’t seem like yourself.” She wraps an arm around my waist, and we head inside. She closes the door, pauses to enter the alarm and leads us to the couch. We sink onto the cushions and curve into one another.

“Spill, babe.”

“You’re supposed to be telling me all about Scotland.”

“And I will, right after you tell me what’s got you so antsy.”

“There’s a lot of changes happening, and we both know I’m a creature of habit,” I say glumly.

‘Uh huh. And this has nothing to do with the little head to head with Wendy.”

“Ugh, Of course, he told you.”

“Yeah. I heard his side. Now I want to hear yours. Are you okay?”

I sigh and glance up at the ceiling. “She’s right. I mean, no we weren’t fucking around behind her back, but if I was her, I’d be pissed. We’ve been so busy with our own happiness. We didn’t give a second thought to hers.”

“Ugh, Stupid bitch is still fucking shit up.”

“Down Mama Telford. I know she made the mistake of touching your man, but she’s also knocked up with Jax’s kid. We have to tread lightly—.”

“No, you need to set boundaries and figure things out before this kid comes and she runs or does something else equally stupid. J was all she had. When you came out at the wedding, the last of her hope was stripped away. That puts her in a dangerous place.”

“Shit no wonder she came out breathing fire.”

“That girl slept, ate, and lived, Jax. Even I can admit he was wrong for doing her the way he did. He had a loyal woman. Just because she let him walk all over her didn’t mean he should have. But that was the old Jax.”

Her words hit home as they line up with the same things swirling in my brain. “You see the change too?”

“Yes, thanks to you. You’ve always challenged him and forced him to be a better person. A man who thinks shit through and remembers his humility. Now that you’re together that effect increased tenfold.”

I sit up and lick my dry lips. “I see someone I know, but then don’t when I look at him these days. I was worried maybe I was projecting.”

“Oh, no, you got that boy sprung.”

“What?” I chuckle.

“Oh come on, he makes cow eyes at you.” She blinks slowly and widens her eyes making me giggle.  “He does not.”

“Oh, My God Are you kidding me? He thinks you’re sexy, he wants to date you, he wants to marry you,” she sings.

“Thank you Miss Congeniality,” I say already feeling lighter.

“Look, I’m just calling it how I see it.”

“Right.” I shake my head as I wipe away a tear.

“Feeling better?”

“Much.”

“Want to tell me what had you uptight?”

“How fast this is all going. I don’t let people in like this, but he was already behind my walls, and now he’s infiltrating...” I trail off unable to speak the words out loud.

“Your heart?” She says.

I nod my head.

“Trust me, babe. When it’s meant to be, and you’re with the right person, it won’t matter how much time goes by. This isn’t a bad thing.”

“Yet,” I say quietly.

“Honey he’s not like any man you’ve ever been with. So, stop comparing him. He’s always been there. Why would he not be more committed now?”

“Because this shit never ends up well for me.”

“Do you remember Kyle and the various men who came before him?” she asks.

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

I shake my head unable to answer her.

“We both deserve to be happy. We have our wounds. They’ll lead to doubts, and us picking ourselves apart until we don’t know which way is up and which is down. But we’re lucky because we have something most people don’t.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I ask

“Each other. I’m here to tell you I refuse to let your past ruin your future. Search your heart and your memories. Would Jax even start this with you if he couldn’t see it through?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“You know he wouldn’t. My brother is many things, but being reckless with his girls isn’t one of them, and I’m not talking about the warm bodies who’ve played placeholder in the role of girlfriend. I’m talking about You, Gemma, and me.”

I sigh. “It sounds good logically. But.,,” I shake my head.

“We’re far too used to pain and disappointment, but this is our time to be happy. In no universe would I find everything I ever wanted and you not have the same thing. Our worlds are connected.”

“I’m so fucking scared. He could break me. I always hold back with men. I can’t with Jax, and that terrifies me.”

“That’s how you know he’s the one,” Journee says as she squeezes my hand.

“After everything happened with Wendy, he left. I know he needs space sometimes, but it scared me.”

“You know I won’t share his thoughts. That’s his job. But I can say this. You’re not the only one who’s scared. This is new to him, and he’s trying his best to rise to the occasion and be what you need. It’s a learning curve, for both of you.”

“Why the fuck do you make it seem so easy.”

“Cause I’m outside of it, not in it, and I know you both.”

“What the hell am I going to do?”

‘Sit back and enjoy him slaying the dragon for his lady fair.”

I huff.

“When the time is right you guys will find your comfortable spot. Both of you are complex people. It takes time to get through all those layers and wade through those crowded heads on your shoulders.”

“Fuck you’re already old, married, and wise.”

She shoves me, and I laugh as I chew on what she said.

“Seriously, though. I appreciate your input. I’m going to… quell my stinking thinking.”

She smiles. It was an old phrase we’d both adopted from my Gran.

“Good. Did I help some at least?”

“You helped immensely. Thank you for helping me walk through it. Enough about me. I want to hear all about your trip.”

“Fact number one, Filip is a fucking beast in bed. That wedding night was no one off.”

I can’t help the squeal that leaves me lips. “Are you serious?”

“Me and my Kitty are dead serious. I can’t even walk right.”

“Wait. You’re serious.”

“Umm. Yes.”

“Well, now I just have to see it for myself.”

“Lee,” she whines.

“Nu uh. Get your ass up and walk for me.”

“So demanding,” she says with a wink as she eases into a standing position.

The pronounced hitch in her giddy up has me giggling on my back on the couch.

“No sympathy!” She flings a pillow at me, and I clutch my stomach.

“I’m sorry. It’s too good.”

She rolls her eyes and I sprawl out on the couch and blow her a kiss.

“Since you’re here, you can help me with this slide show I have to put together for Ma.”

I shake my head. “She couldn’t wait to get all her children together again.”

“Typical Gemma. Tell, don’t ask.”

“Hope your old man knows what a crazy family he married into.”

“He has one of his own.” I listen as she launches into her tale about his nephew Padric and his mother, Chibs’s sister, Greer. I tear up when she tells me had a chance to speak with his daughter and how they’ll keep in touch now.

I wonder if she realizes she’s given the man everything he could’ve wanted.

[bottomthedonkey]

My Thoughts on the RPDR Season 9 Queens

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS IT’S COMING BACK IT’S LIKE FUCKING CHRISTMAS OVER HERE I’M SO EXCITED!

Honestly, thank God for All Stars 2. From season 8, to All-Stars 2, and NOW SEASON 9 SO SOON, I feel like I’m getting hit with back-to-back-to-back RPDR seasons, and for an addict like me, I NEED MY FIX AND I NEED IT NOW. The only unfortunate thing is unless RuPaul decides to completely kill me and release All-Stars 3 as soon as this fall, I’m going to go through absolute withdrawal in the off-season, and that’s gonna suck cuz this bitch has SPOILED ME this past year.

But anyway, this year 13 (interesting number…) brand new queens are sashaying their way into the workroom, and I could not be more excited because for the first time in like, 4 seasons…

I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHO ANY OF THESE BITCHES ARE.

Let me explain.

Each year, there are at least one or two queens that I at least know of. Season 8 I had heard of Derrick Barry through America’s Got Talent and I knew Robbie Turner thanks to Capitol Hill (an amazing YouTube series that you should all watch). Season 7 there was Miss Fame, who had an episode of Transformations with James St. James. Season 6 was a clusterfuck, with Adore from American Idol, Courtney from Australian Idol, and Laganja who was Tumblr’s Idol (like seriously, before the show premiered no one on this damn site would shut up about her). And Season 5 of course had Alaska.

This season, I’m going in with no preconceived notions about ANY of these queens. I have only their promo looks and Meet the Queens videos to go off of. I haven’t watched any of their Meet the Queens videos yet, so you’ll be getting my first impressions of them in this blog, no other research included. But as for their promo looks, I am already impressed. I don’t know what the theme was for their promo looks, but whatever it is, THANK GOD for it.

Like seriously, last season’s 1950′s (60′s?) hair salon shoot was TRAGIC. I’m sorry, I fucking hated it. Half the queens were in wigs and dresses that they would not be caught dead in, and it all just looked very unflattering. The whole point of these promos is to get us EXCITED for the season, not set the bar so low that literally whatever you do will exceed our expectations.

SO before we begin, these are just thoughts of a super-huge Drag Race fan, not someone who professionally does drag. And that’s what these opinions should be taken as, observations from the peanut gallery.

ANYWAY - LET’S GET TO THE QUEENS, ALPHABETICALLY.

Aja - Hmm… I could be a bit more impressed.

Don’t get me wrong, she looks STUNNING in this promo look. The hair gives me a weird Naomi Smalls vibe, the color scheme is fantastic, her face is beat for the gods, and I typically cannot stand septum piercings (like I’m sorry, but seriously, for me, it’s just a big bright neon sign for your nostrils, which are like the least attractive facial feature) but she makes it WORK FOR HER.

It’s just nothing I haven’t seen before, but there will be plenty of time for her to push the envelope. Let’s watch her video and make some other first impressions…

Okay, after watching the video, I’ll say that look is much more stunning even with minimal movement, and the Naomi Smalls vibe definitely grew a bit. She did kind of come across… oh how can I say this non-offensively… a bit dim? She definitely knows her fashion at least, but I’m worried she’s going to be a young queen who has absolutely no idea about gay pop culture beyond the late 2000s. Hopefully, she proves me wrong. Again, first impressions are what they are.

Alexis Michelle - I’m not a big fan of this look. I hate to go Michelle Visage here, but the fact that it’s all very yellow-green just reminds me of snot. She definitely needed to combine that chartreuse with a secondary color, instead of just hints of emerald and orange that I’m getting. It’s just not working for me. I see potential though, which is always good.

Okay, after watching the video, I’ll say the photo does the look zero justice. I’ll maintain that the neon yellow is still coming across as chartreuse and it’s just not flattering, BUT the details on the shoulders change with the lighting and it’s so much better in motion than captured still in a photo. Her personality seems like a subdued Thorgy Thor, but I like the idea of a sassy, brassy Broadway queen, we haven’t really had one of those since Jinkx, and that wasn’t really her main focal point. Count me interested, Alexis.

Charlie Hides - I’M SO SORRY I HAVE TO START OFF WITH A READ BUT OH MY GOD.

AND NOW SERVING WILDBERRY POP-TART REALNESS, CHARLIE HIDES!!!

Ah, glad I got that out of my system.

BUT SERIOUSLY, THIS IS A GOT DAMN LOOK. I AM OBSESSED. The bright blue hair, the fascinator that masks her eye, the magenta lip, the simple diamond earring, I’M IN LOVE. UGH. BEAUTIFUL. Not to mention, she looks kind of like the drag version of Renee Zellwegger. Anyone else think so?

Kay, let’s watch the video.

And let’s immediately pause the video, number one, BECAUSE SHE HAS A BRITISH ACCENT WHICH MAKES HER INSTANTANEOUSLY MORE CHARMING. And because she didn’t say her age, prompting me to look it up, and…

She’s 52.

I kinda need to repeat that again, she is… fifty… two. Years old. Years of age. Fifty…. fifty-two. I uhm…

WHAT THE FUCK.

THIS BITCH HAS NO GODDAMN BUSINESS LOOKING THIS DAMN GOOD AT FIFTY-FUCKING-TWO. SHE COMES IN HERE LOOKING LIKE A FUTURISTIC RENEE FUCKING ZELLWEGGER AND MEANWHILE I’M TWENTY FUCKING THREE AND I LOOK LIKE EVERYONE’S HOMELESS GAY UNCLE LIKE SERIOUSLY WHAT THE GODDAMN SHIT THIS IS SO UNFAIR I’M IRRATIONALLY UPSET I NEED A DRINK.

Okay, now that I have a beer, let’s continue…

FAVORITE QUEEN SO FAR.

Made me laugh out loud with the ceiling fan comment, she seems so sweet and nice (I already have her pegged for Miss Congeniality), and I have a gut feeling she’s going to go deep into the competition. She just has to make it past that first round, which for some reason is like a curse among “the oldest competitor of season blah blah blah” (see Porkchop and Tempest for details). But if this look is any indication, I doubt she’ll have a problem. She even said she was a crafty queen! And so was BenDeLaCreme! SO THERE! (Then again, Tempest teaches costume design if I remember correctly, so I could be totally wrong but I’m not going to think about that right now, because this bitch is my new favorite and fuck you if you disagree.)

Eureka - Uhm okay. I like this look, but… she’s kind of makes me think what would have happened if Ginger Minj and Penny Tration kai-kai’d and had a love-child… and that love child happened to inherit Penny’s make-up skills… and hair…

Ugh, like I’m sorry, I really like this look, IT’S INTERESTING, but the last time I saw something similar, it was on Penny, and we all know how that went.

Okay, so after her video, I’m definitely more on board. Her make-up is much more flattering when it’s not heavily edited, and NOW I’m getting more Ginger vibes rather than Penny vibes which is a huge relief. I’m excited to see her dance, because she hyped that up quite a bit, and I’m excited to see what she pulls out in terms of fashion, because I feel like she’s going to push the boundaries quite a bit. I’ll agree with her, a big girl is WAY OVERDUE to win this thing. But is it her? I’m not quite convinced, but we’ll see how that first episode goes…

Farrah Moan - UHM OKAY I MEAN WE ALL JOKED ABOUT HOW COURTNEY ACT WAS FISHY BUT I HAD NO IDEA SHE WAS AN ACTUAL WOMAN!

I MEAN, AT LEAST, SHE MUST BE, BECAUSE I’M STARING AT HER GODDAMN KID.

SERIOUSLY, TELL ME THESE TWO LOOK NOTHING ALIKE I’LL WAIT.

Anyway, the look’s a little plain. (LIKE SERIOUSLY, IT LOOKS LIKE COURTNEY ACT’S PRETTY IN PINK LOOK REIMAGINED FOR TODDLERS IN TIARAS.) BUT, she is VERY PRETTY, and like… goddamn that facial symmetry is just uncalled for. I need another drink, this is just unfair. I already have a drink. I need another. I DON’T CARE.

Okay, so VIDEO. I have no fucking clue how to feel about this queen. She’s now kind of giving me Violet Chachki meets Derrick Barry vibes, which meh, okay, villain potential but whatever. It’s interesting that she says she has a fetishy side to her fashion, because I really don’t think this look showed that besides it being made from latex, but whatever, her name is Farrah Moan, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that later on in the season.

Jaymes Mansfield - I… do… not… like this look. Like… at all.

Seriously, sweetie, did you get lost on your way to the season 8 promo shoot? Cuz that’s where this look belongs. 1950′s hair salon. It all seems very dated. And plain. And did she paint her eyebrows like that? I’m just a little bit thrown off. Whatever, maybe her video will help out.

Well… it didn’t. I don’t know, something about her just kind of annoys me. I feel like she’s putting on a character, and not in a BenDeLaCreme fully-finished this-has-been-in-development-for-a-long-ass-time kind of way, I mean in a Laganja way where she thinks this is how she should act because there are cameras in front of her. It’s very off-putting. I don’t want to make any assumptions on who should be the first to go home because I’m usually wrong… but it wouldn’t surprise me if it was her… #sorryboutit…

Kimora Blac - Holy shit did Pussycat Dolls Present come back for another season? Oh wait, nope, new drag queen. Holy shit, this is a look. It really gives me a strange Pussycat Dolls kind of vibe though. I don’t know why exactly. I especially love the color scheme, the pink and black and gold, it all really comes together quite nicely.

Video thoughts: Oh no, SHE’S going to be the villain of the season. Lots of cocky remarks, she’s going to get on a lot of queens’ nerves very quickly, I can tell. I have no problems with cocky queens, but like, you better have the shit to back that up. I don’t think she’ll end up arguing with anyone, she seems more like Willam, completely unbothered by anyone who tries to come for her. But again, I’ll repeat, if you’re gonna be cocky, you better back that shit up.

Nina Bo’Nina Brown - I AM COMPLETELY OBSESSED WITH THIS LOOK.

Ugh, it’s like Acid Betty meets Phi Phi’s futuristic runway and I am FLOORED AND SHOOK AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. THIS IS GORGEOUS. Everything about this from the make up to the hair to he dress to the earrings I JUST CAN’T. SHOOK. FLABBERGASTED. BLESSED.

Video thoughts: Her personality, I feel like, is what would happen if Dax Exclamationpoint and Bob the Drag Queen fused together Crystal Gem-style, like seriously, it’s like the second stage in a Dax evolution. I’m completely obsessed. I’m really hoping she sticks around for a long time, because I think she’s gonna be a lot of fun to watch; interacting with the other queens, giving witty confessionals, I think she’ll be a big hit with the fans.

Peppermint - I feel like I’m overusing the two queens combine to create trope in this write-up, but fuck it, this is my thing, not yours, and she reminds me of Ginger Minj and Chi Chi DeVayne with this look. Specifically Ginger Minj’s look in the finale when she took us to church with that “Pray and Slay” song. Werq. I feel like I’ve already seen this before though, but whatevs, she looks great.

Ooh, I like her. I think she’s going to make it deep. She didn’t EXCITE me per se, but she definitely intrigued me. She comes across to me as very experienced, but also continually evolving with the times. I could see her making the finale for sure. ALSO, I believe she will be the first openly transgender competitor since Monica Beverly Hillz. Yeah, I know there have been queens in later seasons that have come out as trans after their season aired, but we’re talking openly competing on the show as trans women, and if that’s the case, Peppermint would be the second. Count me excited for this one!

Sasha Velour - I’m definitely interested by this look. Love a bald queen, and if that’s her schtick, I’m hoping that she’s a bald queen that can rock a wig. (Love you Ongina, but we only saw one wigged look from you on the show.) The eyebrow detail in the middle is kind of throwing me, like for me, if you’re going to do something weird like a unibrow, fucking go for it and own it, but this just seems at worst, unnecessary and at best, half-assed.

Video thoughts: If I’m being perfectly honest, I felt a bit bored by her personality BUT what she was talking about did intrigue me. I’m thinking she’ll go deep into this competition as well, but I’m worried she won’t stand out from the rest in acting challenges, or some weird “sell your own product” commercial challenge. Hopefully, she proves me wrong.

Shea Coulee - OH MY GOD FUCK ME ALL THE WAY UP WITH THIS AFRICAN GODDESS REALNESS. I haven’t seen an African-inspired look this on point since Bebe Zahara Benet in season fucking ONE. I haven’t seen her video yet, but I’m hoping that this is her aesthetic and she continues to turn out looks like this one because I am FLOORED.

Video thoughts: Got a little bored halfway through, BUT she seems very talented, and it doesn’t come across as cocky or conceited, it comes across as sure of herself, and that’s gonna come in handy when establishing a fanbase. I can see her going deep into the competition, don’t know if she’s finale-worthy, but I didn’t think Naomi was going to the finale either, so we’ll have to wait and see.

Trinity Taylor - Fuck me up with the cobalt realness, I mean YAS. Queens who can pull off strange hair colors and make it look very natural get an A+ in my book. I will say that it seems just a HAIR much. I could have done with a little less jewelry, or maybe the sequined sleeve could have just been plain latex. I don’t know. Otherwise, it’s FANTASTIC.

Hmm… after the video… now that I can see more of the look, it definitely needed to be edited. It’s not just a hair much, it’s a LOT much. Like one or two or five things needed to go. I feel a little concerned for her. I don’t get that same gut feeling that she’ll make it far in the competition as I am with a lot of the other queens this season. But again, first impressions are just that, and time will tell, et cetera et cetera…

Valentina - You know, it’s funny, this one I can’t really compare to another queen. I’m trying to think of someone she could remind me of but I’m drawing a blank. This is very original, from the mint green to the hair, to the unique way her eyebrows are drawn on, the earrings, it’s fabulous! I’m wondering how she’ll come across in the video…

Hmmm… after the video… it’s weird. I love this look, but again, I’m not getting that gut feeling that she’ll make it that far in the competition. Something is just throwing me off here. She’s probably one of the best, if not the best looking Latina queens they’ve cast for the show, but nothing about that video screamed talent in any other area other than fashion. Again, hoping she’ll prove me wrong because she does interest me…

So based on first impressions alone, here’s how I’m ranking these queens:

Charlie Hides

Nina Bo’Nina Brown

Peppermint

Shea Coulee

Eureka

Farrah Moan

Kimora Blac

Alexis Michelle

Sasha Velour

Valentina

Aja

Trinity Taylor

Jaymes Mansfield

This was actually really difficult. The only one I really could not stand was Jaymes, and the rest of the queens, it came down to look + video = ?. And I’m probably going to be dreadfully wrong on these rankings, I’m thinking all of these rankings are all going to be swapped around drastically over the course of the season.

So, I’m hoping to be back with recaps for the season. I know I quit last season after episode 2, but life happens, and depression happens, and therapy happens and blah blah blah whatever.

[liz27moore]

Words of the Year, 2016 Edition

Online Dictionaries aren't just convenient, they give the people who run the dictionary sites a view into the zeitgeist in a way that was never possible when people looked up words in physical books. Lexicographers see data about what visitors are looking up, and naming words of the year based on search spikes or overall increases in search volume for particular words has become a tradition. This year, it’s pretty clear that political news and events were driving searches.

Merriam-Webster Word of the Year 2016, Surreal

Merriam Webster’s word of the year for 2016 was surreal, which the lexicographers said spiked after the terror attack in Brussels in March, again in July related to a coup attempt in Turkey and a terror attack in Nice, and finally again in November after the US presidential election.

Their definition of surreal is “Marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream.”

Highlighting the influence of US politics, other top Merriam-Webster searches in 2016 were bigly, which is a word (but is a rarely used word), deplorable, and feckless, which Mike Pence used in a vice-presidential debate.

Dictionary.com Word of the Year, 2016: Xenophobia

Dictionary.com also cited search spikes caused by global political events as the reason for choosing its word of the year: xenophobia (which their dictionary defines as “fear or hatred of foreigners, people from different cultures, or strangers”).

They report they saw a 938% increase in lookups for the word xenophobia the day after the UK voted to leave the European Union and a smaller spike immediately after the US presidential election. The lexicographers noted that they already had their eye on xenophobia before 2016, because it also had a huge spike in 2015 after attacks on foreigners in South Africa.

Other words they highlighted as showing large search spikes in 2016 were hate crime and populism.

Oxford Dictionaries Word of the Year, 2016: Post-Truth

The Oxford Dictionaries word of the year for 2016 was post-truth, which they define as “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.” According to Oxford Dictionaries, they saw large increases in searches for post-truth “in the context of the Brexit referendum in the UK and the presidential election in the US.” (See the chart.) Some of their other candidates included political terms such as Brexiteer, alt-right, and woke, and non-political words such as chatbot and (one of my favorites that you may remember me talking about in previous years) adulting.

Collins Dictionary Word of the Year, 2016: Brexit

Collins Dictionary chose Brexit as its word of the year. They first saw people using Brexit in 2013, but saw a 3,400% increase in searches in 2016. (I’m sure Math Dude would tell you that if you start from a small number, as you would for a new word, a 3,400% increase may not be that big in raw numbers, but we’ll give them the benefit of the doubt that the search volume made it a worthy choice.)

Other candidates on the Collins list included Trumpism, mic drop, snowflake generation, Uberization (referring to the ride hailing company Uber and their business plan), and JOMO (which means the joy of missing out and is presumably a reaction to FOMO, which is the fear of missing out).

They also included the Danish word hygge (pronounced much like hookah, but with more of a G than a K sound in the middle), which means “the practice of creating cosy and congenial environments that promote emotional wellbeing.” Oxford Dictionaries actually included hygge too and their definition notes that it’s regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture. It’s hard for me to pronounce, but it’s a nice word, and there don’t seem to be many of them this year.

Those are the major dictionary words of the year based at least loosely on search volume, but just a few days ago, the American Dialect Society also chose its words of the year, which are based on votes at the group’s annual meeting, and you can see how it all unfolded by searching Twitter for the woty16 hashtag because multiple people were live tweeting from the meeting.

The American Dialect Society Word of the Year, 2016: Dumpster Fire

The American Dialect Society word of the year was dumpster fire, to mean “an exceedingly disastrous or chaotic situation,” and I always find the American Dialect Society choices to be the most interesting because they have categories and they even pick an emoji of the year. For example, the emoji of the year was the flame, and then they also included the emoji representation of dumpster fire as part of the dumpster fire choice. It’s a combination of a waste basket emoji and the flame emoji, presumably because there is no dumpster emoji.

And interesting aside about the word dumpster is that it was originally a trademarked term and was capitalized. A company called Dempster Brothers trademarked their Dempster-Dumpster in the 1930s, but it has became such a generally used word that it’s now common to see it lowercase. AP style is lowercase, but the New York Times appears to continue to capitalize dumpster.

You may be wondering how two words—dumpster fire—can be the word of the year, which seems like it should be a single word, but the American Dialect Society press release explained that the “Word of the year is interpreted in its broader sense as ‘vocabulary item’—not just words but phrases.” I presume that the Collins Dictionary used the same rationale for snowflake generation and mic drop.

Their digital word of the year was the @ symbol used as a verb, as in “don’t @ me,” woke was their slang word of the year, and gaslight was their most useful word of the year.

I’ve actually been meaning to write about the verb gaslight for a couple of months because I kept seeing it on Twitter and could not figure out where it came from, and it turns out the story is interesting. Gas lighting is form of psychological manipulation where an abuser makes people doubt their sanity by denying that something that happened really happened. For example, a boyfriend might promise to pick up his girlfriend from work, not show up, and then swear that he never made the promise and that she’s the ditzy one. The gaslighter will do things like this over and over with such brazen confidence that the girlfriend really does start to wonder if it’s her. But why would this be called gas lighting?

It turns out it comes from a 1944 Ingrid Bergman movie called Gaslight, which was based on a popular play called Angel Street when it ran on Broadway, in which a manipulative husband who has murdered their wealthy upstairs neighbor causes the gas lamps in the house to dim while he repeatedly is searching for the missing woman’s jewels, and then he tries to convince his wife that it isn’t happening—that she isn’t seeing the lamps dim before her very eyes and that she is going insane.

So that was our wonderful year in words according to lexicographers and linguists, and all of you who search for words in online dictionaries. I’m going to try to take deep breaths and focus on hyyge.

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

from Grammar Girl RSS http://www.quickanddirtytips.com/education/grammar/words-of-the-year-2016-edition

[anal29cheng]

Words of the Year, 2016 Edition

Online Dictionaries aren't just convenient, they give the people who run the dictionary sites a view into the zeitgeist in a way that was never possible when people looked up words in physical books. Lexicographers see data about what visitors are looking up, and naming words of the year based on search spikes or overall increases in search volume for particular words has become a tradition. This year, it’s pretty clear that political news and events were driving searches.

Merriam-Webster Word of the Year 2016, Surreal

Merriam Webster’s word of the year for 2016 was surreal, which the lexicographers said spiked after the terror attack in Brussels in March, again in July related to a coup attempt in Turkey and a terror attack in Nice, and finally again in November after the US presidential election.

Their definition of surreal is “Marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream.”

Highlighting the influence of US politics, other top Merriam-Webster searches in 2016 were bigly, which is a word (but is a rarely used word), deplorable, and feckless, which Mike Pence used in a vice-presidential debate.

Dictionary.com Word of the Year, 2016: Xenophobia

Dictionary.com also cited search spikes caused by global political events as the reason for choosing its word of the year: xenophobia (which their dictionary defines as “fear or hatred of foreigners, people from different cultures, or strangers”).

They report they saw a 938% increase in lookups for the word xenophobia the day after the UK voted to leave the European Union and a smaller spike immediately after the US presidential election. The lexicographers noted that they already had their eye on xenophobia before 2016, because it also had a huge spike in 2015 after attacks on foreigners in South Africa.

Other words they highlighted as showing large search spikes in 2016 were hate crime and populism.

Oxford Dictionaries Word of the Year, 2016: Post-Truth

The Oxford Dictionaries word of the year for 2016 was post-truth, which they define as “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.” According to Oxford Dictionaries, they saw large increases in searches for post-truth “in the context of the Brexit referendum in the UK and the presidential election in the US.” (See the chart.) Some of their other candidates included political terms such as Brexiteer, alt-right, and woke, and non-political words such as chatbot and (one of my favorites that you may remember me talking about in previous years) adulting.

Collins Dictionary Word of the Year, 2016: Brexit

Collins Dictionary chose Brexit as its word of the year. They first saw people using Brexit in 2013, but saw a 3,400% increase in searches in 2016. (I’m sure Math Dude would tell you that if you start from a small number, as you would for a new word, a 3,400% increase may not be that big in raw numbers, but we’ll give them the benefit of the doubt that the search volume made it a worthy choice.)

Other candidates on the Collins list included Trumpism, mic drop, snowflake generation, Uberization (referring to the ride hailing company Uber and their business plan), and JOMO (which means the joy of missing out and is presumably a reaction to FOMO, which is the fear of missing out).

They also included the Danish word hygge (pronounced much like hookah, but with more of a G than a K sound in the middle), which means “the practice of creating cosy and congenial environments that promote emotional wellbeing.” Oxford Dictionaries actually included hygge too and their definition notes that it’s regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture. It’s hard for me to pronounce, but it’s a nice word, and there don’t seem to be many of them this year.

Those are the major dictionary words of the year based at least loosely on search volume, but just a few days ago, the American Dialect Society also chose its words of the year, which are based on votes at the group’s annual meeting, and you can see how it all unfolded by searching Twitter for the woty16 hashtag because multiple people were live tweeting from the meeting.

The American Dialect Society Word of the Year, 2016: Dumpster Fire

The American Dialect Society word of the year was dumpster fire, to mean “an exceedingly disastrous or chaotic situation,” and I always find the American Dialect Society choices to be the most interesting because they have categories and they even pick an emoji of the year. For example, the emoji of the year was the flame, and then they also included the emoji representation of dumpster fire as part of the dumpster fire choice. It’s a combination of a waste basket emoji and the flame emoji, presumably because there is no dumpster emoji.

And interesting aside about the word dumpster is that it was originally a trademarked term and was capitalized. A company called Dempster Brothers trademarked their Dempster-Dumpster in the 1930s, but it has became such a generally used word that it’s now common to see it lowercase. AP style is lowercase, but the New York Times appears to continue to capitalize dumpster.

You may be wondering how two words—dumpster fire—can be the word of the year, which seems like it should be a single word, but the American Dialect Society press release explained that the “Word of the year is interpreted in its broader sense as ‘vocabulary item’—not just words but phrases.” I presume that the Collins Dictionary used the same rationale for snowflake generation and mic drop.

Their digital word of the year was the @ symbol used as a verb, as in “don’t @ me,” woke was their slang word of the year, and gaslight was their most useful word of the year.

I’ve actually been meaning to write about the verb gaslight for a couple of months because I kept seeing it on Twitter and could not figure out where it came from, and it turns out the story is interesting. Gas lighting is form of psychological manipulation where an abuser makes people doubt their sanity by denying that something that happened really happened. For example, a boyfriend might promise to pick up his girlfriend from work, not show up, and then swear that he never made the promise and that she’s the ditzy one. The gaslighter will do things like this over and over with such brazen confidence that the girlfriend really does start to wonder if it’s her. But why would this be called gas lighting?

It turns out it comes from a 1944 Ingrid Bergman movie called Gaslight, which was based on a popular play called Angel Street when it ran on Broadway, in which a manipulative husband who has murdered their wealthy upstairs neighbor causes the gas lamps in the house to dim while he repeatedly is searching for the missing woman’s jewels, and then he tries to convince his wife that it isn’t happening—that she isn’t seeing the lamps dim before her very eyes and that she is going insane.

So that was our wonderful year in words according to lexicographers and linguists, and all of you who search for words in online dictionaries. I’m going to try to take deep breaths and focus on hyyge.

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

from Grammar Girl RSS http://www.quickanddirtytips.com/education/grammar/words-of-the-year-2016-edition

[aliya31fost]

Words of the Year, 2016 Edition

Online Dictionaries aren't just convenient, they give the people who run the dictionary sites a view into the zeitgeist in a way that was never possible when people looked up words in physical books. Lexicographers see data about what visitors are looking up, and naming words of the year based on search spikes or overall increases in search volume for particular words has become a tradition. This year, it’s pretty clear that political news and events were driving searches.

Merriam-Webster Word of the Year 2016, Surreal

Merriam Webster’s word of the year for 2016 was surreal, which the lexicographers said spiked after the terror attack in Brussels in March, again in July related to a coup attempt in Turkey and a terror attack in Nice, and finally again in November after the US presidential election.

Their definition of surreal is “Marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream.”

Highlighting the influence of US politics, other top Merriam-Webster searches in 2016 were bigly, which is a word (but is a rarely used word), deplorable, and feckless, which Mike Pence used in a vice-presidential debate.

Dictionary.com Word of the Year, 2016: Xenophobia

Dictionary.com also cited search spikes caused by global political events as the reason for choosing its word of the year: xenophobia (which their dictionary defines as “fear or hatred of foreigners, people from different cultures, or strangers”).

They report they saw a 938% increase in lookups for the word xenophobia the day after the UK voted to leave the European Union and a smaller spike immediately after the US presidential election. The lexicographers noted that they already had their eye on xenophobia before 2016, because it also had a huge spike in 2015 after attacks on foreigners in South Africa.

Other words they highlighted as showing large search spikes in 2016 were hate crime and populism.

Oxford Dictionaries Word of the Year, 2016: Post-Truth

The Oxford Dictionaries word of the year for 2016 was post-truth, which they define as “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.” According to Oxford Dictionaries, they saw large increases in searches for post-truth “in the context of the Brexit referendum in the UK and the presidential election in the US.” (See the chart.) Some of their other candidates included political terms such as Brexiteer, alt-right, and woke, and non-political words such as chatbot and (one of my favorites that you may remember me talking about in previous years) adulting.

Collins Dictionary Word of the Year, 2016: Brexit

Collins Dictionary chose Brexit as its word of the year. They first saw people using Brexit in 2013, but saw a 3,400% increase in searches in 2016. (I’m sure Math Dude would tell you that if you start from a small number, as you would for a new word, a 3,400% increase may not be that big in raw numbers, but we’ll give them the benefit of the doubt that the search volume made it a worthy choice.)

Other candidates on the Collins list included Trumpism, mic drop, snowflake generation, Uberization (referring to the ride hailing company Uber and their business plan), and JOMO (which means the joy of missing out and is presumably a reaction to FOMO, which is the fear of missing out).

They also included the Danish word hygge (pronounced much like hookah, but with more of a G than a K sound in the middle), which means “the practice of creating cosy and congenial environments that promote emotional wellbeing.” Oxford Dictionaries actually included hygge too and their definition notes that it’s regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture. It’s hard for me to pronounce, but it’s a nice word, and there don’t seem to be many of them this year.

Those are the major dictionary words of the year based at least loosely on search volume, but just a few days ago, the American Dialect Society also chose its words of the year, which are based on votes at the group’s annual meeting, and you can see how it all unfolded by searching Twitter for the woty16 hashtag because multiple people were live tweeting from the meeting.

The American Dialect Society Word of the Year, 2016: Dumpster Fire

The American Dialect Society word of the year was dumpster fire, to mean “an exceedingly disastrous or chaotic situation,” and I always find the American Dialect Society choices to be the most interesting because they have categories and they even pick an emoji of the year. For example, the emoji of the year was the flame, and then they also included the emoji representation of dumpster fire as part of the dumpster fire choice. It’s a combination of a waste basket emoji and the flame emoji, presumably because there is no dumpster emoji.

And interesting aside about the word dumpster is that it was originally a trademarked term and was capitalized. A company called Dempster Brothers trademarked their Dempster-Dumpster in the 1930s, but it has became such a generally used word that it’s now common to see it lowercase. AP style is lowercase, but the New York Times appears to continue to capitalize dumpster.

You may be wondering how two words—dumpster fire—can be the word of the year, which seems like it should be a single word, but the American Dialect Society press release explained that the “Word of the year is interpreted in its broader sense as ‘vocabulary item’—not just words but phrases.” I presume that the Collins Dictionary used the same rationale for snowflake generation and mic drop.

Their digital word of the year was the @ symbol used as a verb, as in “don’t @ me,” woke was their slang word of the year, and gaslight was their most useful word of the year.

I’ve actually been meaning to write about the verb gaslight for a couple of months because I kept seeing it on Twitter and could not figure out where it came from, and it turns out the story is interesting. Gas lighting is form of psychological manipulation where an abuser makes people doubt their sanity by denying that something that happened really happened. For example, a boyfriend might promise to pick up his girlfriend from work, not show up, and then swear that he never made the promise and that she’s the ditzy one. The gaslighter will do things like this over and over with such brazen confidence that the girlfriend really does start to wonder if it’s her. But why would this be called gas lighting?

It turns out it comes from a 1944 Ingrid Bergman movie called Gaslight, which was based on a popular play called Angel Street when it ran on Broadway, in which a manipulative husband who has murdered their wealthy upstairs neighbor causes the gas lamps in the house to dim while he repeatedly is searching for the missing woman’s jewels, and then he tries to convince his wife that it isn’t happening—that she isn’t seeing the lamps dim before her very eyes and that she is going insane.

So that was our wonderful year in words according to lexicographers and linguists, and all of you who search for words in online dictionaries. I’m going to try to take deep breaths and focus on hyyge.

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

from Grammar Girl RSS http://www.quickanddirtytips.com/education/grammar/words-of-the-year-2016-edition

[buddy31salvo]

Words of the Year, 2016 Edition

Online Dictionaries aren't just convenient, they give the people who run the dictionary sites a view into the zeitgeist in a way that was never possible when people looked up words in physical books. Lexicographers see data about what visitors are looking up, and naming words of the year based on search spikes or overall increases in search volume for particular words has become a tradition. This year, it’s pretty clear that political news and events were driving searches.

Merriam-Webster Word of the Year 2016, Surreal

Merriam Webster’s word of the year for 2016 was surreal, which the lexicographers said spiked after the terror attack in Brussels in March, again in July related to a coup attempt in Turkey and a terror attack in Nice, and finally again in November after the US presidential election.

Their definition of surreal is “Marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream.”

Highlighting the influence of US politics, other top Merriam-Webster searches in 2016 were bigly, which is a word (but is a rarely used word), deplorable, and feckless, which Mike Pence used in a vice-presidential debate.

Dictionary.com Word of the Year, 2016: Xenophobia

Dictionary.com also cited search spikes caused by global political events as the reason for choosing its word of the year: xenophobia (which their dictionary defines as “fear or hatred of foreigners, people from different cultures, or strangers”).

They report they saw a 938% increase in lookups for the word xenophobia the day after the UK voted to leave the European Union and a smaller spike immediately after the US presidential election. The lexicographers noted that they already had their eye on xenophobia before 2016, because it also had a huge spike in 2015 after attacks on foreigners in South Africa.

Other words they highlighted as showing large search spikes in 2016 were hate crime and populism.

Oxford Dictionaries Word of the Year, 2016: Post-Truth

The Oxford Dictionaries word of the year for 2016 was post-truth, which they define as “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.” According to Oxford Dictionaries, they saw large increases in searches for post-truth “in the context of the Brexit referendum in the UK and the presidential election in the US.” (See the chart.) Some of their other candidates included political terms such as Brexiteer, alt-right, and woke, and non-political words such as chatbot and (one of my favorites that you may remember me talking about in previous years) adulting.

Collins Dictionary Word of the Year, 2016: Brexit

Collins Dictionary chose Brexit as its word of the year. They first saw people using Brexit in 2013, but saw a 3,400% increase in searches in 2016. (I’m sure Math Dude would tell you that if you start from a small number, as you would for a new word, a 3,400% increase may not be that big in raw numbers, but we’ll give them the benefit of the doubt that the search volume made it a worthy choice.)

Other candidates on the Collins list included Trumpism, mic drop, snowflake generation, Uberization (referring to the ride hailing company Uber and their business plan), and JOMO (which means the joy of missing out and is presumably a reaction to FOMO, which is the fear of missing out).

They also included the Danish word hygge (pronounced much like hookah, but with more of a G than a K sound in the middle), which means “the practice of creating cosy and congenial environments that promote emotional wellbeing.” Oxford Dictionaries actually included hygge too and their definition notes that it’s regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture. It’s hard for me to pronounce, but it’s a nice word, and there don’t seem to be many of them this year.

Those are the major dictionary words of the year based at least loosely on search volume, but just a few days ago, the American Dialect Society also chose its words of the year, which are based on votes at the group’s annual meeting, and you can see how it all unfolded by searching Twitter for the woty16 hashtag because multiple people were live tweeting from the meeting.

The American Dialect Society Word of the Year, 2016: Dumpster Fire

The American Dialect Society word of the year was dumpster fire, to mean “an exceedingly disastrous or chaotic situation,” and I always find the American Dialect Society choices to be the most interesting because they have categories and they even pick an emoji of the year. For example, the emoji of the year was the flame, and then they also included the emoji representation of dumpster fire as part of the dumpster fire choice. It’s a combination of a waste basket emoji and the flame emoji, presumably because there is no dumpster emoji.

And interesting aside about the word dumpster is that it was originally a trademarked term and was capitalized. A company called Dempster Brothers trademarked their Dempster-Dumpster in the 1930s, but it has became such a generally used word that it’s now common to see it lowercase. AP style is lowercase, but the New York Times appears to continue to capitalize dumpster.

You may be wondering how two words—dumpster fire—can be the word of the year, which seems like it should be a single word, but the American Dialect Society press release explained that the “Word of the year is interpreted in its broader sense as ‘vocabulary item’—not just words but phrases.” I presume that the Collins Dictionary used the same rationale for snowflake generation and mic drop.

Their digital word of the year was the @ symbol used as a verb, as in “don’t @ me,” woke was their slang word of the year, and gaslight was their most useful word of the year.

I’ve actually been meaning to write about the verb gaslight for a couple of months because I kept seeing it on Twitter and could not figure out where it came from, and it turns out the story is interesting. Gas lighting is form of psychological manipulation where an abuser makes people doubt their sanity by denying that something that happened really happened. For example, a boyfriend might promise to pick up his girlfriend from work, not show up, and then swear that he never made the promise and that she’s the ditzy one. The gaslighter will do things like this over and over with such brazen confidence that the girlfriend really does start to wonder if it’s her. But why would this be called gas lighting?

It turns out it comes from a 1944 Ingrid Bergman movie called Gaslight, which was based on a popular play called Angel Street when it ran on Broadway, in which a manipulative husband who has murdered their wealthy upstairs neighbor causes the gas lamps in the house to dim while he repeatedly is searching for the missing woman’s jewels, and then he tries to convince his wife that it isn’t happening—that she isn’t seeing the lamps dim before her very eyes and that she is going insane.

So that was our wonderful year in words according to lexicographers and linguists, and all of you who search for words in online dictionaries. I’m going to try to take deep breaths and focus on hyyge.

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

from Grammar Girl RSS http://www.quickanddirtytips.com/education/grammar/words-of-the-year-2016-edition

[abby27collins]

Words of the Year, 2016 Edition

Online Dictionaries aren't just convenient, they give the people who run the dictionary sites a view into the zeitgeist in a way that was never possible when people looked up words in physical books. Lexicographers see data about what visitors are looking up, and naming words of the year based on search spikes or overall increases in search volume for particular words has become a tradition. This year, it’s pretty clear that political news and events were driving searches.

Merriam-Webster Word of the Year 2016, Surreal

Merriam Webster’s word of the year for 2016 was surreal, which the lexicographers said spiked after the terror attack in Brussels in March, again in July related to a coup attempt in Turkey and a terror attack in Nice, and finally again in November after the US presidential election.

Their definition of surreal is “Marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream.”

Highlighting the influence of US politics, other top Merriam-Webster searches in 2016 were bigly, which is a word (but is a rarely used word), deplorable, and feckless, which Mike Pence used in a vice-presidential debate.

Dictionary.com Word of the Year, 2016: Xenophobia

Dictionary.com also cited search spikes caused by global political events as the reason for choosing its word of the year: xenophobia (which their dictionary defines as “fear or hatred of foreigners, people from different cultures, or strangers”).

They report they saw a 938% increase in lookups for the word xenophobia the day after the UK voted to leave the European Union and a smaller spike immediately after the US presidential election. The lexicographers noted that they already had their eye on xenophobia before 2016, because it also had a huge spike in 2015 after attacks on foreigners in South Africa.

Other words they highlighted as showing large search spikes in 2016 were hate crime and populism.

Oxford Dictionaries Word of the Year, 2016: Post-Truth

The Oxford Dictionaries word of the year for 2016 was post-truth, which they define as “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.” According to Oxford Dictionaries, they saw large increases in searches for post-truth “in the context of the Brexit referendum in the UK and the presidential election in the US.” (See the chart.) Some of their other candidates included political terms such as Brexiteer, alt-right, and woke, and non-political words such as chatbot and (one of my favorites that you may remember me talking about in previous years) adulting.

Collins Dictionary Word of the Year, 2016: Brexit

Collins Dictionary chose Brexit as its word of the year. They first saw people using Brexit in 2013, but saw a 3,400% increase in searches in 2016. (I’m sure Math Dude would tell you that if you start from a small number, as you would for a new word, a 3,400% increase may not be that big in raw numbers, but we’ll give them the benefit of the doubt that the search volume made it a worthy choice.)

Other candidates on the Collins list included Trumpism, mic drop, snowflake generation, Uberization (referring to the ride hailing company Uber and their business plan), and JOMO (which means the joy of missing out and is presumably a reaction to FOMO, which is the fear of missing out).

They also included the Danish word hygge (pronounced much like hookah, but with more of a G than a K sound in the middle), which means “the practice of creating cosy and congenial environments that promote emotional wellbeing.” Oxford Dictionaries actually included hygge too and their definition notes that it’s regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture. It’s hard for me to pronounce, but it’s a nice word, and there don’t seem to be many of them this year.

Those are the major dictionary words of the year based at least loosely on search volume, but just a few days ago, the American Dialect Society also chose its words of the year, which are based on votes at the group’s annual meeting, and you can see how it all unfolded by searching Twitter for the woty16 hashtag because multiple people were live tweeting from the meeting.

The American Dialect Society Word of the Year, 2016: Dumpster Fire

The American Dialect Society word of the year was dumpster fire, to mean “an exceedingly disastrous or chaotic situation,” and I always find the American Dialect Society choices to be the most interesting because they have categories and they even pick an emoji of the year. For example, the emoji of the year was the flame, and then they also included the emoji representation of dumpster fire as part of the dumpster fire choice. It’s a combination of a waste basket emoji and the flame emoji, presumably because there is no dumpster emoji.

And interesting aside about the word dumpster is that it was originally a trademarked term and was capitalized. A company called Dempster Brothers trademarked their Dempster-Dumpster in the 1930s, but it has became such a generally used word that it’s now common to see it lowercase. AP style is lowercase, but the New York Times appears to continue to capitalize dumpster.

You may be wondering how two words—dumpster fire—can be the word of the year, which seems like it should be a single word, but the American Dialect Society press release explained that the “Word of the year is interpreted in its broader sense as ‘vocabulary item’—not just words but phrases.” I presume that the Collins Dictionary used the same rationale for snowflake generation and mic drop.

Their digital word of the year was the @ symbol used as a verb, as in “don’t @ me,” woke was their slang word of the year, and gaslight was their most useful word of the year.

I’ve actually been meaning to write about the verb gaslight for a couple of months because I kept seeing it on Twitter and could not figure out where it came from, and it turns out the story is interesting. Gas lighting is form of psychological manipulation where an abuser makes people doubt their sanity by denying that something that happened really happened. For example, a boyfriend might promise to pick up his girlfriend from work, not show up, and then swear that he never made the promise and that she’s the ditzy one. The gaslighter will do things like this over and over with such brazen confidence that the girlfriend really does start to wonder if it’s her. But why would this be called gas lighting?

It turns out it comes from a 1944 Ingrid Bergman movie called Gaslight, which was based on a popular play called Angel Street when it ran on Broadway, in which a manipulative husband who has murdered their wealthy upstairs neighbor causes the gas lamps in the house to dim while he repeatedly is searching for the missing woman’s jewels, and then he tries to convince his wife that it isn’t happening—that she isn’t seeing the lamps dim before her very eyes and that she is going insane.

So that was our wonderful year in words according to lexicographers and linguists, and all of you who search for words in online dictionaries. I’m going to try to take deep breaths and focus on hyyge.

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

from Grammar Girl RSS http://www.quickanddirtytips.com/education/grammar/words-of-the-year-2016-edition